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nightlark100 · 3 months ago

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The List

I had an idea for a silly fanfic about the teen wolf pack making a list of rules for their pack to follow but i never got beyond the list itself and a tiny bit of story. So i thought i'd post it here.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It had started as a joke. After another brilliant Scott plan gone wrong, Stiles had scribbled 'SCOTT IS NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE PLANS' in big letters on a piece of paper which he then stuck beside the front door.

"This is ridiculous," Scott protested, moving to take it down. "My plans aren't that bad"

"Yes they are. And no touching the paper! That is an official document"

"What."

Derek, drawn by the discussion, hovered in the doorway to the living room.

"Stiles�� what is that and why is it on my wall?"

"This is the official Hale pack list of rules. We must all abide by it."

Scott scoffed and looked to Derek, expecting the alpha to side with him. Instead, he just narrowed his eyes before nodding.

"Alright"

"What?! But… Derek!"

"Sorry Scott. It's on the official list of rules, we have to follow it. No more plan making for you"

Scott is not allowed to make plans

No one mentioned the list again for a while and when they did, it was in a teasing way whenever Scott tried to suggest something, whether that something was what they should do that weekend or how best to combat a flurry of pixies in the preserve. The reminder of the ‘no plans’ rule was met with a good natured groan and an eye roll from Scott but little else.

One day however, Stiles was brought out of his latest research binge by the lid of his laptop being sharply closed. He looked up, blinking a few time as his eyes adjusted to the room after hours of staring at the bright screen.

“What the hell?”

The rest of the pack was sitting nearby, having been occupied by their own activities, with Isaac hovering uncertainly beside Stiles’ chair with a sheepish look on his face.

“Isaac?” Stiles prompted.

“Sorry Stiles but you’ve been researching for a day straight.”

“And?”

“Well… i mean… it’s on the rules.”

“What rules?”

“The official pack rules. By the door.”

Their conversation had drawn the attention of the others, most looking confused. Stiles set his laptop aside and went to the door. There beneath his scrawl was a new addition.

2. Stiles' laptop and phone must be taken away after 24 hours of continuous research.

“Who put that there?” he asked. The others stayed silent. Scott looked slightly smug but Stiles knew that wasn’t his writing. He let out an irritated noise and fished his phone from his pocket, intending to retreat to his room. If Isaac wouldn’t let him back on his laptop, he could still access his work that way.

Derek reached over and plucked the phone from his hand.

“Sorry Stiles. It’s on the list. You can have them back tomorrow.”

“Derek! Come on!”

He moved to grab at the phone but was struck with a wave of dizziness that sent him stumbling. Hands reached out to steady him, he wasn’t sure whose.

“Stiles, when did you last eat?” Lydia asked.

“Ermm… breakfast maybe?”

“Today?”

“No… yesterday…”

“Hmm. And drank something? That wasn’t full of sugar?”

“Errr…”

“Kitchen. You’re going to eat, drink some water and then you are going to get some sleep.” She guided him out of the hall with a firm hand, pushing him into a chair at the kitchen table while Isaac retrieved some leftovers from the fridge and filled their largest glass with water.

Both of them stayed in the kitchen with him until he was suitably fed and hydrated, then Lydia took him upstairs and put him to bed, giving him a dark look as she promised that if he got up to get one of his books instead of sleeping there would be consequences.

Stiles reluctantly obeyed.

He wouldn’t admit it but he did feel better the next morning. Until, as he headed downstairs, he noted a new line had been added to the paper by the door.

3. Stiles must be made to eat something and drink water after 6 hours of continuous research

After the first few additions, it seemed that some kind of dam had been broken and the rest of the pack didn’t hesitate to implement their own rules (although no one would admit to putting the limits on Stiles’ research time)

4. Newly turned betas are not allowed to partake in team sports until they have proven they can control themselves (e.g. no eye flashing, no claws, no fangs, no doing backflips over other players or any other feats of sudden athletic ability that may draw attention to the pack)

5. All of Derek's dates must be vetted. THOROUGHLY

“That's it. I'm putting a ban on Derek dating” Stiles said, picking chunks of viscera out of his hair. “This is the third time! At this point it's just negligent of us not to investigate anyone inviting you out.” A thought occured and he spun around to face Derek. “oh my god. You're a Xander!”

“What?”

“A Xander! Right Peter?”

“I would have to agree. He does have Xander like qualities when it comes to dating.”

“Again I say… what?”

“Buffy the vampire slayer. Peter and I have been watching it together.”

“Really Peter?”

“It's good!”

“It has its moments”

“Yeah you're just mad cause they got rid of Ethan. Who is 100% you. Just in it for the chaos.”

“Would that make you the Giles?”

“No! Why?”

“Oh come on, they were definitely a couple.”

“If i’m anyone, i’m willow.”

“Wouldn’t Lydia be Willow?”

“No, Lydia is Cordelia.” he glanced around, fearing the redhead would appear and yell at him. “On the surface, superficial cheerleader type. But goes through a bunch of character development and has a power that sucks.”

“Flawless logic. Why are you Willow?”

“Magic. Bi. Brief fall to the dark side. And then Scott would be Xander,”

“I thought I was Xander?”

“No, you’re just Xander when it comes to dating. Scott’s Xander the rest of the type.”

“And I suppose Allison is Buffy?”

“Noooo… Allison is Faith. "

6. Peter and Stiles are not allowed to watch Mythbusters anymore

“Really Derek?”

“Yes. Really. Last time you watched that show, you ended up building a trebuchet.”

“I believe it was just Stiles who built the trebuchet.”

“Yes but you helped load it.”

7. No Sex in the common areas! Erica this means you! (poor Isaac)

8. When offered a boon by a faerie BE SPECIFIC

9. Stiles is not to be left unattended in the vet clinic

10. Stiles is not to be left unattended around witches

11. Stiles is not to be left unattended around magic users

12. Stiles is not to be left unattended

13. Lydia and Peter are not to be left alone in a room together.

14. In the event that Stiles is transformed into a small furry animal, he is to be given into the custody of the Sheriff or Derek. Or Peter. Most importantly, Erica is banned from going near him (OH COME ON! YOU LOOKED INSANELY CUTE IN THE BATMAN COSTUME)

15. The Notebook is a great film and whoever keeps hiding the disc will stop immediately. OR ELSE. I think the or else was implied here Stiles…

16. Stiles is not to be given coffee

17. Stiles is not to be given extra Adderall

18. Anyone who gives the Sheriff food not on the approved list will face the wrath of Stiles

19. Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Melissa McCall

20. Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Chris Argent

21. ~Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Stiles Stilinski~ (Stiles objects to this rule)

22. When throwing items at people, do not throw any of the books or Peter will eat you

23. No Stiles, having sex with a male werewolf won't get you pregnant. Even if it's an alpha. (That we know of)

24. No one is allowed to drive the Camaro except Derek

25. No one is allowed to eat in the Camaro

26. Alison is not allowed to take her crossbow to school

27. Alison is not allowed to take her knives to school

28. Seriously Alison, stop taking weapons to school!

29. Stiles is not allowed to touch any of Alison's weapons

30. If you bleed in the jeep, you are responsible for cleaning it

31. Do not enter the kitchen when Stiles is cooking. (This is for your own safety)

32. If you enter the kitchen while Stiles is cooking, do not attempt to steal food he is preparing. Werewolves cannot regrow fingers

33. If Stiles declares someone is evil, he is probably right and should be taken seriously.

34. If someone new starts working at the school, they are probably evil

35. If Peter offers to kill someone for you, he is not joking and it is not okay (no matter how tempting it is)

36. Do not ask Derek about dating Cora

37. Do not make dog jokes, especially to Derek, Stiles! (Not my fault he has no sense of humour)

38. ALWAYS CALL STILES FIRST IF YOU FIND A BODY

39. Stop asking where our eyebrows go when shifted

40. Stiles is not allowed a pet dragon

41. Stiles is not allowed a pet griffin

42. ~Stiles, stop trying to adopt baby mythical creatures~

43. Peter stop leaving dead animals on Stiles porch seriously dude, my dad thinks I've got a budding serial killer after me ~well, I wasn't technically wrong…~ minus the budding part

44. Stiles is not allowed to use his PowerPoint when telling people about werewolves (I don't care how many slide transitions you put in)

45. No Stiles, giving your PowerPoint to Peter or Lydia to present is not a loophole (oh come on! I even put a bibliography at the end! it's not my fault you're technology adverse!)

46. Derek is not allowed to lurk around abandoned buildings. It really doesn't help with the serial killer vibe you give off

47. If you kill someone, please make sure you chop them up or find another method to ensure they don't come back! We shouldn't kill people at all! I said IF! ~Stiles, please remember I'm an officer of the law~

47B. AMENDMENT TO THE PREVIOUS: If you kill someone, please make sure you chop them up or find another method to ensure they don't come back AND make sure you dispose of the body so that dad doesn't have to do extra paperwork

----------------

By request, here is a legend to tell who is writing what:

Stiles

Peter

Derek

Scott

~Sheriff~

Erica

Lydia

Isaac

Allison

Boyd

#hale pack #sheriff stilinski #isaac lahey #stiles stilinski #derek hale #peter hale #scott mccall #erica reyes #alison argent #vernon boyd #teen wolf

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chillinglyadventurous · 3 months ago

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A Real Treat

“Leave the bowl on the porch,” he said between kisses placed on your shoulder.

Word count: 1,387

Tags: NSFW, MDNI

“Which one of you is going out with the twins?” You called into the living room from the kitchen, dumping candy into the large plastic bowl on the counter. You pulled out a Twix, unwrapping it before popping it into your mouth. “I don’t want what happened on Summerween to repeat itself.”

You could hear Dipper and Mabel shuffling around in the attic, fighting over whether they should be ketchup and mustard or salt and pepper. You laughed when you heard Mabel yell, “Why do we always have to be food?!”

You were kind of glad you weren’t going with them. You’d be up and down all night giving out candy, but the ruby red slippers you were wearing were not conducive to the weather despite hitting mid-calf, so you carried your bowl into the living room to find Ford. He stood by the fish tank and just the sight of him made you laugh. His hair was a mess and the white lab coat he was wearing was splotched in fake blood. Well, you hoped it was fake. He was really leaning into the whole mad scientist thing.

Ford smiled when you came into the room, placing your bowl on the t-Rex skull. “You look beautiful.”

“It was the only women’s costume that didn’t make me look like a slut,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Why is it that women’s costumes have to be slutty? It's freezing too! Who wants to be wearing basically nothing and freeze all night?”

He kissed your forehead, hand falling to your hip. “I could keep you warm.” His voice in your ear caused a shiver to roll down your spine. That wicked grin faded when Stan and the kids came down the stairs. “Ah, Stanley, what are you supposed to be?”

You clocked the striped suit. Stan’s face was painted white, eyes blacked out. You stepped back from Ford’s hold. “Beetlejuice.”

“Who?” Ford laughed. “Who is Beetlejuice?”

Mabel’s jaw dropped, “If one of you says that again, I’m going to lose it.”

“Beetlejuice!” Dipper shouted.

Stan gave an annoyed huff. “Okay, losers, stop that.” He ruffled ketchup’s and mustard’s hair, “You condiments ready to hit the road? I’ve scoped out the best neighborhood. If we get there early, we have a seventy-five percent greater chance of snaggin’ some full-size candy bars. I’m not playing around with that fun-sized crap this year.”

“Have fun,” you laughed, “and, Stan, please don’t let them eat all of their candy tonight. You’re not the one who has to take care of sick kids in the morning.”

Stan waved you off. “Yeah, yeah, you young people and this health craze. Whatever. What happened to stuffing your face with sugar and no consequences, huh?”

“I’m 30.”

“Yeah,” Stan sputtered, “young.”

“Bye, [Y/N]!” Dipper and Mabel called as the sprinted out the door.

Stan waved over his shoulder. “Have fun handin’ out candy, nerds.”

When the door slammed shut you gave a sigh of relief, thankful that you wouldn’t have to deal with the chaos this time. Summerween had been a nightmare.

You laughed, arms winding around Ford’s neck again. “Why is it that your brother can do math when it comes to money and candy, but nothing else?

He shrugged in response. Your words quickly forgotten. “So,” Ford leaned into your hold, “who is Beetlejuice?”

“It’s a movie,” you said simply. “We can watch it when they get back. It came out in 1988, so you just missed it.”

For the most part, you and Ford took turns handing out candy to the kids who dared to traverse the spooky and dangerous, if you were being honest, maze Stan had set up in the front yard. When you weren’t handing out candy, however, you were draped over your boyfriend who’s six fingers kept trying to sneak their way up the hem of your dress as a slasher film played on screen. His plans were thwarted with each knock on the door.

“You’re turn,” he huffed. He helped you stand, hand grazing up the back of your thigh as you stood.

You could feel his eyes peeling away at your clothes as you walked to the door. It made you blush. You tried to forget the way his teasing hands felt on your legs, the way he did his best to seem sly enough for you not to notice.

You opened the door to see four children dressed as a witch, a fairy, a ghost, and a vampire. “Wow,” you gushed, “you guys look great!”

“Trick or treat!”

You gave them each a large handful of candy. You smiled, hoping your two trick-or-treaters were having just as much fun as the kids sprinted away from the door and into the darkness. Still, you just hoped some candy monster wasn’t stalking Dipper and Mabel. That was a mess.

Two hands taking hold of your waist pulled you out of thought. “Leave the bowl on the porch,” he said between kisses placed on your shoulder. His arms snaked around you as Ford rested his chin on your shoulder. “ His fingers fiddled with the braids in your hair.

“It’s almost 9:00,” you sighed as you pressed back into him. “The kids will be home soon.”

“All the more reason to leave the bowl on the porch.”

He looked so mischievous when you turned around in his arms. Before you could speak, he lifted you off your feet, the door slamming shut. Your legs were tightened around his waist. His face was pressed firmly to your neck, kisses dropped haphazardly as he carried you through the Shack. You thanked the Ford who built this house all those years ago for not putting his bedroom too far from the front door when he dropped you onto the mattress.

“Based on Stan’s plans for the evening,” his voice was gruff as he pushed up the hem on your dress, “we have approximately twenty minutes.”

