#hopefully when i hit post there will still be two links in this post...

[tathrin]

Well, it turns out I'm a dumbass who doesn't understand how prompt-fills on AO3 work, so my LotR Secret Santa gift is a late delivery due to author-not-knowing-how-to-hit-the-damn-post-button-on-draft...but here it finally is, for anyone who wants to read a rambling meander on human genders seen through the eyes of a baffled elf and dwarf: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52665241

And more importantly, if you have not yet read the gift that was written for me, I cannot heap enough praise upon this masterpiece of Narvi/Celebrimbor/Sauron that oakenting Jarakrisafis created so please, go read about my favorite doomed ot3 of all time: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52667359

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

[milfzatannaz]

I’m queuing this post so by the time yall are reading this it would’ve been 12 hours since I wrote this thereabouts?

Anyway. I’m currently on a bus to my college town, where my best friend lives. She’s letting me crash at her place while I get my thoughts in order, and I absolutely cannot be home.

My mother slapped me. I haven’t been hit since I was 17 and I’m 22 now. We had been arguing for two hours, but the final straw was when she went into my room and took my doc martens. She said to give her back anything she paid for, but I pointed out that I paid for half the boots….and then I told her to give me back the 1,400$ I loaned her last month. So she took one look at her own daughter and slapped me across the face. (That was from my LSAT savings/ law school admissions fund. I was trying to squirrel away money to maybe even move away)

anyway. Its messy. I’m a shell of a person right now. I’ll be safe where I’m going, but Im still terrified. I don’t really want to recount the finer details rn. When she discovers I’m not home I’m not sure what’ll happen. But I have to do this for myself. I deserve better.

I’ll try and work on commissions while I’m out of town. My best friend is my angel, but so are all of you- my mutuals, my close friends, even my really generous followers. You guys made my escape possible.

if anyone is interested in helping, since I won’t be able to babysit or anything, pls drop like 5$ in my kofi or my PayPal which are linked on my pinned. It’ll help me immensely. The more money I can raise the longer I can stay away. Hopefully.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

A terrorist in the PIJ (Palestinian Islamic Jihad) has admitted in his interrogation that they practiced for the Oct 7 massacre on Iranian soil. This is important to remember, that it wasn't just Hamas that committed the vicious attack on Israelis during that day, that the Islamist regime in Iran's involvement was crucial to what happened, and that Gaza was NEVER "an open air prison" as the anti-Israel crowd claimed. The above link has the vid quoted here.

Yesterday, Golani infantry's division 36 has left a section in northern Gaza, as a part of lowering the intensity of the fighting there. A short while later, no less than 50 rockets were fired from exactly that area into southern Israel. Yoram Bitan's shop in the southern town of Netivot took a direct hit from a rocket while he and his son were still inside (pic is from this vid, where the start also shows the barrages of rockets over Netivot). They're both thankfully okay, the building absorbed most of the impact.

Just this morning, at least 25 more rockets were fired from that area of Gaza into Israel, before IDF soldiers managed to find and destroy some of the rocket launchers that were used in these attacks (see pic with just one barrage of intercepted rockets over Israel on the horizon, Hebrew source). If Israel can't lower the intensity of the fighting, that's absolutely also because of Hamas' continued choices. Israeli civilians from the south are currently protesting against the possibility that Israel will stop the war before the complete removal of the threat of rockets being fired from Gaza.

The IDF has confirmed yesterday that it has eliminated more than 150 Hezbollah squads since the start of the war.

I got to watch an interview with Shirley (not necessarily her real name), who was a prison guard where Palestinian terrorists were held. She was sexually harassed by a terrorist called Muhammad Atallah for 2 years. Towards the end of her service at this prison, he told her that her life is being threatened by Amjad Awad, a Palestinian terrorist, who murdered the Fogel family when he was 18 years old, together with his relative, 17 years old Hakim Awad. These are 35 years old Ruti, 36 years old Udi, 11 years old Yoav, 4 years old Elad and 3 months (!) old Hadas in Mar 2011. Amjad and Hakim were actually on their way out of the house, when they heard baby Hadas crying in her crib, returned and murdered her (Hebrew source).

You can hopefully understand why Shirley was terrified when she heard Awad wanted to kill her, and Atallah claimed he could keep her safe, using this to try and rape her in a spot between two gates in the prison where there are no cameras. She fought back and saved herself. Atallah, who is imprisoned for attempted murder and murder as part of his terrorist activity, was put on trial back in 2022 for sexual harassment of Shirley and attempted rape, as well as for raping another female prison guard.

But in the interview I listened to yesterday, Shirley talked about how horrified she is over the possibility that Awad and Atallah might be freed in a hostage deal, where Hamas will demand terrorists with "blood on their hands" be released.

Last night, the IDF presented the findings of an investigation into the cause of death of 3 hostages, whose bodies were retrieved from Gaza. The autopsy determined that they were NOT killed by direct IDF or terrorists fire, but the bodies are in such a state, that it's impossible to determine what did kill them.

These are Michal and her husband Alex Lubnov.

Alex worked as a bartender at the Nova music festival on Oct 7. He was kidnapped to Gaza. Michal is seven months pregnant. This week, she visited the site from which Alex was kidnapped for the first time. She's waiting for her husband to be freed, and be with her at the delivery room.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk. 

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

__

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or 

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment… 

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil. 

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa. 

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

__

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy, 

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity.  You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully. 

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache. 

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being. 

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more. 

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects. 

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

__

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is… 

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

__

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

__

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

__

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him. 

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

__

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

__

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts. 

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….” 

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped. 

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it. 

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!” 

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

���I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear. 

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

[n0cturnalflesh]

Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

Heyo ! First fic done in a while lets goooooo hope you enjoy! (its also on AO3!)

Synopsis: Maybe having a quickie with your boyfriend in the hallway of your old high school isn't the smartest idea. Or is it?

Characters(s): Choso, Gojo, Geto

tw: 18+, smut (jumps right into it lol), p in v, breeding kink, exhibitionism, teasing, praising, caught, semi-public, oral (receiving),

wc: 8.5k (jeez)

A/N: I'm not even kidding it took me months to finish this so hopefully posting it will help motivate me to write more. Lowkey went wild with this so enjoy, them boys boutta DESTROY you

“Shhhh, gotta be quiet baby or someone could hear us.”

Choso’s hand presses tight against your mouth to muffle your moans, as if the whines leaving his mouth weren’t just as loud. He’s got your clothed back pressed against the wall, one leg hiked up around his broad waist as he drills his cock into you from under your skirt. The shlick and slap of his balls slamming onto your cunt makes your head roll down against your chest, fucked out of your mind.

—————

You were supposed to debrief at Jujutsu High after a mission and get back to lesson planning, but your giant puppy of a boyfriend just couldn’t leave you alone.

“Please baby, please,” he pleaded as he led you down an empty hallway, pushing you lightly against the wall of lockers, “Please just let me put it in quickly, please? You look so good, and I missed you so much while you were away. Please, I need you.”

He leans down to bury his face in your neck, whimpering pleas and begging into your ear as his hands roam up and down your body.

“No Choso, we can’t, not here and not now.” You sigh as your hands reach up to grab at his tied-up hair, but make no move to push him away.

“Please, I’ll be good, I promise! I’ll keep it quiet, no one will know.”

—————

That’s how you got to where you are now. Your hands shakily raise from where they lie limp at your sides as you place your palms flat against him, feeling his hard chest beneath his clothes. The rhythm of his cock pumping into you has your head bobbing with each thrust. It only stops when he pushes you harder against the wall, the hand not pressed against your mouth coming up under your chin. Calloused but still smooth fingers lift your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Oh fuck, thank you, thank you, n-needed you.”

You try to mumble back some form of sentence but all that escapes your lips is a jumble of muffled cries against his hand.

“What was that baby?” Choso removes his hand from your mouth, gripping your head with both hands.

“Cho-Ahh!” A moan rips through you as he pushes you harder against the wall, hitting your cervix hard with each pump of his hips.

“What?,” Choso thrusts hard into you. “I couldn’t quite get that,” He thrusts again, “Baby?” He asks innocently as he fucks you harder and harder with each word. The metal ridges of the lockers behind you dig into your back awkwardly and his nails begin to dig deep into your cheeks as he squeezes them tight.

Drool begins to dribble down your chin, dripping onto his hands while he waits for your response.

“I- uhg Cho-oso, ‘y fuck me so good!” You finally moan out, reaching your arms around behind his head and linking your fingers behind his head, attempting to grasp some kind of leverage in the position he has you in.

Resting his forehead against yours, he whimpers into your mouth as he hungrily captures your lips with his. Your back aches from each hard thrust he fucks into you, thighs trembling while the pressure in your cunt grows with each passing second. Choso’s sweaty bangs brush against your closed eyes, a hand moving to your throat and squeezing tighter with every pump of his cock like he’s trying to steal the moans out of you.

“You’re perfect.” He grunts into your ear, pulling back from the kiss to look into your eyes. “Can you cum for me?” He quickens his pace, tilting at an angle that grinds his pelvis against your clit each time he moves. With a jumble of incoherent moans, your body begins to tense up in pleasure, wet slick dribbling down his thighs from where his body becomes one with yours.

Arching your back incredibly until your tits nearly press flush against his chest, you can feel the initial tingling ball of pleasure begin to unravel deep within you.

“That’s it baby, I can feel you getting tighter. Please cum for me, cum on my cock for me pleas-” He moans, cutting himself off as a particularly hard thrust has his sensitive tip brushing harder against your bruised cervix. His eyes lose focus on you for a moment, his hips stuttering, before leaning back to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“C’mon baby. Do you want to cum for me?” He drags his tongue slowly from your collarbone up to your ear, leaving behind a wet trail of saliva, “Or, do you want to cum for them?”

Your eyes flash open in confusion, just as Choso lowers a hand down to flick his fingers over your clit. In a second, you see them. Down the hall, standing in the open doorframe; Geto and Gojo. Before you can react, the pressure within you bursts, heat spreading throughout your body as you cum on Choso’s cock. The two men at the end of the hallway stare back at you, before you finally close your eyes, unable to focus on anything but the full body takeover of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck, sh-shit, yea-ngh yes baby!” Choso’s whines flood your ears, your body spazzing and tightening around him. It feels like your limbs are on fire, numbing and tingling as your core flutters with pleasure. Toes curling in your shoes from the immense pleasure, your hands bury deep into his hair as if it's the only thing keeping you tied to this world. “Choso - ! F-fuck!” You moan out, still unable to form words as you quiver on his body.

“My god, fu-uck, gonna f-fucking fill you up. Gonna make you a mama, pl-please, need to get you stuffed with me.” Before long, you feel his grasp on you waiver as he shoots his load deep into your belly, still begging to get you round and full.

“Baby, o-oh, baby. Please take it, please please.” Choso’s become a drooling mess, slowly pumping his softening cock back into your cunt, fucking his cum back in before any can fall out. He slowly unwraps your leg from around him, lowering it until your feet are firmly on the ground. Arsm wrapping around your torso, he pulls you close to him, catching his breath.

The change in gravity has you feeling weak, well, that and the creampie he left in your womb. His shoulder feels damp against your forehead as you lean forward into his touch. Before you can open your eyes, Choso turns you around so your back leans against his chest. His large hands reach up to grope at your clothed tits before sliding down to wrap around your waist, his fingers massaging your belly.

“So, just gonna watch like the perverts you are?”

That has your eyes splitting opening in record time, remembering who you saw just moments ago, who watched Choso fuck you open and cum inside you.

“Oh my god, Chos-” You whimper out shyly before his large hand rises to cover your mouth. “Shhh, it’s ok baby, I wanna hear what they have to say.”

Gojo and Geto stand frozen in the same place as when you saw them last. You get a better look at them now that your vision isn’t misted over by lust and blurry from being fucked, ready to take in judgment from them.

Stern expressions on their faces, eyebrows furrowed, Gojo’s mouth hangs open in a small gasp while Geto’s lips are pushed together into a small line. But there’s something hidden in their expressions, they don’t necessarily look disgusted. Still, the embarrassment and shame of being caught nags at your mind again, preventing you from questioning the looks on the two sorcerers’ faces.

