#disaster trio fluff

[fionajames]

I dare you to write the most wholesome, amazing disaster trio fluff ever

Flocks of Fireflies

A/N: Ayyy, thank you so much for the request, anon, I hope this lives up to your expectations. I apologise for how long it took me, I wanted to make it THE BEST that I could. Not sure how I went, to be honest. Anyway, please leave comments and send requests, it means a lot to me. And most importantly; ENJOY READING ! ! !

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

Darkness coated Ahsoka’s body in velvety contentment as she ducked and weaved through the brush and flora, relying on the hazy vision courtesy of her nocturnal ancestors as her guide. The forest was dark and would have been frightening, if not for the waterfall of giggles falling from her lips with every frequent glance behind her.

The first time Ahsoka had played hide and seek - or the first time she could remember - was a game with her Youngling clan. They’d been allowed a large area of the Temple to hide in, with certain restrictions with different rooms, but it had been wonderful. She’d climbed a pillar and hidden in a tiny corner between the top of the pillar and ceiling, and been one of the last found.

The dark, harsh burning of the war that raged through every soldier’s being like a blistering fire was hard to escape, bright red and empty void at every turn, blood and screaming, death and maim, and defeat. And so her Master and Obi-Wan had devised a series of different games they could play to keep their minds off the horror all around them.

And soon, some of their Clones would join in. 

Today’s game consisted of Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex, Cody, Fives, Echo, Jesse, Waxer and Boil. The night was a nice content temperature and the forest was thick, yet rather safe compared to some of the other terrain they’d experienced. 

And so Ahsoka continued, searching for her place of hiding.

The real competition was of course her fellow Jedi, with the Force by their side, and unfortunately it was Anakin’s turn to seek. He usually found a way to cheat. 

Which was why Ahsoka now had two hands firmly gripping a rope of vine, gazing out at a chasm etched deep into the ground ahead. The vine was attached to the branches of a tree overhanging the chasm, approximately midway over the abyss.

The rule was that you had to tag the person you’d found to declare them ‘found’, otherwise they were not yet eliminated. It made things difficult, especially when you had Fives and Anakin playing in the same game.

Swinging over the chasm and hanging there was not something Ahsoka fancied doing, and the other side of the deep gash in the earth was the boundary. Instead she began to climb up the vines easily, slinking into the dense foliage above. 

The rough bark of the elderly tree cut at her palms, but they were mere grazes and light enough to heal quickly. She scampered along a thick branch, two feet on the tree and standing upright, her arms shot out straight to keep her balance. Once she’d gained enough balance, her arms dropped to her side, unafraid of the drop below. 

Vines around her curled around her frame as she delved deeper into their cover, climbing higher and higher, and further away from the tree’s trunk and the edge. 

Grasping a branch in one hand and a vine in the other, Ahsoka pulled herself up onto a branch. Her eyes widened when she’d relaxed onto the bark and she realised her montrals were brushing the last leaves of the top of the tree.

Without hesitation, she stood up with ease, and her jaw fell slack at the sight ahead.

The forest ran on for miles with no visible end, bright green and dotted with other eye-catching colours, more like an artwork than a natural growth of flora. The tree she was perched upon seemed to be the tallest she could see, but there were other trees that reached similar heights.

But the real beauty were the bioluminescent insects flying slowly through the air, lighting up the entire forest from above. Ahsoka hadn’t even noticed them on her way up into the tree, perhaps because she’d been so aware of the mental countdown until Anakin began his hunt ringing in her head. 

The fireflies were a bright gold, and there were so many of them that Ahsoka wondered momentarily what they ate to sustain what appeared to be millions of the little insects. A singular little firefly lazily flew over Ahsoka’s shoulder, and came to rest on her forearm, before taking over a moment later.

Swarms of them flying slowly over her head were like starships, or perhaps even shooting stars. They moved like one giant creature, never out of sync or one flying at a different pace than the others. It was mesmerising, and unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

Distantly, she heard what sounded like a groan from Waxer upon being found, but frankly, she’d long ago forgotten about the game, the peace surrounding her too calm to disrupt. 

Then the leaves of the tree rustled behind her, and a familiar mop of ginger hair parted through the green as Obi-Wan emerged from the tree’s shelter. He had a content grin on his face as he silently crawled to sit next to her on the curved branch, observing the overhead flock of fireflies as they slowly glided through the air. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan mused, his eyes locked on an area of the night sky completely covered by the easy traffic of the insects. Ahsoka hummed in response, leaning into his side and shifting to comfortably rest her head on his shoulder, eyelids drooping, threateningly close to shutting completely.

“We had fireflies on Shili,” she mumbled, the memory of a jar with holes poked in the lid and a few of the amber insects inside its glass walls wafting through her mind. “But not like this.”

Obi-Wan agreed with his own soft hum, reaching an arm around her back and shifting so her cheek wasn’t resting on the bone of his shoulder, stroking up and down her right arm soothingly. 

It was beautifully picturesque and content, the quiet buzz of the fireflies and the general chirp of the forest easing Ahsoka’s nerves like warm tea or a fire in the cold. The gold glow was coating her own body, and she could see out of the corner of her eye that several locks of Obi-Wan’s auburn hair dipped in the gold light.

The dull stinging from the scrapes on her palms had melted away at some point, leaving her with a gentle hum in her body that was so pleasant she feared flinching if it might drive the contentment away. Warmth licked up her bones gently as she yawned softly, pinpricks of pain stinging her eyes as the world blurred momentarily.

She didn’t fully realise how much time had passed until a familiar presence lingered near her, and Anakin appeared from the leaves and vines only metres away. He made no teasing quip or begrudging congratulations, only smiled softly. She would’ve muttered something playfully about his unusual gentleness if it wasn’t for the fatigue trickling down her limbs and torso.

Wordlessly, Anakin settled down on their curved branch on Ahsoka’s right, gently shifting in place as to ensure both of his companions’ comfort. Obi-Wan yawned now, which was no surprise to the Togruta, as she was well aware he’d barely slept the last few days, spending the nights desperately scribbling down battle strategies and tactics.

They stayed there for a while longer, until the pressure bearing down on Ahsoka’s eyelids was too much to withstand and the stinging behind her eyes was too sharp to ignore. She let her eyes drift shut and not open for a few minutes. 

“I think, perhaps,” Obi-Wan yawned mid-sentence, “that we should head back to the camp.” Anakin mumbled something softly, and stood up, sliding down to a lower branch. Ahsoka let out a gentle whine that had both men chuckling faintly, before the brunet turned in place and Obi-Wan eased her onto his back. 

Ahsoka clung to Anakin, her head resting gently on his shoulder as they climbed down through the foliage, vines draping over her body as they moved. Navigating their way down the tree was the hard part, especially with Ahsoka half-asleep and clinging to Anakin, but they managed.

The trek back to the campsite was easier, with Obi-Wan walking ahead to navigate the smoothest track to not disturb the resting Padawan. When they were nearing the camp, Ahsoka mumbled softly; “can we go see the fireflies tomorrow night?”

Neither male had the heart to say no to the gentle tenderness of her youthful whisper, and neither wished to deny the excursion either. And so they agreed gently, just as they stepped from the brush of the forest and into the clearing. 

They went to see the fireflies the next night, and the night after that, and the night after, until they were forced to depart from their current camp and move on. But none of the three would ever forget the gentle, content, humming warmth of the scene, and the fireflies that came with the memory, even if the best part was just that it was them. Them three, together.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed!!! Please send requests and leave comments, they mean the world to me :D

(taglist: @skellymom, @techs-goggles9902, dm me if you wish to be added or removed)

[mediumgayitalian]

“We should hold hands,” Will says. He scratches his nose. “You know, for safety.”

Nico looks at him. He looks until Will looks back, bright blue peeking out from pale eyelashes, and then makes a point of looking around the absolute beauty of the day; the sweet strawberry breeze, the giggly rustling of oak leaves, the gentle golden sun dappling in through the branches. The chatting and laughter from the unusually calm demigods strolling around them, stopping every few steps to pick up a rock or scrawl something unintelligible on their clipboards.

“Safety,” Nico repeats.

Will ducks his head, visibly biting back a grin.

“Yup.” He coughs. “These woods are dangerous, you know. And, hey, everybody else is doing it.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “Everybody.”

“Yeah! Yeah, look, there’s —” Will waves his arm around, indicating the Group, then upon noticing the general lack of hand-holding and general trend of tripping and punching and sniggering at misfortune, clears his throat and redirects. His arm waves again, with slightly less direction. “There’s examples all over!”

Nico’s mouth twitches. He stares at his friend, who stares right back, light eyebrows furrowed stubbornly.

“All over!” he insists.

“Right,” Nico drawls.

“Look, there’s — Harley and Nyssa, exhibit A —”

Nyssa, shamelessly eavesdropping, barks a laugh and tugs on the Celestial bronze handcuffs Harley is currently trying to blowtorch his way out of, jiggling her bound hand in Nico’s direction.

Will, ignoring her, barrels on.

“ — and — and — Julia and Ellis, there, look —”

Nico does indeed look. Julia does indeed appear to have her hand in the general vicinity of Ellis’s, and she does appear to be moving her arm with every swing of his, and she does also appear to be silently unlatching Ellis’s beautiful gold watch and sliding it very carefully into her pocket.

Nico glances back at Will’s still-somehow shameless face.

“Is that what we’re calling it.”

“— and — of course — there’s Cecil —”

Shoulders setting in that prim, snooty way they do when he’s winning an argument, Will gestures widely and broadly over to his best friend. Nico rolls his eyes and looks where he’s pointing, sighing, only to find, to his endless amusement, an openly snickering Lou Ellen, and a Cecil who is, perhaps for the first time in his life, walking with both hands in his pockets, face lax and serene, absentmindedly watching the leaves as he strolls past. Will’s shoulders drop.

“Dude,” Will says, or rather hisses. “You had — one freaking job —”

He holds out a hand to pause, and Nico, dutifully, pauses. He watches Will skim long fingers over the silky dirt until they close tightly around a small, shining pebble.

Which he, with better aim than Nico has seen him throw anything, whips directly at Cecil’s head.

“Hey!” cries Cecil, immediately tripping over the nearest root and sprawling onto the dirt. Lou Ellen has quite nearly joined him, laughing so hard she has gone silent and can no longer stand. “Why did you — what the heck!”

“I asked you to do one task!” Will whisper-shouts. “One!”

“Mail Clarisse a bag of fire-frogs?” Cecil asks, scratching his head.

“No! Well, yes, but — the other thing!” He flops his hands aggressively, pointing them vaguely in Lou’s direction. She has, at this point, fully succumbed, and is clutching her stomach, eyes streaming, curled into a shaking ball on the ground. “The — hands!”

It takes several seconds — eight, Nico counts — for the visible lightbulb to go off in Cecil’s eyes.

“Ohhhhh,” Cecil says. He flops his hands back in Will’s direction. “The — thing.”

Hurriedly, he stands, trying and failing to pull Lou Ellen up with him. He makes it about halfway before he drops her, wheezing, and they both go tumbling straight off the path, down the hillside, and roll to a rocky, painful stop at the base of a cedar tree. Cecil’s head hits the bark and visibly bonks.

“I genuinely think it might be hollow up there,” says Will, aghast. “I might have to check.”

Nico peers down at them. Harley, abandoning his blowtorch, stretches over Nico’s shoulder to see. When he can’t — the day Nico loses the three inches he has on the kid he’s killing himself, that indeed will be his time — Nico crouches down and allows the little menace to stand on his knee.

“I think they might be holding hands now,” Harley observes.

Nyssa hums. “Hard to say. Does it count if she’s pulling him out of a termite’s nest?”

“Of course it does,” says Will hastily. “Handholding is handholding. So. There.” He turns to Nico, eyes wide and expectant. A cloud passes overhead, and his eyes brighten. Nico smiles.

“So, what?”

“So — safety!” He waves his hand again, barely managing not to smack himself in the face. “We gotta — link up! Link up to sync up, you know what they say.”

“Nobody says that.”

“Nyssa — who asked you.”

“Nobody needs to ask me. I see bullshit, I say bullshit, I mean —”

“What if I! Cursed you! What then! Actually!”

“How about you curse these hands —”

“I will! Actually! For serious, I’m gonna —”

Lips pursed thoughtfully, Nico flexes his hands. He glances down at them. He supposes they are cold. He glances down at Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dee, now somehow both in the termite nest. He supposes safety is, indeed always important. He glances over at Will’s bright red face, hair sticking up in every direction like a grouchy hedgehog’s, and Nyssa’s completely unhidden smirk. He supposes someone should put the dumbass out of his misery.

Experimentally, he slides his hand forward. He trails his cold fingers over Will’s warm palm, linking their thumbs together. He squeezes.

“Safety is important,” he says, quietly.

Will stops.

He swallows.

His hands, quite suddenly, get sweaty.

Nico smiles.

“Definitely one of the top seven things,” says Will, just as quiet. His voice cracks.

“Gods above,” Nyssa mutters.

“The termites are eating them!” shouts Harley, gleefully. “Look!”

They do indeed look.

“We should probably help them,” says Will. Or, sighs Will.

“Probably,” Nico agrees.

“Especially since it’s my fault. A little.”

“A little,” Nico smiles.

“Sigh,” Will says.

Nico smiles again. He lifts their joined hands. “Safety first, though.”

Will grins. “Safety first.”

[heretolurkandnothingmore]

Golden days.

(Maybe a little time you get to keep)

[havenhost]

@atqh16~ as promised~

The other author is my partner, who helped me write this. Hope you like it^^

I also hope I gifted it to the right person - I clicked on a fic on your dash and saw the names matched so I figured it's you? Let me know ^^

[disastertriowriting]

Anakin isn't a morning person. Obi-Wan has to deal with it. Or, the five times that Obi-Wan had to wake up Anakin, and the one time Anakin woke up Obi-Wan.

Ahsoka hums quietly before frowning down at her Master’s sleeping form. “Is he ticklish?” she asks randomly. “I hardly think that –” Obi-Wan cuts himself off mid-sentence. No, Anakin won’t be happy, but maybe he should have thought about that before ignoring his Padawan. With the hint of a mischievous smile on his face, he creeps over to Anakin’s bed. Through the Force, he can feel Ahsoka’s glee when they attack Anakin in unison, tickling his sides and, in Obi-Wan’s case, everywhere he knows will have Anakin unable to move, much less flee. The half shriek, half yelp that escapes makes the entire situation worth it. Obi-Wan can hardly hold back his own laughter, especially after Anakin ends up rolling onto the floor with a crash.

Morning Mischief - CourtesyTrefflin - Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Morning Mischief, a star wars fanfic | FanFiction

Star Wars One-Shots - Morning Mischief - Wattpad

[milksnake-tea]

━━ fear not the road untaken .