He didn’t bother to undress himself, sliding your panties down your legs. No time to respond, he hitched your right leg over his shoulder, pinning your left knee to the mattress. “You look good enough to eat,” he chuckled, sliding down your body. “A real treat.”

He disappeared beneath your dress, his tongue on you. You gave a shaking moan. His tongue swirling and dipping inside of you. You sighed his name as you felt two of his digits slip inside of you, hitting that spot with a simple curl. Just as you were teetering on the edge, your name spilling out of your mouth like a prayer, he pulled away. Wet kisses were worked up your whole body.

With a rushed brush of his lips against yours, you felt him push inside of you. Twin gasps escaped the two of you and you loved that sound. Everytime you found yourself with him between your legs, that sound was always your favorite.

He stayed still for a long while, enjoying the feeling of your warmth around his length, the way your walls fluttered around him, how wet you were for him without much effort. “You’re stunning,” he punctuated his words with a deep kiss to your lips.

As his hips rocked into you, you held tight to him. You didn’t care about the sticky fake blood across his lab coat that had begun to coat your thighs. You’d be covered in it by the time this was over, but you couldn’t care less.

“We have to make this quick.” You were already there. Painfully, you waited for that single thrust that would finally make you cum. “Please, Stanford.”

It was hard, upward thrust right into your G-spot and you came undone. He ignored your moans, you begs for him to never stop. He fucked you through it until you were pliable and limp against the sheets. That was when his rhythm falters, a sharp ‘fuck’ falling from his mouth against your cheek.

Neither of you had a chance to catch your breath before you heard Stan grumbling outside. “Why’s the candy bowl outside?” Both you and Ford jumped up. He followed you into the living room, zipping his pants as he went.

“Hey,” you grinned, feigning innocence, “get a good haul?” Ford’s hand found the small of your back, unable to resist touching you.

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines #ford pines #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #chillinglyadventurousfics #ford pines smut

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0luv9 · 1 year ago

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sugar rose || theodore nott

Summary: Fool in love, bright like silver, shinning for everyone to see. Life has never been this good for Theo and he'll go out of his way to keep it that way. Or Theodore being utterly and unapologetically in love with you.

Beware: fluff, a bit of smut (which I can't write to save my life), nicknames used (pretty, love), written in second person, no pronouns used, it's just sweet.

I hope this will warm your hearts up a bit, it's a cold winter this year.

Words: 2.1k

Everyone sees it, Theodore being absolutely smitten by you, it's obvious, he has made sure everyone knows that you are his for the taking. Nott was known to be level headed one in the group, like Blaise, never getting into fights but not doing much to stop them either. Unlike Enzo, who was on the other end of the spectrum from Matheo and Draco, always keeping the group out of conflict because he didn't want to lose the house cup, that is. Everyone knew not to mess with the Slytherins, their pride was always at stake.

You were his girlfriend, everyone knows, no-one knows the consequences of thinking otherwise. They'd rather not, it's quite evident that people loved their peace more than to spit some game over a taken girl. That's how it should be, that's how it'll be.

...

You were sitting in Theo's lap, he was reading you the study material for history of magic, you were quite literally bored but your boyfriend was insistent on studying, he was also insistent on doing it with you, he wouldn't let go of you. The common room was empty, it was lunch time and you didn't feel like eating lunch, since you didn't your boyfriend didn't either, so this is how you were spending your time. He was your yes-man, whatever you ask of him, he'll do it in a heartbeat. Infact, he also does things you just think of, as well as the things you expect him to do, he knows you too well, always compliant to your wishes.

You turn around facing him, he puts down the book the very second you smile at him, all his attention on you. The way you look at him, sitting in his lap, with such love, he can feel his heart race, no matter how long it has been with you, the sugar rush never leaves. Theo can spend an eternity looking at you and still not run out of love, he knows it too well, he's far gone, turned too soft but he doesn't seem to mind because it's you. He doesn't care if his jaw hurts, he'll stay smiling when you are around. He starts his day with you in his mind, ends his day the same, dreams of you through the night and is with you throughout the day. He's content like this, there's nothing else he could ask for, he has everything he wants right in front of his eyes.

He doesn't have control over himself when it comes to you, it's all sweet and honey smooth when you are with him, his eyes always drift to you. He isn't hesitant to show his love for you, in fact he's quite shameless with it. You are shy infront of others though, so he enjoys moments like this, when you are alone with him, not afraid to be openly affectionate. Theo likes it when you say his name, "Theo," you breath out, smiling at him as you fiddle with his uniform's collar, unable to look into his eyes for long letting your gaze falter, he nods at you, encouraging you to continue, holding your nape with his hand making you look at him, thumb holding your chin up. You shake your head, smiling again and let your head bump against his chest, blushing, "I'm just happy, Teddy" your face is hidden in his chest, he holds you close, why is it that you are the shy one but it's his heart doing somersaults? "Me too mi amor, me too."

...

Theodore is not a religious man but when he has you infront of him, he'd gladly sink to his knees, thanking the heavens above for their blessings. He's with you in his dorm room, sitting on the loveseat, you in his lap, trailing kisses down his neck. You pull away, sliding off his lap down to your knees looking up at him with such devotion, he feels like a king, you unbuckle his belt with such eager hands he feels his soul escape, as though it has found it's paradise, ready to leave the land of mere mortals.

You love to tease him, knew how to him rile up and you took advantage of it. You pucker your lips around the tip of his length, not giving in easily, your eyes are full of mischief when you look up at him, "Don't tease," he groaned, hand reaching to fist your hair, you giggle as you pull away making him hiss. "Be kind Bella," his jaw was clenched hard with tension, you decide that it's enough, you always think you can hold back from him, tease him a bit more than the last time but your heart just wants to please him. You take his dick in whole, the warmth of your mouth making his jaw fall slack, the tension lifting from his shoulders as you swirl your tongue around the base, dragging it up slowly. Kissing the tip, then pulling away- letting your hand do the work while you give him a coy look. It was fucking sinful, hellish even, the way you were looking up at him. Theo was not a good man he knew that but there has to be a special place in hell for him after this because fuck, the way he loves you on some days is pure filth, there's nothing pure in his mind, there's only his weak submission to carnal desires.

You work your mouth up and down his length, the tip hitting the back of your throat in a pleasurably painful way. "Merlin-" his eyes were blown off to pitch blacks, it was struggle to take him in fully but the fucked out look in his eyes only motivated you. Gagging and choking on his dick, on your knees for him, it was a sight only he could see, only he could take the pleasure of admiring, he relished in knowing that fact that you were only his. Your beauty was for everyone to see, therefore it was something special in seeing you, pretty like this, lips wrapped around him and tear stained cheeks. He loved you more each second, it was worrisome how much he loved you, it even scared him sometimes, he'd go to any lengths for you, it doesn't matter if the world hates him by the end of it, he'll be happy if it means you'll love him a bit more.

Few minutes later he warns you that he's going to reach his limit, you don't let go, hands, lips, tongue, all pushing him over the edge, soon he's coming undone under your touch, you swallow up his release, pulling away your mouth with a pop. You are looking up at him with cum stained lips, zipping him up then straddling him. "That was pure fucking filth, love," he smiles as he looks at your lips, smearing the spit and cum more with his thumb, then pushing his thumb against your lips making you roll your tongue around him, licking away the remains of him, "the only filth I love."

...

Nott wasn't a fan of herbology but when he learnt that you adored certain flowers, he went out of his way to have them potted in your room, asked the professor ways of keeping the plants evergreen, perfected the charm to keep them blooming 24/7, going against nature just to see you smile.

Sometimes you'd make rings out of them, one for him, one for you, he'd wear them till the stems gave out, even then he'd preserve the flowers between the pages of his diary. Some days you'd make pretty crowns for yourself and others, he loved seeing you smile, the way you'd happily run to Pansy and Daphne during your break placing the crowns on their heads. Even they couldn't resist your charm, matching with you throughout the day, smiling brightly at eachother, it was a different kind of pretty, you being happy with your friends. He liked knowing that you had others loving you yet you came back to him, that you loved him more than you loved anyone else, he took pride knowing that his feelings were reciprocated with the same intensity.

"Everyone," you said out of nowhere, standing in front of him with your hands behind your back but talking to his friends instead, the group only sniggered at Theo's reaction, he was trying to get you to look at him, "I have something to confess," you smirked at them, you were wearing one of your flower crowns today and bright clothes as well, quite opposite to the image of the house you belonged to, standing out, everyone played along humming and urging you to continue, "there's this guy I like, a year above mine," you scrunched your nose up, as your friends gasped, "How scandalous, please continue ," Draco smirked, looking at how you were ignoring Theo who just looked confused, "I thought of asking him out on a date, you know with some poppies and roses, how does that sound?" You ask them shyly, still not looking at Theo who was on his feet now, while the others were sitting on the ground, splayed in different positions, all comfortable and happy. "That sounds awfully romantic, he'll surely appreciate it," Pansy quipped, cooing at your blushing face, the others simply nodding and grinning at her words.

Theo called out your name, finally making you look at him, "What Theo?" You ask him, your voice full of innocence, "what are you talking about?" He looks at his friends who just shrug and laugh while he's standing there all clueless. "You know, just confessing to the love of my life, he really is the best" you brightly smile up at him, "it's me, right? Theo?" He laughed lightly,"Ofcourse not silly," now he was confused, what were you on about and why were his friends hollering on the ground.

His face just scrunched up in confusion, you move closer to him, your shoes against his, smiling up at him, eyes full of love. "It's the guy named, Theodore Nott, do you happen to know him?" You were acting up, while his eyes widened, realising that he was being toyed with, not receiving a response, you pull your hands infront, placing the poppy and rose crown you made on his brown curls, "Happy Valentine's Day to guy I love the mostest" it was corny, cheesy and what not but it was sweetest thing at the same time, you were often shy when it came to public display but here you were, telling the world that he was the guy you loved the most- no, the mostest.

Theo was still awestruck, unable to move, only a smitten look on his, you reached up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. All you guys' friends were cooing and cheering when he bent down to kiss you after recovering from the initial shock, poppies and roses on both of your heads, you smiled against his lips as you pulled him closer. You both had drowned the noises everyone was making in the background, which went from cheering to fake gagging when they realised that the kiss wasn't going to end anytime soon. Theo couldn't care less what Valentine's was, for all it meant that he got another reason to celebrate his love for you, "I love you, the mostest." He repeated your words, meaning each and every word, his forehead resting against yours, there was no place better than this, to have you in his arms for everyone to see, for him to see your pretty smile directed at him, full of love and all things sweet and mushy, his face equally as bright. Kissing you again because he could never get enough of you, his heart beating as though he had just ran miles, warmth taking over his body, he doesn't ever remember asking for a life this happy but he's glad his happiness found him because there's nothing better than exchanging stones for roses or maybe it's just you, the rose petals over his gravel, he doesn't care only if it means that he can have you like this, sweet against his lips for the rest of his life. Finding himself closing his eyes, making a promise to himself, of cherishing and protecting this happiness of his, the one he never wished for, being his only wish now.

...

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #slytherin #thanks for the attention on the last post

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starlit-writer · 13 days ago

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in sickness and in health, ch. 1 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

ah, look at that. have some omegaverse angst inspired by this post here <3 if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

well, this turned out to be miles longer than i expected it to. there's not really a solid ending, so let me know if you want more! have so much fun getting your heart ripped out <3

word count: 4,764 chapter two masterlist ao3 link

Three years ago, you and Simon got married. It wasn’t anything flashy or big - fuck, how could it have been when you didn’t even love each other? But, military law forbade an unmated omega from joining the ranks, and Simon was seen as a wild-card alpha, too headstrong and violent, too hard to control. So, the brass laid out an ultimatum: mate, get married, or be discharged. Both you and Simon had worked too hard for too long to get where you were, so discharge was entirely off the table. There was no courting, no dates, and the wedding, if you could call it that, was little more than signing papers - three signatures on a thick piece of A4 government paper, one from you, one from Simon, and one from your witness, Captain John Price. You didn’t even exchange rings or vows. It took less than five minutes.

After all was said and done, you and Simon went back to your lives. Sure, you were respectful to one another, and you spent one or two heats and ruts together, but you both maintained a distance away from each other. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of being tied down, of being mated. The mating bond between you felt more like the neck of a too-tight sweater than it did a comfort, feeling each other’s emotions more of a chore than something you looked forward to. Sure, you worked well together, fluid and deadly like a well oiled M2 on the field. Always had. But there was a stark difference between working well together, and being mated.

So that’s how you ended up here. You had lost twenty pounds. Your skin was sallow and pale, your eyes sunken in. When you looked in the mirror, you could count your ribs, the knobs of your spine, even when they were hidden under the bruises that bloomed across your sickly skin.

You had thrown yourself into work, and when there was no work, you were challenging any living thing to go for a round with you on the sparring mat. But, you were weak; the bond sickness sapped all of your energy and strength faster than you could ever hope to replenish it. Your scent, which was once a warm and spicy caramelized vanilla, now smelled like sugar burnt to the bottom of a pot - acrid and rotted. You were dying, and you knew it. But your pride was far too great to ever go crawling back to Simon, the very man who caused the sickness to infiltrate every cell of your being. It had been months of this torture. Simon, your alpha, had all but abandoned you. You had been without his touch, his scent, anything and everything that the very base instincts of your omega craved from its mate for far too long. It didn't matter to your omega that this marriage, this mating bond was nothing more than a way to keep both you and Simon in the service. Instincts couldn't be fought with fact, and now you were reaping the consequences of the neglect of the bond. You had thought bond sickness was a myth, a fear-mongering tactic to keep alphas in line. However, you were now aware that there was far more truth than you could have ever imagined to that story that is told.

You had seen the concerned looks of your team as they watched you haunt the halls of the base like a spectre. Soap had started to bring you chocolates and drinks, anything in hopes to get you to eat. Gaz took a different approach, always being the one to take you up on your sparring requests, the beta knowing that at the very least he could be gentle with you while still giving you an outlet. The Captain had made sure to keep you off any truly strenuous missions and tasks, mainly relegating you to the medbay or to training recruits. If you were any stronger, you would be pissed, but right now you took it as a blessing. At least he hadn’t kicked you off the team for your weakness. But Simon? Simon was nowhere to be found. He continuously was the first volunteer for the most dangerous missions, keeping him away from base for weeks to months at a time. When he came back bloody and bruised, he would avoid the medbay like the plague, only coming in to get fixed up by another combat medic when he knew Soap or Gaz had forcefully pulled you away. If you two happened to be walking in the same hallway, Simon would duck out of your sight without even so much as a word. You had long since given up on running after him.