Anxiety crawls up your body as you squirm under the intense gaze of Gojo and Geto which only causes Choso’s cum to leak from your cunt and drip down your thighs. Your boyfriend’s hands squeeze tighter into your body as he stares back at them, waiting for an answer.

“Hey who are you to-” Geto starts but is cut off by the white-haired man beside him.

“Yeah, yeah we are just gonna watch.” Gojo answers, voice low and leveled in a tone you’d never heard him use before. You expect Choso to lash out and yell at him, or even Geto to protest, but they don’t. A pregnant pause takes over the room again, silence so loud you can hear a ringing in your ears.

“But you’re ok with that, aren’t you Choso?”, he continues, “Hmmm? Don’t be shy now, you seemed pretty outgoing when you fucked her full a few minutes ago. ‘Oh please baby please let me fuck you full with my cum’.” Gojo moans out in a mocking voice. It’s meant to be a taunt, but hearing him whine like that has… elicited a reaction out of you that you hadn’t expected. Ever loyal and in love with Choso, you can’t deny that hearing those words come from Gojo’s mouth was hot.

“Poor thing couldn’t even get a word out.” Geto cuts in with a smirk.

It’s only then do you notice the large tent in Gojo’s pants and the way Geto’s hand stays glued inside his pocket. They’re turned on by this. And judging by the way Choso isn’t screaming at them, he is too.

“So, what’re you gonna do now that you’ve got everyone all hot and horny, huh? I’m bricked up, Geto’s bricked up, lil missy here clearly has some kinda mess going on between her legs other than your jizz, - judging by the way she’s rubbing her thighs together, and you’re blushing like a teenage boy seeing his crush.”

The tension in the room remains, but you can feel the sudden shift in the air. Choso’s not a very outgoing person but if he was truly upset by being caught, he absolutely would’ve said something by now. Turning in his arms to face him, the skin beneath his shirt feels hot to touch, matching the crimson blush on his face.

“Choso…” You whisper, forcing his chin to face you as he turns to look at the ground, “Are you ok with what’s happening right now? What are you thinking, hun?” The blush across his cheeks deepens as he holds you tight to him, murmuring something under his breath that is too quiet to hear.

“What was that?” You probe genuinely, voice just above a hum as you wait for his answer.

“I’m not… disappointed that we got caught.” He sighs. “I’m so sorry baby, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I love you so much, you’re mine, only mine. But for some reason, I’m not -” He’s panting with anxiety between his words, trembling in shame.

“Choso, love, are you turned on by this?”

He nods.

“It’s ok, I am too.”

His head perks up at your words, a newfound sparkle in his eyes. “Really?”

Now its your turn to nod your head yes. Something about his demeanor changes. He stands taller, straightens his back, tightens his hands into fists. “Baby, can I ask something of you? You don’t have to say yes and I understand if you think I’m weird, but I have to ask.”

Grasping his hand in yours, you smile up at him expectantly, hoping you know what he’s going to say. He looks at the floor sheepishly, clearing his throat before making eye contact with you again.

“I think I wanna watch them fuck you.”

You close your eyes in relief knowing that the feeling is mutual, that you’re not the only perverted one in your relationship. Squeezing his hand, a voice interrupts you before you can even respond.

“Huh? What was that? Didn’t quite hear that from back here, mind repeating that for us?” Gojo calls out, sneering in your direction as he leans an elbow on Geto’s shoulder.

Choso’s eyes flickering to yours, all it takes is a small nod of confirmation and he’s regained the confidence you’re used to seeing your boyfriend have around you.

“I said, I want to watch my girl get fucked on you and Geto’s cocks. Think you can handle her?” He replies back, slowly turning you around to face them once again, hands beginning to roam across your body. His hands glide up from your waist, circling above your womb for a moment before they split, one sliding up to grope your chest through your shirt, the other dipping down under your skirt as he uses two fingers to push the cum dripping out of you back in.

It’s obvious the two sorcerers are caught off guard by Choso’s blunt words, both blinking blankly at you and your boyfriend before sharing a look between them.

“Well Choso, I think it's your lucky day. You’re wish is our desire.” Gojo bends in a slight bow, offering a growing toothy grin with a slight glint of mischief in his eyes.

“And her pleasure.”, Geto lulls, taking a step forward, “I just hope you two can handle us.”

Choso gives you another look, searching deep into your eyes, looking for something, any reaction. His eyebrows are tightly knit together in a protective expression but the softness in which he holds you tells you he’s asking if you consent to this. You stare back lovingly, smiling, and bring him in for a quick kiss, feeling his raw and warm lips mash against yours. Pulling away slowly, a trail of spit keeps you two connected.

“I have some rules.” He calls out, voice low and husky as he holds you close to him, “One, whoever fucks her pussy has to wear a condom. You can cum inside her if you’re wearing it, but remember that it’s my cum that you’re fucking into her. Two, whatever comes out of her mouth, you worship it. She says stop, you’re both out of her before I can count to three. She says slow down, you slow down even if you’re seconds away from cuming. And three, don’t hit her. She doesn’t like it.”

“Got it.” Geto agrees.

You give Choso one last squeeze before turning to face the two men approaching you, eyeing them up cautiously. They stop in front of you, standing tall above as Gojo begins to circle you like a wolf stalking its prey. He takes a step towards you, angling his head down to meet your eye level. “Cute,” he draws out, voice cocky as ever as he invades your space, “who would have thought you were so scandalous, fucking in the back hallways of our old high school.”. He reaches out to grab your face, large hand gently holding your chin as he examines you through his blindfold.

“Tsk, she was always hiding something behind that sweet smile, weren't you?” Geto purrs from his spot beside you as he watches his friend. “Just needed someone to treat you to it,” his eyes flicker briefly to Choso before latching back onto your expression, hand reaching into the brim of his pants as he begins to palm himself through his boxers.

You’re body trembles, feeling hot under their stares. It feels like they’re speaking to each other more than you, almost like planning something without you even knowing it. Flashing your eyes up to Choso, he leans on the wall opposite of you, back to the lockers as he bores an unreadable expression on his face. Eyebrows furrowed yet no trace of anger with rosy cheeks as he watches Gojo and Geto get closer to you. You flash him a tiny smile before turning your attention back to the two men in front of you, confidence beginning to flow within you as you watch Choso smile back.

“Maybe.” You reply to Geto cheekily, trying to sound as assertive as possible as Gojo holds your face in his large hands. “What about it?”

“Obviously we have to show our thanks to the man of the hour.” Gojo huffs.

“What do you-” Your words are cut off as he leans forward, pushing his lips against yours passionately. It’s not a gentle kiss, it’s wet and heavy as he tries to devour you, tongue licking against your lips until he parts them and begins to explore the inside of your mouth. His hands lift from your face and begin to grab at your body, wrapping around your shoulders, sliding down your back, before returning to your front. His fingers fondle at your chest before teasing at the buttons lining the front of your shirt.

A shriek leaves your lips in shock as he rips down the middle of your clothes, leaving you standing in your bra as your torn shirt hangs on either side of your arms. “Gojo!” You whine out in a mix of anger and embarrassment, trying to cover yourself up, “What if we get caught!”

“Well, you already got caught, and look how that turned out, hmm? Want more people to come? Want Nanami to come and see Choso’s little whore?”

A low cough-turned growl interrupts the moment, Choso glaring at Gojo’s words as he crosses his arms across his chest, eyes filled with anger at his implications.

“Don’t worry, already put up a veil, no one can see us. Just teasing.” Gojo speaks out without breaking his gaze upon you.

“Satoru, you’re too disruptive.” Geto coos, breaking the tension as he walks behind and pulls you close to his chest so you can feel his hard package press against your ass. “Ripping a perfectly fine shirt? You know not everyone is as rich as you.” He lulls as you feel his hands grab at your hips. Gojo pouts at him as he remains bent down to your eye level, muttering some incoherent words under his breath.

“Besides,” Geto speaks again, “You didn’t even finish the job.” He slides his hands up your back and quickly pulls at the clasps of your bra, letting it slink down your shoulders before falling to the ground. He gasps into your ear from behind you, large hands sliding down to capture your now free tits. You lean into him, a sigh escaping your lips as he kneads at you, the warmth from his hands contrasting the cool air of the hallway that hardened your nipples.

“Fuck, baby.” Gojo purrs, leaning his head forward to motorboat your chest. The sharp breath of his nose pushes warm air onto your sternum as Geto pushes your tits forward to smush against Gojo’s cheeks. You remain stuck between the two of them, nothing but mutual panting in the hallway as you lean your head back against Geto’s shoulder. Wetness begins to spread across your chest (amongst other places) as Gojo starts licking and sucking at your skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to have your legs shaking at the numbing pain blossoming across your chest between his lips.

“Gojo,” you gasp, hands leaving your side to steady yourself on his shoulders, “please.”

“So polite, but I don’t know what you could possibly want me to do. You’ll have to tell me.” he replies with a smirk after licking a long strip up to your chin.

“Please touch me.”

“Mmm touch you where? Gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.”

“Please,” you whine out, rubbing your thighs together impatiently. You stick your lip out in a pout, voice coming out much more quiet than moments ago. “Please touch my pussy, need it.”

“Cmon Satoru, you heard her. Don’t pretend like you’re not desperate to shove your face in her cunt.” Geto groans out, hand reaching out past your head to grab Gojo by his hair and shove him down to the ground. “Stop teasing and dig in.” He thrusts his hips against your ass, pushing your pussy into the white-haired man’s face. His nose bumps your skirt-covered mound and he lets out a muffled moan as his hands wrap through your thighs, hand searching around your waist so he can keep you close in a mangled mess of limbs.

“Fuck, need a taste.” He draws out, hands tightening around your waist as he tucks his head under your skirt. He leaves a cool trail of spit up your cunt as he licks at your lips, licking up until he reaches your clit. “Need this off now.” He mutters as he quickly unzips your skirt and lets it drop to the ground, abandoned with the rest of your clothes.

“Come on, don’t be shy now. You were just putting on such a good show for us with Choso, do it again, won’t you?” Geto purrs into your ear. Your body slowly becomes putty in their hands as he wraps his arms under yours, tucking them up around your chest. His warm hands trail across your upper body, leaving goose bumps behind as his fingers caress your skin. “Look at how pretty your pussy looks when it's soaking his blindfold, princess.” Geto whispers in your ear, one hand reaching up to grab your chin and tilt it downwards, forcing you to look down.

Gojo buries his face back into your cunt at his words, lapping up and kissing your clit, sending tingles across your core as you buck your hips forward. One of his large and warm hands trails down from where it rests at your hip, dividing through the wet mess between your legs.

“Mmph, can’t have you leaking out Choso’s cum, now can we?” He grumbles between licks, “no, good girlfriends keep their boyfriend’s cum fucked up inside them even when they’re being fucked out by their friends.” He speaks, though mostly to himself as his words are muffled by your pussy. “Isn’t that right Choso? I know you don’t have a naughty girlfriend.”

“Fuck, Gojo!” you cry out as you buck your hips forward into his face again, letting Geto take the full weight of your body behind you. “Geto, please, touch me too!”

Geto hums behind you and lets his hands move forward to grope your chest. Your tits mold into his grip as he assaults your skin, tugging and pulling on the skin until it nearly hurts. “Choso, you know I’ve heard making a girl cum increases her chances of getting pregnant.” His left hand reaches out and tugs at your nipple, squeezing it, before continuing. “Want us to see how much we can make her cum?” Another twist. “For you?”

As if speaking a secret language, at his words Gojo begins to fuck his fingers into your cunt, pushing Choso’s cum back inside you. “Take it back, keep it stuffed inside you, huh cum dump?” You hear amongst the jumbling of words he speaks into your pussy, like he’s having a conversation with it over you.

The increasing pressure of Gojo lapping at your cunt mixed with Geto playing with your chest pushes you closer and closer to the edge. “F-fuck, so good!” You open your eyes and look up to your boyfriend standing across from you. The hem of his shirt is tucked between his lips, his abs tensing and pulsing as he pumps his hand slowly over the tip of his cock. His eyebrows point upwards and he pants wantonly, almost like it causes him pain to keep his eyes open and focus on the sight before him. Despite this, his eyes latch onto yours in an instant.