Sunday hadn't spent long with the Stellaron Hunters before boarding the Express, but the memories he'd made with them were priceless. One quiet day in the Express's cabin, while reflecting on his experiences with the Hunters, you appear to visit him.

astral express!sunday x gn!stellaronhunter!reader

contains: sunday used to be a stellaron hunter, teasing, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IVE WRITTEN SO FAR, SUNDAY IS DOWN BADDDD AS HE DESERVES TO BE BITES FIST I MISSED THIS SO BADDDDD, not established relationship sunday just has a massive crush on you

word count: 2.06k

a/n: happy drip marketing yall. you all get a sunday fluff piece. as a treat. also yes i am completely and totally sane. (THIS IS THE MOST SELF INDULGENT FIC IVE EVER WRITTEN I AM SO SORRY GUYS)

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo

“Sunday, we’re going out to Belobog for a bit. Wanna come with?”

Heeled boots still in the midst of a step. Feather-like hair shifts and tousles as he turns his head. At the invitation, gold melts, sapphires glitter, and a gentle smile warms his lips.

March is a blessing, he thinks. She is bubbly, kind, and always manages to light up whatever room she steps into - in that regard, she is not too unlike his beloved sister. Although her ability to plan ahead leaves much room for improvement, he cannot deny that it was her presence that made his transition into a Nameless much easier than it would’ve been.

Although, truthfully, he’d expected more resistance from her - out of everyone, she seemed to be the most traumatized by the Charmony Festival Disaster, and she also had more of a distaste for Stellaron Hunters than the others. But surprisingly, she’d come around to him, and welcomed him into the Express with open arms - and a lot of food. He swears, every time she’s come back from a trip, it’s another sweet or drink shoved into his arms - not that he’s complaining, though.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he begins, then rests a hand over his chest as a reflex. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse. The last expedition has left me rather exhausted - and as you know, I don’t fare well in cold weather.”

Dan Heng nods in understanding. He’s never been a man of many words, and for that Sunday appreciates him. He rather likes straight-forward people, who aren’t afraid to say their mind - perhaps that’s why he’s grown to adore both the Express and the Hunters so much.

“Is there anything you want us to bring back?” pipes up the Trailblazer, dog-like eyes shining as they lean over March. “Like, sweets or whatever?”

Sunday bites back a chuckle. Somehow, word had gotten around that Sunday had quite the sweet tooth. He doesn’t know who started it or how they found out (he has his suspicions on March), but ever since the trio has been dragging him around to various planets and encouraging him to try the local desserts.

He wonders if he’s gotten cavities yet. He hopes not.

Maybe he should check again, at a later time.

“That Rye Bread Iceberg you brought last time was rather enjoyable. I’d like to try it again.”

March and the Trailblazer brighten at his words. “Okay, on it!”

Dan Heng only hums his acknowledgement before turning to leave the parlor car. “Let’s go,” he advises the others. “You know Seele doesn’t like to wait.”

Sunday has never personally met this Seele (the Trailblazer describes her as a crass but kind-hearted warrior), but her fury is enough to whip both March and the Trailblazer into shape. It isn’t long before the trio is waving him goodbye as they descend into the frozen planet, and he also bids them farewell.

And then it is just him, and the conductor.

A small sigh leaves him as he sits down on one of the many couches. He wasn’t lying when he said he was exhausted. Fighting - or any physical activity, for that matter - isn’t exactly his strong suit. Even during his time with the Hunters, he’d stayed behind the front lines, acting as a pseudo Kafka with his carefully crafted words and tuning abilities.

That’s one of the few things about the Hunters that he prefers over the Express - they didn’t force him to hike through deserts and jungles and mountains and Xipe knows what else. All they did was throw him off a skyscraper in the name of the script (he’s pretty sure Elio just wanted to see if he’d actually fly or not).

Sunday blinks, realizing just what had just passed through his mind. Then he sighs with a smile, leaning back into the red plush of the couches.

Only a few months since his fall, and he’s already beginning to think as weirdly as the rest of them.

“Sunday, are you alright?”

Sunday glances down to see the conductor waddling by his feet.

Pom Pom is… strange, no doubt - for whatever reason, Dan Heng fears them and has advised Sunday to not anger them at all costs. Their past is shrouded in mystery, but Sunday finds himself drawn to the conductor. Perhaps living most of his life in a fever dream like Penacony has warped his perception of what is normal and what is not.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He shifts on the couch to make room, but the conductor shakes their head.

“Are you sure? Pom Pom saw you laughing to yourself,” they fret, tapping their nubby hands together anxiously. “Have you been sleeping enough?”

Sunday crosses one leg over the other, and rests his hands over his knee. “If you’re concerned about my transition from Penacony to reality, be at ease. The Hunters have practically beat a proper sleep schedule into me.”

Pom Pom yelps in shock. “B-Beat?! They beat you?”

“Not literally,” Sunday hastes, instinctively reaching out a hand to calm the conductor. “It was more akin to… ominously threatening checkups. Although, there was this one time-”

He sees the look on Pom Pom’s face, and decides to stop it there. He fears they might break out sobbing if he continues.

“Nevertheless, rest assured that I am sleeping at an appropriate time,” he finishes reassuringly. His practiced smile pays off as the conductor gradually calms down, albeit worry about the Hunters’ methods still lingers.

“Alright, if you say so, Sunday.” They look around uneasily. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Sunday waves his hands hastily. “No, I am alright, thank you-”

“He’ll have some tea.”

Pom Pom jumps with a shriek and Sunday’s wings puff up. A familiar laugh ghosts his ear, and immediately Sunday’s face brightens.

“What- What are you doing here?!” Pom Pom quickly hides behind one of Sunday’s slender legs, hugging it like a lifeline. Sunday places a hand on their head to calm them as he turns to the hologram with a warm smile.

“At ease, conductor, they’re a friend.”

Your holographic form glitches in and out of reality. There’s a thin blue filter over your appearance, but other than that, everything is the same as he remembers.

“Hey, angel,” you coo, leaning your elbow on his shoulder as you sit besides him. Its weight is not the same as it would be in reality, but the presence is enough - a small, barely noticeable tingle that has his heart fluttering and his wings following in suit. “How’s life as Nameless? Do you miss us yet?”

Sunday laughs gently. “It has only been two weeks since I left the Hunters. I’m afraid I haven’t had the time to miss you all.”

You pout playfully, sticking out your tongue.Even though parts of you chip away and reappear, and your form isn’t stable, Sunday can’t help but be as captivated by you as he was when he was still among the Hunters’ ranks. Where the projection fails, his tinted memory fills in.

“Silver Wolf misses you, although I doubt she’d actually say it,” you say, taking a lock of his hair and twirling it around your finger. “Has she visited you yet?”

Sunday stutters a bit before weakly batting your finger away with his wing. “No, I’m afraid she hasn’t.”

“Hm.” You smile at his attempt to brush you off. Letting go of his hair, you instead opt to tug lightly at his cheek, earning a squeak from the Halovian. “That’s weird. Maybe she was too shy to speak up.”

“I-” Sunday rubs his cheek when you finally let go. Embarrassingly, his wings jump to shield his face, an unfortunate reflex he’d yet to curb. “I suppose she was…”

He hears you hum, and he lifts a wing to peek at you. His cheeks feel hot - no, that’s an understatement, the entirety of his body feels as if he’s in a fireplace.

“Give her my regards,” he finally breathes out, thanking the Aeons for his training in keeping his composure. Sure, it ultimately fails whenever he looks at you, but at least he’s able to fix himself quickly enough… or at least, he hopes that’s what it looks like.

“You didn’t answer my question though.” Propping your elbow on his shoulder again, you rest your cheek in your palm. “How’s the Nameless life treating you?”

“It’s chaotic,” Sunday admits with a fond sigh. He relaxes into the couch once more, feeling himself sink into the plush. Briefly, he’s tempted to lean his head on your shoulder, but given that you’re a holograph, he holds himself back. “But it’s fun. The Nameless have been kind, and the planets I’ve visited… It’s nice, to see the universe as someone other than a wanted criminal.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

Sunday would apologize, but considering that it’s you he’s talking to, he doesn’t feel the need to. After all, you’ve said worse to him, and him to you.

“You know what I mean,” he chuckles. “To be honest, though, the Express and the Hunters aren’t so different.”

He hears Pom Pom squawk indignantly, and again he ruffles their fur to calm them. Turning ever so slightly to your hologram, he gazes at you with adoration and fondness swelling his heart.

“To the both of you, I am forever grateful. If it weren’t for your kindness, I’d be rotting away in an alley somewhere. I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

All distaste for the Hunters fades from Pom Pom as they giggle bashfully. “Aw, Sunday… You don’t have to thank us. We were just doing what the Nameless do.”

You nod in agreement, reaching through his wing and poking his cheek again. “Conductor’s right. No need for thanks, birdie.”

“Still-” Sunday makes a sound like a startled bird as you poke his cheek harder, squishing it against the rest of his face. Underneath his coat, his primary wings strain with the urge to flutter and twitch, while his secondary wings are held back by sheer willpower. The only sign that they want to flap so badly is with the tiniest of tremors.

“None of that,” you chide him gently, tapping him lightly on the plush of his lips. “We’re just glad you’re happy - right, bunny?”

“Who’re you calling bunny?!” Pom Pom protests, steam puffing out of their head while steam threatens to escape Sunday’s face for completely different reasons.

Before you can reply, however, your form begins to glitch out, flickering in and out of reality at a higher frequency. With an annoyed click of your tongue, you stand up.

“Looks like Silver Wolf isn’t happy,” you comment, brushing off imaginary dust from your clothes. Taking one step so that you’re fully in front of Sunday, you lean in so that your projected nose barely brushes against his. “I have to get going now. You have my number, so text me if you need anything, okay? Or if you want to catch me up with your travels, you can always call me.”

Sunday’s voice feels lodged in his throat. With a subtle gulp, his Adam’s Apple bobbing ever so slightly, he manages to speak with an even voice.

“Okay,” he whispers, his voice almost a whimper. He wants to explode.

You smile fondly, and duck in to peck at the corner of his lips. The buzzing of your holograph morphs into electrifying lightning, surging into his veins, puffing up his feathers and making all of his hairs stand up and sending his already tapping heart into a frenzy. His body freezes into a statue, and all coherent thoughts melt away into a haze that is both ecstatic and shocked.

By the time you pull away, his wings are flapping erratically and his entire body is dyed in a rosey red. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, but all words die on his tongue and he is left blabbering like a fool.

You laugh again, eyes crinkling so beautifully he swears he’s ascended.

“If that’s how you react, I wonder how cute you’ll be when it’s the real deal.”

And then you’re gone, vanishing like a sweet dream in a flurry of pixels, leaving Sunday there to dazedly touch his lips, and then where you’d kissed him.

And then he smiles, giddily, and his halo practically glows as soft, love-stricken giggles begin to leave him.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[thatnonameuser]

Can MC make a cat cult and use cat to attack Yanderes.

MC getting a cat for each dorm/ event and all of them are scheming to get you away from the boys is cute. Unlike Grim, these fur babies can’t be bribed. 

*                    *                    *                    *                    *

You love cats.

What’s not to love? The little fluff balls are adorable. And surprisingly the most normal part of this world. 

You were a cat person. Plain and simple.

You loved cats, back in your world always feeding them, petting them, cuddling them. You loved them so much that when you first met Grim, you loved him even if he was a pain in the neck that went through tuna like fish breathed in water. 

Plus, given how stressful your situation was, they were the perfect stress relief. You can’t count how many nights you fell asleep petting Grim, cuddling Grim in your arms as you slept. 

Grim was your ghost repellent, your flame thrower, and your bestfriend/boss. Grim was like a rescue, throwing claws at you at first, and then cuddling up on you for your love and attention. 

Grim was a possessive cat, always wanting to be around you and constantly trying to be around you. And when you were threatened or in danger he would attack with his claws or his magic. There was even that one time that he tried to claw out Jamil’s eyes for mind controlling you back during winter break. 

To you, that was your one good thing. And because you deserved more good things after everything you went through…..the universe decided to give you a bunch more cats. Yay!

Besides Grim, the first one you met was Cheshire. Who somehow broke into your kitchen and got into Grim’s tuna. The orange tabby had a habit of coming and going whenever he pleased and causing mischief all over Ramshackle, destroying dishes and glasses. But despite your intruder cat’s reign of terror, he had a wonderful habit of popping up from nowhere whenever you visited Heartslabyul. 

It was a breath of fresh air whenever he managed to ruin the dorm’s peace and cause disaster to fall like a tower of cards. Like the namesake, Cheshire loved messing things up and causing chaos, breaking teacups, knocking over cakes and treats and vanishing before he could get caught and popping up again whenever anyone thought he was gone to continue it. And whenever one of the boys got too close to you, he’d pop out of nowhere and deliver them a hail of scratches and bites. 

So when they inevitably caught him, you scooped the poor baby into your arms and took him as your own before they skinned the cat alive. Cheshire just loved ruining yanderes’ evil plans, and being so adorable that being mad at him for his casual destruction was borderline impossible, and being a free spirit / vigilante that came out of nowhere was quite helpful. And then came more.

After Cheshire, it was Nala, Sushi and Rajah. Your violent babies.

Because much like his namesake, Cheshire came and went as he pleased, only coming in when it was time to be a hero. So you left food for him to eat when he decided to come back. Grim mourned his loss of tuna, but your other cat needed feeding, so you left an open can on the porch with some water. You woke up to Cheshire on your porch with his new friends. Who all jumped you as soon as you opened the door. 

Nala, a savannah cat, was a hunter and a fighter. She was a very peaceful kitty with you, but a violent hellspawn with anyone else. She was a territorial kitty so whenever the Savanaclaw boys came near she would leave enough bloody bite marks on them to warrant a rabies shot. 

Sushi, a spotted orange, black and white kitty, wasn’t the most feral, but he had a taste for the sea. The tiny kitty always followed you to Octavinelle, and whenever the trio got near he would eye them like dinner. Gotta love merfolk technically being seafood. Sushi was very agile too, so Floyd couldn’t catch them whenever she got too close. 

Rajah, an orange and black striped cat the size of a medium-sized dog he’d rip and tear through clothes with his teeth and claws. He hated all your suitors, ripping holes into pants legs, baring fangs and hissing whenever they got too close. He couldn’t be bribed despite even Kalim trying to warm up with him with expensive and delicious smelling treats. But unlike Grim, he couldn’t be tricked.

And after them, it was Duchess, Chimera, and then Diablo. Your crafty kitties.

Duchess, a Persian cat with white fur so long that when you brushed her it looked like your sheets got snowed on, was a spoiled loud princess. So loud that she would yowl at all hours and alert anyone unfortunate or otherwise to hear it. Much to your surprise, whenever Rook decided to invade your privacy she always managed to find him. Which is both strange because the fact Rook barely ever got caught, and helpful because then he couldn’t do whatever. But thanks to…. something, Duchess always found her way to him. And when she did she was like a siren, yowling so loud it woke you up when you were sleeping. 

Chimera was an adorably fat patchwork cat that was as lazy as Grim, but had a penchant for finding electronics in Ramshackle and sitting on them. While Idia loves cats to an unhealthy degree, you could see that it was bothering him that Chimera kept destroying his cameras. Too bad, your fat little-big Chimera is a danger to those hidden cameras and as a result of that, a lovely roommate that won’t be moving out.