So color yourself surprised when you were standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom and the screen of your phone lit up, a text from Simon blaring on the too-bright screen. You had every intention of ignoring it, but your pride was no match for the dying ache of your omega.

Come to my quarters.

The text was simple. Demanding, even. And all it did was make you angry.

You quickly tugged on a pair of sweats and forced a tank top over your bruised and feverish skin. You thought briefly for a moment about tugging a sweatshirt on over your mottled skin, but, fuck it, let him see all that he has done to you. Maybe he would give you the one blessing you had hoped for over the last few months of neglect, and finally sever the bond between you.

You trudged through the hallways of the base, every soldier you passed giving you a wide berth. You were certain you looked like death froze over, and the rage-filled expression set over your brows and your lips certainly did not help. When you reached his door, you didn’t even bother to knock. You just shoved your copy of the key in the door and slammed the door open.

Simon barely even looked up from where he was lounging on the bed. His shirt was off, a rare sight, even for you, but even more shocking was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask. He didn’t look much better than you - his once-bronzed skin paled, his own scars raised and reddened, and he had a poorly bandaged bullet wound wrapped, the white medical wrapping blossoming with a red mark. Pulled stitches, definitely.

“Close the door,” came the rough demand as his arms lazily opened in an invitation to lay with him. “And c’mere.”

You, in all of your rage, just stood stockstill in the still-open doorway. Even as your omega side cried to jump into his arms and let his scent and his touch wash away all the pain, you refused with a defiant jut of your chin. You didn’t know why he had called you here, and the only thing your mind could conjure up is that Price, or Laswell, or fuck, even Soap, had sat him down and forced him to do this. And you wanted nothing to do with this or with him if he actually was not trying to change.

“I don’t want your pity. And I sure as hell don’t want your affection just because Price told you that you had to fix me,” you replied, your voice shaking with weakness and pain, even as you tried your damndest to keep it steady, strong.

Simon growled, the sound of an alpha not used to not getting his way, as he rolled onto his side to look at you more squarely. His arms were still open, but you could see the way his muscles clenched, his own anger rising. “It ain’t about pity. It’s about basic biology,” he bit out, the words short and angry.

That made you laugh, the sound short and sardonic before it morphs into a cough that shakes your entire, frail being. You brought a shaking hand up to wipe your lips before you fixed him with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean. “Basic biology?" you mocked. “Yeah, for sure. But it’s also basic biology to not let bond sickness even be a worry for your omega, but looks like you fucked that one right up, didn’t you!?”

Your words made something in Simon snap. Your rage, the vitriol, clenched his hands into fists as he quickly swung his powerful legs over the edge of the bed, crossing the space between you in the space between one of your breaths and the next. He was in your face now, just enough space between you to not be pressing completely against you. You averted your gaze, knowing that if you didn’t, you might continue yelling at him, or worse.

“Look at me,” he ordered, using the same tone he does on the battlefield. His hands are still clenched into fists, but they are shaking. Why?

That tone made your eyes harden, the instincts of a hard-bred soldier kicking in. Even through the fraying of your bond, your sickness, you knew that voice. You listened when given an order. You allowed your head to loll back to look up at him, but your expression was still set in that same hard glare. You weren’t on a battlefield. You were on base, far away from the acrid explosions and hot gunpowder. How dare he pretend otherwise? “Why?” you bit back in response. “This isn’t some tactical decision, Simon. Don’t treat me like one of your fuckin’ rookies.”

He took a sharp breath through his teeth, obviously trying to control himself. He knew you were weak, the bond sickness taking so much more from you than it ever did him. But your defiance, your spirit despite the bond sickness was making his alpha go crazy. Even with you glaring up at him, he stared down at you with fierce eyes as his hands gripped your hips, shoving you out of the doorway and pressing you against the wall right beside it. Taking one hand off of your hip, he shut the door with a resounding click before his grip, and his attention came back entirely to you. “I ain’t treatin’ you like a goddamned rookie,” he growled out, his cold brown gaze entirely focused on your own broken one as one hand slams into the wall by your head. Even through your rage, he can see it. Feel it. He had broken you. And that knowledge caused his alpha to writhe in pain. “I’m treatin’ ya like my fuckin’ omega.”

As he caged you in, growled those words at you, your own expression hardened. Your lips curled up to reveal your smaller omega fangs, a low growl of your own reverberating from your chest as your hands clenched into fists. It’s hard to ignore the sheer size difference between the two of you as he towers over you, his head dipped low to keep your attention. However, that did nothing to stop your rage, in fact, it increased it tenfold.

“Oh, right. I forgot. Being your omega means less than being one of your rookies, silly me.”

You knew the second the words left your mouth that you just opened a Pandora’s box. You saw it in the way his eyes instantaneously darkened, in the way his hand left the wall before you could even blink, his fingers crushing your jaw between them in a bruising grip, forcing your head back against the wall as he brought his face ever closer to yours. However, as his face got closer, you could see the glint of something else in his eyes. Triumph. His alpha was revelling in watching you snap and get fiery again. It was a victory, in his mind, to see you able to be so angry after the bond sickness had taken so much from you. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “I know that attitude of yours will always be there, but careful.”

His words sent another wave of anger through you, and as he forced your head back, you jerked your neck, snapping your teeth at him, your small omega fangs glinting in the low light of his quarters. It was a clear message. Fuck the bond sickness, he had no right to touch you right now. You did not forgive him, and he has to work to even begin to earn that, and if he won’t? You would dissolve the bond without him, whether or not it risked your life.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you growled out, glaring up at him even as the bruising grip of his fingers squished your cheeks together, slurring your words. “Not after everything.”

His alpha instincts flared again, the desire to force you into accepting his help clear as his eyes flashed in irritation at your anger. He pressed you further into the wall, his body now flush against yours as he snarled right back. “Then do something about it,” he challenged. “Get mad. Fight me. Let it all out. But, you’re not leaving this room until you let me fix this.”

As much as you hated it, hearing Simon’s permission gave you the ability to let it all out. No matter how much you wanted to pretend that you were unaffected by him, the knowledge that he wanted you to fight, wanted to fix this broken bond between you, allowed you to finally and truly get all of the anger out, and maybe, just maybe, give the bond a chance to heal.

And so you did. Your body jerked against his, your sallow cheeks flushing red as you bared your omega fangs and growled at him again. Your eyes held the faintest spark of life, a far cry from what they used to have, but there’s something there now.

When Simon saw that spark, the faintest hint of his omega coming back, he chuckled gruffly, his eyes glinting with a possessive heat.

“Yes, spitfire. I want you t’ fight me. Hit me, scream, yell at me, tell me how shit of an alpha I’ve been. I don’t care. Just don’t. Hold. Back.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the dam inside of you broke. Months worth of anger, agony, grief, pain, and aching sadness flooded your veins like a hot, volatile drug. It felt like a living, breathing thing as the emotions curled around your lungs, your muscles, your heart. Tears pushed at your lash line, the aching pain making itself known through the rage.

You held his cold brown gaze for a moment, your eyes searching his. When all you saw in return was steely determination, you did the only thing you could think of. Before he could even move out of the way, you shut your eyes and cranked your head back as far as it would go, and drove your forehead straight into his nose. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to break it, but definitely hard enough to hurt and make the blood start flowing.

He staggered back from you, his hands coming up to cup his nose, but the alpha was far from angry. In fact, he was grinning, the blood pouring from his nose coating his lips and teeth. A low growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he stared at you, approval glinting in his eyes. “Good girl,” he muttered lowly, the praise slipping through so naturally.

As his praise washed over you, you felt your stomach flip. It shouldn’t feel that good. Not after the months and months of neglect so bad that you were literally dying. But, you couldn’t help the small ember of warmth that bloomed through your chest as that muttered praise of good girl flowed through your veins like a warm blanket settling over you.

But, you were still angry. And hurt. And countless other emotions that you couldn’t even begin to name, all just culminating into a neverending ache. And as you saw the blood marring the plush flesh of his lower lip, something inside of you snapped.

He had made his worst mistake. He had let go of you, and now you could truly fight.

You crouched down, using your smaller stature and power legs to kick your leg out, and you swept it across the ground, knocking the much-bigger alpha off of his feet. You watched as his massive frame hit the ground, shaking the walls, a bloom of satisfaction erupting in your chest. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins now, the only thing allowing you to move, and before he had the chance to become reoriented, you were on top of him, straddling his hips as you punched at his chest. Your tears of anguish were falling freely now, sobs breaking free with your yells.

“You have broken me! Broken! I used to be so strong, so happy, and you destroyed that! Ripped it away from me! All because you were too fucking caught up in your own shit, your own fucking fear, that you couldn’t even be half of the alpha you needed to be!”

Simon grunted in pain as his back collided with the cold, hard tile of his quarters, his hands automatically coming up to grab at your hips. Not to shove you off, no, but to keep you on top of him. He knew he deserved this. Every punch, every pointed word, every tear. It was his penance for all of the pain and agony he had put you through, even if it was ripping his heart to absolute shreds.

“I know, I know,” he growled softly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I did.”

You shook your head, tears and snot flying from the force. You were so angry, so hurt, but the adrenaline was quickly running its course, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion and pain. Your punches slowly weakened, until you were barely able to lift your hands. Instead, they came to rest on his bare chest, your omega claws digging sharply into the thick muscle that covered his chest, one of your hands digging directly over his heart, needing him to feel a fraction of the agony that coursed through your own.

“Don’t you agree with me! Don’t you dare! Gods, you do this to me for months, and you… you have nothing to say for yourself!? I tried! Tried to be a good spouse, a good omega! I tried to give you your space, to be unobtrusive, even though that killed my omega! And all I fuckin’ got in return is this fucking bond sickness that is killing me! Tearing me apart from the inside out!”

His body shuddered as your claws dug into his chest, his skin breaking under the tiny points. It hurt in every way that it could, but the tiny pinpricks of blood that welled around your claws were nothing compared to how he had hurt you. He knew that he deserved this, every inch of your wrath, of your anger, and the pain it brought for him. It was the least he could do - to bear this for you. But, Gods, it didn’t stop your words from tearing into his heart in a way your claws couldn’t even begin to touch.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he repeated, his words thick with the guilt that was threatening to choke him. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

His apology broke what little strength you had left. The bond between you was fraying, seconds away from snapping completely, and you had never felt more lost. A sob broke free from your lips, the force of the sound causing your body to lurch forward. But, Simon was there. For once, he was there. His chest caught your head, your tears wetting his skin almost instantaneously as your claws scratched down his torso, leaving thin, raised red lines down his scarred skin.

He hissed softly in response to the pain, but he made no attempt to move, to shy away from it. You had completely given up on your ego, your omega so desperate for your alpha, no matter what he had done. But, you were still so hurt, your omega so wounded that you had no idea how you were going to come back from this.

“Just… just tell me why. Why did you do this? Why did you treat me like this?” you sobbed out into his chest, your sour, distressed omega pheromones wafting around him like a shroud of despair.

His alpha writhed in pain at your scent. It was wrong, so, so wrong, but he had done this. His neglect, his apathy, had taken his once strong, ferocious omega and reduced her down to this. He had never seen you like this. And he never wanted to again. He could feel the bond between you slipping between his fingers like shards of glass digging into his very being, and fear rose to take its place. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling your tiny, trembling form against him, his nose burying into your hair as he pressed a featherlight, shaking kiss into it. He swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat, his heart clenching in fear. In pain. In anger at himself. “I was a coward, love.”

You sobbed harder against his chest at his admission, shaking your head jerkily. Your body felt like it was freezing and burning up at the same time, as the frayed edges of the bond dug into you like poisonous thorns. You could feel your mind shattering, your heart stuttering as the bond sickness continued to take hold. You were dying, and you knew it. But at this point, you would almost take death over the amount of pain you were in. “That’s not a good excuse,” came your shaking reply, the words thick with tears and agony, but they were strong with conviction. “Tell me why, Simon. Tell me why, or break the godsdamned bond.”

The words that left your lips felt like they were suffocating the alpha. Break the bond. His arms tightened around you until you were completely pressed against him, and he could feel every shudder, every quiver in your weakening body. A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound full of pain but also a desperate desire to comfort. He had to try - to even attempt to explain, even if he wasn’t sure it would do anything. But the thought of losing you without even trying made his heart shatter, his alpha howl in protest.

“Because I was afraid,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret and honesty as his knuckles ran across the knobs of your spine. That caused him more pain than you would ever know, feeling how you had atrophied from his neglect. How his dismissal, his abandonment had caused his once strong, beautiful omega, to waste away before his very eyes. “Afraid of getting caught up in you, in this. Of loving you, of giving you part of my heart. I didn’t know how to keep you safe. I didn’t think I was worthy of having something like that, like you. I still don’t.”

“Then break the bond,” you whimpered out, the pain of the bond sickness, of your own emotions, and what little of Simon’s you could still feel through the barest threads of the bond ricocheting through your body, reduced you to little more than a husk lying on top of Simon. Your heart was shattering along with the bond, the broken edges of each splintering in a way that made it hard for you to breathe. Your breath pushed and pulled achingly slowly through your chapped lips like broken glass, just another thing ripping your very being apart.

“If you can’t do this… I’ll… I’ll figure it out. The brass’ll let me stay, at least for a little bit. But, I can’t… I can’t keep doin’ this. ‘M not asking for love. ‘M not asking to be a real marriage, but I can’t be apart of a bond where ‘m not… where ‘m not bein’ taken care of. I can’t.”

Your words were slurring, little more than a broken and pain-filled whimper against his broad chest, and Simon could practically hear the way his heart shatters beneath you. He did this. He did this. And yet, the selfish part of him couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, no matter how much pain he had put you through. The alpha snarled as he wrapped his arms around your ever-weakening frame impossibly tighter, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you tight enough, you’d slip away from him forever.