“Choso, l-love you!” you cry out, grinding your pelvis harder into Gojo’s face. Tingles shake at your thighs while a numbing pressure builds in your stomach. Gojo’s thick fingers pump into your cunt, and you can feel Choso’s cum on his fingers as they push up into you, exploring all there is to explore; pushing up against your cervix walls, pushing into that soft fleshy spot you thought only Choso could find. His thumb reaches around to rub at your clit as he sucks it too, creating a suction that flips between kissing the bundle of nerves and grinding it hard against his thumb. It’s almost too much for you to handle.

And then it is, as his remaining hand on your hip slides south, grabbing at your ass and spreading it for himself. He gropes at your fat, a tingling sting left behind as he slaps your ass and you yelp, lurching forward in shock.

“Damn Satoru,” Geto purrs, “you have got to see this recoil.”

Without responding, Gojo slides the hand further down until it reaches your tight, untouched hole. He pulls back from your pussy for just a moment, chin drenched in your slick, and asks “Anyone ever visit this hole before?”, tapping his finger lightly on your ass. At his words, Geto slows his gropes, licking up your neck before waiting for your answer.

The pause in movement makes everything around you slow down, you can feel the cool wind of the hallway breeze against your skin, can feel where they touch you besides your tits and pussy, can feel them waiting for your answer. It’s embarrassing.

“We, I -”

“I’m finger fucking your boyfriend’s cum back into you while my best friend gropes your tits in our old high school hallway, but you’re afraid to admit if you’ve done anal?”

“Fuck you.” You mutter, not intimidating at all.

“I’m trying to. Now tell me,” he puts his finger on your hole, “have you”, he rubs against the entrance, “ever done,” he presses further, pushing past the tension of your tight skin until it slips in with ease. “Ha, naughty girl, that went in far too easy for an ass virgin.” He grins.

The heavy pressure as he pushes into your ass has you tightening your whole body, grabbing at Geto’s arm around your chest and digging your nails into his skin, feeling the tension of his skin beneath your nails.

“Ah, yea, yes I have, we have!” you pant.

“Freaky.” he smirks, removing the hand from your clit and grabbing one of your legs, lifting it over his shoulder for leverage as he kneels before you. “Now shut up again and let me eat.”

And suddenly everything sparks back up at rapid speeds. Gojo’s attached to your clit once again, hands ravaging your holes as he finger fucks them both at the same time. He slips another finger into each of your holes and it's a miracle you’re still standing as he wrecks you. Your lower body is almost entirely supported by his arms as you shake from pleasure while he kneels before you. His large arms wrap around your hips, twisting and contorting into whatever position allows one hand to enter your ass and one hand to enter your pussy. All the while, his face is still buried at your clit. Every lick, every finger forward motion has you bucking harder, grinding your pelvis against his nose, moving entirely on its own; a purely erotic reaction.

His licks have your back arching in both directions, heaving back and forth as Geto holds you tight against his skin. Your back rubs against his shirt, feeling the buttons press into your skin. He moans into your ear, panting hard enough to feel his warm breath on your neck. Your nipples are sore from his teasing, and as if he knows when it's too much he switches from pinching to lightly groping your tits, one in each hand. “Gonna cum? Gonna soak Satoru’s blindfold?”

You’re unable to form words, only small whines escaping your lips as you nod your head back against his shoulder. Your hips buck forward widely as your balance sways, your right hand moving back to burrow through Geto’s hair in a fist as the left reaches down to tug at the white-haired man between your legs.

With just Gojo’s fingers alone, you already feel full as they rapidly bring you closer to your end. It’s when Geto slides a hand down across your front, dipping below your hips to land on your clit, right beside Gojo’s tongue, that you finally feel yourself beginning to snap.

“That’s it, good girl. Cum for us.” Geto coos in your ear, fingers playing tag with Gojo’s tongue as they circle around your clit, your body twisting in his arms, tightening around Gojo’s fingers. The pleasure keeps building, impossibly, and it feels different than you’ve ever felt before. “Fuck, I-” you gasp, tits puffing out as you arch your back, “It feels like, mmph my god, something’s happening!”.

One last glance over at your boyfriend, seeing his flushed face and sweaty body, and your orgasm rips through you, tightening around Gojo’s fingers as you feel a gush from below, squirting on his face. Tingles spread throughout your body, you twitch in the arms of the strong men holding you as you experience one of the most intense orgasms of your life. You’d have certainly collapsed to the floor if they weren’t holding up your body.

It feels like ages have gone by as you lie limply across their bodies, your breath heavy as your soul returns to your body. Small kisses to your neck bring you back to reality. “Such a good girl.” Geto whispers into your skin, “Look at the mess you made hmmm?” Gojo slowly lowers your legs to stand up and it's then that you see how his blindfold is a shade darker, dripping and drenched with your cum. He leans in, capturing your lips with his gently. When he pulls back, he slides the blindfold down, revealing his diamond-blue eyes as he maintains eye contact and sucks the blindfold into his mouth. “Mmm, you taste so good.” He hums.

His eyes flicker past yours briefly, a smirk on his face as he leans forward. “Jealous, Suguru? Want a taste?” He fully unties the blindfold, still holding it flush against his mouth as he leans his chin over your shoulder. There’s movement behind you, and as you turn your body slightly to watch Geto’s reaction, you catch him swear under his breath before leaning grabbing Gojo by his hair, slamming his lips against his, through the blindfold.

You take a small step back to watch as the two devour each other, only separated by Gojo’s cum drenched blindfold. The white-haired sorcerer’s hands begin to roam the other’s body as the blindfold is held up solely by their lips. He tugs at Geto’s hips, pulling their clothed erections together as they begin to grind against each other, hands wandering further as he gropes his ass.

The moment is cut shorter than you would’ve liked as you watch idly, slowly feeling yourself become aroused once again. The two men pull apart with a gasp, eyes wide and crazed as the blindfold falls to the ground between them. A quiet, breathy moan erupts from Gojo’s chest as he stares at his friend. “Pretty fucking tasty, huh?”

Geto stares back at him, chest heaving until his eyes drift to your naked form. “Come here, it’s my turn.” He growls, unbuttoning the front of his shirt before pulling you flush against him. You wrap your arms around his neck, the heat of his strong pecks warming your hardened nipples as he grazes his lips across yours. Moaning into his mouth, hands begin to roam across your body, although whose, you cannot tell.

“Ready princess?” Geto asks as he pulls out his wallet from his pants, flips it open, and takes out a condom. He maintains eye contact with you as he rips the top of it open with his teeth and undoes the top of his pants, only looking away to slide the condom over his dick, pumping it slowly between his hands in the process. His cock is beautiful, - everything about the man is. It twitches between you, your eyes following thick veins to the pink, weeping tip that sticks out from his hands.

“Gonna plug you up real nice.” He leans forward, tapping the tip against your belly, “Make sure all his cum stays right here” And then he’s sliding his cock between your legs, getting it wet on your juices as he pulls your hips closer to him, easing a leg up to sit on his waist. “Want you straddling me just like you were Choso.” He links your other leg up and around until both legs wrap around his body, arms coming to link together behind his head as he holds you up.

“No offense, but I don’t think I need to ease it in”. He points his dick at your hole. “No, I think you’ll take it in like the thirsty whore you are.”

With that, he drops you down onto his length and he’s right, your pussy takes in all of him easily. That doesn’t mean the heavy feeling of being filled isn’t a shock; with your cunt sitting on his pelvis, his tip probes at a tender spot inside that has you seeing stars.

“Mmm,” He moans as he pulls you closer, smushing his face against yours, “f-fuck. Still so tight.” He tilts his head and kisses you desperately, gasping and moaning into your mouth as he begins to buck his hips until he’s fucking you at a fast pace.

With every thrust, your body lurches up in pleasure, your mind blank aside from the way your sensitive cunt continues to drip for more. Somewhere behind you, there’s the sound of a zipper being undone and a cocky, wanton voice speaking, not that you’re able to process it in your current state.

“Damn,” the voice draws out, low and raspy. “How she feel, Suguru? She taking good care of your cock?” Geto’s hips stutter, losing their pacing at his friend’s words, letting the conversation flow through with you as nothing more than a fuck toy between them. From behind you can hear the sounds of faintly wet slapping. “Losing it already? C’mon Suguru, I know you can do better than that.”

“St-stop talking.” Geto manages to reply between thrusts. Warm arms suddenly wrap around your front from behind, pulling your upper half away from Geto slightly. A musky, slightly sweet scent surrounds you, and Gojo’s voice calls out from beside your head, “I can’t help it. Look so fucking hot, wanna - fuck.”

Gojo pulls you closer to him, your back pressing against his chest as his hands begin to roam across your body like he’s trying to touch as much of you as he can. He takes a deep breath in as he buries his head into the crest of your neck, taking in your scent. Then, within seconds, he wraps his arms around your chest, holding underneath your shoulders as he allows you to rest against him. You melt between them, upper half held up by Gojo’s arms while Geto keeps your hips held flush against his waist.

“Mmm, Geto-” You cry out as he slows his thrusts, slowing to a deep grind.

“I’m not stopping for you, Satoru.” He murmurs, eyes glued to where your sopping cunt swallows him, “Better get in quick.”. His massive hands grab at your ass, pulling your cheeks apart for the man behind you.

With every small grind of his hips, your clit hitches on his pelvis, the sensitive pleasure lurching your back and forth, urging his hands closer into you until one of his fingers lands on your back hole. Movement slows even more, and Geto lifts his head to look over your shoulder at Gojo. The hallway is silent once again, save for heavy breathing. Geto holds an intensity in his eyes, a complicated, taunting expression beneath. Given the breather, a slight shuffle to the side draws your attention back to your beautiful boyfriend.

Choso’s leaning back against a wall of lockers, crimson blush creeping across his face and down onto his heaving chest. His leaking cock is just as sensitive, bleeding with precum as it cries in his hands. The tip twitches as he makes eye contact with you, his eyebrows arching upwards in pleasure as he bites down on the bottom of his shirt in his mouth, whimpering into the cloth. Lowering your eyes from his face, you notice the way he grabs and squeezes at the bottom of his girth, slowing the pace at which he pumps his length; he’s edging himself.

“Choso baby, are you Ah-” Your words catch in your throat as what you can only assume to be Gojo’s dick begins pushing against your ass. “Fuck!” It’s so much thicker than the fingers he had in you before and although you haven’t seen it, you know it’s massive by the feel of it.

“Knock knock.” Gojo whispers in your ear, “hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He turns his head to look towards Choso in his disheveled state, making eye contact with him as he slowly eases himself further into you. “I’d like to come in now.” He speaks, and although he’s talking to you, the way he looks at your boyfriend gives you the impression he’s doing this just as much for him as well.

After a few more seconds of slow movement, he’s finally in your ass fully. The feeling is so intense, the tight skin stretching thin as you take him in, tearing your mind away from the fact that Geto still rests deep in your cunt. The deep pressure of Gojo’s cock feels heavy within you, but not unfamiliar. “Fuck, sweet girl.” He gasps in your ear. “Swallowing me whole back here.” His hands glide over your hips, colliding with Geto’s as he squeezes your soft flesh between his fingers.

“Ready for the main course?”

With an experimental buck of his hips, his cock pounds deeper within you and knocks you forward into Geto’s warm chest. Even with such a small movement, the wind is knocked out of you as your lower region is restricted and fuller than it’s ever felt before. By the way that Geto bows his head down beside yours, he’s affected too. “Fuck,” the brunette moans, “I can feel you inside her.”

“Yeah, Sugu?” Gojo pulls back slightly, “You like that feeling?”, and he thrusts forward again, a little harder this time, “Like feeling my cock rub you through her ass?”.

Geto lets out a breathy groan, flinging his head back to look at the ceiling. “H-ha, don’t act like you’re so put together.” He lowers his head back to level, making eye contact with you. “You doing ok princess?”. With all the attention back on you, the feeling of both their cocks in you finally settles in. With every breath, it feels like their cocks reach a new part of your insides. It’s hard to decipher where Geto’s cock in your pussy ends and where Gojo’s cock in your ass begins. It’s like they’ve turned you into one massive slut hole, -and they haven’t even started fucking you yet.

Geto’s question lingers in the air as you try to focus back on his face and not his fat dick. A red flush covers his swollen lips, and you don’t miss the crazed focus in his eyes that hide behind a few strands of hair that’ve fallen over his face. Raising one hand up to his face, you cup his cheek while the other reaches behind you, blindly grabbing until you feel the top of Gojo’s soft hair enter your palm. Geto’s skin is warm and sweaty under your touch, and you slide your hand down until you reach his parted and panting mouth.