Diablo, a black cat no surprise, had appeared on top of you when you opened your eyes one morning and didn’t ever leave. You were suspicious of whether or not he was a normal cat, because you noticed the little blue lights that came into the air when he popped out of nowhere. His speciality was messing with magic, or more specifically magical artifacts meant to lure and bind you. The food spelled with potions, necklaces with curses of binding, and even  Whatever was sent would be smashed, shattered and broken before you could be tricked into using them. Incredibly helpful given Diasomnia’s antics, specifically Malleus’ gift giving of precious and usually cursed jewelry. 

And then, Count Claudius. And Foxy. And Gideon. And Skelly.

All your possessive and protective little kitties, that made biscuits in your blankets and bite marks on your suitors. 

Sure Grim was a lil’ jealous. He was still your number one, you did your best to make sure that he wasn’t going to fight with the cats in a jealous rage. 

As for your suitors…..

They were probably pissed. You had to free your precious babies from traps to make sure they were able to come back to Ramshackle come morning. But, Grim mostly fell for them. 

But hey, you’d rather be a single cat lady than deal with your yandere suitors. Maybe you could take them home with you.

[thusspoketrish]

Hiya, I'm Trish! Below you'll find a list of my completed Drarry fics + a gist of the story + a handful of tags. All of my stories are postwar, EWE, and rated E or M. I will update this list as I complete more stories! Wooo!!!

MOST RECENT FIC:

Netflix and Chills | E | 20K Halloween might be over, but the tricks, treats, and heat between the sheets are just beginning for our favorite dynamic duo! Humor. Post-Second Wizarding War. EWE. Drarry in the Muggle World. Established Relationship. Snarky Draco Malfoy. Muggle Technology. Slice of Life. Humor. Romance. Domestic Fluff. Pop Culture References. Shenanigans. Halloween Night. Netflix and Chill. Banter. Mystery. Idiots in Love. Light Dom/Sub Elements. Dirty Talk. Blue Ball Hell.

Summary: When Draco innocently asks what "Netflix and Chill" means, Harry simply can't pass up the opportunity to impart some knowledge while demonstrating a masterclass in the art of seduction. Now, if only those plans weren't constantly interrupted by trick-or-treaters—some of them far more trick than treat.

The Art of Getting By | E | 149K Recovery fic set in a psychiatric hospital. Mental health Issues. Trauma/Traumatic Experiences. Heavy Angst. Harry and Draco admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Therapy. Fastburn. Co-dependency. Falling in love. Draco's + Harry's POV. Please read warnings. Dead Dove.

This Year's Love| E | 84K. A Drarry slowburn inspired by When Harry Met Sally! Humor. Light Angst. Draco in the Muggle world. Lovable Disaster!Harry. Enemies to Best Friends. Modern Dating. Layabout!Harry. Medical Student!Draco. Draco Dates Zaddies. Harry Is Living His Best Heaux Life. Sex (or no sex!) Positivity. Idiots In Love. So Much Pining. Harry's POV.

Everything That Happens Is From Now On | E | 42K. A sensitive story that explores the aftermath and recovery from a stranger SA. Established relationship. Secrets. Supportive/Loving Partner. RTS. Living Together. Body Positivity. Enthusiastic Consent. Hope. Draco's POV. Please read warnings.

Lemon Colour, Honey Glow | E | 67K. A love story that takes place over a series of unfortunate nights at the Leaky Cauldron. Enemies to Lovers. Falling in Love. Auror!Harry. Potion Master!Draco. Secret Relationship. Emotional Hurt/Comfort. Possessive Harry. Flangst. Beer Gardens. The Leaky Cauldron. The Slytherin Trio. Bullying/Violence. Spoilers Left Untagged.

Super Rich Kids | E | 81K. True crime meets wild government conspiracies when Draco becomes a twisted sort-of Robin Hood, robbing the badly behaving rich to give to...well...you'll have to read the story to find out! Angst. Murders. Coverups. Enemies to Friends to Lovers. Bisexual Draco. Lush descriptions of glamour. Humor. The ULTIMATE Slytherin ensemble. Mental Health Issues. Drug Usage/Addiction. Pureblood Elitism. Social Season. Angst with a Happy Ending. Draco's POV.

On The Last Day | E | 53K. Draco's role as an Unspeakable, Harry's untimely death and ghostly return, and conspiracies bind them in a quest for truth and redemption. Mystery. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Grief/Mourning. Horror Elements. Science. Neurology/Neuroscience. Slowburn. Memory Loss. Draco's POV.

My Best Friend, the Serial Killer | E | 37K. Ride or Die BFFL Draco finds he's tired of moonlighting as a serial killer's accomplice. No matter how much he loves Pansy, he draws the line at helping her dispose of a sexy, flirty Harry Potter. Dark Humor. Campy/Kitsch Elements. Serial Killer!Pansy. Healer!Draco. Femme Fatale Trope. Falling in Love. Self-Love. Jealousy. Everyone is seriously morally grey. Draco's POV.

A Ferret, a ScarHead, a Weasel, & a Baby | E | 91K. The ultimate bromance takes centre stage (alongside a sweet and tender Drarry romance) in this Three Men & a Baby inspired story! BAMF Auror Draco. Protective Draco. Healer Harry. Capable and Emotionally Intelligent Ron. Illegal Potions Ring. Orphaned Baby. Roommates. Nothing to Something to Everything. Draco's POV.

Seven Days | E | 8K. It takes seven days for the Malfoy-Potter family to unravel. Grief/Mourning. Child Abduction. Death of a Child. Implied Mpreg. Alcohol Relapse. Coming to Terms. Harry's POV. Please Read the Warnings.

Portrait of a Young Girl | M | 8K. Navigating the complexities of love, marriage, and child-rearing, Harry and Draco face a new challenge when they suspect that four-year-old Teddy might be transgender. Married Drarry. Young Couple. Inexperienced Parents. Marital Problems/Disagreements. Stay-at-Home Dad Draco. Fluff. Acceptance. Love. Family. Happy Ending. Harry's POV.

A Day at the Park | M | 6K. Draco discovers that love has its own timing, and sometimes, that means returning to the place where he once lost it all. Estranged couple. Flashbacks. Pining. Postman's Park. Exiled Draco. Draco's POV.

Long for Bliss! | E | 9K. A random night out takes a dark and thrilling turn when Harry, after taking MDMA, encounters Draco Malfoy, looking like something straight out of his wildest dreams – or nightmares. First Time Drug Use. Nightclubs. The Perils of Ennui. Mildly Dubious Consent. Rooftop Sex. Light Dom/Sub Elements. Harry's POV.

Idiot Boys In Love & More | Various Ratings | 18K. Here you'll find a collection of one-shots, drabbles, and poems about Harry and Draco that are all standalone pieces! Each story is centered on a prompt provided by @drarrymicrofic and said prompt will be listed in the summary of each story (Series I completed). Harry + Draco's POV.

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part eleven

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Eleven - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2.7k

a/n: longest and saddest chapter x

After we unceremoniously crash-land on a guy named Pete’s KIA he was attempting to sell, the impact crumpling the hood like a tin can, the sound of screeching metal echoes through the air, drowning out the distant city noise. Pete looks delighted to see Wade, something I never thought I would see. Wade gives him a quick recap before we are on the run, following him as he takes us towards the TVA.

As we walk down the bustling street, the chaotic sounds of the city engulf us—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional siren blaring in the distance. The air is thick with the smell of street food, a mixture of hot dogs, pretzels, and something sweet like roasted nuts. The vibrant life around me feels surreal, almost too good to be true after months trapped in that nightmarish place, where the only sounds were the howling winds and the distant echoes of something monstrous.

I notice a man in a dishevelled suit barreling toward us, his tie askew, and his face a mask of desperation and fear. Sweat beads on his forehead and his wild eyes lock onto us with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. His nose is broken and I hear Wade giggle beside me, no doubt his doing.

His voice cracks as he shouts, "No, stop, piss off, you’re too late." His voice is tinged with both panic and resignation as if he knows he’s already lost but can’t help fighting against the inevitable.

Logan’s muscles tense, and his voice drops to a growl, deep and menacing like a wolf ready to pounce. His hands curl into fists, the veins in his forearms bulging. "You’re fucking done," he snarls, each word laced with venom.

I glance at the stranger, confusion and wariness gnawing at me. "Who the fuck is this?" I demand, my voice harsher than I intended. The man’s presence feels wrong, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

His face pales further, his voice trembling with the weight of whatever horror he’s seen. “You brought another Veil to this world? She was supposed to stay in the Void.” His eyes dart around.

"Zip it. Why was Thor crying?" Wade cuts in, his tone is light, mocking, but there’s an edge to it.

Paradox’s fear transforms into righteous indignation, his voice rising in a feeble attempt to regain control. “How dare you? No one comes back from The Void.” His hands twitch at his sides, as if he’s debating whether to fight or flee.

Wolverine’s growl deepens, the sound rumbling in his chest like a storm about to break. His eyes narrow, the cold fury in them unmistakable. "Tell that to Cassandra Nolva."

A sudden whirl of light and energy erupts behind us, the air crackling with raw power. I whip around just in time to see Pyro step through a swirling portal, his expression grim, his eyes shadowed with the burden of bad news. “Paradox, we have a problem,” he says, his voice low and urgent, as if he’s trying to contain the disaster that’s about to unfold.

Before anyone can react, Paradox’s neck snaps violently to the side with a sickening crunch, the sound echoing in the still air like a death knell. His body drops like a marionette whose strings have been cut, crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap, his eyes staring blankly at nothing as Cassandra steps out from the portal, a cold smirk on her lips. Her eyes gleam with a malevolent intelligence, as if she’s always two steps ahead of everyone else.

Cassandra’s voice drips with malice, each word carefully enunciated as if savoring the moment. "Paradox? You tried to kill me."

Paradox’s voice shakes, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips, his once confident demeanor shattered. “I literally have no idea…” His words trail off into a pitiful whisper, his fear tangible in the air. Her hand, pale and elegant, wraps around his brain beneath the skin. “You come for the king, you better kill the king,” she says, her voice a deadly whisper that sends chills down my spine.

Deadpool grins wickedly, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "Oh, welcome to the skull-fuck club, Paradox. You know she doesn’t wash that hand." His tone is mocking.

Cassandra tilts her head, examining the man with detached curiosity, as if he’s nothing more than a specimen under a microscope. "Oh, what’s this? A Time-Ripper, you naughty boy," she murmurs, her voice a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"Oh no, we’re on it. We’re gonna head down and dismantle that thing now. We got you, boo; you just keep playing those keys." Wade flashes a playful wink.

Cassandra’s eyes narrow, a dangerous gleam in them as she steps closer, her presence suffocating. "I don’t want to destroy it. I want to use it." Her voice is laced with greed, a hunger for power that sends a jolt of fear through me.

My heart clenches in my chest as Cassandra’s gaze locks onto me, her power reaching out, invisible but suffocating. I gasp as I’m yanked off my feet, the force of her magic slamming me back into Logan’s chest. The impact is brutal, knocking the air from my lungs and sending us both crashing through a bakery window. The glass shatters around us, sharp shards slicing through the air like deadly confetti. The scent of fresh bread and sugar mingles with the coppery tang of blood, creating a nauseating cocktail that makes my head spin.

The impact knocks the wind out of me, and I struggle to breathe, my lungs burning as I gasp for air. Dust and debris swirl around us, and I manage to whisper, "Fuck," as I roll off Logan, wincing at the pain radiating through my body. My skin stings where the glass has cut me, and I can feel warm blood trickling down my arms and face.

Wade shakes off the dust, standing up with a grimace, his usual cocky swagger subdued. "You okay, Pumpkin?" he asks, his tone surprisingly gentle, concern flickering in his eyes.

I grunt, forcing myself to stand on shaky legs, every muscle screaming in protest. "Never better." My voice is hoarse, and I can feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me, but I push it aside. My eyes scan the chaotic scene outside, where people are running in every direction, their screams of terror echoing off the buildings. "I’m going to go stop her."

Logan tries to grab me, his fingers grazing my arm, but Wade holds him back, a rare seriousness in his eyes. "We’ve got other problems to deal with, buddy. Pumpkin’s got this, our little time ripper." He glances at me, a knowing look crossing his face, his expression almost… proud? "Oops—spoilers." He says to some unknown thing in the distance.

I shrug him off, giving Logan one last look, a silent plea in my eyes, before jogging toward the subway entrance. The stairs are steep and narrow, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow hue. The tunnel is dark, the air heavy with the scent of metal and something more sinister, something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. As I descend deeper, the sounds of the city fade away, replaced by the ominous hum of the machines below.

Paradox sits in a chair in the control room, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles are white. His face is a mask of terror, his eyes wide and unblinking as he watches the screens in front of him.

"You dumb shit," I seethe, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him to face me. His eyes are wide, filled with the kind of fear that only comes when you realize you’ve truly fucked up. "What have you done?" My voice

I look up at the machines, their screens flashing erratically as Cassandra wreaks havoc on the timelines. Each beep and whirr of the machinery seems to punctuate the gravity of the situation, the digital displays a chaotic dance of numbers and warnings. “She’s going to destroy the whole existence of timelines until just the Void remains,” He says, his face pale and trembling.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my voice barely above a breath.

“You can stop her.” I look to him, hopeful. “That’s what’s so dangerous about you, but if you do that, you’ll die.” The weight of his words hits me like a physical blow. My heart pounds in my chest, and I stare into his eyes, searching for some hint of hope or another solution.

“You idiots didn’t make a failsafe?” My voice is sharp with frustration and fear.

Paradox nods, his eyes wide with terror. “But she’s the closest one to it. This is the only way.”

I shiver as the realization sinks in. The thought of my own death is a cold, hard reality that shakes me to my core. If I do this, I’m gone. But if I don’t, everyone else dies. My mind races with the enormity of the choice before me.

“Tell me what I have to do.”

Paradox, trembling, presses a small button on a console. A video screen flickers to life, displaying a grainy, distorted image of the control systems. “You have to bridge the gap between the two feeds of matter and anti-matter. It will implode the time ripper, killing Cassandra… and you.”

My breath catches in my throat, a shaky exhale escaping my lips. “If you see Logan, tell him I’m sorry.” I step away, my legs feeling heavy and leaden. “Where is it?”

He points shakily toward the lower levels. I nod, turning toward the stairs, each step feeling like a mile as I make my way to the feeder room. The weight of the impending sacrifice presses down on me, and I try to steady my shaking hands. My heart races as I think of the life I’m leaving behind, the people I’m leaving behind.

As I descend, the cool, musty air of the stairwell wraps around me, each step echoing in the silence. I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, memories flashing before me. The joyous moments, the regrets, and the lingering fear of leaving Logan behind. The thought of not having a legacy, of leaving without making a mark, terrifies me.

At the bottom of the stairs, a long hallway stretches out before me, lit by flickering lights that cast eerie shadows on the walls. I pause at the end, my gaze fixed on the door ahead. The lights behind the glass window flicker and pulse, mirroring the turmoil within me. I take a step forward, but my knee buckles, and I hit the ground, a vision of blinding white light assaulting my eyes. The intensity of it nearly overwhelms me, but it fades as quickly as it came.

I try to sit up, my body trembling with fear. I need to do this. I force myself to stand, my hand reaching for the door. Just as I’m about to push it open, a voice echoes down the hallway, stopping me in my tracks.

I hear my name cut through the tension like a blade. “Y/N!”