“No, baby, no,” he replied softly, but the words were filled with a growl of conviction, of promise. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I hurt you. Let me… let me fix this, okay? Please, baby. Lemme fix you. Just for right now.”

Simon was begging. You didn’t know if you had ever heard him beg before, but here he was, begging you to allow him the chance to fix you. Your exhausted, wounded omega perked up a bit at his conviction, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was far too little, far too late. “I… I don’t know, Simon. How can you… how can you fix this?”

The pained gasps between your words drove a stake of fear through Simon’s heart, his alpha whimpering painfully. He swallowed harshly against the ever-growing lump in his throat, as he knew that he had to be the pillar of strength. If he broke right now, there was no hope for you. His lips brushed against the top of your head as he inhaled your sour, rotted scent in despair, his hands running up and down your back in a vain attempt to soothe you.

“Let me… let me have a chance,” the alpha, your alpha, pleaded. “Please baby, let me fix this. I’ll do better, I promise. Gods, I’ll do anything. Just… just let me get you better, baby, please. And then, if you still want to break the bond, we can, okay? Just… I can’t lose you. I can’t let you die. Not like this. Never like this.”

You felt, more than heard, his words wash over you. You could feel your body failing, the bond sickness taking what little was left of you. Even with Simon’s touch, with his promises, you had a brief moment of clarity where you just knew that this still might be it, that the bond had been strained too far, the cavernous distance between the two of you still too great, that this bond sickness might still kill you, despite his promises to fix you.

You were so tired. So, so tired. The pain is too much, your eyelids too heavy, and it felt like what was left of your shattered heart wasn’t pumping nearly enough oxygen through your veins. You were teetering on the edge, and all you wanted to do was sleep.

“Just… just let me sleep. In here. With you. Please?” you mumbled, the words soft and slurred. Any fight, any pride you had just a few minutes ago was long gone, and if you were going to die, your omega wanted it to be right here, in your alpha’s arms, taken peacefully in your sleep. “I need… just, please, Si.”

Simon’s resolve shattered at the nickname that fell past your lips. He instantly sat up, gathering your frail, fragile body in his arms as he nodded, his own tears finally breaking free.

His fault. All his fault. Always his fault.

He quickly stood up, your body light (too light, too light) in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He was terrified. He could feel how slow your heartbeat was, how weak your body was, how slurred your words were. He shushed you softly, gently, but the sound warbled against his own tears.

“Shhh, shhh, baby. I got you. I got you. Just… just sleep, okay? I’ll be right here. Right here. Never leavin’ your side again. I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Just sleep.”

He gingerly laid you on the bed, surrounding you with blankets and pillows, anything he could find that was drenched in his alpha scent, before his body came to blanket you. He couldn’t lose you. And he will keep his promise, even as his own silent tears fell down around your now-unconscious face. What’s that old saying? Oh, right. You never know what you have until it’s gone.

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sugurugetoshairbrush · 2 months ago

Text

thinking about playing with geto’s hair to help him unwind after a stressful week

the air hangs heavy, oppressive with summer's clinging humidity—a fitting backdrop to the surge in curses running rampant through japan. your days blur into an unrelenting cycle: exorcise, write reports, collapse in your dorm. you call it a blessing, a chance to strengthen your technique—but deep down you know that each mission brings you closer to the brink.

the fatigue is nothing short of infectious, spreading through jujutsu high like a virus. but this week, geto's weariness went beyond mere exhaustion—it teetered on the edge of total defeat. you and gojo had noticed it immediately, an unspoken observation of his too-polite words, dull eyes, and the barely-there smile he wore like armor.

although gojo is usually aloof when it comes to these types of social cues, his six eyes truly lives up to its name when it comes to geto. gojo notices his unfinished meals and lack of appetite, resorting to (in very gojo-esque manner) attempt to hand-feed him and offer up his most sacred sweets.

you'd teased gojo for his attentiveness, but he'd fire back that you were no better, always rushing to geto's side the moment he'd returned from a mission, dragging him along to a number of alleviating activities. you'd even made the mistake of inviting him to a smoke sesh with shoko, a decision you were still getting shit for since any invite to geto automatically extends to gojo—the embodiment of shoko's nightmare blunt rotation.

but today geto had been particularly elusive, so you find yourself messaging gojo privately to discuss your concern. unsurprisingly, gojo is a little too eager to engage...

S. Gojo | Today at 9:37 PM nd u saw how quickly he excused himself after giving his report ?? he didn't even scold me after yaga pointed out that my handwriting was completely illegible :0

You | Today at 9:39 PM sooo you knew that it was illegible? mbn to never worry about the consequences of your actions & ofc i noticed!! he seemed restless during that whole meeting

S. Gojo | Today at 9:40 PM just say ur jealous lol nd I noticed that too it was pretty distracting u think hes still on edge from the mission?

You | Today at 9:43 PM in his defense it doesnt take much to distract you i dont even think his mission was particularly difficult though didn’t he exorcise a bunch of grade 3 curses

S. Gojo | Today at 9:43 PM yeeah but remember he still has to absorb them hes trying to increase his collection i could yak rn just thinking ab it

You | Today at 9:45 PM truee idk how he does it honestly it must be rlly wearing him down tho i rarely see him now :(

S. Gojo | Today at 9:46 PM yeahhh he keeps hiding out in his room classic avoidant tendencies

You | Today at 9:48 PM astute observation dr. gojo that would imply he needs some space huh

S. Gojo | Today at 9:48 PM rightttt but

You | Today at 9:50 PM but? (i like where this is going)

S. Gojo | Today at 9:50 PM luckily space isn't in our vocabulary (i knew u would) lets go bother him :3

You | Today at 9:51 PM im alr omw to u :3

stuffing your phone back into your sweats, you begin making your way to your co-conspirator. it's pitch black outside save for the dim light of the flickering lantern hung at the dorm’s main post, but gojo’s room is only a couple doors down. you push open the slightly ajar door and are met with a tart, saccharine scent wafting from gojo’s not-so-secret stash of hard candy.

squinting forward you spot the culprit red-handed, splayed out across his bed, and likely one candy away from a sugar rush. your exasperated exhale breaks him from his sugar trance and he rolls over to prop himself up on his side, crinkling about eight discarded candy wrappers in the process.

"so nice of you to join me tonight~”

you wrinkle your nose at his lopsided grin, “gross satoru, a grown-ass man eating in his bed.”

gojo sneers peering over his glasses which are slowly slipping down the slope of his nose to retort, “and you are a grown-ass woman who still sleeps with stuffed animals so I don’t wanna hear it.”

he sticks out his bright red tongue before tossing the empty wrappers onto the floor to clear up some space. you consider pointing out the digimon plushie that's visible from underneath his bed but decide to let it slide, seating yourself next to him. you are instead much more interested in gawking at the ginormous bag of candy sitting before you.

"there's actually no way you plan on eating this entire bag yourself, right?" you eye his glossy, red-stained lips "your dentist must hate to see you coming."

“and I would happily take on that challenge but—" he pauses to lift a piece of candy wrapped in shiny gold paper, "I actually picked up this bag earlier because I noticed it has these hard candies with honey filling.”

"how considerate and out of character of you," you tease.

he pouts puffing his cheeks out defiantly, "yeah so this stays between us because I can't have you running around ruining my feared, distinguished, and carefully constructed reputation—"

"of being an arrogant asshole?" you finish.

"no silly, I was gonna go with alpha male."

he smugly turns over to lay flat on his stomach, picking out the honey-filled candies and kicking his feet that hung off the edge of the bed. ah yes, the tell-tale sign of an alpha male giggling and kicking his feet while rummaging through sweets.

"right."

you lean back onto your hands making contact with something hard beneath the blanket. upon further inspection, you uncover gojo's beloved nintendo ds littered with sailor moon stickers. you lift it onto your lap tracing a finger over the peeling edge of a bright-eyed feline luna.

gojo glances over at the movement, "I'm just about done, bring that too."

you sit upright pocketing a couple pieces of candy for yourself along with the ds while he shoves as much candy as physically possible into his grey flannel joggers. stretching your legs out you rise to your feet pulling him up by his arm along with you. you’re pleasantly surprised to be met with the soft, warm brush of his skin rather than the cold pressure that is the icy barrier of his infinity.

although you should be accustomed to gojo deactivating his infinity around you, you couldn't help but lightly shudder as the comforting warmth courses through your body. because despite your argumentative banter, you reveled in the fact that the gojo satoru was surrounded by trusted friends who made him feel comfortable enough to let go of the technique temporarily. he hums softly kicking on his slippers and rising off the bed.

now towering over you, he shifts his weight, fully intending to take a long stride toward the door—until your hand presses firmly against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“listen—y'know I love you 'toru but before we go in there I'm gonna need you to promise to dial it down about five notches—" you take a breath and press your palms together in a pleading gesture, "so we don’t overwhelm him."

you’re met with a scoff and quirked snowy-white brow, “tch I'm not stupid I know how to read a room."

you release a shaky "okay" clearly unconvinced.

he rolls his eyes swatting at your hands and looping his arm around yours to pull you forward, “now let’s go visit our sweet sugubear~” you playfully bump shoulders giddy because you’re all too aware of geto’s ability to render you both docile.

lifting a hand to tug down your beige baby tee where it had bunched up from gojo’s arm, you allow yourself to be led to geto's room.

upon arrival, you are greeted with silence and the distant droning buzz of cicadas. the soft glow from gojo's ocean-blue eyes illuminates the door, and you can’t help but admire their determined sparkle.

“suguruuuu are ya in there? we know you are so let us in loser.” he accompanies his request with a sharp, forceful knock.

you snort at this tactless approach, slipping your arm out from his to swat at the back of his head. you take a gentler approach, knocking lightly, your plea sincere.

“hey um suguru, we know it’s late but we were hoping to unwind together since we haven’t really had a chance to hang out recently and we know how tiring the past few weeks have been for you and um...well all of us and well we y'know—” you pause from your rambling momentarily, banking on gojo swooping in.

“we miss you 'ru” he finishes loudly.

you both cock your heads sideways towards the door to listen for movement and jolt back when you hear the shuffling of feet move across the floor.

you lean in towards gojo, your voice a whisper, “he’s alive.”

geto's muffled voice responds, “yes yes I'm alive, sorry to disappoint,” his voice sounds strained yet still cracks into a low chuckle. he pulls the door open revealing himself to be dressed in a baggy black sweatsuit wrapped in a thick grey blanket that's pulled around his shoulders and draped over his arms. his eyes are clouded by dark bags and his hair is strung messily around his head, his lips fixed into a friendly, albeit forced smile.

gojo, slightly amused by the disheveled geto in front of him, opens his mouth to say god knows what, but geto promptly warns, “don’t make me regret opening this door satoru.”

"so scary sugu, don't be so mean," he dramatically shivers and you can hear the pout lacing his voice. you giggle into your palm at geto's stern look and gojo tugs sheepishly at his unruly milky-white hair. he approaches the darker-haired man placing a firm hand on geto’s shoulder before continuing inside. you follow suit and hear geto's lock click back into place behind you.

gojo immediately makes himself comfortable kicking off his slippers at the foot of the bed and falling face first onto geto's pillows with a sigh. he pulls out the candy from his pocket and drops a handful beside him. you remove your slippers and neatly arrange them while geto sulks over to the bed. he sits upright next to the candy and you drop yourself beside him pulling your knees into your chest. you all bask in comfortable silence before geto is the first to break.

"already infesting my bed with your sugar addiction huh, satoru?"

"no sufogu, bwought dese fa you" his words come out jumbled from the press of his mouth to the pillows.

geto lifts a single candy to his lap and carefully unwraps it. you lean into his side and point, "these candies are filled with honey 'ru, thought they could soothe your throat some."

geto gingerly lifts the candy to his lips proceeding to gently coax out the flavor, savoring the sweet taste. he tilts his head back, eyes crinkling into a thin line and shoulders easing.

“s'good, thank you."

while he revels in the soothing effect the candy is having on his throat you shift your attention towards his hair situation.

"did we wake you? it looks like you just had the nap of a lifetime." you reach up to twist a strand of hair that somehow defies the laws of physics sticking out horizontally.

"no, not at all," his eyes soften casting downward, "sleep's been more like a privilege lately."

gojo's dumbass barrels right past any underlying message there, nuzzling his face deeper into the pillow, "s'cwazy cuz you haf the soffest bed."

as expected, geto with the patience of a saint, is unbothered by his lack of awareness, reaching out to affectionately ruffle gojo's hair, which earns him a soft, satisfied sigh.

you roll your eyes at how pliant and disgustingly submissive gojo had magically become in a matter of seconds. in turn, you thread your fingers deeper into the stringy black clump that was currently geto's hair.

"ugh there's no way you let your precious hair get this tangled, it physically pains me to look at," you clutch your chest dramatically.

geto reaches up to touch the hair in question, his fingertips lightly brushing against yours. he swallows uneasily, "it's gotten pretty bad huh."

you shoot him a sympathetic look carefully removing the hand in his hair to avoid yanking his scalp. you would never admit it aloud but there isn't much you wouldn't do for him; he's reliable, a comforting presence, and his character is unshakable. no matter how unpleasant or dismissive you and gojo could get at your worst, geto was there. so you didn't hesitate to make him an earnest offer.

"let me untangle it. I just so happen to be extremely skilled at detangling, probably from my years of experience—“ you gesture to your own hair twisting a loose curl around your finger, “—and don’t worry I make adjustments for the tender-headed, just ask utahime."

"wait who said I'm tender-headed?"

you snort and simply gesture to the ground, "just sit down here, okay?"

you try your best to mask your excitement since you love geto’s hair: it’s jet-black, long, and soft to the touch. it always smells fresh, with a hint of vanilla from his shampoo. it’s honestly attractive refreshing to see such well-groomed hair on a man.

geto silently complies, crouching next to your feet to fold up and place down his blanket before retrieving his brush from a nearby drawer. anticipating the whine of an excluded gojo, you reach into your pocket and toss his ds onto his back.

"here satoru, so you don't get bored in the next minute"

he eagerly turns over and powers on the handheld device. he is so easy to placate, if he wasn’t a gojo you would frankly be concerned for his safety.

geto settles between your legs, back against the bed, and expresses his interest, "whatcha playing there 'toru? pokémon?"

you start to nimbly section off his hair using the brush and begin working on the ends.

gojo shuffles closer to the two of you and tilts the screen so geto can get a look.