With little to no resistance, you push your thumb past his lips, feeling the tips of his teeth graze your finger as it rests against his warm, wet tongue. For just a split second, that crazed expression is replaced with a hazy, complacent look of shock, his eyes flickering past you to Gojo. The thick pants of both men fill your ears as blood pumps quickly throughout you, and for a second you’re convinced that your cunt is throbbing around them to the beat of your heart.

“Fuck me, please.”

Both sorcerers seem to take that as consent to start, and it takes no time for you to become a sloppy mess around them. Both cocks drag in and out of you, fucking messily until they settle on a rhythm; Gojo pulls back as Geto pushes in, and so on. It’s like being fucked twice, at the same time, which technically is what’s happening, but it feels impossible to wrap your head around. At no point do you feel less than full, your g-spot feeling constant pressure and with every thrust from behind, Geto’s pelvis is pushed up against your clit. Your head bobs loosely around your shoulders, struggling to stay up as they manhandle and bounce you on them. Somewhere in the mix you manage to settle your head back against Gojo’s shoulder.

Geto’s hands remain glued to your hips as he holds you up, fingers digging deep into your flesh as the skin around them reddens. Gojo takes this as an opportunity to roam, dragging his hands up your stomach until they circle around your tits. He squeezes them forward, inviting Geto who happily leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple.

“Mmmm, you like that pretty girl? So fucking pretty, taking us like this.” Gojo growls against your cheek as he looks down, watching his friend suck on your body. “Fuck, Suguru. I can see you inside her.” He moans out from over your shoulder, losing his pace for a moment as he curses and groans, the words “six eyes” lost somewhere in the mix. “Can see you fucking Choso’s jizz right up into her”.

His hips stutter behind you from their usual pounding pace, his breath hot against your cheek as his head hangs low beside yours. Low moans escape him, and you feel him leaving a wet trail of saliva across your jaw. In front of you, Geto leaves your breasts and leans forward to press his forehead against yours. “Yeah?” He captures your lips in his, quickly licking alongside your tongue before pulling back, “What about this?”

He grabs one of Gojo’s hands in his, sliding it down until it reaches your waist. Placing his hand over his friend’s, he pushes it down against your warm skin on a spot that has you gasping loudly at a new sensation. The tip of Geto’s cock strikes hard against the inside of your cunt as he tilts his hips up, bulging through your belly as it hits the tips of Gojo’s fingers that rest on your lower stomach.

“Oh my god” you moan out as all three of you watch the scene unfold, as if Gojo’s jerking off Geto through your body. It makes you want to scream in pleasure, but no sounds can escape you aside from empty cries, tears forming around your eyes as you let them fuck you into oblivion. As Geto slides his hand back to your hip, Gojo repositions his so he can rub your clit and still press down on that special spot.

“My god, pretty thing. Re-, fuck, ready for the finale?” Gojo picks up his pace, once again matching Geto’s, “Don’t forget about your boyfriend, hmmm? Wanna have him help out?” He whispers, voice taunting and whiny before he calls out his name, startling Choso from his moment of bliss. Between all the pleasure and movement, you’re barely able to register how lusted over he looks as he holds his hard member in his hand with what looks like a load of cum already sprayed across his abdomen.

“C’mon, look at your darling girl all fucked out for you. Come help us finish her.” He beckons, making a point to draw out his thrusts, showing off your body and how it reacts to them. In the slow movement, both Geto and Gojo take the opportunity to lean forward and begin tearing apart your body with their mouths, biting down across your shoulders and chest. Arching your head back, you maintain eye contact with Choso as you lean into the bites and thrusts of the two men holding you.

“Baby.”

His eyes light up at your calling.

“Baby please, need you.” You whine out.

As your boyfriend slowly approaches, you reach out a hand until he’s close enough to rest his cheek in your palm, closing his eyes briefly as he moans at your touch. It would’ve been a sweet moment if it weren’t for the other two men ravaging you with their mouths and cocks.

“Hi.” He smiles.

“Oh come on Choso, now’s not the time to be shy.” Gojo removes a hand from your chest, reaching out and yanking your boyfriend closer. He stumbles in you, sensitive cock brushing up between you and Geto’s waists.

“That’s it big guy, join in on the fun. Wouldn’t be here without you.” The man behind you speaks again before whispering in your ear, “Let’s help him out, yeah?”. He grabs your hand, snaking down until wrapping it around Choso’s length. He keeps his hand wrapped around yours as he squeezes your hand around him, slowly beginning to pump up and down.

The scene playing out around you is what finally makes you snap. As each of you falls into a perfect rhythm, the slowly growing coil of pleasure begins to bubble up inside you. Between the deep thrusts of Geto and Gojo inside you and Choso’s growing whimpers, your muscles begin to clench. Trembling in the arms of your fellow sorcerers, vision blurring through tears, you can barely register anything besides your own pleasure.

Like the way moans ring in your ears as someone mumbles incoherently out loud, or the way Geto is looking deep not into your eyes but Gojo’s beside you, flickering between your messy cunt and the piercing blue eyes of his friend. Or the way Choso lays a hand on the dark-haired sorcerer’s waist, groping for something to hold onto as he watches the way his cock looks sandwiched between you and Gojo’s hands.

“Taking us so f-fucking well, princess” Geto groaned, although his eyes remained on Gojo’s as he leaned forward and nipped at your chest, a small peck, before dragging his tongue slowly up to your neck. “Such a good fucking girl, you like being bred? Like having me fuck Choso’s cum into you?”. His hips slam against yours with every word, squeezing the words out of your throat “yesyespleaseyesyesyes-”

Gojo slides a hand down to your hips, rubbing at the skin over your womb. “Want that Choso? Wanna your little slut to walk around pregnant knowing we fucked your baby into her?” He leans forward, lips tantalizingly close to where Geto sucks at your neck. His voice deepens with his next words, and you get the feeling they’re meant more for Geto than you. “Feel so fucking good against me, want ‘t cum with you. Fuck fuck, fuck, wantyousobadwant-” His voice is cut off suddenly at the same time Geto’s lips leave your neck, and you can hear the sloppy spit of their kiss beside your cheek.

Choso’s warm hand pulls your cheek towards him amidst the chaos, smashing his lips against yours. “Almost there baby, please, cum with me, please.” Gojo’s hand re-tightens in yours around Choso’s cock from where it’d loosened when he began kissing Geto. The mass sounds of moans and whimpers seem to be escalating, everyone is nearing their end.

Choso is the first to cum, shaking in your hand as his jizz shoots up across the three of you. Seeing his remaining warm seed leak down from his tip to you and Gojo’s hands is what does it for you. That, alongside the two other cocks pounding your insides and Choso’s free hand reaching between to rub your clit.

“Mmmm, ‘my god, ‘m gonna!” Your words are cut off as your boyfriend recaptures your lips, whining alongside you as you finally cum. The pleasure is uncontrollable and unmeasurable. It almost hurts, intense spasms coming in waves and shooting up from all parts of your nether regions. Opening your eyes, you’re met with Geto’s upturned eyebrows and open mouth panting in desperation and Choso’s flushed face as he comes to his senses. You can’t see Gojo, but from the side, you can feel the sweat coming off him as he presses a cheek to your face. It’s too much of a sight to handle, and you slam your eyes shut to ride out your high. Your legs tighten around Geto, heart rate pulsing around your clit as your whole body tenses.

“Holy fuck, squeezing me so hard princess, don’t think, god, don’t think I can hold off any longer.” The wetness of his sweaty loose bangs rests against your shoulder. In seconds, a whiny moan erupts from behind you, warmth spreading throughout your behind. As both you and Gojo shake in unison, Geto thrusts up into you one last time before following suit.

Silence, aside from heavy panting, finally rings throughout the hallway as the four of you catch your breath. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you barely register Geto unwrapping your legs from his waist, only realizing as he painfully slides out of you. A small moan escapes your lips before you can stop it as Gojo joins him, leaving you feeling empty and worn out. A soreness spreads throughout your body as you attempt to stand, stiff legs and bruised hips causing you to nearly fall if Gojo had not caught you in time.

“Don’t worry sweet thing, I got you.” He steadies you, assisting in holding you up as you catch your breath. “Feeling ok?” You nod your head, still hazy and in disbelief at what just happened. “Good, you took us like a lil champ there.” He smirks, giving your ass a brief squeeze despite your boyfriend’s jealous glare. Taking the hint, the sorcerer passes your limp body back to him, not letting go until Choso’s strong arm steadies you by the hip. “Don’t worry, she’s all yours.”

After settling their clothes, the men slowly gather your clothes and help dress you. Once back in appropriate attire (aside from a layer of Choso’s shirt used to hide your torn shirt), Geto tucks a few strands of unkempt hair back down on your head. “There. Looking almost like you didn’t get ravaged in the hallway.” He looks to Choso, “I trust you’ll take extra good care of her?”.

“Always.” He replies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him.

“Good.” Geto winks down at you. “Now, Satoru, I believe it's our time to head out.”

The six-eyes user bends down, pocketing the damp blindfold off the ground into his pocket casually as he gives both you and Choso one last look over. “Yup, it’s been more than a pleasure.” He snickers, receiving three annoyed grunts in return. “Anyways, you know how to reach us if you ever need more… special grade assistance.” He winks, turns on his heel, and waves goodbye.

—————

The two men walk together down the hallway, and you don’t miss their newfound proximity as they walk, whispering in each other’s ears as they go. Choso keeps you close in his arms, watching as they walk away.

“So I guess he turns infinity off for sex?”

[ickaimp]

[BotW] Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy (discontinued)

My SidLink fic, ‘Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy’, has been getting a lot of attention on Ao3. It’s two parts, and I tried to write a part three from Link’s POV. That was back in 2018, and I’ve since moved five times. Needless to say, it never got past the WiP stage and the HTTYD fic, ‘Coming Down is the Hardest Thing‘ ate our brain instead. But in honour of Tears of the Kingdom, figured I’d put everything in roughly a chronological shape and post what got written. It’s not complete, prolly never will be, but hopefully it’ll give a couple chuckles. 2900 words. There is also now a bonus scene at the end of Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy on Ao3.

+++ He didn’t mean to return to the Zora Domain.

Death Mountain lived up to its name, Vah Rudania had been freed from Ganon’s touch, and all Link wanted to do was go somewhere cooler where he could relax and recoup from climbing over a moving metal structure that was standing over gigantic pools of lava. So his duty done to the Gorons, he’d pulled out the Sheikah slate and hit the first shrine that looked near water.  Finding himself facing a handful of angry armed Zora guards had been a bit of a shock, but he’d honestly been too tired to care. Getting the helmet off and breathing the cool humid air of the Zora domain helped, more so when Sidon arrived. The shock on the prince’s face was comical. Even more so when he told his guards to stand down and offered Link a bath. +++ The kiss to the top of his head was unexpected, and made his chest feel light and fluffy. The gesture was as unexpected as it was confusing, but not in a bad way. Sidon’s explanation, his offer of kisses, just made it funnier. +++ Kisses. Link reminded himself as he struggled and fought his way through the shrine. Sidon believed in him, and when Link finished, he could see Sidon again. And get another kiss. +++ He didn’t know how to pay back Sidon for the encouragement. For the kisses. And he wanted to. He wanted to show Sidon how much it meant to Link. How much Sidon himself meant to Link. Armour was important to Zora. Milpha had made him armour. He was pretty sure there were books in the library that explained how to make armour. And armour would keep Sidon safe when Link wasn’t around. He could do that. He had gems and supplies from his travels all over Hyrule. He could make armour. +++ He couldn’t make armour. He could, but not armour for Sidon, who was much larger than Link, or the average anyone. The armour came out the same every time he tried, just the right size for him to fit in to. This was a problem. +++ “You’re making something entirely new.” Rhondson said, shaking her head over Link’s confusion. “You and your magic have seen jewellery and many kinds of armour and know what shapes to make things it has seen before. But to make something new, you’re going to have to do it the hard way.” Link looked down at his hands. Well, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the time to learn something new. 