My heart leaps into my throat, a jolt of adrenaline making me spin around. Logan is rushing toward me, his face a storm of fear and determination. His eyes, usually so controlled, are wide with panic and desperation. Behind him, Wade follows, his usual irreverent demeanor replaced by a rare, somber resolve.

“What are you doing?” Logan's voice is a mix of terror and disbelief, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my resolve waver.

“It has to be me.” I tell him, standing my ground.

Logan’s expression morphs into one of resolute defiance. “No, I won’t let you die. I’ll do it.”

Deadpool’s voice slices through the tension, his usual levity gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. “No can do, Peanut. It’s gotta be me.”

Logan’s confusion is immediate, his brow furrowing deeply. “What?”

Deadpool’s gaze drops, his face revealing a rare moment of vulnerability. “You didn’t ask for any of this. You were right. I lied. I lied right to your face. Just to get you to help me. You did.”

Logan’s eyes dart between Deadpool and me, filled with frantic desperation. “You didn’t lie. You made an educated wish. You got a whole world to go back to.”

His gaze settles back on me, filled with a raw, unspoken plea. “I would never let you leave me in a world without you again. I got nothing without you, so give me this.”

I shake my head slowly, tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. Logan’s movement toward the door is resolute, but the sight of his anguished expression tears at my heart. I cry harder, my sobs echoing down the narrow hallway.

Deadpool steps closer, his face lined with a rare gravity. “I waited a long time for this team-up. And you know something? You’re the best Wolverine.”

The sincerity in his voice is a stark contrast to his usual banter, and it shatters my resolve. I look at Wade, my vision blurring with tears.

Logan freezes, his body paralyzed by my powers, a look of helpless frustration etched deeply into his features. Wade stands still beside me, his eyes filled with unspoken sorrow, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitability of my choice.

“Y/N? What are you doing?”

I force myself to push down my tears, my voice trembling as I answer. “I’m doing the right thing.”

I walk past them, the effort to stop me almost tangible, their emotions reaching out like a desperate plea. I reach the door, the cold metal handle biting into my hand as I pull it open, stepping inside. The door slams shut behind me with a finality that reverberates through the hallway, their desperate shouts muffled by the thick, reinforced walls.

Logan’s roar of frustration is visceral, the impact of his body slamming into the door sending a shudder through the corridor.

“Open the door!” He screams.

“I can’t, Logan. You know it has to be me. I couldn’t save them, but I can save you.” I hold a hand up to the glass.

Logan’s voice cracks, the raw emotion evident. “Why are you fucking doing this?”

“Because I love you.” I finally admit, my heart cracking at the weight of my confession.

Logan’s response is a choked, pained cry, tears streaking down his cheeks as he pounds on the door again. His anguish is palpable, each strike against the door a testament to his heartbreak.

“You fucking idiot.”

Deadpool’s voice is strained, filled with uncharacteristic desperation. “Pumpkin? Don’t do this.”

“I love you.” I tell him again.

Logan’s voice softens, a heartbreaking admission. “I love you too.”

A sad smile tugs at my lips as I hear his final words, knowing they’re the last I’ll hear from him. “That’s all I needed to hear to know I’m doing the right thing.”

I turn away from the door, my resolve solidifying as I move toward the center of the bridge. The matter and anti-matter streams twist and writhe with chaotic energy, their raw power casting erratic shadows across the room. Cassandra stands above, the time ripper in her control, her silhouette a dark, menacing figure against the flickering lights.

I reach out, gripping the matter stream first. The metal is cold and unyielding, but as my hands close around it, blue lightning crackles up my arms. The strain is immense, and I grit my teeth as I pull the stream toward the anti-matter, the effort causing my body to shake violently. The raw power surges through me like a tempest, each pulse of energy a painful reminder of the cost of my choice.

I barely graze the anti-matter before finally getting a firm grip on it. The contact sends a jolt of searing agony through my body, and I cry out, the pain almost unbearable. The lights above flicker wildly, their erratic dance mirroring the tumultuous energy converging within me. The pounding on the door fades into a distant echo, Logan and Wade’s voices reduced to frantic, muffled pleas.

As the matter and anti-matter streams converge within me, a blinding white light envelops me, consuming everything in its intensity. My vision fades to a blur of white, the world dissolving around me, until finally—black.

Next Part

A/N: angst.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007

[whitejays-galaxy]

Luke and Leia as cats

Bonus.... Kitten version!

Name Meanings:

Luke/Amberdawn/Amberstar:

I chose "Amber" because of his warm personality and pelt color.

And "Dawn" because he represents the new Dawnclan(Jedi) order; he rebuilds it and becomes the next grandmaster/leader

Leia/Birdslash:

"Bird" symbolizes her beauty and grace, and the "Slash" suffix shows her fierce side.

Okay but why does Luke remind me of a honey bun, and Leia a nicer Hawkfrost(with less fluff lmao)

They are so silly >:3

See more of my Cat Au designs here :3

The Disaster lineage (Yoda, Dooku, Qui, Obi, Anakin, Ahsoka + lore)

Prequel villains (Sidious, Dooku, Maul, Vader + Lore)

Kit-Fisto

Plo-Koon and Ahsoka

Sifo Dyas and Dooku

Disaster trio(Obi, Ani, Soka) doodles

Smol comics(ft. Qui, Rael, Sifo, Dooku): pt 1

Aayla Secura and Quinlan Voss

DO NOT COPY ANY OF MY CAT DESIGNS

This is a PERSONAL AU and they mean so much to me

[thenerdysimp]

Can you feel the love tonight

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x reader

Words: 1,4K

Summary: Shawn brings you on stage as a surprise guest on Valentine’s Day

(Small text - lyrics)

Warnings: None, just fluff. Potential spelling errors and mix of past and present tense.

You have been traveling with Shawn for his tour and now you’re backstage at Shawn’s show on Valentine’s Day. This just happens to be the first show this week, so no one knows what’s about to come. But the plan is to do this during every show this week out, make it Valentine’s Week instead of just one day.

You are going to join Shawn on stage to perform a song together, he proposed this idea when he was planning the tour dates. He wanted to do something special for Valentine’s and since he knows you sing beautifully he wanted to bring you into it.

And that’s how you ended up here, with a microphone in your hand waiting for Shawn to call you up. He had just finished singing ‘If I Can’t Have You’, he took a breath and leaned in to speak into the microphone, “How are you guys feeling?” He asked loudly into the mic with a smile looking over the sold out stadium. The crowd answered with a mix of screams and cheers. Shawn turned back to the mic, “So as you guys know it’s Valentine’s Day today, it’s also the first show of this week. When I planned the tour dates I had an idea to make this week into a little Valentine’s special. This is the beginning of Valentine’s Week and I have a surprise for you!” He said and the crowd cheered. “I would like to introduce the person that I proposed this idea to in the first place, the person who was completely on board with it, the one who has been by my side since the tour started and many years before, my biggest inspiration and best friend. I want you guys to welcome my amazing and lovely girlfriend Y/N!” He said.

The crowd erupted in even louder cheers and applause as you walked out onto the stage and waved to them. Shawn put his guitar behind his back so that he was able to wrap you in a hug as you got close. He held you for a few seconds before pulling away slightly, giving you a kiss on the cheek before releasing you. You gave him a wide smile before turning to the crowd, “Hi everyone! Are you guys doing alright?” You said into your microphone to get loud screams back. “Amazing! I want to start off by saying that by all means, of course you guys are allowed to film this segment. But please, both me and Shawn wish that you don’t post it on social media until at least next week. Because we want this to be a surprise at every show this week. Is everyone on board?” You said, the crowd answering with a loud yes. “Great, now since Shawn proposed this idea to me he gave me the opportunity to choose the song. This is a song from one of my all time favorite Disney movies, arguably the best song in the movie as well. So I’m very excited!” You added.

Shawn was watching you in awe as you talked to the crowd, incredibly proud to have you here with him. Especially since it was your first time on a stage like this and singing for this big amount of people. “Since it’s Valentine’s Day today, is anyone here on a date?” You asked and were met with multiple cheers. You and Shawn look at each other dragging out an ‘ooohhh’. “Well would you look at that, I hope you guys are having a nice date and this song is for you guys!” Shawn said as you walked over to stand beside him.

The band started playing and his backup vocalists started to sing Timon and Pumbas intro to ‘Can you feel the love tonight’ and the crowd went wild, screaming and cheering.

“I can see what’s happening. What?

And they don’t have a clue. Who?

They’ll fall in love and here’s the bottom line, our trio’s down to two. Oh

The sweet caress of twilight, there’s magic everywhere.

And with all this romantic atmosphere, disaster’s in the air.”

Shawn started to strum on his guitar as you started to sing your solo. While singing you walked around him while looking him up and down. His head followed your every move as he continued playing on his guitar with a smile on his face.

“Can you feel the love tonight?

The peace the evening brings.

The world for once in perfect harmony.

With all its living things.”

When you ended up on the other side of him you put your hand on his cheek caressing it with your thumb before he started singing his part.

“So many things to tell her.

But how to make her see, the truth about my past?

Impossible!

She’d turn away from me.”

As he was singing you walked behind him and leaned on him back to back. He finished the verse and you started your next one. He turned his head to the side, slightly glancing over his shoulder with a wide smile as you sang.

“He’s holding back, he’s hiding.

But what, I can’t decide.

Why won’t he be the king I know he is?

The king I see inside.”

When the chorus came for both of you to sing together Shawn put his guitar behind his back, letting the band guitarist play the rest, and picked his microphone off the mic stand. He took you hand in his and pulled you close to him, your back against his chest.

“Can you feel the love tonight?

The peace the evening brings.

The world for once in perfect harmony.

With all its living things.”

For the next part you walked together to the front of the stage while singing. When you got close to the edge he spun you around and then pulled you back to him, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Can you feel the love tonight?

You needn’t look too far.

Stealing through the night’s uncertainties.

Love is where they are.”

When you finished the chorus you both brought your mics down, Shawn still leaning over you. He brought a hand up to your cheek caressing it softly, smiling wide and looking deep into your eyes. Your own eyes met his, full of love. You stand like that while the backup vocalists sing the last part of the song.

“And if he falls in love tonight, it can be assumed.

His every days with us are history.

In short, our pal is doomed!”

As the song came to an end you and Shawn laughed together, big smiles on your faces, wrapping each other in a big hug as the crowd cheered the loudest they’ve done all night. He picked you up and spun you around, you squealed in his arms and clung to him tightly before he put you back down. He still had an arm wrapped around your waist and with that he pulled you close and planted his lips on yours, you just smiled into the kiss as you put a hand on his bicep. The crowd's loud screams faded into the background, like nothing else but you and Shawn exited.

After what felt like forever he pulled away from your lips but still held you close, you looked up at him and whispered under your breath, “I love you so much.” He had his eyes closed but his smile widened, “I love you too.” He said back. He released you from his hold as he now spoke into the mic, “Y/N Y/L/N everybody!” He shouted and pointed a hand at you. The crowd applauded as you took a bow and waved to them. You turned to Shawn and blew him a kiss, then you turned to walk off the stage. As you walked you again looked at the crowd, you made a heart with your hands and then blew them a kiss as well.

When you got off stage you just stood there for the rest of the show, admiring Shawn on stage with a proud smile on your face. You sang along to all the lyrics and cheered with the crowd. When the show ended Shawn did his little outro speech, thanking everyone for coming and then waved goodbye to them. He then immediately ran off stage and straight into your arms, he picked you up and again spun you around, “I can’t wait to do that at every show for the rest of the week.” He said as he put you down again. “Me neither.” You said smiling as you comfortably leaned against his chest, with his arms around you and his head resting on top of yours.

[catscidr]

HIIII CAN I GET DOTTORE(WEBTOON VER) X READER (fluff if u want) PLS..... where ur his assistant (besides krupp, like reader and krupp are both his assistant) and he so clearly has favoritism towards reader, bro is SMITTEN. have a good day... :D

this is sorta taking place right when the manga starts, right before dottore and the gang have a meeting about fatui stuff n all. also spoilers for the manga kinda if u haven't read it already?? i threw krupp under the bus a lot but its to make up for the fact that he’s alive in this lmaoa sry to any krupp lovers out there (′ʘ⌄ʘ‵) also there’s a lot of buildup n world building kinda im sorry i got in the zone HAHA ALSO MB THIS TOOK A WHILE TO WRITE i was drowning in leftover dessert from the holidays and was in a food coma for a couple o days. forgive me nonnie but u can get ur food now ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: reader is overwhelmed, not proofread i just went ham. not too much dialogue it's mostly unspoken bc webttore is an "actions > words" kinda man includes: fem reader, webttore, krupp, diluc mentionned wc: 1,7k

The mission was a complete and utter disaster. 

All three of you were supposed to attend the Ragnvindr ball with a simple goal; blend in as much as possible, gather intel on the Knights of Favonius and leave without a hitch. Of course, that wasn’t an easy task considering Dottore’s eccentric and unpredictable personality and Krupp being a thorn in your side at best. 

Things started going downhill before you had even left your private quarters. While you were getting ready, carefully blinking as you brushed your mascara into your lashes to blend them in with your fake ones, you were startled by a loud, quick series of knocks on your door, making you smudge the dark pigment on your eyelid. Seeing the look on your face, Krupp had apologized (halfheartedly) before leaving you to your devices, seemingly forgetting why he had even interrupted you in the first place. You tried to convince yourself that it was fine, it was an easy fix anyways- but you couldn’t help but get irritated by your coworker’s behaviour at the very least. 

The next accident happened when the three of you had stepped out of the carriage in front of the Ragnvindr mansion. Masquerading as Dottore’s concubine, he held your hand to help you out of the caravan. That in it of itself was fine; the texture of his velvet glove was nice, the warmth emanating from his hand was even nicer and you swore you saw his face soften at the sight of you carefully stepping down the singular stair, leg jutting out as you balanced yourself on the cobblestone path on your heels. But Krupp just had to step on the back of your dress, a brown footprint now adorning the periwinkle frilly trail of your gown. The only good thing that came out of it was Dottore moving his hand to your waist and swiveling you to his side, fixing his assistant with a hard glare that could kill. 

Then, after you had gotten most of the dirt out of your dress (with the help of a kind butler), your trio stepped into the venue, splitting into two groups. Krupp would blend in with a group of nobles whereas you and Dottore, arms linked together, would speak to people in the Knights directly. Eyeing your coworker in the crowd, you saw him courteously kiss the back of a noblewoman’s hand; despite the slight look of disgust crossing your face, he seemed to be doing well with the mission. 

However, it seemed that whatever Archon was watching over you then didn’t appreciate the lack of drama. As Dottore introduced the both of you to a platinum-haired man, he had gotten his shoulder shoved by what had appeared to be a new hire from the manor (at least, you assumed so considering the way he had immediately gotten yelled at by a lady older than him). 

You yelped when the Harbinger spilled his drink all over the front of your dress, some champagne sliding down your chest leaving an uncomfortable, sticky feeling on your skin. Cheeks reddening from embarrassment and frustration, you brush away his frantic apology as you storm out, grabbing a handful of napkins on a nearby table while making your way to the closest bathroom. 