"nintendogs?" geto asks sounding exasperated and you catch a quick glimpse of a black-and-white spotted puppy pawing at the screen.

you suppress a giggle because gojo truly never disappoints and continue working your way up your section unraveling a particularly large tangle.

"try not to sound so disappointed 'ru its so fun~ its got tons of adorable doggies to play with and its harder than it looks! honestly its a lot of work."

now that absurdity earns him a laugh as you smooth down the top of your section mumbling under your breath, "yeah work."

"well I don't know about all that—but I'm glad you've discovered this month’s hyper-fixation" geto responds with a yawn.

"thank you...i think," gojo replies before quickly being distracted by the incessant yapping of his digital pets.

you take your time working through geto's hair, carefully pulling apart tangles and smoothing out ends, admiring the glossy shine reflected in the low light of his dorm. once thoroughly detangled, you brush through his thick locks while running your fingers through his bangs that don’t quite reach back far enough.

you hear a low hum when your fingers lightly scrape along his scalp so you continue your ministrations to hopefully allow him some semblance of peace. the yapping coming from gojo's direction becomes white noise as you get lost in thought admiring the silky-smooth feel of geto's hair against your fingers.

the satisfying swish of the hairbrush running from root to end sounds strangely cathartic. you note how his hair has grown considerably since the last time you had seen it completely down. it cascades down a little past his shoulders curling up slightly at the bottoms when released from the confines of the brush.

you gather all his hair back intending to indicate that you had finished until you notice a breathy rumbling being released steadily from his mouth. you peer over his head to see his eyes gently resting shut, with a tranquil expression softening his features as his lips part slightly with each slow breath.

somehow he has managed to look perfectly serene, yet impossibly striking. it was a relieving sight to see after this past week made you believe that his face had become permanently fixed into a frown.

"hey—“

you swiftly press a finger to a startled gojo's lips gesturing to the sleeping geto that had slumped into your lap. gojo quickly powers off his game and cranes his neck to get a good look at geto's face.

he stifles a laugh and wraps an arm around your shoulder, "mission accomplished huh?"

you nod contently as a warm gust of his strawberry-scented breath fans your face.

gojo seats himself next to you and begins running his fingers through geto's newly tamed hair. geto releases a long sigh and you can't help but think its awfully cute.

"bet I can do a better hairstyle than you can" gojo challenges, because of course he does. you still take him up on it though; partly because you're competitive, and partly because you want to keep soothing geto through his much-needed slumber.

you smirk at gojo before parting geto's hair down the middle. taking the left side you begin splitting it into four parts to work on a fishtail. you had always wondered how one would look on him if he ever let down his taut bun.

glancing towards gojo whose eyebrows are furrowed in deep concentration, you notice his glasses had been completely removed as he’s struggling to complete a french braid. the braid is somehow tight, loose, chunky, and thin all at once—effectively securing your victory. his pale fingers weave clumsily through one another to continue down.

gojo scowls looking dissatisfied with his work thus far and begins undoing his current progress. near geto's temple the braid had twisted awkwardly and as gojo pulled the strands apart he was met with resistance accidentally yanking geto's head back suddenly.

the motion jolts you all backward and shakes geto awake releasing a pained wince from the rough pull.

"what the fuck guys”

"gojo you had one job" you moan. gojo's white eyelashes flutter apologetically and he rubs soft circles into the spot he had just pulled.

"didn't mean to sugu"

you roll your eyes at his allergy to explicitly apologizing and shove him away from geto's head. dejected, he slowly inches himself to the edge of the bed until he slides down next to geto. he pops a hard candy between his lips that seemingly appeared out of thin air and leans his head onto geto's shoulder.

you swear you can make out a hushed murmur sounding close to a sorry. geto hums and you go back to playing with his hair. you decide to make an effort to style his hair in a way that he can achieve on his own. you lift gojo's head gently to retrieve the hair that had been trapped underneath so he can snuggle in closer, and you begin working on a half-up, half-down style.

once satisfied you make the executive decision to loop the half-up ponytail into a bun and pull out his bangs to frame his face.

geto’s voice calls wearily out, "having fun back there?" his eyes are half-lidded from dozing off, and at this point he’s completely malleable to your touch.

"I'm actually taking this opportunity very seriously sugu."

you retrieve your phone and open the front-facing camera, handing it to him. he positions it in front of his face to view the finished look.

the corner of his eyes crinkle, but you can still make out the deep violet of his irises scanning over your handiwork.

"I actually like this a lot, it looks great," he praises.

gojo cracks an eye open so he can weigh in.

"I don't hate it."

at that you flick the nape of his neck harshly and geto chuckles at the subsequent wince feeling rightfully avenged for earlier.

“so seriously how do I look?”

“pretty—“ “—handsome” you and gojo both blurt out at once.

an awkward silence follows, and you can't help but giggle at your brazen, synchronized boldness.

searching for a way to ease the tension, your eyes fall back onto the camera in geto's hand and you motion towards it to refocus everyone's attention, "well we've clearly established that you look great so don't let the photo go to waste."

you catch his lips curling slightly before he complies, extending his arm to get a better shot. gojo leans back onto geto's shoulder and lazily holds up a peace sign, his cheeks tinged strawberry-red to match his lips. you scoot forward resting your chin on geto's other shoulder, tilting your head slightly and flashing a playful grin.

“perfect, my new lock screen,” you say, giving geto’s bun one final twist.

geto chuckles, low and warm, and gives your knee a gentle pat. “well, in that case, I’m honored.” he shifts his weight, stretching his legs out, visibly more at ease than when you’d first arrived. beside him, gojo, not missing a beat, looks up, hands folded across his chest.

“but of course, I'm more honored, I'm literally the honored one”

geto looks over the image zooming in slightly, "keep talking and you'll be the one cropped out satoru."

this ignites their usual bickering and you scoff. you watch as geto’s shoulders softly shake with laughter and you swear he seems lighter, the tension of the last few weeks loosening. maybe, just maybe, things could return to normal soon.

at least, for this moment, you all felt a little more like yourselves.

#i love them both #self indulgent asf #gojo x reader x geto #satosugu #satosugu x reader #hidden inventory arc #canon divergence #otaku gojo #getou suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk crack #jjk smau #jjk fluff #jjk x black!fem reader #shoko ieiri

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disneyprincemuke · 10 months ago

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✧.* the chocolate bunny that hopped away / ls2 *.✧

the chocolate bunny that oscar had given luna is missing, and you could have sworn that you put it away safely.

you hum as you tiptoe on the ground, craning your neck for a better look into the cabinet for its contents.

that’s weird, you think, the chocolates are gone.

easter has come and gone and luna has just gotten baskets upon baskets of candy and chocolate. and like a responsible mother, you were not just going to let her indulge in sugar all the time. it’s already enough that she’s an energetic 5-year-old as is.

“hey, babe.”

you drop your feet on the ground and whirl around at the voice. you furrow your eyebrows. “did you eat luna’s chocolates?”

“good morning to you, too.” logan stops right by the kitchen island, blinking at you blankly. he has an empty coffee cup in hand, just freshly picked from the clean array of choices of cups. “and what? no, i didn’t.”

you sigh, “don’t lie to me. who else would have eaten luna’s huge ass chocolate bunny? she’s going to be so upset if she looks for it and i can’t give it to her.”

“i’m not lying,” logan shrugs, turning away from you to head for the coffee machine. “maybe you misplaced it? i can help you look for it if you need to.”

you clench your jaw and put a hand on your hip. misplaced chocolate? that’s unheard behaviour even coming from you — you’ve been meticulous with hiding things since becoming a mother.

“no, i put it right here after we had that egg hunt yesterday,” you frown, pursing your lips. but seriously, babe. if you ate it, just admit it so i can go to the store and get some more. otherwise, you will have to explain to your daughter why her big chocolate bunny from uncle ozzy is missing.”

logan turns around to you, head tilted. “i didn’t eat the chocolate bunny.”

“then who else would have eaten it?” you ask with a small and knowing smile. “there are only 3 people in this house — if luna didn’t eat it, and i didn’t eat it, there’s only one other person in here that could have eaten it.”

logan shrugs, “maybe there’s a fourth member you don’t know about?”

“hey, that’s totally not funny!” you shriek, smacking his shoulder lightly. “come on, babe. just admit it.”

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” he laughs comically, turning as you approach him by the coffee machine. he picks up his coffee cup and pulls you in for a hug, pressing his lips to your forehead tenderly. “i didn’t eat the chocolate bunny.”

you narrow your eyes down into a glare. “i know you ate it. and i will get you to admit it.”

“alright, let’s get you ready for bed,” you mutter, following luna towards the bathroom. “let’s brush our teeth!”

“thank you for the chocolates, mummy,” she giggles, hopping away from you.

you look over your shoulder at logan, still sitting on the couch, already staring at you. “of course, lulu.”

“i didn’t eat the damn chocolate bunny,” logan repeats softly to you with a small scowl. “when are you going to believe me?”

you walk backwards down the hallway of rooms, shaking your head disapprovingly at your husband. “i will get you to admit your crimes, sargeant. you will not eat the chocolate bunny with no consequences.”

“i won’t have any,” logan smiles, pushing himself off the couch with his arms spread, “because i didn’t eat anything that wasn’t mine.”

“i cannot believe i married a big fat liar.”

“and i married someone who accuses me with no evidence.”

“yeah, because you ate it!”

“did not!”

you were in bed reading a book when your bedroom door opened, logan walking in with slouched shoulders and a tired grin on his face. “it took forever luna to go to bed.”

“probably because she has an inkling that you ate her chocolate bunny from uncle ozzy,” you retort with a small and proud smile. you lift your attention from your book to your husband. “all the arrows are pointing at you.”

“i didn’t eat it,” logan hums, shaking his head. “maybe you ate it and you’re just looking for somebody to blame?”

“you wish. i’m a good mother to our daughter,” you tease, putting a bookmark between the pages and putting your book down on the bedside table. “you, on the other hand…”

“i’m a good father because i didn’t eat the chocolate bunny,” he insists. he crawls on to the bed over to you, landing on your torso with his arms wrapped around your waist. “maybe it sensed it was gonna get eaten and hopped away.”

you furrow your eyebrows, resting a hand on his back as he lays with you. “or maybe it’s resting in your stomach.”

“i didn’t eat it.”

you’d been walking past luna’s bedroom when you heard her speaking. assuming that she’s gotten on a call with either lily or logan’s mother.

“i have a secret,” you hear luna giggling. you peek through the small gap in the door to find your daughter lying on her stomach with her feet in the air.

on her ipad screen, you see lily’s face with a small grin, nodding enthusiastically. “really? you’re gonna tell me?”

luna nods. “yes. but you can’t tell anybody.”

“okay, i promise.”

there’s a pause, another giggle drawn from luna’s lips. “i have chocolates under my bed.”

you tilt your head and straighten your back. chocolates under her bed.

you peek into the room again just to be sure. because you could swear, that for the past 2 years, there is no such thing as under luna’s bed. her bedframe is enclosed and touches the ground — there is absolutely no space for her to keep anything under her bed.

and that only means one thing: the chocolates are directly underneath her heavy mattress.

you walk away from her bedroom and make a mental note to check under her bed. you just need to find a way to get her out of the room to get yourself in.

and when logan walks through the front door, you know just the way to distract the 5-year-old. you hop over to your husband with a sweet smile. “call for luna — i need to get in her room.”

“oh, so now you’re sweet to me,” logan furrows his eyebrows, resting a hand on the small of your back. “how suspicious.”

“no time for that,” you scoff, guiding him towards luna’s bedroom. “i’ll explain later.”

“fine, but only because i love you,” logan mutters, dropping his bag right by the wall. he pops his head into luna’s room with a bright smile. “i’m home, lulu!”

“i gotta go,” luna giggles excitedly, glancing over her shoulder to beam at logan. “bye auntie lily!”

they say their farewells before luna puts her ipad on the ground and scrambles off the ground to run over to logan. “daddy!” she says in a shrill shriek, arms in the air before she jumps into logan’s arms. “you’re home! can we watch tv?”

“sure!” he cheers, catching her in his arms. he stands and places the child on his hip before turning to you with an expectant grin, nodding his head towards the room. “what do you wanna watch? a movie? a show?”

you slip into the bedroom when they take a seat on the couch. at first, you were skeptical about trying to find a way that luna could be lying to lily at all.

you check under her bed again, only to find what you were expecting: the very sad excuse of an ‘underbed’ area between the bed and the marbled floors of your apartment. so if the chocolates aren’t there, does it actually mean that luna’s been hiding it between her mattress and the bedframe?

you sigh softly and rest yourself on your knees, mentally preparing yourself to be absolutely thrown into a wild goose chase by your daughter. you muster the courage and push the mattress up. and would you have it: 4 packets of reese’s buttercups greet you and… the damned chocolate bunny.

you grab the chocolates into your hands and stumble back out into the living room. “luna sargeant, i hope daddy was right about there being a ghost in our apartment because there’s no way i just found these chocolates under your mattress.”

@33-81 @darleneslane @happy-nico @localwhoore @namgification @nikfigueiredo

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #ls2 #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke mab

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the-writerwoman · 21 days ago

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@whiskeyandcigarsmoke Here we go! Baker AU

Sorry it's short and sweet. I was trying to keep it under a certain word count. I hope you like it! I might revisit this AU again as it's cute! I feel like it needed more puns but I didn't want to go overboard lol.

@its-in-the-woods your tag as promised lol

Hope you enjoy!

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The buttery scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the crisp morning air as Wade paused outside a quaint bakery tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop. The shop’s sign, “Bakes & Cakes,” swung gently in the breeze, painted in bold, clean strokes with an artistic depiction of cakes and muffins underneath. Through the large, spotless window, Wade’s eyes landed on him.

The man behind the counter moved with an odd grace for such a large man, pulling trays of pastries from the oven. He had sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his forearms dusted with flour. His dark hair was slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it all morning, and his beard framed his jaw in a way that made Wade’s heart do an embarrassing little flip.