+++ Zora made their armour from scales, but Link didn’t have scales. Which meant that he needed to get scales somehow. What had scales? Fish, of course. Zora, but he couldn’t ask them for scales, not for this. Dragons. He had a small collection of their scales and horns. Not enough for armour. Which meant that he’d have to get more. 

“I’m gonna go fight a dragon.” Link declared, anticipation singing through his body. 

“Link? Is everything okay?” Zelda looked worried as she peered into his face. “You’ve kind of got your crazy eyes on.”

He just grinned at her. 

“Okay then.” Zelda sighed and shook her head. He knew that he worried her, that before the Calamity he’d been raised to be a knight, with all the genteel manners and stuff, but he didn’t remember any of that. 

And really, it sounded completely boring and dull. He liked who he was now, he couldn’t go back to whatever he’d been before. Zelda had accepted that, but she still fussed at him. It was kind of... nice, in a strange way. 

She kissed him on the cheek. “Go do your thing. Try not to come back all bloody.” 

He appreciated the fact that she never referred to the castle as his home. It was hers, certainly. And while he didn’t mind staying here, it didn’t feel like home to him. 

His heart called him elsewhere. 

‘No promises.’ He agreed, kissing her cheek as well. Her kisses weren’t like Sidon’s. Still sweet, in a different way. Softer, for one thing. And not as varied, she liked to kiss and be kissed mostly on the cheek.

He liked Sidon’s kisses better. The feeling of rough scales on skin was more welcoming to him than that of soft Hylian skin. Kissing Zelda didn’t leave his heart fluttering and skin tingling and wanting more. +++ The dragon scales were too large and unwieldy to just make into armour. Especially for someone who was as streamlined as Sidon. Cutting them down with normal tools didn’t work, they shattered swords and shears alike. The only thing that seemed to be able to cut dragon scale was dragon scale itself. Link growled to himself, realising that this meant he needed to get more scales, some for the armour, some to use as tools. Which meant more time away from Sidon. He sighed. He could do it. +++ ‘Think it’ll work?’ Link signed, as Bazz looked contemplative, looking over the scales Link had harvested and started to cut into shapes based off the books and patterns he’d found. 

“It should.” He agreed. “My biggest concern is what are you going to attach it to? You’re going for shock resistance, so metal is out, which means some sort of really heavy duty hide or cloth. If you use leather, you could boil it, making it harder and shape it, but I don’t know what would be thick enough.”

That was a problem. Monster hide might work, but he’d killed most of those. 

And he wanted something for the shock resistance too. It was kind of worrisome that Zora couldn’t even touch shock arrows, leading Link having to collect them from the Lynel....

Link paused, looking up towards the tip of Shatterback Point. ‘Be right back.’ He signed, and took off running. 

“Wait! No!” Bazz hissed. “Link! He’ll kill me if you come back dead!” 

Link laughed as he jumped off a balcony, his hang-glider snapping open and catching the ocean breeze. The breeze wasn’t strong enough to get him all the way to the top, but it’d get him part way there. 

+++

A few hours later, Link pulled the fresh Lynel hide out of his pack and set it in front of Bazz. ‘Think it’ll work?’

Bazz made a sound like he couldn’t decide if he was laughing or crying. “You’re certifiably nuts.” He said, shaking his head. “The two of you deserve each other. Yeah, I think that’ll work.” 

Link tilted his head to the side, wondering what Bazz meant by that. 

“We’ll have to sit down sometime with a pint or two and I’ll tell you some of the things our Prince has gotten up to in the past.” Bazz grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. “You heard about him being eaten by the Octorok and going up against Vah Ruta on his own? That’s nothing.” 

Link grinned. He knew he liked Sidon for a reason. +++

“Link, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your new habit of carving dragon scales during meetings.” Zelda’s lips pressed together in a disapproving line. “It’s scaring some of the Council.”

Link grimaced. It was about the only time that he sat still long enough to get any carving done, he was constantly interrupted otherwise. ‘You want me to stop?’ He offered. He’d just have to figure something else out. 

“Oh good heavens, no!” She beamed at him. “Could you please sit next to Councillor Tyrol? We might be able to get some work done if he stops sharing his ‘hunting’ stories. He’s quite terrified of you, you know.”

+++ Zelda glanced around before tugging on Link’s arm and pulling him closer. She had a mischievous curve to her lips and he leaned in so no one else could overhear what she was saying. “Some of the Council thinks you’re dating a Gerudo woman.” She whispered, then covered her mouth with a hand to contain her laughter. 

It made a certain amount of sense, he was in Gerudo town a lot. … He also wore the clothing a lot while coming back. Did they think that he was dating himself? Or someone else? He paused, eyes narrowing as he remembered the inquires to the Gerudo Chieftain's health. “Riju’s twelve.” He deadpanned. She may have been the steadfast leader of the fierce Gerudo, but she was also a kid who loved soft plushies, especially those of Sand Seals. 

Zelda nodded with barely repressed glee. “I know that and you know that, but how many people here do you think have meet a real Gerudo in their lives? Much less know who the Gerudo chief is?” 

That was a good point. They should probably fix that, get more of all the various tribes together more often. ‘Should I start mentioning Isha more?’ He offered. 

She thought about it, then giggled. “You should invite her to the castle as a merchant.” Zelda grinned. “Plus, I’d like to meet her.”

+++ ‘You need a break.’ Link signed with a frown as he looked Zelda over. She looked kind of like she wanted to punch something then take a nap. “I can’t.” Zelda closed her eyes, looking frustrated. “There’s no where in the castle I can go that someone won’t find me with some sort of emergency. I feel like all I’m doing is putting out fires.” 

Link pulled out a bomb and offered it to her. She stared at it for a moment, which he was starting to think was the default reaction to being offered a bomb. Although it wasn’t like he offered them to just anyone, but Sidon always looked so surprised and confused by the bombs. 

Zelda looked like she was contemplating using it. 

“No.” She shook her head, pushing the bomb away. “Thank you, but no. That’d just undo all the hard work we just finished constructing.” Which was a pretty good point. With a shrug, he put it away again. A thought hit, and he looked her up and down, silently measuring her with his eyes, a smirk growing.

“Link.” Zelda crossed her arms, turning her body away, looking uncomfortable ‘We’re almost the same height and size.’ Link grinned at her. He was a little broader in the shoulder, she a bit broader in the hip, but still about the same proportions. Well, given his lack of height.

“And?” Link bounced a little on the balls of his feet, feeling pleased with himself. ‘That means you should fit my clothes.’ He explained. ‘And I should fit yours.’ She stared at him for a moment, her mouth agape. “There’s no way it’d work. I mean, you don’t talk, that’s easy for me to mimic, but the ruse would be over as soon as you opened your mouth.” 

That was easy enough too. He held up a finger, silently motioning for patience, then rubbed his nose vigorously, until it was red, then coughed a couple of times. “I’m sick.” He rasped, trying to pitch his voice slightly higher. “I need to stay in bed.” 

Then he fluttered his eyelashes at her and grinned. 

Zelda gaped at him. “No.” She said, then immediately wavered. “I mean. No. It couldn’t possibly work.” He shrugged. ‘I need to finish carving some scales, I could do that while you go on a ride, get some fresh air. Wear the champion tunic, everything'll run as soon as they see you coming.’

Link could see her visibly waver. “Oh.” She glared at him, stamping her foot in irritation. “This is a horrible idea. Give me your tunic.” Link grinned and tapped the Sheikah Slate, switching clothing until he was wearing the Champion’s Tunic, pulling it off over his head and tossed it to her. Zelda wrinkled her nose, holding it away from her face.  “When was the last time you washed this?” He gave her a puzzled look back. He never washed any of his clothes, any rips, tears, burns, or other assorted damage were gone whenever he dismissed them and put them back on. “Nevermind.” She shook her head, pulling the tunic on. It was a little big on her in the shoulders, but nothing too obvious. He pulled off his pants and handed them to her as well, before wandering over to her wardrobe and sorting through it before finding a long nightgown, pulling that over his head. This method of getting dressed was such a hassle, it was so much easier to get dressed via the Sheikah Slate. Less fabric to get tangled up in. “You’re hopeless.” Zelda informed him sounding amused and fond as he felt hands tug the fabric down over him. He gestured his thanks, smiling a bit to see her in his clothing. It was kind of strange, seeing her dressed like this. He reached up, undoing the pins in her hair, fingers quickly undoing the braids and messing up her sleek smooth strands. He could never get his hair nearly as soft and nice. The thought of if Sidon liked his hair, so different than the Zora’s scaled flickered through his mind, then he dismissed it. He was pretty sure that Sidon liked him, scales or no scales. Pretty sure. “Gah.” Zelda batted his hands away, stepping backwards out of reach before moving towards her vanity, checking her hair in the mirror. She made a face at seeing it so disordered, then grabbed a tie, pulling it back in a messy pony tail, then teasing the hair out on the sides of her face a bit. “What do you think?” She asked, looking up at him. Link walked over so they could see each other in the mirror. They looked disturbingly alike. They could almost be siblings, possibly even twins. He nodded, and she echoed the movement. “Okay.” She agreed. “This’ll work.” He gave her a thumbs up. +++ A knock on the door interrupted Link’s concentration and he growled in annoyance. He stood up, detouring long enough to grab a blanket from Zelda’s bed and tossed it over his head, wrapping it around himself like a cocoon before opening the door. “What?” He snapped, his voice low and rough. “n-Never mind.” Councillor Tyrol scurried off. Link huffed, shutting the door with a slam and went back to making smaller scales out of larger scales for armour. +++ “Got any clothing in red?” Bazz inquired, idly twirling his trident in one hand. It immediately put Link on edge, because there was something a little too casual sounding to the warrior’s tone. 

‘No.’ Link signed, confused. Almost all of his clothing was blue, unless he took the time to dye it. ‘Why?’ “Could you get some?” Bazz asked. Link shrugged. He didn’t have any at hand, but it’d be easy enough to swing by the Hateno Village and talk to Sayge at the Kochi Dye Shop. He could spare five rupees for payment, and a few extra apples or spicy peppers he could use for red dye. ‘Yeah. Why?’ 

“The next time you come to see the Prince, you should wear something red.” 

This was starting to sound really suspicious. ‘Anything specific I should wear?’ 

“Doesn’t matter. Just something bright red.” Bazz shook his head. “As a favour to me?” He asked, attempting to look as sweet and innocent as a kitten. It didn’t quite work.

Link did kind of owe Bazz for his help in making the armour, making sure it’d fit the prince and keeping it a secret from Sidon. “Okay.” He agreed. It was easy enough. 

“Thanks.” Bazz gave him a bright grin, full of razor sharp teeth and Link wondered just what he’d gotten himself into. 

++++

“Link! My Dear!” Link had just enough warning to brace himself before he was picked up and pressed against Sidon’s ginormous chest. “It is such a pleasure to see you!”

“Sidon!” Link wrapped his arms around Sidon, pressing as close as he could. Sidon smelled like he usually did, water and musk, something always made Link relax. 

It meant safety, comfort, and laughter.

He kissed the nearest part of Sidon he could reach, his jaw just below the fin that framed his face and felt a small shiver run down Sidon’s frame. 

Sidon eased his grip slightly, pulling back so he could look Link over. “It’s so good to see you healthy. No new scars?” 

Link smiled and shook his head. Sidon beamed in delight, taking Link’s hand and kissing the palm. “I’m glad.” 

Seriously, Sidon was the only person who worried if Link could take care of himself. Well, maybe other than Zelda, but she was more likely to laugh at him for it. 

“Is this new?” Sidon asked, peering at Link’s shirt. It was just a basic tunic, but he’d dyed it the bright red of fresh chillies, as Bazz had requested. 

Link shrugged. Honestly, he couldn’t remember where he’d picked the shirt up from. 

“I like it!” Sidon beamed at him, and Link wondered how he could contain such joy in his face. “We match!” 

… They did. He looked at the shirt against Sidon’s scales and realised that they did, the dye almost the same colour as Sidon. Anyone seeing them together would probably assume they were a matched set. 

He didn’t know whether to be grateful or to strangle Bazz for his meddling, when Sidon barely set him down for the remainder of the day, almost always keeping in contact with Link. He also made a note to wear more red, if this was Sidon’s reaction. 

-fin- -And that’s all folks.