Thankfully it wasn’t hard to find, not with a maid offering to help you (she had gotten turned down but kindly pointed you in the right direction at the very least). Patting your skin dry, you burst into the surprisingly empty bathroom and assessed the damage. 

That’s where you are currently. 

Staring at the state of your previously pristine appearance you can’t help but tear up. Sure, this was just for a mission, and you could just wipe away the booze as much as you could and go back to do your job. But the one time you get to dress nice, the one time you can rid yourself of that ugly, stuffy uniform and feel pretty... had to be ruined by men. While it wasn’t exactly Dottore’s fault that he spilled his drink all over your dress, you still felt mad at Krupp for stepping on it when you all had first arrived. Was it petty to still be upset about it? Yes. Were your feelings justified? Also yes. 

Being the Doctor’s assistant was a chore. A challenge, sometimes. He was demanding, strict and you often had to walk on eggshells around him to avoid setting him off. Whenever it happened, he’d start ranting and raving about how incompetent everyone in the fatui was- although, he’d never point a finger at you, usually Krupp was on the receiving end of his bite (even if he wasn’t even included in the conversation). 

Knowing him well enough to understand his moods and personality had its perks. Unfortunately, it also had its drawbacks- those being how, naturally, your boss would also know how to read your mood surprisingly well. Dottore was known to be mean and ruthless to anyone he crossed path with, however, he’s always had a soft spot for you. 

Sometimes it was obvious that he did, but sometimes it was like he saw your coworker’s face instead of your own- scowling at your mistakes and scolding you harshly for mixing in the wrong powder in a flask. Whenever that happened, you could almost forget how he was able to hold you so gently, as if you were a glass sculpture ready to break if even the slightest breeze hit you. But if he were to be described with one word, you’d never call him dense- as entitled as he could be, the Harbinger was still (maybe surprisingly) quite well-versed in human emotions. 

You barely hear your name being called in the distance, muffled by the sound of the angelic piano and violin in the main area. Too caught up in your thoughts, you continue seething and aggressively rubbing away the sticky residue on your chest, muttering some choice words about your coworker and your boss. 

The door to the women’s bathroom flies open, revealing a frustrated but concerned Dottore, his curly hair a mess from how often he must have run his hand through it while he ran to find you. Uncaring of how he was intruding on your moment and how he was in the women’s restroom, he stomps over to you, gloved hands coming down to your shoulders as he closes the distance between you so he can look at the damage properly. 

He doesn’t speak for what felt like minutes, leaving your heart to pound in a mix of shock (who wouldn’t get scared at the sight of a Harbinger slamming a door open?) and nervousness. One of his hands come down to move your own that still held onto the (now damp) napkins as he stared at the front of your dress. 

The sweetheart cut of your dress was soaked, the edge and thin lace sticking to your skin, light indigo dye appearing darker because of the stain. Snapping out of your frozen stupor, you push his hand away and bring your hands back up to cover your chest, flustered from how hard he was staring with those blank, crimson eyes. 

“...You’re in the wrong bathroom,” you murmur, unsure of how to get him to leave you alone without possibly setting him off. Dottore’s eyes flicker up to your side profile, his expression still freakishly unreadable. 

You suddenly feel both of his hands on your cheeks as he manhandles you to look at him, your heart skipping a beat. Unable to bring yourself to stay mad, tears prick at your eyes, and you look down. Holding his gaze was impossible, not when you’ve been feeling humiliated since the start of the evening. He doesn’t comment on your sorrow, keeping on staring at you intently. 

“I can always buy you a new, nicer dress if that’s what you want,” you hear him say, voice uncharacteristically quiet, and maybe even... unsure? 

You shake your head softly, sniffling. 

“No? Why are you upset, then?” 

Hearing him so utterly confused, puzzled, perplexed made you even more frustrated. Furious, even. With your emotions all over the place and a newfound fury blazing in your limbs you snatch his hands off from your face and stomp out of the bathroom, shouting I’m waiting in the carriage! before stepping out into the chilly Mondstadtian evening breeze. 

Dottore stood there, brows furrowed and mouth agape in confusion as he blinked at your retreating figure. He didn’t have the chance to go after you because, as if on cue, Krupp interrupted the show. 

“I gathered some juicy intel, boss! Those Knights are incredibly foolish for being so loose lipped,” the mustached man declares proudly, acutely unaware of the stuffy atmosphere. Maybe not completely unaware, but he’s for sure ignoring it if he noticed it. Instead of hearing him out though, Dottore scoffs and walks into him, shoving him to the side with a scowl. 

“Don’t waste my time with your useless boasting. We’re leaving,” the Harbinger all but groaned, running a hand through his hair, stress emanating from him in waves. His assistant catches up to him, stuttering out a Of course sir! as he opens the door for him, his shoes digging into the cobblestone path. 

Dottore immediately looks at your sat figure, chin in your palm, looking out of the window. The sight would make him melt if it weren’t for his other assistant’s presence a mere meter away from him. He says your name quietly, softly enough that no one other than you can hear and Krupp steps into the carriage, shouting directions to the driver. 

“Can I stay in the lab next time?” you grumble, refusing to turn around and look at your boss and coworker. Krupp opens his mouth to scold you, but Dottore beats him to it, shooting him a sharp glare, lips curling down in a frown. 

“You can,” he answers you while still looking at his employee. “In fact, it’ll give me an opportunity to properly teach my other assistant some manners,” he adds, practically growling the sentence. Krupp swallows thickly and pretends to not be involved in the conversation, looking away nervously. On the opposite side of the plush seat, you hide the smile creeping its way onto your features.

Ignoring the way your heart swelled, you inwardly celebrate your small victory. Dottore could be brash and cruel, but you’ll always cherish the moments when he shows you some lenience. Especially when it’s at the cost of your coworker’s imprudence. 

[sugarlywhispers]

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (fem) x Midoriya Izuku. 

WARNINGS: TRIO RELATIONSHIP, adult sexual content, angst and fluff, penetrative sex, oral sex, unprotected sex (USE GLOBOS, GUYS, preferably, pink ones lol😉), yandere themes –toxic/possessive behavior, mention of blood and violence, swearing lots of it thanks to bakugou lol

Summary: After several disasters that happened around the country, the government had no other choice but to enact a new law that would mostly shock every single person, including heroes. 

"Please, please…Order in the room! I know," he says to someone that it's asking something but it's mostly impossible to actually understand for viewers like you who are not–were not present at the conference. "But, please, believe me when I say we have exhausted every possibility there is for this. This law was our very last resource." 

By the tired tone in this man's voice and expression, you believe him. And you hate that you do, because that means you have no other choice. No one does.

A/N: lol this is a monster chapter, 5+k, you have been warned ✌🏼🙈 enjoy🤍

Chapter Two: Donde comen dos, comen tres.

This is it, you thought, taking a deep breath before your hand grabs the doorknob. This was the door of a new beginning, a new life that even though it was not of your choosing, you'll have to live and make it work. Behind those doors were the person you would have to share a life with, or at least try to, considering you were about to create a new little being together.

That thought made you smile. You really haven't considered being a mom, but you haven't disregarded the thought either.

You finally open the door, but what greets you behind is a scenery you were not expecting nor prepared for.

Mr. Takashi, the governor representative the letter said was in charge of your contracts, was standing behind a desk, where in front of it three chairs were positioned one next to the other and two of them were already occupied. The two men sitting turn around when you open the door, and you never hated being the center of attention more in your life.

You take a step back to look again at the number in the door; 705. The same number the letter said you were expected on that day.

"Did-... Sorry, did I get the right room?" You ask, still perplexed by how many people are in this little room.

"Yes. Yes, you did, Miss Y/L/N." 

The cogs start to whirl in your head and it doesn't take a minute for you to understand what this means.

The two of them. These two men are going to marry you.

You gulp as you walk towards the unused chair and sit there stiffly and dropping your bag next to you on the floor, hands holding each other strongly over your lap almost to the point where your fingers turn white thanks to the strength. The silence is piercing and so tense it can definitely be cut with a knife.

You take another deep breath and look up, Mr. Takashi is smiling at you with a smile that only makes a cold chill run down your back, so you look elsewhere. That elsewhere turns out to be the other two people present and sitting at your right.

The man sitting next to you has greenish hair; actually it looks more like black with green highlights. Because of the distance, you can also see the many freckles over his nose and high cheekbones. His face suddenly looks kind of familiar. A Hero maybe? You weren't that into them to know, but Tora would probably know for sure. He slightly smiles at you and nods in greeting. You nod too, realizing how disgustingly cute this man is.

The man sitting next to this disgustingly cute human being is blond, his arms are crossed over his chest and he looks at you like you're an annoying gum stuck under his feet. That surprises you a bit, but when your eyes find his vermillion ones you can clearly see how unease he is with all of this, so you decide not to take it personal.

The both of them are big; buffy, strong men that clearly hit the gym at least five days a week, if not more. You hope they are not the superficial type.

You hear as Mr. Takashi moves papers and more papers, like looking for something as silence reigns in that room. Now it's not completely uncomfortable, but it makes you a bit nervous, so you distract yourself looking back at the green haired guy next to you.

He looks skittish and ready to jump out of his seat at any moment as he smiles timidly at you. But it doesn't look like he wanted to get away from you or even approach you, he simply looked ready. For what? You don't know. But he was ready to even fly if he could. Could he though?

That would be awesome!, you thought excited. Not that you particularly care about what types of Quirks these men have, but having one that is mostly useless makes you admire every single one, no matter how simple or boring they could be considered.

"Miss Y/L/N, may I introduce you to your future spouses," Mr. Takashi says as he signals with his hands at each man as he says their names, "Mr. Bakugou Katsuki," the blond only slightly bows and hufs in your direction, his angry expression still on his face, which amuses you a bit, "and Mr. Midoriya Izuku," the greenette guy also bows, before closing his eyes and smiling big at you, perfect and white teeth only making him even cuter.

Mr. Takashi then looks at them and says, "Gentlemen, may I introduce your future spouse, Miss Y/L/N Y/N."

You bow two times in each of their directions.

"Each of your test results show a high compatibility between you three, so we are glad to announce the exception of the Rule in this Paring."

Yep, I had to be the lucky one, you think sardonically looking down at your hands.

"Now, I will proceed to read again the law and what it entails and then I'll leave you three to get to know each other," the cheerful tone in Mr. Takashi's voice makes you want to vomit.

"We are signing the contract today?" The green haired guy asks, his right leg beginning to move rapidly up and down.

"No, Mr. Midoriya. Today is only the introduction, so you get to know each other and-..."

"How thoughtful of you."

You don't take into consideration that in a room as small as that one, your murmur wouldn't get as indiscret as you thought. So when you look up, Mr. Takashi is looking at you over his small glasses, and the way he feels annoyed by you is palpable through his eyes. Yet he smiles, fakingly fondly. You should have felt intimidated by him, right now he has the power to make your life as miserable as probably his own is. However, the amused snort that comes from the blond at your right gives you a bit of reassurance that you're not the only one thinking it.

Mr. Takashi lets it slide as he begins with the clearly bad acted courtesy while reading the law again. You don't pay attention, it's clearly a protocol action of repeating the law like a trained parrot. When he finishes, he explains the next step, "Now, I'll prepare your contracts for each of you to sign. Any more idems you want to add?"

That immediately makes you sit straight as you look at the old man in front of you, "Idems? Nobody said we could add anything."

He sighs and looks at you like you're an annoying child. You frown, already the anger rising. This man was really toying with your patience. "This is a special case, Ms. Y/L/N."

"Special? Why? If they get to add idems into this stupid thing then I get to do it too." You cross your arms like a petulant child.

If he was going to treat you like a child, then you might as well act like one.

"Ms. Y/L/N…"

"No. It's already not fair that your misogynistic asses get to pair women to men as they are just reproductive systems just because you failed as a government, and now men get special treatment again-..."

He interrupts you mid sentence, "Miss Y/L/N! I don't think you understand the situation we are in right now." The stress he puts over his last two words makes you frown, to which he sighs. "These men are heroes. You do not recognize them?"

You look at them, still frowning, "No?" 

The two men look at you actually perplexed, and they look at each other to see if they are feeling the same.

"Y/N, these are the heroes Deku and Dynamight." The old man introduces them again, saying their names as they are sitting next to you.

Of course you recognize these names. Thanks to the kids at school but more specifically thanks to your friends, underline stressfully the names Tora and Kira, you–oh. OH. You open your eyes wide. These are the actual heroes, the men that fight against villains and everybody loves and they appear on the TV that you turn off whenever a Hero is on and the ones your friends thirst over whenever they can.

Fucking ooohh.

You avoid looking at them. All you can think about is your friends and their suggestive commentary about how big Dynamight's biceps are and how Tora would love to lick every drop of sweat from them, or how Kira would let Deku smash her ass to Detroit.

You feel your cheeks hot as you look everywhere but them. Because now, in your head, the imagery isn't your friends anymore, but you.

You clear your throat in a failed attempt to gather yourself together. "S-sorry, I don't watch much TV." That's all the apology you offer them. "My point still stands that it's not fair-..."

Mr. Takashi doesn't even pretend to hear you out, he bluntly ignores you as he says, "Well, I'm going to go now. Have a good day you three. I expect you on the first of November to sign your contracts." With that he stands and walks out of the room, leaving you alone with the two most famous Pro Heroes of your generation.

You feel outraged by everything. By this stupid governor in charge of your contracts; by his stupid machism that he clearly didn't intend to hide; by having not one, but two Pro Heroes as future husbands.

The greenette guy, famously known as Pro Hero Deku, civilian name Midoriya Izuku, hmms as he turns a bit in your direction. He looks a bit nervous as he scratches the back of his neck and looks apologetically in your eyes.

"If it helps, the only thing that they let us add is a Confidentiality point." He smiles timidly, and you can see he's trying to cheer you up.

You frown though.

"It doesn't help, Deku." The blond says, crossing his arms again over his chest.

"Confidentiality? What do you think I am going to do? Post pictures on Twiber of either of you in your underwear?" You're angry, and you know it's not fair that you take it on them, but the whole situation it's frustrating.

"It could surprise you how many would even sell our used underwear." 

You look at Pro Hero Dynamight directly in the eyes as he speaks. The thought of it is preposterous, yet the seriousness in his face tells you he's not joking. 

And then Tora and Kira invade your mind. Yep, they would probably buy those.

You make a face as you relax on your chair looking forward, "That's disgusting."

Midoriya Izuku exhales a timid laugh through his nose. "It is." You look back at him and he's smiling at you again. "I'm sorry about it, but we needed to add the idem."

In a certain way, you get it. You understand the need to keep their lives private, considering how famous they actually are. They didn't know who they were going to end up paired with, just like you didn't either. They don't know you, and you really can't blame them for taking care of their own selves. You could have been one of those crazy ass fans that followed them everywhere and purposely put themselves in danger just to get their attention. 

You suddenly feel thankful that your friends, even though they were a bit obsessed over Heroes, to them it was just the fanaticism and dream desires. You knew they weren't that obsessed or crazy to the point of putting themselves purposely in danger just to get a 'hello' from them.

You sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-... I'm not angry with you."

"Oh, no, it's okay–" the green haired guy says, but the blond suddenly interrupts.