Wade lingered, half-hidden behind a lamppost like a stalker in a bad rom-com. He didn’t mean to stare, but there was something magnetic about the man's furrowed brows as he worked. His deep voice, even muffled through the glass, carried a low, gruff charm as he chatted with the two young women working alongside him. One of them sporting streaks of white in her hair laughed at something he said, while the other, a bubbly girl with a bright smile and yellow earrings, nodded enthusiastically.

This man, Wade decided, was entirely too attractive for his own good.

“Okay, Wade,” he muttered to himself. “You’re going in. Just... buy something. Be cool. Don’t say anything stupid.”

He pushed open the door, the cheery ding of a bell announcing his arrival. Immediately, the warm, sweet air enveloped him, and Wade had to resist the urge to moan aloud. The man glanced up from where he was slicing a loaf of bread and gave a curt nod.

“Morning,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Uh, hey,” Wade said, sauntering up to the counter with as much swagger as he could muster. “What’s good here? I mean, besides the view.” He grinned.

The guy’s brows knit together, clearly unimpressed. “Everything’s good,” he said, ignoring the comment, jerking his head toward the display case. “What’re you in the mood for?”

Wade blinked at the blatant ignoring of his flirtation. He looked at the assortment of treats, his cheeks burning. He looked at the flaky croissants, golden muffins, cupcakes with intricate frosting swirls, cookies practically oozing chocolate chips. His eyes got stuck on an oversized Danish topped with glistening fruit and sugar glaze.

“That. I’ll take that,” Wade said, pointing. “Please.”

The man nodded, slipping the pastry into a paper bag. “Anything else?”

“Not unless you’ve got a number to go with that pastry,” Wade flirted.

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Two dollars fifty,” he said.

Wade handed over a crumpled bill, took the bag, and fled with the grace of a cat falling off a counter. Outside, he tore into the Danish, savoring the buttery, sweet flavor. Then it hit him.

“Oh, crap,” Wade muttered, staring at the half-eaten pastry. “This isn’t gluten-free.”

The logical thing to do would’ve been to avoid the bakery entirely. But logic had never been Wade’s strong suit, especially not when it came to the hot baker, who he found out is named Logan.

He kept coming back, always ordering something new, always eating it with gusto, and always suffering the consequences. He couldn’t help it. The pastries were amazing, and Logan’s handsome face and quiet “enjoy”s were worth every stomach ache.

“You’re becoming a regular,” Logan said one morning, his tone more amused than annoyed. “Are the bakes that good?”

Wade shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “Maybe I just really like your buns.”

Logan snorted, shaking his head, but Wade caught the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips. He danced internally, that was progress!

One day, Wade dragged his friend Peter to the shop, eager to share the “life-changing experience” of Logan’s pastries.

“Dude,” Peter said, his eyes wide as he bit into a lemon bar. “This is insane. Are you sure these aren’t made by actual angels?”

“Told you,” Wade said smugly, picking up a cinnamon roll. “Logan’s the Michelangelo of pastry. His stuff’s a work of art.”

Logan, who was wiping down the counter nearby, flushed at the compliment. “I’m not. It’s just baking,” he muttered.

“Yeah, sure,” Wade said, grinning. “And the Mona Lisa’s just a doodle.”

As Wade raised the cinnamon roll to his mouth, Peter suddenly froze. “Wait a second,” he said. “Don’t you have a gluten allergy? Should you even be eating that?”

Wade’s hand paused mid-bite. He glanced at Logan, who was staring at him with a mix of confusion, sadness, and the faintest hint of anger.

“You’re allergic?” Logan asked, his tone sharp. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Wade winced. “Uh... well... you kinda went on this rant once about gluten allergies being a pain to cater to, and I didn’t wanna be that guy.”

Logan still looked frustrated. “What the hell are you on about? I never said that.” Wade nodded. “You did. Someone came in one day. I didn’t hear much of the conversation, just you ranting afterward about ‘People and their allergies, expecting the world to revolve around them’. And I felt too bad to say anything.”

Logan blinked, his expression shifting from frustration to guilt in a heartbeat as he remembered. “Oh,” he said quietly, looking down at the counter. “I didn’t mean... I was just….” he looked back up, seeing Wade and Peter looking at him.

“That wasn’t a…dig at people with allergies. That customer had come in and had asked for something gluten-free and I showed them our options that would take a while to bake, and they went off on one about how none of them were ‘up to their standards’. Said how they should be accommodated and have pastries on demand.”

Wade processed it. “Oh. Well, that does suck,” he agreed. Logan's eyes softened.

From behind him, Rogue rolled her eyes. “Logan, you really need to watch what you and your big mouth say. Jeez.” Wade giggled.

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah. You’re right. That was stupid of me,” he looked at Wade. “I’m sorry, Wade. I’ll make it up to you.”

From that day on, a small section of Logan’s display case was dedicated to gluten-free pastries. Wade noticed they were always the freshest, most beautiful treats in the case.

One morning, as Wade bit into a perfectly flaky, gluten-free croissant, he smiled at Logan. “You didn’t have to do all this just for me, you know.”

Logan shrugged, but the pink on his cheeks betrayed him. “I wanted to.”

Wade’s grin could’ve powered the entire city.

#poolverine #deadclaws #peanutbub #deadpool 3 #logan howlett #wade wilson

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ladybirdswritings · 9 months ago

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Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You're a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There's something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: Steamy / flirty filler chapter while I gather my thoughts lol (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, they motivate me!!)

last chap | A03 | masterlist

part 5

Fluorescent bulbs hissed in revelation of their age, blanketing upon your face so to provoke you from your slumber. The sound of their buzz alongside slurping made you startle. You shot to your feet immediately, swaying when your gaze darkened as consequence of your haste.

“Woah now, pretty thang— don’t shoot. If you want some cherry tomatas’— you only gotta ask.”

He hadn’t faded into your vision yet, but that voice was uniquely his own. It brought a scowl to your features. Your sharp eyes shifted to find the mangled Ghoul seated with knees spread, colors returning to their natural state. Dogmeat rested her abnormally large head upon his thigh as her owner munched upon a handful of plump vegetables, spitting their seeds at the floor.

Your gaze wandered to his hand, and an ache licked at the back of your neck. Disoriented as you had become in recent days, you remembered it well. What he did to you.

He tried to drown you.

Your gaze narrowed, hands free from their bounds. They clenched into balled fists, heating with your frustrations. The Ghoul watched on, observant. Silent at first, but soon he pressed his tongue to his cheek and offered a dry huff of a laugh.

“Y’know, I realized somethin’ back at that lake. Somethin’ real special bout’ you. Those fancy powers o’ yours only seem to work in your favor when you s’ scared shitless. So go on then, ball those fists and squint those pretty eyes at me much as you’d like… I ain’t scared of you…”

It was as if you stood transparent before him, entirely crafted of glass to be looked straight through. He wore a smug, satisfied expression proud.

A deep rumble irked at your very core, eating away at you like sugar ants to abundant, oozing honeycomb. You were starved. The meals your keepers awarded you were feasts for vermin and insect. Not human. Not… whatever you were.

There was no avoiding your eyes falling to the ripe vegetables clutched in his gloved palm. The place where his brows should dwell, it jumped in mock curiosity. He curled his fingers away from his snack, as if to beckon you toward him to grab some.

That same palm— it was the exact damned weapon which suffocated you under the lake. So? You stayed put. Still as a stone statue in a twister. The Ghoul tilted his head at the sight of you.

“Oh c’mon now sweetie, don’t be like that… I ain’t feral enough to bite you just yet…”

His voice was lighter now, teasing, but your gaze found itself preoccupied on the unfamiliar and rather comfortable surroundings you now dwelled within. You were no longer at the surface, and if you were? It looked far different from the dunes you braved alongside him.

When you turned your head to ask your captor just exactly where you were, you startled. He towered right before you with his glove outstretched and wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow upon your face, shielding you from the buzzing fluorescents.

You gulped, eyes darting in aversion to just about any other object in sight. Once again, it wasn’t allowed. That palm, the same palm which kept you from surfacing in the water, it raised and flicked a finger free to hook under your chin. He tugged at you like a captured minnow on his rod so your gaze could not avoid him.

He only admired his newfound prey, scanning hazel globes amongst your face as he gathered his next words.

“Hungry?” The mangled beast softly asked, and just the idea of the treats bursting upon your tongue made your stomach jump. Your gaze fell to his other palm again, a generous handful of cherry tomatoes lay waiting. Tempting.

Daring you.

Yet you’d learned him, now. In your day prior.

“What then? You’ll snatch them away and spit the seeds at me when I reach for one?” You forced, voice soft as his own but far sharper. Far more laced with frustration, anger.

His lips curled into an awful, mangled grin.

“Oh s’ that what you think? Let’s see then…”

He treated you as though you were nothing more than a lightning bug trapped in his spit-shined jar. Shaking you, poking and prodding at you till your flames ignited and you glowed for him.

Mischief was sewn in his hazels as he plucked a tomato from his grasp and dangled it by its stem before his admiring eyes. “These are my favorite…” he murmured whilst examining it for a long moment, then that cold gaze shifted to you.

“Open.” He commanded.

You did not. Least, not immediately. Stubborn, cautious you only glared up at him with lips pursed unnaturally tight. Oh he found it amusing, simply because he knew very well that he’d break you.

“S’ hard to say no to food when you’ve eaten table scraps in a cage your whole life, ain’t it? Go on now, take a bite.”

Much as you wished you didn’t need to take a bite for sake of your own pride— your stomach complained again. Louder. His eyes sluggishly shifted down to the place of protest, that starved belly of yours. They then raked back up to your dull lookers.

“What’s it gon’ be?”

Perhaps he was so adamant for you to eat because he stuffed poison in between the seeds, perhaps it was because he needed you alive so to continue inflicting his torture. A shaky breath burned at all of your resolve, however, and your petal pink lips parted.

Soon as the candy-sweet globe grazed your eager tongue, you nearly moaned. He held onto the stem with pinched fingers so you wouldn’t choke upon it by fault of your eagerness, eyes widening as it bursted honeyed flavor upon your tastebuds.

You were far too engrossed in the flavor, in savoring it to notice the Ghoul’s dark hazels and how they hadn’t left your mouth once.

“There you go…” he spoke to you with a gentleness that contradicted his very existence. His little lightning bug in a glass jar, moving away the stray hair falling against your lips as you chewed.

“See, I ain’t all bad— smoothie. Least, when I get what I want.”

You ignored him, swallowing the seeds and skin of the treat so to fulfill your hunger. Yet a singular tomato left you far from satisfied. Your orbs settled back on the remaining cluster in his hand. He smiled thinly, yet it never seemed to reach his hazel eyes.

He raised his palm and brow bone again, as if to silently say “have at it.” You knew well enough now that he had a knack for playing with you. Like a deranged child to a most unfortunate doll. Yet as demeaning as eating like a mutt from his gloved palm seemed? The first cherry tomato took your tongue hostage and only left it craving for more.

You were shameless, entirely ignorant of caution or poise as you inhaled the remaining ton. He whistled at the sight, bringing his free hand to the crown of your matted locks so to brush against them as you devoured the delectable snack.

“Atta’ girl, there you go…” the Ghoul praised.

When you were done, wincing as you munched on the many seeds tangled in your teeth, you licked the sweet juice from your lips and created distance from the creature; half expecting to collapse from the inevitable poison. You didn’t so much as sway.

He regarded you in silence, hazels hawk-like in their motions, trailing each tilt and bend of your head as you absorbed your unfamiliar surroundings. The tomatoes had momentarily satisfied your hunger, yet the starvation of your curiosity was far greater. You dared a glance toward him again, only to see him sucking away at the juice and saliva staining his raven glove. Your saliva.

When he finished up, he sighed.

“Vault. N’ abandoned one in bum-fuck middle o’ nowhere. S’ a good thing— you n’ I both deserve a scorchin’ hot shower. Just down the hall to the left; but don’t take too long now, sweetie, cause I won’t hesitate to join you so I can soak up that hot water before s’ wasted…”

You felt as though you were nothing more than a fried computer, circuits bathed in saltwater enough to make them burst and fizzle. You only blinked at him, his final words tinging the apples of your cheeks a pretty pink. With no further words spoken, you turned on your heel and begun to make your way there.

You found it soon enough, robotic and zombie-like as slithered inside. Free, in privacy. It was a marvel. Even so, the mere sight of you startled your core and its branches.

Who was beyond the glass?

You didn’t remember much, only, a deep part of your soul was most certain that this could not be you. It simply couldn’t.

Coffee colored staining under your dull eyes, hair frayed and stringy, skin pallid and sickly looking. Like a true undead creature, worse off than the Ghoul.

Pretty thing.

You scoffed.

The bones protruding from your hands shook as you explored the contents of the wicker cabinet, gathering all the things you somehow knew about but could not remember how.

You knew how to brush your hair, how to sparkle your teeth and rinse off your skin. Yet? You could not remember the last time you did any of those pleasant things. Not without guidance from your keepers, at least.

You made quick work of them though, taming the bird’s nest with frustrated and clenched teeth, brushing those same teeth till they were pearly and no longer dull. When you were satisfied, you peeled the tattered gown from your skin and stared at the bare reflection before you.

Bruises and scars peppered your perfect skin. Your ribs poked at the place where healthy meat should be…

Why did they do this to you?

You blinked away the saltwater in your eyes, averting your gaze immediately and stepping into the shower instead. Scorching water blanketed your skin, soothing away the goosebumps brought upon by chill. You moaned at the sensation. Like a firm hug, wiping away all the dirt and grime of the surface wasteland.

The shampoo smelled of peonies, the soap like freshly plucked herbs and you were most generous with both of them; lathering them to suds upon your grayed skin. You wished to remain there forever, but you knew well that the Ghoul was not jesting with his threats.

Soon as you pried yourself from the steam, you rummaged around the cabinet some more and plucked out the bottles and jars that looked most interesting to you. A blonde man with a mile-wide smile was plastered on each one, paint chipped with age. You gazed on at the man for a moment, running a thumb along his perfectly straight teeth. He looked… familiar to you.

There was no time to waste, though, so you went about squirting a generous dollop of “radiation free gulper mucin face wash” into your palm. It stuck to your fingers, but lathered nicely upon your cheeks. You followed with a mysterious looking jar of white cream that had no promised label, it sunk nicely into your skin. You admired the way it glistened when you were done.