[surrogate-fawn]

End of Term (NYC College AU)

Part 1 of 2

(Link to Part 2 will appear here when posted)

Summary: Fawn is a small-town girl from West Virginia trying to find her future in the Big Apple. She's left everything from her past behind her . . . or so she thinks. During her final exams, Fawn is completely unaware that she's been pregnant since before the semester began -- and her labor has started. As her discomfort grows more intense throughout the day, Fawn gets a little closer to discovering the cause of it. Hopefully, it doesn't take her too long to figure it out.

((This story features Newt, who belongs to @mittysins.))

TW: Cryptic pregnancy, graphic bodily descriptions, implications of past abuse, emotionally traumatic birth experience.

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

I still wasn't used to the subway trains. Sitting on one was like riding an elevator sideways during an earthquake. The g-force of every start and stop made my stomach lurch, and I still almost flew outta my seat every time. I could expect to be a little queasy by the time Newt and I reached our last stop -- and that was when I didn't wake up sick.

"Bleh. I blame YOU for this!" I text messaged Newt, despite the fact he was sitting a few seats over. He was sitting in our usual spot, but that morning I needed to sit in the back corner, where I could curl up and rest against the wall.

I saw Newt check his phone from the corner of my eye, and seconds later I got his reply: "How is indigestion MY fault?"

"I didn't even want takeout until YOU asked for it." I was sure to put a goofy emoji at the end of the message to show I was being sarcastic.

"Sorry. Cravings." Newt replied. A second later he sent a gif of a cartoon cat shrugging.

I leaned over and met his eyes with a deliberately exaggerated frown. There were several strangers sitting between us, and I probably looked crazy -- but what else was new in this city? I hit 'send', and watched Newt check his phone. I delighted in his held back snicker when he saw the giant picture of a middle finger on his screen.

That morning marked the start of our first finals week as freshman at Queens College. Newt and I had stayed up as late as possible, doing some last-minute study cramming at my apartment. Now that Newt was entering his second trimester, he was trading in his morning sickness for late-night cravings of Chinese food -- specifically steamed dumplings with fried rice (but it had to be plain rice, he'd cried when I'd accidentally ordered the pork rice).

"You're a bad influence on me, lol. I need to stop joining in on your craving binges." I hugged my backpack tighter to my stomach as my guts cramped again.

"I'm not the one who ordered two boxes of sesame chicken and three extra egg rolls." Newt retorted. A second later: "Not to mention the lo mein."

"The lo mein was supposed to be for lunch today! >:("

"Ye right. ;)"

Fine, yeah, I'd overdone it last night. I could barely contain myself around food anymore. Ever since I'd arrived in New York City that past summer, I'd been overeating. I guess I was eating my emotions. The stress had been piling up all fuckin' semester!

Moving from the suburbs of West Virginia to such a huge city had my nerves fried by the time I settled into my teeny-tiny apartment that was more expensive than a house back home. Stacked on that was the anxiety of starting school. Stacked on that was the fact my roommate, Makayla, refused to do her share of chores. Stacked on that was homesickness. Stacked on that was studying enough to not lose my scholarship. Then stacked on all of that, my one and only friend in this city was dealing with an unplanned pregnancy.

If my next-door neighbor hadn't been Newt, I'd still be floundering. Without a doubt. We clicked at first sight, as if we'd known each other in a past life. He was my lifeline. Newt had lived in Manhattan all his life, but Queens College was the only local school within his budget and that's how we'd ended up in the same off-campus student housing. He was the one that taught me street-smarts -- which roads to avoid at night, where the best Mom-and-Pop restaurants were, how to hail a cab, and how to read the hieroglyphics that were the subway maps. Although we'd only been friends for barely a month when he knocked on my door with a positive pregnancy test and tears in his eyes, I'd never thought twice about being his shoulder to cry on and his hand to hold.

I didn't care if worrying over him added to the stress of my new life here, it was a worry I gladly carried.

But it seemed all that stress was finally catching up to me.

As the train came to another screaming halt, I was twisting myself into a pretzel. My stomach was cramping again, straining hard to move along the mountain of food I'd eaten twelve hours earlier. The doors slid open, and several passengers I recognized as fellow students stood up. Newt joined them, slinging his bookbag over his shoulder and plucking the air pods out of his ears. I knew I needed to get up, but my legs needed a few extra seconds of convincing.

"You good?" Newt asked as he watched me lift myself off the seat in segments.

"I'm fine," I said, walking with him onto the platform. "I just hope that Pepto kicks in soon."

"How many exams you got today?"

"Three," I groaned, my head falling back on my shoulders. "Chemistry, biology, and that stupid-ass remedial algebra class."

"Ha! I've only got two," Newt gloated, pausing to zip up his oversized red jacket.

"Uh-huh, but don't you have to wait eight hours between them?"

"Gives me plenty of time to study," he said as we continued up the station stairs. The sonofabitch was talking like he hadn't been complaining all week about his morning class and evening class having the same exam day.

"Please," I smirked, rolling my eyes, "I know you're just gonna play The Sims 4 on your laptop."

We both shivered as we walked out of the muggy underground and into the biting cold winds coming off the harbor. I pulled my hood over my head and pulled the drawstrings tighter around my neck.

"You can't prove anything," Newt grinned, his breath coming out as a soft cloud.

I gave him a comedically unamused look. "You're pregnant, so I'm not gonna hit you."

Newt chuckled and placed his hand over the small, four-month bump that was hiding under his jacket. "Thanks for the save, kiddo."

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

The walk to campus was only two blocks, but it felt like I was forcing myself to trudge through mud. I regretted ordering so much food. Clearly, I hadn't learned my lesson, yet.

My overeating the last few months had me in a constant state of bloat. It always felt like a giant water balloon was sitting right on my guts. I was peeing every few minutes, my kidneys working overtime to get rid of the extra fluid I was holding. Gas bubbles were always rolling through me, too. They were mostly just annoying blips of movement but recently they'd gotten painful.

The worst were the large pockets of air that got trapped under my ribs. They would stay there for hours sometimes, making it excruciating to breathe. Nothing in the world could help me when I got like that; I just had to go about my day in agony and wait until the pressure spreading my ribs apart decided to move along.

By now, I was kinda used to functioning while my intestines were trying to kill me; but, God, they were trying extra hard that day.

My stomachache flared up right outside the library, the shortcut I took to get to chemistry class. I sat down on a bench, gripping the edge of the seat and trying not to double over. My sides ached, and a deep stabbing pain plunged deep inside my abdomen. The invisible knife twisted, and I realized I was holding my breath.

"Fawn?"

I looked up at Newt, who had doubled back to check on me. His first class was on the other side of campus, and the library was where our daily routes split for most of the day.

"I'll be fine," I said, waving him away. "I'll buy a soda at lunch. That usually helps."

Newt glanced over his shoulder, down the path he was supposed to take, and then stepped a little closer. "I won't be out of here until five. Don't wait up for me, okay? When you're done with exams, just go home."

"Yeah, I will," I nodded. "That sounds good."

Newt nodded back, looking a lot more at ease. "Is it okay if I come over with some soup later? I found a new recipe online and it looks really good!"

"That's fine," I said, stretching my arms over my head to loosen up my torso. "Just use your key. I'll see 'ya then, bud."

"See you then." He gave me a two-fingered salute and continued on his way.

I checked the time on my phone and sighed. I had to get moving again, or else I'd have half my final exam score deducted for being late. My chemistry professor was a real stickler for being on-time.

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

I'd moved to New York City to finally get my degree in Botany & Plant Science. It'd been my dream for a while to become a researcher and study the pharmaceutical use of plants. Having a pair of old hippies as parents will inspire that interest in 'ya. Queens College was the best scholarship I could get out-of-state, and I had to be out-of-state. I just had to be.

I already had trouble fitting in with my classmates as a "mature" undergrad student. Since when was twenty-nine considered too "mature" for college?! All of my subjects were basic introductory courses, and that meant I was surrounded by fresh-faced teenagers less than a year out of high school. Even Newt wasn't that young. He'd taken a few years off before college, but apparently twenty-four was still young enough to fit in with the crowd.

At least not having any classroom friends meant I was left alone that morning. I sat in my assigned seat and watched the rest of the students file in from the hallway. The desk allowed me to hunch down when my stomach clenched again, the muscles in my abs pinching hard. I crossed my legs and bounced my foot, trying to distract myself from the storm brewing inside me as the professor laid out the rules of the exam period.

I was in pain for that entire hour. It was hard to keep up with the time limit. I had to pause on several multiple-choice questions -- sometimes because they were challenging, other times because the stabbing, twisting pain was flaring up. I began fantasizing about how good I'd feel after I was able to get my hands on a soda, and that daydream carried me through.

Shockingly, I was one of the first students to stand up -- and I'd finished with barely eleven minutes to spare. My professor nodded at me as I placed my exam packet on his desk, and he quietly wished me a good winter break as I shuffled out the door.

Freedom at last! There were about two hours to kill before my biology exam, so I was sure with a light snack and some rest I'd be feeling better by then.

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

I'd worked hard to build up enough of a nest egg to live off in New York. I'd squirreled money away for three years in a secret bank account, and lied to Alexander about how much my hourly pay was. My scholarship covered only part of my housing costs, and I knew living off savings couldn't last all four years of school. However, I was not going to stress over buying a three-dollar root beer when it felt like I was being wrung like a washcloth.

The dining hall at Queens was a glorified cafeteria: fold-out tables, plastic chairs, too much noise and not enough space. I really wasn't hungry, but I knew if I skipped out on lunch I would regret it later. So, I stopped by the Nathan's stand to grab a hotdog and bag of plain potato chips to go with my large cup of carbonated medicine.

I made do with sitting at the empty end of a crowded table, where the huddle of dudes at the other end were playing Magic: the Gathering. That stuff was more Newt's scene than mine, so I put my earbuds in and pulled up the YouTube app on my phone.

The Peanuts Christmas special played on my screen as I nibbled on chips and washed the salt away with long swigs of root beer. I was hoping to summon a little Christmas spirit to help me not feel so dead inside. It was two weeks away, and it was the little candy-red cherry atop my mountain of things to worry about. Between hesitant bites of hotdog, I wondered how I could pry some gift ideas out of Newt last-minute. I'd already gotten him an Amazon gift card, but I wanted to get him something a little more per-.

I sucked a sharp breath through my nostrils, choking on half-chewed bread as my stomach cramped again. It didn't feel the same as the hundreds of other cramps I'd been having. This one was bad. It was really. Fucking. Bad! I curled up in the seat, my hands dipping inside my hoodie pocket to press against my stomach. Even through three layers of clothing, I could feel my muscles clenching.

And it just wouldn't stop. Most of them would fade after a few seconds, but this one just kept going. I doubled over, pressing on my belly and praying the pain would stop.

And then it stopped.

I sat up straight and looked around. No one nearby was paying any attention, but my freckles turned pink anyway as I quickly rose and tossed what was left of my food in the trash. I chugged the rest of the soda.

There were still two exams to go, but I was already checked out for the day. I knew there was a bottle of cupcake vodka leftover from Makayla's birthday party last month. Mixed in a milkshake, that stuff had been sweet enough to give me both a sugar high and a buzz. Maybe if the soda didn't do the trick I'd go home and try soothing my stomach with one of those. I deserved one already, and it wasn't even noon.

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

It hurt to be upright.

My biology exam was half lab work and half a written test. The class was split into two groups: one to do the lab first, and one to do the written exam first. Guess which one I was in.

I was white-knuckling that clipboard as I quietly shuffled from one specimen sample to the next. Identify this bone. Identify that leaf. Is this a rock or a fossil? I was rocking my weight from side-to-side as subtly as I could. The cramping hadn't eased up since lunch. I was feeling this one down to the soles of my feet and keeping 'em moving was the only way I could stay standing.

At the apex of the cramp, I grit my teeth as a new pain bloomed deep inside my hips. I leaned my weight over the table, disguising the motion as trying to get a better look at a specimen. A knife-like stab hit my cervix and the ache radiated between my legs.

Ah, okay. I knew that kind of pain, even if it'd been a while.

No wonder the indigestion was so bad. I always got an upset stomach the day my period was due to start. 'Course, I could never tell when I was due. I tried tracking them, but ever since puberty they'd been on a schedule of their own. My cycles had been mild spotting for most of that year, so I figured there was a mighty buildup of Mother Nature in there that was trying to come out. No wonder I was already cramping so hard.