"You're not the only one angry with this law." Bakugou says matter of factly; you don't know him, but you would bet he was trying to make you feel better, in his own way.

Midoriya nods in agreement.

You look at them. Really look at them. Damn, they are truly handsome. Now that you pay attention, they both have scars on their faces, some more visible than others. Bakugou has one in particular that starts from somewhere under his chin and goes up from the right side of his cheek to almost under his eye. Shit, that must have hurt. Midoriya has small ones around his face. However, none of their scars make them look bad or ugly, on the contrary. It adds to their strong, powerful semblance. Both of them radiate a strong confidence, a secure aura that makes you feel so safe. It's strange, new. A feeling you weren't used to. 

A feeling it died the day they died.

You look elsewhere; both their stares make you feel overwhelmed. They are evaluating you probably the same way you are.

You suddenly gather the entire situation in you. Two men are your Pairings. Two men who are real Pro Heroes. Pro Heroes Deku and Dynamight, to be more specific. The two Pro Heroes that hold the entire country, if not the world, on their backs. The two Pro Heroes every woman in this society could only dream for. The two Pro Heroes you were one hundred percent safer with, making you mostly untouchable to any civilian or villain alive. And they are, from this day onwards, the future fathers of your children. Two Pro Heroes are going to be your husbands.

In another circumstance, you would have refrained yourself from reacting in any way, but you can not contain the laugh that possesses your being. It's loud, and so funny. This whole situation is.

You, probably the only woman in this world who does not want anything to do with Heroes, are going to marry not one but two Pro Heroes. The most famous ones of all of them.

It's absurdly funny. So you laugh, under their perplexed expression.

"What's so fuckin' funny?" Bakugou asks, scowl on his face that only makes you laugh harder.

Midoriya looks everywhere but you, trying to avoid laughing alongside you. Probably not because of the same reasons, but you're glad he finds your laugh funny and contagious. That only infuriates Bakugou even more.

"S-sorry…" You say once you're calmed enough. "Umm, I never, in a million years, thought I would end up with two Pro Heroes as husbands," you offer as an explanation.

Bakugou tenses, holding his crossed arms over his chest tighter. "Got a problem with it?" Asks defensively, but also curious. Midoriya definitely looks curious at you, waiting for your answer.

You snort, "About you both being Heroes? No, not at all. It's just… I'm simply not interested in the whole Hero thing."

Bakugou raises a brow, "You do know the society you live in today has a bunch of them, right?" He feigns the worried tone he uses, you know he's just mocking you. Midoriya elbows him in reprimand. 

"I know," you simply answer before sticking out your tongue at him. Bakugou smiles to the side, a bit surprised by your action.

You stand up, ready to leave this odious room as soon as possible. A light sound that only you are able to hear from your stomach reminds you haven't eaten anything since the quick and small lunch you had early that day during the school break. Maybe it would be a good idea to invite them to have dinner with you; but before you get the chance to say anything, Midoriya stands next to you and faces you a bit abruptly. He reminds you of an eager puppy, ready to be as close to its master as physically possible and ready to do whatever its master asks of it. It's kind of cute, but it still takes you by surprise.

"Would you like to have dinner with us? Our favorite restaurant it's just a few blocks away and they serve the most delicious ramen and katsudon–oh, Kacchan can cook too, his katsudon it's even better, but we could have that another day and‐…"

You watch amused Midoriya's word-vomit as you lean back a bit from him. It doesn't bother you, his proximity, but you are realizing how big he actually is now that he's standing. He didn't look like it while sitting next to you a few seconds ago, and especially next to Bakugou. But damn, he is big. Wide shoulders that probably hide the entirety of your body, strong arms that suddenly remind you hold the entire force that protects this country in one smooth punch.

Number one Pro Hero Deku looks exactly like what a number one Pro Hero would look like in anyone's mind.

Bakugou stands up then and sighs, putting one hand on Midoriya's shoulder and pulling him back, away from you.

Holy. Shit.

Bakugou is even bigger than Midoriya. Freaking big arms and body that is enlightening a size kink you didn't know you had until now, with these two gods standing right in front of you as prove to your eyes that men like this freaking exist.

"Who fucking said I'm gonna cook for you two, nerd?"

The scowl on his face and his vermilion eyes looking from Midoriya to you suddenly feels like a slap of realization. You gasp loudly, which makes them look in surprise at you. 

"You are the asshole from the hospital!" Your finger pointing at Bakugou only makes him frown in confusion, but then he pulls his eyebrows up in recognition, a side smirk appearing in his face. His forearm then rests on Midoriya's shoulder.

"Hey, little grub," you can swear the tone in his voice decreases lower as he speaks with cockiness.

"Oh, you're lucky there were people around, or I would have kicked your ass to Sunday," your threat only makes him laugh.

Midoriya only looks confused and surprised at the same time, eyes traveling from you to the man leaning on his shoulder next to him. "You two know each other?"

"I wish we didn't," you spit and Bakugou laughs again before walking to the door of that office.

"Let's go, nerds," he simply calls you and Midoriya, and you definitely want to kick his ass.

Regardless, you both follow, Midoriya not being able to take his big and expressive eyes from you as you walk.

The walk towards the restaurant was… interesting. While Bakugou kept quiet, walking next to you with his hands inside his pockets, Midoriya couldn't stop talking while walking on the other side –you did notice how they strategically guided you to the middle though. That was kind of thoughtful of them. But you did wonder if they did that on purpose or by mere unconscious protectiveness.

Midoriya spoke about the weather, how cold the wind was getting but the sun made it all better  even though it was already starting to hide in the horizon. How nice it would be to go trekking to the mountains with a weather like this one. Or how cool it would be to go to an amusement park. He kept talking and talking, and you understood he was only like that because of how nervous he actually felt. So you simply smile, and nod, and agree with whatever he is saying, trying to ease him a bit.

When the three of you arrive at the restaurant, Midoriya is the one who approaches the receptionist to ask for a table, Bakugou and you stay a bit behind.

"You don't have to agree to everything he says, you know." He says, not looking at you, but definitely talking to you. It takes you a second to understand what he is saying.

You smile then, and you do look at him. "If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. I don't care if you're even more famous than the president himself, I know how to say no."

Bakugou then looks at you, and you can see the little smirk that wants to appear on his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but he's cut off by your phone ringing.

You pull it out from your bag, and the name Tora shines on the screen.

"Sorry, I have to take this."

Bakugou nods, looking back at where Midoriya is standing in waiting, looking in your direction. 

When you answer, you don't get to say anything or properly place it by your ear that you hear the screaming.

Tora is screaming something like "put that down, now!", and Kira's response is "fuck you, fuck everything!"

Bakugou then looks at you frowning, which means he can even hear the screaming too. 

"Tora?" You ask. You don't know how to feel. The amount of time those two call you screaming is uncountable, you're used to their dramatics.

"Y/N, please, come to the apartment, please." Tora begs, and she usually never begs like that unless it's something that surpasses even her patience.

With 'the apartment', you know she means the one that used to be you three's. During the last two years of college, the three of you lived together because none could afford to live alone or on campus anymore. This apartment had been inherited from your father, and it was too big just for yourself, so you invited them to live there with you. After all of you moved out, this place had become somewhat like headquarters when something shocking happened or simply when one looked for a space to be alone for a while. Which means, if they were there at the moment, something stressful might have happened.

"What happened?" You ask worried.

"Kira has been Paired."

"Right… I forgot it was today too." A crashing sound is heard from Tora's side of the line. "I guess it didn't go well?"

Tora snorts. "Just come, please. I don't know how to handle her like this…"

"Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Thanks." Another crashing sound and a yelp was heard, and you know you have to hurry up.

You look up at the same time Midoriya appears next to you, looking a bit worried. "Everything okay?"

You look at them for a second, they both look worried, even though Bakugou has a frown on his face as he watches you.

You sigh. "I don't know. One of my friends was Paired today too, and from what I could hear, it wasn't good."

Midoriya nods in understanding while Bakugou just looks elsewhere.

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

The greenette simply smiles sadly, he's definitely too good of a person. So understandable and kind, it kind of makes you want to hug him and protect him at all costs, which is very amusing considering he is freaking Pro Hero Deku, the Symbol of Hope for everyone in this country, if not the world. The blond simply nods, avoiding any eye contact with you and looking –or pretending?– like he's bored by this whole conversation. By the way he moves his hands inside the pockets of his jacket he is more nervous than he lets it show. Like as if he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back.

These two men… They were completely different from one another. Yet so much alike.

You gulp. Damn, it's too soon to do what you're about to do. But considering how fast everything is already going, may as well just do it.

"Umm, if you want… you can come with me?" You clear your throat looking down at your hands. "You're gonna meet my friends one day either way." You smile. "We can eat something there."

"Are you sure? We don't want to impose or‐" Midoriya looks at Bakugou, who looks ready to start the walk out of the restaurant.

"Oh no. You're not imposing anything… Just," you breath out a laugh, "Get ready to meet two weirdos."

Bakugou snorts and Midoriya smiles.

Exactly twelve minutes later, you open the door of the apartment. Everything it's upside down and you instantly regret having invited them now.

"Where the hell were you?!" Tora suddenly appears in front of you, getting out from her hidding inside the closet right at entrance. Of course you scream a curse. This woman was a freaking ghost when she wanted to be.

"Are you fucking trying to give me a heart attack?!"

Tora chuckles. "You deserve that. You left me with the devil's tantrum."

"I'm just two minutes late, you asshole." You try to normalize your breath, hand over your heart.

"Oh, I am the ass-..." Tora suddenly quiets, and you look at her wide opened eyes looking at the two mountains behind you.

"Umm, Tora, these are… my Pairings, Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki." You look back at them then, "Guys, this is Tora, one of my bests friends."

Bakugou nods in greeting and Midoriya nods and smiles. Tora nods stiffly, her eyes still wide and weird over them. You roll your eyes smiling, she's so weird. You love her.

"Where's Kira?"

A crashing sound again, this time louder than the ones you heard over the phone. At that moment, Bakugou and Midoriya react, both of them putting themselves in front of each of you and Tora protectively. You want to laugh at Tora's eyes getting cartoonish wider than before, realizing how big these two men are.

"Don't worry," you say immediately to them. "That's Kira."

You walk inside the apartment, Tora following you, but her eyes kept on them, which makes her bump into you when you suddenly stop.

Kira is sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room riping apart one of the sofa's pillows, angrily. The frustration is clear in every faction of her face. Pieces of glass around the floor, broken windows and mirrors, that clearly cut her here and there thanks to her own self actions.

You sigh. You have only once seen her this mad, and it was when she discovered his dad had been cheating on her mom for years. This same apartment had suffered the outcome of her anger. Mostly the same as this one happening right now.

More than feeling annoyed that she again broke everything here, you felt sad for her. Kira hadn't had the best life before. When she told you her history, you understood perfectly the way she walked through this life. She had to be strong, she had to fight, or life would chew you like a bubblegum and spit you out–at least, that's what Kira always said. Somehow, you understood way more than you wish you did.

You want to approach her, but knowing your best friend, it was like getting yourself into the mouth of a lion. So you take a deep breath to concentrate and then project an image of you walking closer to Kira and kneeling in front of her. You hear Midoriya's gasp as he takes a step closer so he can look better. That made you smile, so your own copy smiles too.

"Don't fucking smile at me, sunshine." Kira barks at you, and you chuckle. That makes her punch the pillow harder.

"Thank you for the nickname, demon," while the image you project moves its mouth as if it's talking, you actually have to speak louder so she can heat you from where you're actually standing. "Want to explain what happened to make you this mad?"

Kira growls in frustration. "Todoroki fucking Shouto." 

You rise one of your eyebrows in confusion. You had heard that name before, in two ways. In a dreamy, horny way from Tora and in an annoyed and angry way from Kira.

"Oohh, no..." Tora cries as she runs back inside the closet, for protection.

"Todoroki-kun? They know each other?" Midoriya whispers to Bakugou, who shrugs in confusion.

You see it, the small things that levitate in the air and suddenly fly around the room in speed and collide against the walls. You, Midoriya and Bakugou have to actually kneel down when some pencils and small decoration items fly your way.

"Sorry," Kira says, but she's still taking her anger on the pillow. You know it hadn't been intentional. When Kira has very strong feelings or emotions taking over, her Quirk just gets out of control.

"What did he do now?" You sigh, preparing yourself for the next hour listening to this frustration Kira and said man have been having since they met.

Kira suddenly stops and looks up at you. Not at your projection of yourself who is in front of her, but you. You gulp in understanding and sigh, pulling your hair back with the fingers of one of your hands.

"Well, fuck…" You simply say, and a glass breaking again is heard at the distance in another room.

"What? What happened?" Midoriya asks, and it's Bakugou's turn to sigh annoyed.

"She has been Paired with half and half bastard." Bakugou explains, and the way he calls the Ice and Fire Pro Hero makes Kira snort a laugh.

"A fucking bastard indeed." Kira punches the pillow again angrily, wich makes you three grimace at watching her abuse the poor pillow. "Do you want to know what the fucker said, after they told us we were a Pair?" She looks up at you again, and you wince at the anger in her eyes.

"Something tells me you're gonna tell me even if I told you no," you whisper, afraid of what could happen next. And you literally take one step back, colliding slightly with Bakugou behind you. He instinctively interlace two of your fingers with one of his, promising protection in that simple hold. Midoriya gets closer to you on your side, ready to put himself in between you and whatever may come towards you.

"He said, and I fucking quote, 'I expected more'."

Midoriya gasps and Bakugou sighs loudly. "He's such a jerk." The latter says, but Midoriya shakes his head.

"I don't think that's exactly what he meant. Todoroki-kun isn't-..."

"What?!" Kira's shriek as she stood up made you instantly stand in front of Midoriya, releasing Bakugou's hold in your fingers.

Your projection immediately stands in between the real you and her, its hands holding Kira's shoulders. "Love, please calm down…"

"Do you know him? Who are you?" She barks at Midoriya, completely ignoring you and your projection, and you sigh.

"Yes, they know him," you clear your throat as she frowns suspiciously at you three. "The were classmates. They are friends."

Kira crosses her arms, still looking suspicious. You're not going to tell her who they really are. You decided that you wanted to respect their privacy as much as you could, even from your bests friends. These two men were going to make a family with you, so you were going to defend that privacy with teeth and nails.

"You don't look like models," Kira analyze them from up and down, trying to decide if she could trust them.

"Hate those..." Bakugou simply says, and Midoriya sushs him with a whispered, "Kacchan!"

Then Kira open her eyes wide, "Two?"

You sigh nodding. "Yeah… These are Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki, my Pairs."

You can feel them moving a bit behind you, probably greeting Kira from that distance.

Kira observes them for a while, maybe a couple of minutes, before she lets out an oh, my God and laughs her heart out. She laughs and laughs and you feel worried about her, you literally consider the possibility on getting her a bed on a psychic ward at the hospital.

"Does she know?" She suddenly says, a playful smirk igniting her face.

You immediately know Kira knows. Of course she would, she freaking works with Heroes most of the time! So you ran towards her, your projection doing what you were about to do in copying mechanism. It puts its right hand over her mouth to shut her up, but because it's an image, Kira doesn't feel anything more than a light breeze, so she smiles wider. Then comes your real hand, stopping her chuckles.