In the cabinet below the sink lay a folded towel atop fresh clothing, cobwebs stuck to the fabric which you simply brushed off. A white tank top and pants so long you’d most certainly stumble upon them as you walked. You donned them and rolled up the cuffs.

The mirror approved of you now, you looked far more human. Your eyes still dull but, somehow more— recognizable. You gazed on at yourself, a headache stirring as you attempted to remember your features more clearly. It only lasted a moment, however, the door bursted open an inhale later.

There he stood, as promised, keen to soak in the scorching water. Your head snapped to him, and he only stepped behind you, regarding your cautious gaze in the mirror.

“Well look at you now, pretty thing. All nice n’ squeaky. Bet you feel betta’, huh?”

His voice was deeper then, as if an unspoken layer was laced between his words. That awful face tilted its head at you, and your palms gripped at the countertop even tighter.

The mangled man pressed pink tongue to cheek and displayed a mischievous grin as he closed the distance parting you with a singular step forward. You were frozen in place as a different kind of warmth engulfed your underfed temple. It lasted a second too short as he only removed his brimmed hat and placed it on the countertop. He stepped back again, squinting softly at your wide eyes in the mirror whilst slowly taking off his coat.

“Now I don’t mind you stayin’ for the show, sweetie. Just didn’t peg you as the type.”

His words snapped you from the trance your reflection stuck upon you, and you immediately cleared your throat as you turned from him.

“Excuse me.” You whispered in haste, bursting through the door and easing your rapid heart by collapsing on the navy loveseat in the kitchen— plagued with thoughts of an irradiated Ghoul and his warmth pressed against you…

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epigstolary · 2 years ago

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Deaf Ears

The half-eaten burger is still sitting on top of its wrapper, right where you left it on your nightstand. Three patties, six slices of cheese, smothered in grilled onions and special sauce. Each one easily over 1,000 calories. This was the third one you’d had today.

I tried to warn you about what would happen if you kept gaining at the rate you were going. I’d hoped that one of the many red flags about what you were doing to yourself would get your attention. That you might stop and take stock of what was happening when you got too fat to fit in the driver’s seat of your car. Or the passenger seat. Or when you started needing the cane to walk because your legs couldn’t handle the weight. Or when you moved on to the bariatric walker. Or when you needed the hoists and handles just to get out of bed.

But no, none of that made any impression. If anything, as your body grew and swelled and ballooned with new fat, you relished it. You spent more and more of your time just fondling the widening sweep of your belly, the plumper and fuller curve of your chest, the multiplying peaks and valleys of your side rolls. I could tell you enjoyed the bounce and wobble of your increasingly full, heavy, pendulous ass and hips on the increasingly brief occasions when you got up to walk anywhere. Having to lumber around, lugging the weight of your burgeoning thighs and blobby calves, both increasingly shapeless and unidentifiable, was a constant reminder of just how much your fat was taking over your body.

It shouldn’t have been any surprise, then, that you let the gains accelerate — wanted them to. For every time I suggested you try to at least gain clean, you insisted on getting whatever the most fattening, sugary, greasy, caloric option might be ten times over. You kept me busy making sure you were never without something you could be guzzling down, never in any danger of not being completely full, let alone hungry. The truly embarrassing amount of food in our kitchen, all of which would get dumped down your throat in a matter of days and replaced by the next batch, never fazed you. If anything, on the rare occasions you stopped and realized how much garbage you were putting away, your pudgy face would beam with obscene pride, any hint of shame at your condition — if you even felt it — buried by lust for the next family-size serving or tray of junk food coming your way.

But today was the day you stopped being able to ignore the consequences of indulging your worst habits. Nobody but you was surprised that an 800 (900? 1,000? We’ve been flying blind since you crushed the scale) pound hog is unsteady on their feet. You were making your usual stumbling shuffle from the bed to the couch and, too eager to have your morning box of coffee cakes, sent all your fat wobbling the wrong direction. At your size the walker wasn’t any help as you twisted, heard a snap, and went down in a blubbery heap. There was no way I could get you up from there, even if your fall hadn’t broken something.

Maybe the trip with the paramedics — having to let your enormously bloated body be manhandled onto a bariatric stretcher and bundled into an ambulance — will humble you a little from here on out. Maybe you’ll ease up on the gaining, and the constant eating. Or, probably more likely, being stuck in bed while you recover and the stress of trying to rehab a broken bone at your size will just drive you to gorge yourself to oblivion.

I’m not sure you could even stop if you tried, at this point. You and your body are too used to the constant flood of calories, sugar, endorphins to give that up, or even reduce it by much. You’re probably looking at some pretty steep gains, at a time when you’re least able to compensate for them, unless you do something drastic. And like usual, you’re probably going to insist that I keep a steady flow of garbage coming to you while you’re at the hospital — which definitely won’t make it any easier for you to maintain your weight. We’ll be lucky if you’re still small enough to get you back home once your treatment is done. More likely, you’ll end up ballooning too big for any ambulance to be able to cram all your lard inside. Too big to measure in pounds anymore, but instead how much of your hospital bed you take up — or overflow. Someone the staff talk about in hushed whispers as they watch you eat yourself out of the last few things your shapeless blob body is still barely able to do.

I tried to warn you, and you didn’t listen. This is your last chance to turn things around and save yourself from spending the rest of your life like this. But the text you just sent me asking to bring another slew of burgers to the hospital tells me you’re probably not going to take it. That you’re probably ending up inhumanly fat, immobile, and helplessly buried in your own bulk, no matter how much you may eventually come to regret it.

Guess that means I get to see just how much bulk we can make in the time you have left.

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #extreme weight gain #gainer stories #wg story #wg fiction

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lazycats-stuff · 1 year ago

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Ok this one is mainly for Alfred but u could add batbros and batdad if u want, anyways i was wondering what would alfred (or any of the fam) do to stop BatToddler reader tantrum? Like i imagine the setting would be grocery shopping and Alfred's only getting healthy food including boring plain cereal and BatToddler is not having it and only wants sugar loaded cereal and starts whining and tearing up right there in the middle of the store, would alfred give in to those tears or find an alternative? I imagine batdad would give in and the brothers might even encourage it giving that they probably eat the same junk food

Oh my God yes! Anon, thank you for sending me this, this sounds so fun. Alfred needs love so this is Alfred centered, but I will put this in batfam since I'm to lazy to create a new page for the masterlist. It's a bit short, but my arm hurts.

Summary: Alfred has to make a deal with his grandson

Warnings: nothing really, (Y/N) crying, but it's short...

Alfred Pennyworth is a man of many talents. He may look like an ordinary butler to the public, but without him, the Wayne family wouldn't even function. He is the person who makes sure everyone eats, sleeps and somehow functions like a human being. Somewhat.

Some may find it tiring, but Alfred wouldn't have it any other way. He really wouldn't have it any other way at all. Of course, his grandkids so to speak were independent and didn't need anyone looking over them 24/7. That was until (Y/N) came as a baby.

Alfred nearly passed out when they got the call. (Y/N)'s mom abandoned him and just signed off her parental rights and Bruce had realized he had a kid. A baby, defenseless little creature who is untouched by the world. Untouched.

That's something that scared him.

But he knew that Bruce and him had to step up when it came to this little child. They really had to step up as caregivers. Of course, another problem was the press, pushing and prodding. Bruce hated it and told them that there were going to be consequences if they think about photographing his son.

If they did go out, (Y/N)'s face was covered by Bruce and or one of the boys who went with Bruce that day. Gotham citizens, the ones not included in the press, loved the little baby and were happy to him in public. Of course, that may sound weird, but the Wayne family is loved in Gotham and everyone just loves every single member.

In fact, the news of a new member, a baby member, broke the internet and Gotham in general.

Even Metropolis wrote about it.

And there was one thing that Bruce promised to himself. He would be present and he would try to balance everything. Batman, Bruce and the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Alfred and the rest of the boys were more than happy to babysit and (Y/N) was never going to be at fault for love or affection. Never.

And Alfred made sure he is well fed. And also, Alfred made sure it was healthy. His grandson needed to be healthy. Of course, there could some sugar here and there, but not all the time. Sugar from fruits is more than welcome, but sugar like in cereal? Alfred had put a restriction on it.

At least for now. (Y/N) didn't need a sugar boost just yet. Only natural sugars while he is so young. Bruce agreed. They would introduce him to the sugars gradually. Bruce relayed that to his sons and every son agreed.

No processed sugar while he is so young.

3 years have passed since (Y/N) came to live them and life was going great. (Y/N) has started kindergarten and was happy. He loved his brothers a lot and his father, but he loved his grandpa the most. Bruce's working theory was the fact that Alfred cooked the most and often made tasty foods for (Y/N).

None the less, (Y/N) loved the others very much and that was undeniable.

One thing that Alfred loved doing was taking (Y/N) to the store whenever he could. (Y/N) was just in love with the activity. It was fun seeing new things and bright colors. Alfred enjoyed since (Y/N) held the list while shopping and he didn't have to worry about it.

Although there is one single issue. (Y/N) has a sweet tooth. A really big one, especially for a child his age. So Alfred often had to bypass the cereal aisle and aisles that contained candy.

It would not be a pleasant sight. But Jason and the others want cereal and they will lose their minds if they don't get it. So what does Alfred do?

He goes to the aisle, preparing himself mentally.

This could turn into a battle.

Alfred took a right and started looking through the cereal. He looked at some healthy cereal and (Y/N) was reaching for Coco Puffs. Alfred saw it and moved (Y/N) away.

(Y/N) didn't like that.

" Alfred. " (Y/N) whined and Alfred raised his brow.

" Yes, master (Y/N)? " Alfred asked as he put the healthy version inside the cart.

" Coco Puffs. " (Y/N) said pointing at the cereal. Alfred smiled and shook his head.

" I'm afraid that I can't get you that master (Y/N). " Alfred said and he sighed when he saw tears in (Y/N)'s eyes.

He picked his grandson up into his arms from the cart. " Master (Y/N), don't cry. " Alfred said as he rocked him.

" But I want Coco Puffs. " (Y/N) whined and some tears fell down his cheeks.

" Oh darling... " Alfred whispered and kissed his cheek, trying to comfort him.

" How about we make a deal? " Alfred suggested and (Y/N) calmed down a little bit and looked at him in curiosity.

" You will have to eat the vegetables I give you. "

(Y/N) opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself. Did he like vegetables? No. But he did like his Coco Puffs.

" All of them? " (Y/N) asked quietly.

" Yes. I know you are not a fan of vegetables, but I need you to be healthy. " Alfred said as he kissed his cheek once again.

" And then I'll get my cereal? " (Y/N) asked and Alfred nodded.

" We got a deal. " (Y/N) said and Alfred smile, kissing his cheek again.

" Good. " Alfred says and puts the box into the cart. " You can have one bowl a day. " Alfred said as he put (Y/N) down in the cart's seat for children.

" Cross off cereal master (Y/N) please. " Alfred said and pointed at the word. (Y/N) crossed it off and smiled happily.

" Now, let me see what else I have. " Alfred said and saw what else is on the list.

" We have one more thing left and then we can go home. " Alfred said and patted (Y/N)'s head.

(Y/N) just nodded and kicked his little legs happily. Alfred saw that (Y/N) often glanced at the Coco Puffs and made sure that they were in the cart.

" They won't be going anywhere master (Y/N). "

(Y/N) let out a little humph and smiled none the less.

" I have to make sure. "

Alfred laughed at the response he got as he moved the cart through the aisles. " The box won't walk away anywhere. " Alfred explained as he put the last thing in the cart.

" Cross off this word please. " Alfred said as he pointed at the last word on the list.

(Y/N) nodded and crossed it out. " Good job. " Alfred praised his grandson and made his way to the cash register. This was not so bad like Alfred thought it would be.

And the deal was nice.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #alfred pennyworth x male reader #alfred pennyworth

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brie-is-cheesy · 2 months ago

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Obey me incorrect quotes #4

part 1 | part 2 | previous | next | part 6

masterlist

Lucifer: Why do you look so guilty?

MC: I may or may not have done something.

Lucifer: What did you do?

MC: …Define “did.”

Mammon: Why does Lucifer always pick on me?!

MC: Maybe because you act like a chaotic toddler with a gambling addiction.

Mammon: offended That’s hurtful and also completely accurate.

Leviathan: If you could live in any anime, which one would it be?

MC: One with no consequences, no life-or-death battles, and unlimited snacks.

Leviathan: So… a slice-of-life series?

MC: No, that's boring.

Satan: storms into the room Who took my book?!

MC: I didn’t take it.

Mammon: I didn’t take it either!

Beelzebub: eating quietly

Satan: Beel, is that my book?

Beelzebub: …It looked tasty.

Asmo: dramatically holds out hand Let me paint you like one of my French demons!

MC: You don’t even know how to paint.

Asmo: Minor details, darling. Now pose.

Beelzebub: staring into the fridge Where’s all the food?

MC: You ate it an hour ago.

Beelzebub: still staring I miss it.

Belphie: Why are you staring at me?

MC: Because I’m trying to figure out if you’re asleep or just ignoring me.

Belphie: …Both.

Diavolo: MC, have you ever considered joining the council?

MC: What would I even do?

Diavolo: Be yourself.

MC: My “self” is chaos incarnate.

Diavolo: Perfect.

Barbatos: I sense disaster approaching.

MC: How can you tell?

Barbatos: You walked in the door.

Simeon: helping MC bake cookies Are you sure we added the right amount of sugar?

MC: Of course! looks at recipe Wait… I read that upside down.

Beel: stuffing them in his mouth They’re delicious.

Solomon: I’m a great teacher.

MC: You once turned me into a goat.

Solomon: To teach you humility!

Lucifer: to Mammon Stop being an idiot for five minutes.

Mammon: Jokes on you—I can’t.

Levi: He’s right. He was born this way.

Mammon: If I disappear, what would you do?

Levi: Celebrate.

Mammon: Rude!

MC: …Then find you. Probably.

Leviathan: I’m socially awkward.

MC: I noticed.

Leviathan: You didn’t have to agree so fast!

Satan: pointing at MC’s coffee Are you sure you should be drinking that much caffeine?