Oh, boy . . . and from my experience, I could tell I was in for a world of hurt once I actually started bleedin'.

I made it through the written half of the exam free of carnage. The pain was somehow easier to deal with when I knew it was all just hormones. At the water fountain down the hall, I popped a few ibuprofen out of my purse and downed them. There, now I knew I'd be feeling better once those puppies kicked in.

Another two hours, and I'd be free to go home.

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

I was relaxing on a sofa in the library when I suddenly felt a pouring wetness in the crotch of my pants. Ah, fuck. Fuck!

I left my backpack behind in a panic and speed-walked to the nearest restroom. I subtly pulled my hoodie as far over my hips as possible, hoping to hide anything that leaked through my sweatpants as I shuffled past other quietly studying students. I cussed myself out in my head for not thinking to put on a pad as soon as I started cramping.

Once I was hidden away in a stall, I inspected the damage. My underwear was damp with a watery pink discharge as well as several dark red clots. Yes, some of it had seeped through my pants, but not enough to be noticeable. I could still feel it dripping down into the toilet as I tried to clean everything up.

All it took was that first drop of blood for the cramps to reach their full strength. That was always the case when I missed a few periods. I pressed my lips together to stop a groan from escaping as I doubled over and hugged my midsection. My entire torso throbbed and clenched inward. My toes curled inside my sneakers as the pain once again trickled down to the soles of my feet. My jaw locked up as I grit my teeth against the pain, and I felt a charlie horse starting in the back of my neck.

Everything. Fucking. HURT.

The cramp left me feeling slightly weak. It didn't just disappear, it just . . . settled back into my muscles as a soft, constant ache. I held a wad of toilet paper between my legs for a few seconds, and in that short amount of time it was soaked in pastel pink. The floodgates had opened, and it wasn't going to stop. This pink discharge was no doubt going to become a full red tide by the time I got home.

I returned to the couch wearing a cheap cotton pad from the restroom vending machine. Although it wasn't smart, I swallowed two more ibuprofen dry. I sat curled up in the corner of the sofa, killing the last forty minutes before my exam watching videos on my phone.

The cramps just kept coming. I kept feeling blood gushing out of me and into the pad. My labia were constantly throbbing, and not in the good way. Every time I cramped, it felt like I was being turned inside out.

I seriously considered blowing off my algebra exam. I would fail the class, but I could just re-take it next semester, right? Maybe I could re-schedule the final if I brought in a doctor's note? Well, fuck . . . no, I couldn't do that. My health insurance wouldn't fully cover an emergency room visit and I doubted a doctor's note from three days after the final would be able to save my sorry ass.

Besides, I hated remedial algebra so much I felt nauseous at the thought of doing it again. I was just gonna have to suck it up and get through it like everyone else. Then, I wouldn't have to think about anything else until tomorrow.

God, why me?! Why today of all days to start the worst period in the history of mankind?!

I wondered if there was some cosmic deity out there who was taking joy in my suffering. If so, at least this pain was good for something in the grand scheme of things.

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

Despite the biting December air, I felt sweat dripping down my back as I trudged across campus to attend my last exam. It hurt to walk. It hurt to stand. Hell, it just hurt to exist. I made myself keep a steady pace, although my body was demanding I stop with every cramp. When that telltale stabbing would start in my lower back, all I wanted to do was lay on the floor and cry; but I was a grown-up, and I had grown -up stuff to do.

When I sat at my desk, my hips jolted up as if the hard plastic seat had burned me. I let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and my face burned in embarrassment as everyone turned to look at me. I started a chesty cough to disguise the sound.

I hadn't noticed it when sitting on the plush couch, but my labia were ungodly swollen and sore. This was not something that usually happened during my period. I knew my hormones were way out of whack this time around, so . . . maybe it was some weird hormonal reaction?

Whatever it was, it wasn't making the exam any easier.

My whole weight was sitting square on my pelvis in that uncomfortable classroom desk, and it was torture. I tried sitting as far back as I could to take the pressure off, but that just made my tailbone hurt, too.

My pencil slipped in my wet palm as I desperately tried to fill the bubbles in on my scantron sheet. I wriggled my hips, trying in vain to find a way to sit that didn't hurt like hell. Sweat began to drip from under my sports bra beneath my layers of clothing. It was taking everything in my power not to beg my professor to let me take the exam while lying on the floor. Fuck, I'd even do it standing on my head -- anything to get the pressure off my poor vagina.

Ten minutes in I decided to leave my final grade up to fate. I was in so much pain, I no longer cared if I failed the class. I chose my answers based on educated guesses, skipping the solving process entirely.

I was staggering to my feet within twenty minutes, and my professor gave me a scowl when he saw my worksheet hardly had any equations written on it. He leaned in as I placed my scantron on his desk.

"I hope you know you've wasted your time," he whispered, glowering at me from under his bi-focals. "You may as well have not showed up."

The only answer I could offer was a nod. I hurried into the hallway, tears blurring my vision.

I knew I'd wasted my time. I knew I'd fucked myself over. The further I walked down the hall, the more I regretted not trying harder.

I threw the test after ten fuckin' minutes, just so I could go home and be lazy. I wasn't sick, I was just on my period! What sorry excuse was that for wasting tuition money? There were probably dozens of other students in the same amount of pain I was in, but they weren't throwing away their grades over it. God, I was pathetic. I was so determined to pass this stupid remedial class at the start of the semester, even if it was with a 'C', but in ten minutes I'd given up.

Maybe Alex was right. Maybe I was just too damn stupid to be here.

By the time I stepped outside, I was crying. I pulled up my hood to hide the tears and kept my head down as I began the long walk off campus.

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

The noon train wasn't as packed as the seven o'clock train, but it was still too full for my liking. That was what I hated about the city; you couldn't go anywhere without brushing shoulders with a stranger.

There were available seats, but I couldn't sit down. My lower lips were throbbing with my heartbeat. I had my arm wrapped around a standing bar, clinging for dear life against the g-forces of the train. My stance had to be wider than natural, or else my thighs would pinch and cause a hot, pulsating pain through my stomach. I knew I probably looked like a drunk trying to hold themselves up against gravity, but I reminded myself that New Yorkers see things like that on the trains all the time. No one would say anything as long as I kept to myself. My hood was still up to hide the leaks in my eyes, the flow of tears I couldn't fully control.

I clung tighter to the bar as I cramped again, and a warm gush soaked into the pad between my legs. My eyes dripped as they stared off into nothing, my mind going blank from the pain. A sudden "buzz-buzz" from the phone in my pocket brought me back from the void. I blinked my vision clear and checked the text message. It was from Newt, replying to a text I'd sent earlier:

"Sorry ur feeling so shit :( You going home?"

I rested my temple against the smudged chrome pole and typed my reply:

"On the train now."

Three grey dots appeared below my message.

Buzz-buzz.

"Still want me to come over??"

I replied: "Yeah. Makayla's with her boyfriend for the week and I need distraction."

Grey dots. Buzz-buzz.

"Awww poor bb. A whole apartment all to yourself. Glad I'm not THAT unlucky. /s "

I grinned and dried half my face on my shoulder. Newt had never fit in with his roommate's group of frat boy sports fans. Just like I had never gelled with Makayla's crowd of hardcore party girls. They weren't "bad" people, they were just . . . not "our" people.

"We need new roommates," I typed.

Dots. Buzz-buzz.

"Ye."

I felt another huge gush, and my thighs pressed together in response. My inner cheek bled as my teeth chopped through it. Fuck. Forgot to not do that.

That cheap pad didn't feel like it was gonna hold up much longer. The last thing I needed was to reenact the elevator scene from The Shining in front of two dozen strangers on the subway. I pulled my hoodie further over my hips, just in case.

"Fair warning," I typed, "my apartment might be a bloodbath by the time you get there."

Dots. Buzz-buzz.

"BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!"

"Omfg."

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

"Ohhh my fucking god."

I angled my lower back into the stream of hot water, pressing my hands into the glass wall of the shower. I hung my head as my body gradually clamped down on itself like a vice, tighter . . . tighter . . . tighter. Now that I was safely inside the privacy of my apartment, I could finally deal with the pain how I wanted: whining like a 'lil bitch.

"Ohhh my fucking god," I repeated, the sentence crawling out of my mouth as a slurred moan.

The water splashed pink at my feet. A few dime-sized globs of red fell onto the shower mat and were washed away. My pad had been soaked through with that thin pink discharge, but hardly any real blood. My body must've been trying to break my uterus open like a piggy bank to get out what it needed, because I felt like I was dying.

"God," I dragged the word out for a solid minute in a deep, angry groan as I sank to my knees. I ran out of breath, but the pain kept going. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and pitched forward, eyelids pinched shut and teeth open in a gaping snarl. The muscles in my torso vibrated with tension. It was hard to breathe, my ribs too tight to get a full breath. The air I managed to suck in came back out as another drawn-out groan: "Fuck."

I'd been trying for hours to ease the cramping and indigestion that were teaming up to kill me. I'd taken enough ibuprofen to drop a horse. I'd taken Pepto-Bismol like shots of tequila. Heating pads had helped, but not for long. I'd put an ice pack between my legs to bring down the swelling, but the ice stung. I'd turned the temperature as high as I could tolerate and was now face-down on the shower floor, letting the water hit anywhere it could reach. My skin was scalded red, but the iota of relief I got was worth it.

Knock, knock, knock. Three solid knocks on the bathroom door.

I knelt there with my cheek in a puddle of water, too engulfed in pain to react.

"Soup delivery!" A cheery tenor voice on the other side, somewhat drowned by the water rolling over my ears.

Newt? What was he doing here? He didn't leave school until five. Shit, what time was it? How long had I been home?

I lifted myself onto my elbows, blowing out a long breath as I waited for the pain to fade. As soon as it did, I called loud enough for Newt to hear me over the roar of the shower:

"I'll be out in a sec. Just put everything in the kitchen."

"M'kay."

I didn't hear Newt walk away, but I heard his heavy crockpot being set on the counter -- the kitchen shared a wall with the bathroom. God, that apartment was tiny.

Ugh. I had to get up. I'd been in there too long. The water was turning cold. My hands and feet were pruney. I had to get up. I had to get up.

I climbed up the slick glass wall, leaving smeared handprints in the condensation. The higher I stood on my feet, the worse I felt; but if you'd asked me to describe how, I wouldn't have known what to say. I steadied myself, turned the water off, and opened the shower door.

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

There was a fresh bowl waiting for me on the counter as I stepped into the kitchen, but I didn't have an appetite.

"Don't like it?" Newt asked, serving himself a helping of soup from the crockpot.

My hair was hanging limp around my face and shoulders, dripping water like the branches of a weeping willow; but the droplets rolling down my neck weren't water. A sticky layer of sweat was coating my back and my legs beneath my plush winter pajamas. The bowl of homemade French onion soup sat untouched and steaming in front of me.

"No, it looks good," I said. "I just don't really feel like eat--ugh!" Another cramp started and this time I didn't hold back a moan of pain. "Augh!"

Newt set his bowl on the stove and took a few soft-footed steps towards me. "Does your period usually hurt like this?" he asked, rubbing his hand over my back.

I shook my head and braced my hands against the counter, unable to answer him with words. I tried to speak, but my mouth would only allow a series of small moans and gasps as the pain went on and on and on and -- fuck, this wasn't right! It had been almost a year since my last full bleed, but there was no way in hell this level of pain was normal!

I leaned over the counter, rocking my hips in a fruitless bid to shake away the twisting, stabbing, squeezing pain. As I struggled to fill my lungs with air, my mind scrambled for answers. Was this what endometriosis felt like? A cyst rupturing? A fibroid? Oh my god, what if it was a tumor?!

I felt more fluid dripping in globs onto my pad, and I let out a sob. "It feels so bad!" I whimpered to my friend, tears coming to my eyes. "I just . . . just want it to stop!" My lower back suddenly felt like it was going to break, and I let out another sob as my knees began to give out under me.

Newt saw me falling and he acted quick. His arms hooked under my shoulders, and he arched his back to try and keep me standing.

"Woah, hey!" he cried as he caught me in a low crouch, just before I'd hit the ground. "What's wrong?!"