"Shut up!" You whisper loud, looking back at where Tora is hidding in the closet. She still hasn't come out of there, good.

When your eyes look at the two men standing there perplexed, you roll your eyes. "Kira knows. Tora doesn't."

Bakugou frowns, "How?"

Kira then bites your hand making you yelp and scowl at her, she simply smirks. "I'm Tomotsu Kira."

They both nodded knowingly. Just like you said before, everyone on the fashion industry knew her. And Heroes did too, because she sometimes had to dress them for photo shooting publicities or shows, yada yada.

"You looked familiar." Bakugou says shrugging.

"I have to admit, it took me a while to recognize you both without your costumes or masks." Kira chuckles, looking back at you. "You lucky bitch…"

The two men look ready to defend you, but you beat them punching Kira on one of her shoulders, making her yelp just like you did when she bit you.

"I hate you." 

"You love me."

You shake your head before hugging her, and she returns it instantly and strongly. You stand there for a while, one of your hands caressing her back up and down and telling her everything's going to be fine in reassurance. You know what she's thinking, it was easy for you to say that, you have just been Paired with the two most wanted men on Earth. And at that, knowing well how this hatred between Kira and her Paired Pro Hero had developed and grew throughout the past three years, you simply don't know what to say.

It's surprises you when Midoriya is the one who breaks the silence.

"I don't know much about you, but I know Todoroki-kun. And I know he is very difficult, but once you get to actually know him, he's not a bad guy..."

Kira stiffens a bit, but nods and sighs, completely relaxing and calming down.

"Sorry… about this mess," she says to you once she lets you go, her hands squeezing your shoulders a bit. You smile and shake your head.

"It's okay… What is this place if not for letting us have our tantrums and existential crisis for a while before going back to reality?"

You feel the two men eyes on you, but you don't look back at them.

"Has the demon been put to sleep?" All of you hear Tora's voice inside the closet.

Kira laughs alongside you.

Oh. A totally normal day for you. Not a big deal.

[piscespetals]

summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. read part one here

content: fluff, angst, lesbian disaster

word count: 4k

sorry for the long wait! i've been very ill and it's taken a long while to recover since i'm immunocompromised. let me know your thoughts!

Chapter Two

Sevika is right...

Her friends are nice. 

The first time that you meet them is two weeks after she moves in.

She tells you that she initially, “Just wants to show them the place.”

She asks if you’re okay with that.

“Of course,” You respond, taken aback by the question.

You have a feeling that Sevika will do that often–ask for your permission, that is.

A part of you is flattered that she respects you so much to do so.

When they arrive, there’s two of them. One is a short heavy set woman with a buzz cut and gauges. She has striking cheekbones and smells nice. Her name is Hazel.

The other is a burly man, maybe ten years your senior, with a greying beard and ash brown hair. He wears clunky boots, something that you notice about him immediately and his name is Vander.

Hazel hugs you upon introduction. She has a tattoo on her neck in red ink; a viper with its fangs bared. The sight catches your breath. Instantly, you decide that you like her.

The four of you make your way throughout the flat. It’s easy to laugh along to Vander’s terribly corny puns and Hazel’s witty side-remarks. Sevika is the tamer one of the trio, which is not something you had expected, yet makes sense nonetheless.

When you all have made your way to the living room, the setting sun shines through the blinds of the patio door. It must be closer to dusk–a time of day that you often enjoy.

Your stomach grumbles and your nerves have settled to near nonexistence. With a sense of ease, you turn to Vander and Hazel and ask, “Would you two like to stay for dinner?”

You can tell that your offer shocks them. The original plan was for their visit to be short. At least, that’s what Sevika has assured you of. But you didn’t seem to mind their company for a few hours more. 

“We’d love to!” Vander replies, without hesitation.

When you glance towards Sevika, she’s peering at you with bright sparkling irises. A slow smile creeps onto her face, one that displays her pearly whites and gap. A buzz of exhilaration shoots through you. She winks, a small notion that somehow manages to speak a thousand words.

Your veins nearly explode. 

Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek, as you struggle to contain yourself from bursting into a shit-eating grin.

There’s a routine to you and Sevika’s livelihood.

She usually cooks the meals. You do your best to clean the house afterwards. Though you're not much of a cleaner, Sevika’s presence seems to make you want to do so. She’s particular about her living space. She likes everything tidy and organized; two words that you weren’t very familiar with before meeting her. But she somehow makes those traits easy for you to adopt. 

She likes to grocery shop. You don’t take kindly to those sorts of errands; that was a chore that Mel used to happily complete. But now, it’s been delegated to Sevika.

When she arrives back home from the store, you meet her in the parking lot. She always looks mighty and powerful when she pulls up in her shiny black truck. 

And it feels natural when she regards you with a warm grin, climbing out of her ridiculous vehicle with ease. You never fail to smile in return. Because smiling around her is the easiest thing to do–nearly as easy as breathing. 

She slips a few bags of groceries into your arms–which always seem to be the lightest loads–while she grabs the heavier items. And the both of you walk back to the apartment, glued at the hip, chatting about everything that comes to mind. Or, on some days, nothing at all.

Conversation is never a necessity around Sevika.

Her presence is, invariably, more than enough.

Sevika has a girlfriend. 

It’s brought to your attention a month after she moves in. One day, Sevika asks you if her girlfriend can stay the night. “Is that okay with you?” She mutters, during the early hours of the morning.

You were aware that she had started seeing someone, but you didn’t think it was so… serious. 

Not serious enough for her to want the woman to sleep over. Not serious enough for her to ask your permission.

“If it’s not,” She adds. “I completely get it.” 

She wants to know if you’re okay with that idea. Oddly enough, the fact that she’s merely asking for permission is a gesture that spreads warmth inside of your chest. 

But there’s also a much stronger emotion that washes over you. For some reason, your instinctive reflex is to wrinkle your nose. You catch yourself trying to cloak that reaction by diving your nose into your mug and taking a hearty gulp of your tea. The liquid burns your throat.

After you swallow, you turn your back towards her, expressing a sudden interest in the toast she’s made you. Suddenly, you aren’t as woo’d by her request to make you breakfast. Did she butter your toast because she wanted to? Or because she was trying to lift your spirits, in hopes that you’d be okay with meeting her girlfriend? 

Your mouth sours. “Why would it bother me?” Your voice is hoarse from lack of usage. “You’re a grown woman. You can have anyone over that you’d like. I’m not like,” You clear your throat. “Your mother or anything.” Then you shove a piece of warm buttery toast into your mouth. You aren’t the type to eat toast on a daily basis, but since she’s moved in, you have. You hate how much she makes you love it. “Plus, you're on the lease. So this is your place too. You don’t have to ask me for permission.”

She hesitates before replying, “It's the polite thing to do.”

You roll your eyes.

Polite this and polite that.

Sevika’s always being polite with you, even when you don’t ask her to. Even when you don’t feel like you deserve it.

Even when you’re being anything but polite to her.

You hate that about her. She makes your muscles relax and your toes simultaneously curl. She makes your heart leap whilst somehow causing your breathing to even. She makes you feel like a walking contradiction. She makes you…

She makes you–

“She’s your girlfriend, Sev.” You don’t mean to seem disgruntled when you say this. But somehow–you just are. “If you want her to be here, let her be here.”

You grab your mug then your plate of toast, and head to your room.

“Thanks for breakfast!” You force yourself to sound chirpier. It’s an attempt to smooth things over, because you feel bad for being grumpy, even if you don’t have the emotional intelligence to actually correct it.

She doesn’t reply and she doesn’t follow after you.

You shut your bedroom door with a sigh. 

You meet Sevika’s girlfriend later that night. It’s brief. 

You had been eating pizza while watching reruns of The Nanny in the living room. Your mouth was full of crust when Sevika came traipsing through the living room, introducing you to her girlfriend while holding her hand.

“This is Monica,” She said. 

The first thing you noticed was that Monica was pretty. Big chocolate brown eyes, russet brown skin and a leggy figure.

Your chewing came to a halt then, eyes widening in surprise. A part of you wanted to shrink at that moment, due to your faded old tshirt and sweatpants. Monica was the sort of woman that you’d probably find yourself ogling any other day. But today was different, because she was Sevika’s Monica. And that made you feel…weird.

“Your tights are ripped,” Was the only reply you gave, zeroing in on the exposed patch of skin above her knee. It was the only flaw that you could spot at first glance. It was the only thing about her that didn’t make you feel small.

“Oh,” Monica mumbled, gazing down at her leg. “Um, thanks for.. Letting me know?”

Your lips pulled into a toothy grin, “Anytime.”

“Alright, well..” Sevika’s sentence trailed off as she took a few steps toward her room.

“I ordered pizza, by the way!” You called, hoping to keep her there. Just for a few more moments. “It’s from that favorite place of yours on Eastern Avenue.”

Her lips twitched when she peered at you, halting her steps. “You’re the best.”

“I know.”

An awkward drag of silence filtered in.

Suddenly, you were aware of Monica’s presence again. “It was nice meeting you… Melissa, is it?

A laugh track from The Nanny sounded. You don’t remember the TV being so loud.

“Monica.”

“Oh, right.” Your grin widened. “Monica. That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.”

When you tore your gaze away from her, Sevika was grinding her jaw, glowering at you. 

Your teeth clenched through your smile, and it took all of your strength to keep from laughing. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Monica!”

She hummed quietly, seemingly offended. Sevika’s steps quickened. 

Seconds later, her bedroom door slammed shut.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t bothered by the idea of Sevika having a girlfriend. But it's not for the reasons that someone would assume.

You don’t care that she’s interested in another woman. No, that’s the least of your worries. You totally don’t care about that at all.

She can date whoever she wants to date.

It’s none of your business. Plus, she’s merely your roommate. Nothing more.

What you do care about is the fact that Monica doesn’t seem right for Sevika. Even though you're still trying to figure out why you feel that way—it still rings true to you hours after meeting her.

When you walk into the kitchen every morning, you’re normally met with the sight of Sevika making toast. You greet Sevika, and she talks with you about everything going on in her life. 

It’s a routine that the both of you have made. 

But Monica disrupts that.

It begins with her standing in the kitchen beside Sevika the morning after she sleeps over. And she's eating toast. 

Your toast.

Melodramatic or not, that’s your first straw.

“Hey,” Sevika smiles.

“Morning,” Monica chirps. 

You’re tired, eyes half shut, bonnet nearly slipping off your head and lips chapped. 

You try to muster up enough energy to be genial. 

But that’s disregarded when you see Monica reaching for a burgundy mug with yellow daisies. 

Your favorite mug.

Your eyes widen and your lips part.

“Oh,” Sevika mutters, swiftly grabbing the mug from Monica’s grasp. “That’s not yours.” She sets it down infront of her, before reaching for another mug and holding it towards Monica. It’s one that you rarely use. “This one is.”

Monica blinks owlishly, a little thrown off by Sevika’s quick interjection. But she takes the mug with nimble fingers, muttering, “Thanks.”

When you walk closer towards the island, Sevika tilts her head towards the daisy-ridden cup. It’s tea. “I hope it’s warm enough.” She says.

You’re groggy and still trying to recover from your fatigue. You had a late night. But you do have to admit that Monica’s presence doesn’t help your sour mood.

A part of you is aware that your dislike for Monica isn’t rational. But a bigger part of you doesn’t care.

“You look exhausted.” Sevika says.

You take a swig of tea. She’s made it exactly how you like it. 

“My colleague’s been out of office for a while so,” You sigh. “I’m stuck with the brunt of her work.”

Sevika’s lip tightens. “That doesn’t sound ethical.”

“Probably not. But,” You shrug. “That’s the way it’s going to be for now.”

Another swig of your tea while silence envelops the room.

Monica rests her head against Sevika’s shoulder, nibbling on her toast absentmindedly. You allow your gaze to linger on her for a few moments. She's close to perfect. Clear skin, sleepy doe eyes, pouty lips.

You don't question how she's caught Sevika’s attention. Anyone would be enamored by Monica’s beauty. 

That's something that you can at least acknowledge.

“Toast?” Sevika mutters, pulling you out of your reverie. When you glance at her, she’s waiting with a quizzical stare and quirk of her eyebrow. She's caught you staring and the better half of you feels the need to look rueful. But you settle for a small smile and shake of your head.

“No, I’m alright. I'm going to start some work soon.”

“Already?” Creases form in her forehead.

“Early bird gets the worm.”

You need a distraction. Sevika’s been taking up too much space in your brain lately. Especially since Monica is in the picture.

Work will help you recenter yourself—and it'll be nice to get out of the house. 

“See you later,” Monica interjects. Her voice is much smaller, eyes trailing to you slowly with a tentative grin. 

You find yourself halting, thrown off by her voice. 

For a small, small moment, you had forgotten she was there. 

Your eyes flicker to Sevika, who’s watching you with an incomprehensible expression. She rubs her lips together, creating the smallest craters in her cheeks. Cheeks that look quite soft to touch—to caress.

You blink away those thoughts before they have a chance to plant a seed of other desires into your mind. 

Nodding, you manage to return Monica’s grin, “See you.”

Then you're heading back towards your bedroom.

Sometimes, Monica is with Sevika while she grocery shops.

Those are the instances that you wish, more than ever, you had tagged along with Sevika instead.

Those are the few moments that you feel a sudden desire to embark on errands that you usually hate.

It’s been a little over a month since you’ve met Monica, and Sevika certainly didn't wait long until she started having her way with the girl.

It’s not like Sevika isn't allowed to have sex. You should have known this would happen at some point. This is her home too. And she’s an adult. She can do whatever she wants in her room—with whoever she wants.

But it starts to become an issue when you hear it.

Initially, it makes you laugh a little. Sure, it’s a little uncomfortable and causes your stomach to knot in a nauseating way, but it’s also fairly comical. The night begins with you relaxing in your room, watching a Julia Roberts rom-com on your television, while eating a bowl of ice cream. A loud knocking noise erupts halfway through the movie, and is what makes you pause your movie.

Then, fervorous cries are heard seconds later.

“Fucking unbelievable,” You mutter, jaw falling slack. 

You listen for a few moments while ice cream drips onto your cleavage. Then you frown at the sound of Monica wailing, passionately, “Oh Vika!” Which is followed by, “Oh my god. You're so good..Too good.”

Those words, within itself, are traumatic enough for you to press play on your remote and raise the television volume up to a thundering 40 decibels.

The next morning, when Monica is long gone, you sit in the living room with Sevika. She’s going over tattoo designs in her sketchbook, looking completely domestic in a pair of grey cotton sweats and a baby blue crewneck. You hate how enamored you are by the beauty of her brown skin, and how it seems to pair perfectly with the color of her sweatshirt. 

Liza Manelli sings before you on the television screen—surely a choice of yours rather than Sevika. But your roommate always seems to be content with whatever you put on.

It's only when she glances up from her sketchbook, catching you mid-stare, when she truly looks at you for the first time that day. She’s been absent minded for the majority of the evening.

She sends you a smile, “Hi.” She addresses genially.

“Hey,” You swallow. 

Then you take this opportunity as a cue to begin your complaint about the previous night. She’s in a good mood right now, and it’s better to hash it out sooner rather than later. 