MC: This is my emotional support cup.

Satan: …You have three cups.

MC: Your point?

Asmo: Self-care is important, MC!

MC: I agree.

Asmo: That’s why I booked us a spa day!

MC: Can we afford that?

Asmo: Who said anything about paying?

Beelzebub: watching MC cook That smells amazing.

MC: Thanks! It’s for dinner.

Beelzebub: …Define “dinner.”

Belphie: If I say “goodnight” and you don’t respond, does that mean I can sleep on you?

MC: Sure.

Belphie: already asleep on their shoulder

Diavolo: excitedly MC, let’s go on an adventure!

MC: Define “adventure.”

Diavolo: grinning Cliff diving.

Barbatos: Are you ready, MC?

MC: For what?

Barbatos: smiles mysteriously Everything.

Simeon: You have a calming presence, MC.

MC: I started three arguments in the past hour.

Simeon: And yet, it’s endearing.

Solomon: You’re so brave for drinking my potion.

MC: sweating …Thanks.

Solomon: smirking Did I tell you about the side effects?

#bb posts #obey me mammon #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me simeon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me diavolo #obey me beelzebub #obey me barbatos #obey me belphegor #obey me mc

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alexanderwales · 2 months ago

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Notes on 3000 miles

Last year my doctor told me that I had high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and a high resting heartrate. So I started biking on an exercise bike, and by my best estimations, I'm either close to hitting 3000 miles or have already gone past that.

I should clarify that this wasn't all at once. I took many breaks.

So here are some notes.

When I started, I was on an exercise bike that my wife had gotten from her work. It wasn't the best, but it was free, and I made a deal with myself that if I biked every day for a month, then I could justify getting something better. I really really did not want to buy a piece of exercise equipment that would just sit in the house gathering dust, because that would feel awful ... but I do kind of wish that I had gotten the better bike sooner, because it removed some of the "friction" of exercise, where it felt like there were too many reasons not to get on the bike. The new exercise bike (a refurbished Peleton off Facebook marketplace that my wife got me for Christmas) really does just feel and move better. I think the general principle of not doing costly monetary commitments until you've shown costly personal commitment is a good one, however.

Blood pressure is in normal range. Cholesterol is in normal range. Resting heartrate is in normal range. This was all the case three months in, and this level of cardio is more than enough to maintain it.

Right now, I bike for thirty minutes a day, going 8-10 miles according to the bike. That range is enormous, because it represents vastly different amounts of work. Going 10 miles in 30 minutes is 20 miles an hour, and I keep the resistance relatively high, so by the end of it I'm always panting. By contrast, going 8 miles makes me feel like I didn't put in enough work.

My goal every day is sweat-based and completely qualitative. I want to soak through a shirt. This means that doing more laundry than I'd prefer to, which is an unanticipated consequence of the biking. It's also, compared to all the metrics the bike gives me, a very clear sign that I am actually exercising my body "properly" in a way that's achieving something.

I did some of the Peleton classes, and found a lot of the metrics to be motivating, but ... eh. Exercise is mostly about being healthy and maintaining my body, so my current strategy, for the last six months, has been to either shut the brain down or keep it fully engaged in something that passes the exercise time. Usually this means a TV show, especially a foreign one with subtitles, which need slightly more brainpower.

The final two minutes is always the worst. I'm just ready to be done with it. Sometimes there's gas left in the tank, but I still feel sweaty, thirsty, and overheated. I have a water bottle, and I drink from it while I bike, and I have a fan pointed at me that I turn on once I'm warmed up, but I always have a sense, in those last two minutes, of "finally I'm done". I tried the thinking man's solution, only biking for 28 minutes, and this did not help. In my entire year of biking a half hour a day, I didn't ever elect to go into overtime.

I initially lost ten pounds, then slowly gained it back. I am, in fact, overweight, but I'm holding more or less steady now, and there have definitely been some body composition changes, with muscle replacing fat. I went down about four inches at the waist. I've changed very little about how I eat (which is 90% meals that I cook myself, and a daily coffee drink of some kind, usually made myself with sugar/cream/chocolate). Biking amounts to 300-400 calories a day or something like that, so I'm presumably eating more to compensate and just not realizing it.

Mental health has been rocky, but that's just sort of how it is for me. I definitely feel less mentally well on days that I don't bike, and feel better afterward, but I have no idea how tight the correlation is, and if I had been keeping track on a mood tracker, I'm not sure I would be able to sus out from self-reported mood alone whether or not I was biking.

During the summer I replaced a lot of indoor exercise bike stuff with outdoor biking. My son has only recently learned to bike, so he's been with me many of these times. Usually that means that we're either biking a lot less distance, or we're biking for a lot longer time at much lower intensity, sometimes both. There's a bike path that's downhill from our house which goes for maybe six miles, with some good, clear turn back points, but that means a fairly arduous uphill to get back home. If I lived in a place where the weather wasn't frigid for almost half the year, I would probably be doing outdoor biking more.

I think the most important thing, if you're doing exercise every day, is making sure that you're doing it in such a way that it's sustainable and virtually incapable of injuring you. This mostly means proper form. Early on, I had a habit of pressing down the right pedal with the outside edge of my foot, and after fifteen minutes of doing that, the muscles in the foot would be aching and uncomfortable. I'm not sure why I was doing that, but it was difficult to get myself to bike in a way that wouldn't be putting strain on me.

I think it's okay to skip a day ... if it's for the right reason. Of the days that I've skipped, I always try to make sure the reason isn't "fuck it, I don't want to". I should either be feeling sick, feeling like I need to rest, or replacing biking with some other form of exercise like a hike in the woods or some weightlifting or something. If I start skipping days because I just don't feel like it, that's where the whole scheme falls apart.

I am currently sort of wondering how long this is going to go on for, and I think the answer is "for the rest of my life", or at least until I'm unable to keep it up for whatever reason. I don't think there's any particular reason to prefer an exercise bike (or regular bike) over running or rowing or some other form of cardio, but I think I have proven to myself that this is cardio I can do daily and stick with it to the level that is probably necessary for me to stay healthy. I'm not committed to doing it for the rest of my life, since in theory some other form of cardio might come along and sweep me off my feet.

I do wish that I had started earlier in my life, even if daily exercise has not been the panacea for mental health that I had been kind of hoping it would be. I hope that I have the willpower and wisdom to keep up with it indefinitely.

#exercise #biking

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sugaryplum · 1 year ago

Text

the tale of sugar cookies

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader summary: about how your procrastination got you a first date and a night spent in hogwarts’ kitchen. warnings: language mistakes, lots of cuteness, i made some hogwarts–related stuff up AND I’M SO SORRY TO ALL THE BRITISH PEOPLE. the name “cookies” just fits better. notes: first piece of the autumn(ish) collection, prompt here being baking together. i’m happy with the premise of this fic, i think it’s super cute. i’m a major procrastinator, currently supposed to be studying for the exam i have in a few days so i very much resonate. and i could really eat a sugar cookie right now yum yum

your knee is bouncing. it’s stupid, really. consequences of some of your dumb choices catching up with you. you’re desperately in need of help, but now you try to focus on theo, who’s heading towards your library table.

he says “hi, y/n.” as he sits down next to you and you chuckle faintly. “i get a whole hi? you sound particularly excited to see me.” he rolls his eyes and smiles ever–so–slightly. “don’t acknowledge it or i’ll go back to just nodding.”

you two are in something. you don’t exactly know what it is and can’t pinpoint when it started, but it’s definitely something more than just study buddies, acquaintances or even friends. you’re a people person by nature, you’ve had so many friends over the years, but this, this is different. this is butterflies and hearts all around. this is overhearing his roommates talk about you, calling you “nott’s girl”. you can’t help but blush at even the thought of it.

today however, neither the boy sitting next to you, nor the essay you’re supposed to be finishing with him are the things on your mind.

“alright, you have to stop this.” after fifteen minutes of your mindless writing, theodore’s hand lands on your knee gently. the touch makes your heart go a bit faster. “you will bounce your knee into oblivion.”

“i’m not sure if oblivion takes in bouncing knees.”

he doesn’t acknowledge your poor attempt at a joke and just looks at you. it's the kind of expression that makes you want to tell him everything immediately. so you do.

“you’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“most things you say are a bit ridiculous, didn’t stop you before.”

your problem is fairly simple. you’re supposed to have one hundred sugar cookies in your dorm by halloween. that’s in two days. so far, there are no sugar cookies in your dorm and you want to drown in your sea of procrastination.

theo’s brows furrow. “one hundred?”

“it’s a hufflepuff thing. i’m sure you’ve heard of it.” you sigh, when he looks clueless. “every halloween we give first–years the opportunity to go trick or treating around all the dorms of older students. so the older students such as myself need to have treats prepared for each kid. most of the people just buy some sweets from hogsmeade but i thought it would make an excellent idea to make them myself. i got all the ingredients and stuff but never got around to do it, because the amount is overwhelming. and now halloween is so soon and i have nothing.” you’re almost breathless when you finish your rant, ready to take his scolding. what came upon you when you decided to do this? you had a whole month to go to honeydukes and buy some candies instead.

he’s quiet for a couple of seconds, looking at you the way he always does. a hint of excitement appears in his eyes, as if he got an idea. “i could help you.”

“what?”

“you heard me. tonight you need to finish this essay.” he looks down at your parchment with only the first few sentences and random doodles all around them. “but tomorrow we can do this. bring the ingredients and we’ll meet up in the kitchen. i end practice six thirty, we could start at seven.”

“you think we can make one hundred in one go?”

“nothing i can’t do.”

“that’s not true. but i’ll go with it this time.” you smile. it means a lot to you. not even the act itself, but the fact that he, of all people offered to help you. theo isn’t exactly a person who expresses his feelings easily, he’s not like you. and he definitely is not a person you could imagine in the kitchen, baking cookies for first–years. you thank him and hope he doesn’t notice the red on your cheeks. as expected, he doesn’t answer with anything but his eyes. you go back to the homework, calmer and happier.

time passes and you start feeling sleepy. you tell theo you’re going and you pack up your bag. when you stand up to leave, you hear his voice again.

“so tomorrow? kitchen? seven?”

you smile.

“it’s a date.”

you’re meant to turn around, but once you realize what you said, you freeze and your expression changes. your eyes stare at him for an excruciatingly long second, petrified. but all he does is shrug his shoulders slightly.

“yeah.” not even looking at you. he reacts as if you sky is blue. you can’t help a smile forming on your lips that only turns more beaming when you turn around and he can’t see your face. it’s a date. damn.

being a hufflepuff has it’s perks. one of them is constant access to the kitchen, accessible through the back of the common room. there were so many times throughout the years when you skipped the normal hogwarts’ dinner to cook something homely. or countless moments stumbling there in the middle of the night to make hot chocolate. you thanked helga everytime when you, or your friends got to taste the goodness you prepared.

today you’re also thankful. it’s almost seven in the evening and you’re giggling, seeing as theo is struggling to put on an apron.

“here, i’ll help you.” you tie it and step back, looking proud of your work. “you look like a professional.”

“i am a professional.”

“have you ever actually baked anything?”

“...no. but isn’t it just a couple of–” he moves his wind a few times to demonstrate what he means and you chuckle. he has no idea what he signed up for. “this will be fun.”

you put your arms on the table. “we’re doing this without magic. it’s better like that. tastier.”

he’s not talking for a couple of seconds, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something. “you’re joking. it’s one hundred cookies. how is a normal, sane person supposed to bake it all in one night, muggle style?”

“that’s exactly what i need your help for.”

“this is a trick, you’re tricking me.”

“not a trick, just my undying charm that caused you to worry about me so much, that you offered me help and now we’re gonna spend the evening baking cookies. you might actually learn something from it, it’ll be good for you.”

“cruel woman.” he shakes his head, but comes up to you anyway, getting a pinch of sugar into his mouth. you give him a scolding look and take away the sugar bowl.

“i’m gonna show you how to make the dough. it’s simple and we need a lot of it, for six whole batches.” his eyes follow you around the kitchen, when you take out ingredients from the shelves. “we need to mix everything together. first, butter and sugar. then flour.” you start mixing things in a big bowl with a spatula, stealing a few glances at the boy in front of you. he’s smiling.

four batches of cookies later, fifth one in the oven, theo really gets into it. at first he seemed skeptical, but now you can see the care in his eyes, when he adds the flour to the bowl, making sure he doesn’t spill anything.

“look at you! doing so well, you might end up as a cookie maker after a–” before you get to finish the sentence, he gets some flour in his hand and throws it all on your face.” when you open your eyes, you see a small grin on his face. “you look like a ghost.”

you talke a big breath and exhale slowly. then you steal the flour from behind his body, ready to fight back. “you are not getting away with this!”

a sweet war starts between you two. each of you fire your shots. all you can do is laugh, there’s powdered sugar on your nose, cheeks and lips. you feel like a small child, so carefree and innocent.

laughter distracts you from the situation you’re in. theo is holding you by the wrists, preventing your hands, armed with a spatula of dough, from rubbing the mass into his face. your eyes open to meet his and in one moment you both turn quiet. you might be delusional, but this seems like perfect time for a kiss.

his lips crash into yours so suddenly, that you barely get the chance to register that it’s actually happening. when he backs away after a second, you pull him in once again, this time him much more confidently.

„you taste like sugar.” you whisper against his lips.

„i wonder why.” he whispers back and kisses you again, and again.

you like the softness on his cheeks when you touch them, and way his hands wrap around your waist. you stay like this for a moment, closer than ever before, until you’re brought back to reality by the oven alarm. sugar cookies. you pat his shoulder and run to get the baking tray.

when you turn back to him, he’s still leaning his lower back on the table, looking at you, smirking. you pretend like you’re not extremely flustered and point to the bowl he never finished mixing. „work, theo! this dough won’t mix itself!”

he quickly grabs the spatula again, saluting to her with it. „yes, chef!”

you giggle. „i don’t think it works like that in cookie shops.”

„yes, chef.” he murmurs quietly, glancing again, as if to see how you react.

you roll your eyes, smile and look away, feeling your cheeks getting hot. your face hurts from all the smiling, but with the smell of sugar cookies and theodore’s eyes on your back, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to stop any time soon.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fluff #theo nott fluff #theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

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