Sevika listens intently. And when you're done, she nods, presses her lips into a firm line before apologizing earnestly.

Of course, you accept her apology right away. 

“All is well,” You respond.

Then, without more than a beat that passes, you find yourself adding, “Besides, from what I heard, it must have been worth it. You're too good, apparently.”

Sevika lips part, eyes darting to you with traces of shock. “Oh my god.”

“I mean,” A slow smile stretches across your face. “You're far, far too good.”

She groans. “I hate you.”

“Oh, Vika!” You mock, hand flying to your heart. You present your best impression of an impassioned Monica, voice lilting up to the same squeaky resonance as hers. “You're just…too-”

“Jesus. Shut up.”

You laugh because it's easier to laugh about it. At least when you do so, you aren't allowing yourself to focus on the nagging lump at the back of your throat.

Seconds pass before Sevika’s laughter joins you.

The next time Monica sleeps over is three days later. You find the pair slipping into the apartment late at night, hand-in-hand, while they steal quick kisses from each other. You're sitting in the dining room, watching it all unfold with a mug of tea in your hand.

“Fancy some tea?” You ask.

Monica screeches, jumping away from Sevika as her hand flies to her chest.

Your roommate halts her movements, turning towards you with a snap of her neck and a string of colorful words.

The lights flicker on.

“What the fuck?” Sevika grumbles.

“Sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted,” You raise your mug. “No need to stop on my account! I’ll head back to my ro-”

Deep lines etch into Sevika’s forehead. An incredulous expression paints her features. She shakes her head, almost out of pure disbelief. “Why the hell are you sitting in the dark?” Her grey irises flash with a hint of annoyance.

In all honesty, you had been scrolling through Facebook on your phone and must have lost track of time. You were having trouble sleeping again and your usual habit of music playing wasn't helping. So you decided to make yourself a cup of tea.

It’s past midnight; a time that Sevika is rarely out. If she does stay out this late, it’s because she's spending the night at Monica’s residence. You hadn't exactly expected either one of them to come walking through the door. But since they have, you might as well pick some fun.

You clench your teeth through a smile, trying your hardest to suppress your laughter. “So, I’m guessing that’s a no?” You clarify. “...To the tea?” 

Monica seems to be coming down from her fright, staring at you with furrowing eyebrows and a frown. Sevika rolls her lips into her mouth, placing both hands on her hips as she gazes down at the floor and leans onto her heels. You can tell that you're trying her patience. You’ve been doing a lot of that lately.

From your articles of clothing laying around the house to the sound of your music playing late into the night—you've really been testing her. It’s something that you’ve found yourself doing ever since you overheard her and Monica having sex. An act of rebellion? Sure. Immaturity? Most definitely.

No matter how much you try to talk some sense into yourself, nothing can really dissolve the feelings that you have towards that night.

It’s affecting you deeper than you currently understand.

“You have a little something right…here,” You say, raising your hand to the corner of your mouth. Your observation is directed towards Monica, and she mirrors your actions, wiping away at her smudged lipstick. “Oh, you almost got it. Sev, why don't you help the poor girl out?”

Sevika hardens her gaze at you, a warning that you should probably heed.

A warning that you, instead, disregard.

Standing up, you grab your mug and add, “Last call for tea? Going once?” 

Monica lets out a bitter chuckle, peering at you under her lids before muttering something under her breath. She shakes her head, directing her attention to her nail beds.

“Twice?” You turn towards Sevika, who remains unamused. “Well, you can't say I didn't offer.”

You're not sure why that exactly makes Sevika snap.

Any other day, she'd happily say yes.

But tonight, you’ve seemed to provoke her.

Instead of being met with her charming smile, you're inflicted with the sight of steel eyes and hard lines. 

“May I speak with you for a moment?” She doesn't wait for you to respond, instead, turning on her heels and walking towards the living room.

You follow after her, without so much as a glance towards Monica. 

“What is it?” You ask, the moment that you step into the kitchen. You're barely able to get the question out before Sevika flips around, nearly knocking straight into you. 

You stumble backwards, attempting to regain your balance, as your head tilts back to meet her gaze.

There’s something about the way that Sevika towers over you that makes you feel emotions you’ve never experienced before.

You generally don't like to be around people who diminish you; who make you feel small. Despite the obvious height difference, Sevika’s never been the type of woman who’s made you feel like that—even with all of your insecurities considered.

But even in that moment, it’s almost as if she could swallow you whole.

As if she could consume you.

Even with all of her fiery anger considered… 

Even with—

“What's your problem?” Her question comes out cold and harsh. 

It takes a lot of effort for you to not flinch. You aren't used to her having such an attitude with you—this is something completely new.

“My problem?” Your response is akin to someone being deeply insulted. You don't even try to hide your anger. “Am I not allowed to enjoy some tea in my dining room, for Christ’s sa-”

“That's not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“I don't know what else you could be referring to.” Your arms fold across your chest while your wall of defense grows a foot taller. “Is it because I scared you? Scared her? I didn't think you’d be home. I assumed you would be at her place.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

Your lips purse as you roll your eyes. “...Don't know what you're talking about.”

“It's not like I haven't noticed it—she notices it. The way that you are around her…” Sevika tilts her head. “Are you trying to scare her away? Do you not like her? Because if so, I’d suggest that you say whatever the hell you need to say instead of acting like a teenager.”

Her breath mingles with yours, eyes flickering over your face with urgency. Looking. Searching for something.

Then she’s pulling away, putting space between the both of you as she leans against the kitchen island. 

Her attention diverts to the surface of the countertop, shoulders heaving as she tries to catch her breath. 

Although you probably asked for it, the effect of her words still land on your heartstrings, tugging painfully. Your ears ring and your gut twists. 

“I ran out of my ambien.” You announce, voice taut. “So if you fuck her tonight, will you be a dear and do so quietly?”

You set your mug in the sink, but with more strength than you intend, so it falls over with a loud clatter. Out of the corner of your eye, Sevika startles at the sound.

When you walk past her, her hand that is closest to you twitches. Then it moves, as if she’s reaching to stop you, but you're already swatting her away.

“Don't,” You say, just loud enough for her to hear.

Her hand falls. She concedes. A low curse slips from her mouth, but you don't stay around long enough to address it. 

Instead, the apartment remains silent for a few breaths as you slip back into your bedroom and ignore the cruel echo of regret.

[liaromancewriter]

Alternate Universes

Premise: Ethan has rules about decorum at the holiday party.

Fandom: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 910

A/N: This is based on a visual prompt sent by @jerzwriter. Submission for @choicesjanuary2025 prompt "connection"

The Edenbrook annual holiday party was in full swing. The atrium had been transformed into a dazzling winter wonderland with snow-capped decorations adorning the reception desk.

Red and green streamers hung from the railings while gold and silver tinsel draped across the windows. At the heart of it all stood a towering Christmas tree, its elegantly trimmed branches stretching toward the glass-domed ceiling.

Tapping her toe to the cheerful melodies floating through the air, Cassie Valentine sipped her champagne. Her eyes scanned the edges of the room in search of her husband.

Ethan Ramsey had a habit of lingering on the sidelines, observing the crowd like an eagle surveying its territory—reluctant to leave his perch unless absolutely necessary. Parties and glad-handing donors weren’t his style, but they were a requirement of the job.

So, she almost spilled her champagne when she saw him in the middle of the party, smiling, of all things, and chatting with a couple of big wigs from one of their largest insurance partners.

Who was this imposter?

She strolled over to the trio, reaching Ethan’s side just as he shook hands with the executives and turned away, a faint smile still lingering on his lips.

“Having fun?”

“Hey, there you are,” he said, enclosing her hand in his. “The team did a good job with the party.”

Cassie quirked an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic praise. Really, who was this man?

“I need a real drink,” Ethan said, waving away a server carrying a tray of champagne.

“Oh, thank god,” Cassie said, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as she followed him to the bar. “You were smiling. It was scary.”

Ethan paused mid-step and turned to look at her. “My smile is scary?”

“No!” Cassie rushed to assure him. “Your attitude, however, is giving me Twilight Zone vibes.”

“What’s wrong with my attitude?” he demanded, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m being social, making sure the donors are happy and the partners satisfied. I’m doing my job.”

“Yes, and that’s great. But why?” Cassie asked suspiciously. “You hate ‘look how great I am’ donor parties.”

“Whiskey, neat,” Ethan said to the bartender.

He grabbed his drink, took her hand and then stomped off to a quiet corner behind the Christmas tree.

Cassie waited expectantly as he took a sip and exhaled loudly, rolling his neck.

“If you must know,” Ethan muttered, staring into his glass, “Naveen’s been coaching me on my people skills. My homework”—he emphasized the word—“was to practice them at this party and reflect on how amenable donors might be when I ask for resources with a smile rather than a frown.”

“Huh.” Cassie wasn’t sure how else to respond. She wanted to tease Ethan, but he already looked uncomfortable with his confession. Besides, it was a sound plan.

Still, she couldn’t let it go just like that. “What else has Naveen been teaching you?”

When Ethan looked at her askance, she pressed on, gazing up at him with a coquettish smile. “For example, what’s his view on co-workers hooking up at holiday parties? It is the season of giving, after all.”

“I don’t need lessons on my sex life,” he scoffed. “Besides, everyone knows you don’t hook up with your co-workers at the holiday party. That way lies disaster.”

“Please,” Cassie laughed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You banged me on your desk during the Hopeful Hearts Gala when we were dating. In a glass-walled office, I might add, where anyone could have seen us.”

“I lowered the blinds!” Ethan protested, though he couldn’t help but grin at the reminder.

They shared a heated look, the memory of that night sparking vividly between them.

“Anyway, it was for Valentine’s Day, so it doesn’t count as a holiday—not according to the Gospel of Cassie Valentine.”

“Fine.” Cassie cut him off with a playful wave of her hand. “Let’s pretend I’m a wealthy donor with money to burn. I make you an indecent proposal, and you’re tempted by both my beauty and my wallet.”

“How mercenary of me,” he said with a roll of his eyes, his hand sliding to her back as he pulled her close. “How about we just be Ethan and Cassie? Two co-workers who fell in love, got married, and lived happily ever after.”

“Boring,” she pouted, tilting her head back to look at him. “How will we live out our AUs if we don’t play ‘Let’s pretend’?”

“Our what now?” Ethan asked, frowning in confusion.

“Alternate universes,” Cassie explained with a grin. “You know, scenarios that differ from our relationship canon. Like, what if I were a ballerina, and you were mesmerized the moment you saw me? Or,” her eyes lit up, “I was an FBI agent sent to rescue you from a sinister gang in Brazil? Oh! And there’s the one where we met in college, sparks flying from day one. You tried to push me away, of course, but I was persistent.”

When Ethan gave her a skeptical look, Cassie leaned in closer. “Our love story spans universes, babe.”

He smiled softly, framing her face between his hands, his mouth hovering just above hers. “I clearly need lessons in imagination. Care to teach me?”

“Lesson one,” Cassie whispered against his lips. “Kiss me.”

Ethan didn’t need any further instructions. Their lips met, and for a moment, all other universes faded away.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @justyourusualash @lady-calypso @kyra75 @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @snoopdogcone @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @loreofyore

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

[madhatterbri]

Easter | A.S. and C.S.

Summary: Fic pairing: Alex Shelley x Fem!Reader x Chris Sabin (I like fics that use “you” and petnames instead of Y/N, but tbh I’m good with whatever’s best for you! 💙Spring Prompt: After a long Easter Day visiting family, the trio comes home and takes advantage of the nice weather, setting up a projector out in the backyard to watch a movie and relax. Reader is still overstimulated from all the socialization, and the boys decide to give her something else to focus on when the movie doesn’t seem to cut it. I’d love some *spice* if you’re feeling inspired! Otherwise, go wild, who doesn’t love some good ol’ tooth-rotting fluff!

Requested by: Anonymous

Alex Shelley Masterlist

Chris Sabin Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @hodgepodge-musings @cowboywritersworld @magicalbuttertarts @letsgivethisonemoreshot @blackwingedmisanthrope

The car ride home was painfully quiet. There was no sound from the three occupants inside or the radio. Even the birds that were once chirping outside were now quiet. The silence was something you were grateful for.

The noise back at your mother's house had been nonstop. Laughter, people chewing loudly or humming as they ate, and the screams of children had long overstimulated you the moment you walked through the door. Your boyfriend, Alex, was also tense at the chaos. Your other boyfriend, Chris, was calmer about the chaos. The noise wasn't the worst part.

Children had sticky fingers from candy and coloring the eggs with paint. The smell of perfumes, colognes, and food added to the mix. A couple of times, you felt your stomach ache from the smells. You were happy to be out of there.

You walked in the bedroom and laid down in the California king-sized bed. Your eyes stared at the white ceiling above you. Tense muscles started to relax, but it still wasn't enough. You didn't know the boys were planning something until Chris knocked on the door.

"Come in," you called out. Your gaze never left the ceiling. Out of your peripheral, you could see Chris come in quietly and close to the door behind him.

"I just wanted to check on you, honey, is everything okay?"

A loaded question. Things were a lot better now since time was distancing the Easter dinner disaster.

"I will live, Chris. Thanks for asking."

You half expected him to leave to play video games with Alex. Maybe they would even practice some music in the garage. The younger of the two men needed some time to unwind as well.

"Well, when you are ready, Alex and I have a surprise for you in the backyard."

"Please tell me it isn't an Easter egg hunt with more melted candy," you groaned and covered your eyes.

"Hey," he chuckled. "Alex took a really long time hiding all the eggs, and it was really hard leaving those candy to melt outside for a werk before you came in."

Your lips curled into a smile. Chris grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it. His thumb slowly caressed your fingers and hand. "Whenever you are ready, honey. Take all the time you need."

He gave your hand back to you and left the room. After a few minutes, curiosity got the better of you. The boys weren't really ones to plan anything so last minute. You stood up from the bed and went to the backyard.

The boys were lying on a blanket under the stars. A blanket that had her favorite drinks and snacks on it. A projector stood on a cart behind them, and a white blanket hung from the awning of their house.

"All your favorites, sweetie, no yelling or melted candy or screaming."

You walked through the grass and laid down between them on the blanket. They laid down next to you. Chris rubbed your arm gently while Alex caressed your clothed stomach. Alex pressed the remote for Moulin Rouge to play. Within seconds, the movie started to play. After thirty minutes, you were still frustrated.

"I'm sorry, guys, it isn't working. I just can't focus," you sighed and sat up. Fingers snaked through your hair. Tears begged to fall. The Easter dinner with your family was a horrible idea. Alex paused the movie before turning his attention to you.

"Hey, hey," Alex spoke softly. He rubbed your back and kissed you. A thought popped in his head. He asked you a question against your lips. "How about we try something else?"

"Like what?" You asked. Alex winked at Chris.

Chris sat up behind you. He slowly slid the dress zipper down your back. When he was finished, his hand rested just above your knee before rising up slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat.

"Out here?" You squeaked. Alex kissed your lips and led you to lay back on the blanket. Chris raised your dress up slowly. His thumbs rub the fabric between your legs.

The movie may not have made you forget about your bad day, but their actions certainly did.