My first thought was to tell him to put me down. He shouldn't be straining himself like that, and I worried about him even through the blinding pain. I opened my mouth to scold him, but that's when it happened. I will never forget the moment it happened.

A huge weight began to sit on my lower bowels, and I swear to god I thought my guts were going to fall out. A tsunami wave of nausea rolled up from that horrible sinking pressure and hit my stomach like a geyser. I dry heaved and sank lower to the floor as my mind was overtaken by one silent demand:

Push!

"Newt-!" was all I managed to gasp.

And then I was bearing down with all my strength.

I'd never felt anything more intense in my life. It was an unholy demon pressing down on me, and I had no choice but to submit.

A scream -- a full, honest-to-god scream -- ripped itself free of my throat. I rested just long enough to inhale, and then I was pushing again, my chin pressed to my chest. I felt a shift deep inside, pressing against my lower spine. Something was prying me open. Something was slipping its way down.

I screamed again as the realization finally dawned on me: Something was coming out!

"Fawn?!" I heard his frantic voice, but my vision was haloed in black. "Fawn, talk to me!"

I held onto Newt as my lifeline, until I ran out of the strength to push anymore. "Help me!" I panted, hugging him closer. "God, please help me!"

"What is it?!"

"I'm fucking turning inside out!" I cried, growling as I pushed the object lower into my pelvis.

At first, I was convinced my colon or something was about to pop out like a fucked up horror movie; but I felt the object heading to a different area of my body. I could feel my swollen labia pushing out into my pad.

"Augh, I think it's my uterus!" I sobbed as I strained -- unable to stop myself in both regards. "That's what's falling out!"

"What the fuck?!" Newt cried. "That can happen?!"

"Yes!"

"Oh, shit!" Newt jumped up and began circling the kitchen. "Where the hell is my phone?! I'm calling 9-1-1!"

"Please fucking do!" I yelled, dropping to all fours as Newt hurried to look for his phone in the living room.

Forbidding myself to push was like forbidding myself to breathe. It simply had to happen. Tears flowed from my eyes as I was forced to push out one of my own internal organs. Not just any organ, the one that would end my dream of having a family once it was gone.

This was hell. I was in hell.

My hips tried to jerk away from the pain as the object began to force itself though my vagina. I felt the object pressing against my pad as I pushed, and I wondered if it would be enough to hold it in. Maybe if I could somehow keep it inside me, the doctors would be able to pull it back in.

The next push told me I had no other choice but it let it out. What was happening was happening fast. Too fast. Too fast! Oh, fuck! I felt my skin yawn open and pull tight, creating a hellish burn that made me scream myself hoarse.

I hiked my pants down and craned my neck to see between my legs. The first thing I saw was a long strand of pink-red mucous clinging to my bulging lips for a few seconds, before dripping down onto the pad at my knees.

I saw a hint of something beginning to breech out of me. It was fleshy and covered in blood. It was somewhat blue colored and wrinkled, and I was terrified. My inside-out uterus was coming out of me, and I couldn't bear the sight.

I shut my eyes tight and screamed through another huge push. I had a flash of the thought: "Since when was my uterus this big? Isn't it supposed to be small?" But it was gone before I could dwell on it.

Newt's footsteps ran back into the kitchen.

"Okay, I found-."

Both his voice and his footsteps came to a screeching halt as they entered the room. I heard something drop to the ground, and it sounded like the heavy-duty casing Newt kept on his cellphone.

"Holy fucking shit . . . !" Newt's voice was muffled, as if he was pressing his hand to his mouth.

"If it's really bad, don't tell me," I begged through gritted teeth, a small sob jolting my shoulders.

Newt didn't say anything, but I heard him drop to his knees in front of me. I opened my eyes and saw him spreading a hand towel from the sink over his lap.

"It's not that bad," he said, taking my arms and adjusting them so I was holding onto his shoulders. His voice was uncanny -- it was obvious he was pretending to be calm.

Newt draped the towel over his hands and my heart dropped.

"W-what are you doing?" I asked.

"Don't worry. I've got you covered," he said. "Just push."

"Newt?" I asked, turning my face towards his. My heart was starting to pound behind my eyes. "What's happening to me?"

I didn't see him smile, but his tone remained steady. "It'll be okay, Fawn. I promise."

I gripped his arms tighter as another pain started. "Oh god, I'm dying, aren't I?" I groaned. I wasn't even scared at the thought -- at this point, death felt like the only end to this pain. I'd all but accepted it.

"You're not dying, Fawn," Newt said, brushing his cheek against mine. His fledging facial hair tickled. "You're fine, you just need to push."

Sighing, I lowered my forehead to his shoulder and followed my body's demands. The stretch continued, grew worse by the second, until something round and squishy slipped out and dangled between my thighs.

God, it was finally over.

All we had to do was call an ambulance and they could take me to surgery. However this happened, there was still a chance my uterus could be saved. My dream didn't have to be - !

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, I was still pushing!

I screamed into Newt's body as my burning lips spread further over something wide for a few white-hot seconds. There was a disgusting splash that gushed over my inner thighs, followed by the softest little 'plop'.

I was empty. I felt hollow and numb. My body buzzed, but it felt dead. I was left gasping in deep breaths to steady my racing heart, staring off into nothing over Newt's shoulder. My eyes burned from sweat pouring down my brow.

"Fawn," Newt said -- his voice sounded miles away, "look."

"I don't wanna look at it," I sighed, wiping my face on my sleeve.

That's when she cried for the first time.

A warbled little mewl flew up to meet my ears.

I looked down, in the space between Newt and I . . . and I screamed.

A blue cord of flesh was hanging between my legs, coated in blood. It trailed down in a soft arch to the towel sitting on Newt's lap, where I saw the answer to every question I'd had that day.

Laying there between Newt's hands, squirming and screaming and blue, was a wrinkly newborn baby.

She was a girl.

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

End of Part 1 of 2

Author's Note: Thank you for reading Part 1! This is by far the longest fic I've written thus far. It's so long that I had to split it into two chapters! Part 2 will be available very soon. This story will be available on my AO3 page, just like all of my other fics! Feel free to follow me or any of my stories there under the same name.

[alex51324]

It's Almost Here! North American Solar Eclipse, 2024

As I mentioned in that other post, it will be visible as at least a partial eclipse to most of North America, with the path of totality cutting a diagonal from Sinaloa, Mexico to Newfoundland, Canada, including 15 US states from Texas to Maine.

Don't be fooled by how we just had one back in October, and another one a few years ago in 2017: total solar eclipses are rare! They only happen when the Sun, Moon, and Earth line up just perfectly--and only for a small portion of the Earth's surface each time.

It's a wild coincidence that North America/the US has gotten three in such a short span of time; the last one before the recent trio was in 1979, and the next one won't be until 2044. (We do have a big partial coming to us in 2033!) The Northeastern US won't see another until the 2070's.

(Note: If you are not in North America, you can use these maps to see when your continent will have its turn!)

This eclipse is also really special in that its path of totality sweeps across a lot of heavily-populated areas. About 31 million people live within the path of totality, and millions more are expected to visit.

So, it's a pretty big deal, and now's the time to get ready!

If you live in the path of totality:

Lucky you! Look up your location on these maps to get the exact time and duration of totality.

Be ready for extra traffic & crowds--especially if you live somewhere with stuff for tourists, or a place that people outside the immediate area will have heard of.

Totality times are in the afternoon, ranging from about 1:30 in Texas to 3:30 in Maine (local times), so if you'll be at school, or at work in a setting where you can't choose your own break times, now's a good time to talk to whomever you need to. It's not unreasonable to ask to step out into the parking lot for the three minutes that people will be coming from far and wide to see--but depending on your setting, it may take some arranging ahead of time. (If you're in school, hopefully your science teachers have already thought of this, but if not, ask them. And if your science teachers are jerks, try other teachers.

If you live near the path of totality:

Try to go! As the American author Annie Dillard says, "Seeing a partial eclipse bears the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him, or as flying in an airplane does to falling out of an airplane."

(Link is to the Atlantic; if you hit a paywall, the 12-foot ladder works.)

Here's a map of approximate driving distances to the path of totality, in the US (from this page).

If you're close enough to think about going, here are some Google maps with eclipse overlays for more detailed planning. (I like the Xavier Jubier one.)

Once you're inside the path of totality, anywhere you can see the sun is a valid viewing location, but if you're making a day of it and you want to find a special spot, check local visitor's bureaus or tourism offices for the area you'll be in. They'll probably have a list of parks and other places. For instance, here's what Erie, Pennsylvania has.

Seriously, If you are able to drive/have a car, live within day-trip distance of the path of totality, and can be away from work/school without losing your job/being arrested for truancy, you should go. This is a once-in-a-lifetime type of thing, and there's still loads of time to plan a day-trip.

(Note: If you aren't in day-trip distance, but now you want to go, you don't have a lot of options: hotels and flights have been full for ages. However, if you're in two-days-driving distance, you might be able to find a Sunday-night base camp, from which you can get up on Monday morning and drive several more hours to the path of totality. For instance, in Pennsylvania, there are still reasonably-priced hotel rooms to be had in State College, which is--in normal traffic--three and a half hours from Erie. (You might even be able to get a little closer than that; I just checked State College because they have a lot of hotels for the Penn State football crowds.} So if you're coming from, say, Maryland or Virginia, that could work, and there may be similar creative options for other regions. Again, if this is something that's feasible for you to do, without bankrupting yourself, getting fired, or other long-term consequences, I would strongly consider doing it!

If you live in North America, but have no way to get to the totality:

A partial eclipse is still pretty cool! And again, it'll be a while before you have another chance to see one, so it's worth it to make the time.

All of the 48 contiguous US states will be able to see some amount of eclipse. So will Hawaii, Mexico, Central America, and most of Canada and the Caribbean islands, plus a little bit of South America. (Alaska and part of the Yukon are SOL, but you will have your turn in 2033!)

Use these maps to look up the time and extent of the eclipse in your location.

As of this writing, you can still get eclipse glasses here, among other places. If you run out of time to get them, check for eclipse-viewing events at local parks, libraries, etc.--they may also have some to give away ahead of time, but even if not, if you go to an event, there will almost certainly be some to share.

The plus of a partial eclipse is that you have a fairly relaxed viewing window--as much as a couple of hours, depending how far you are from the middle of the eclipse zone--rather than a standout moment that you want to make sure you're in position for.

That makes it pretty easy to get a chance to see it even if you're at work--everybody can take turns stepping outside for a look. You can share eclipse glasses, too.

[concerningwolves]

Hey! Do you have any tips for breaking writers block when you're adhd and/or autistic? Be it your own tips or a link to another post? My friend and I need help haha

Ahh sorry you got buried under spam and old ask game asks. (I... really need to sort my ask box >.<' ). But here we go, a month late, and hopefully better late than never:

Quick ideas for beating writer's block when autistic and/or ADHD

I've got this old post I wrote on writer's block and focus troubles. Ironically, this was before my autism diagnosis but the tips still happen to be things I, an autistic person, did to manage writing when faced with executive dysfunction (except I didn't know what executive dysfunction was at that point lol). I'm linking this with one important caveat, though: if you have ADHD, "stepping away" might do more harm than good; struggling to start tasks is a Big Thing with ADHD, so not starting the task at all is entirely counterproductive. (Unless you're in burnout! Here's a post about the differences between block and burnout with some ideas on what to do for each, in case that's at all helpful to you).

And here's something yoinked from another old ask-answer:

sometimes a break from more “serious” writing is what you need. Maybe try and take the characters from your main project and drop them somewhere else for the hell of it. I like to throw my characters into the MCU without warning like “lmao have fun in a strange modern world where there are gods and a guy in an iron flying suit bye.” Or, if fandom cross-overs aren’t your thing, find a writing prompt or take an idea you like and use it to form a short story with your characters instead.

Some other ideas I've seen around for writer's block with ADHD/Autism are:

Try voice recording or text to speech (i.e., absolute stream-of-consciousness unfiltered brain-to-mouth, giving yourself permission to 100% bullshit if you like, and see what rattles loose in the brain box)

Stream of consciousness writing in general, not even necessarily about a particular prompt or particular project. This one can be done in combination with:

Writing sprints! One minute timers, two minute timers, five minutes – set it for as long as you want, but when you're fighting executive dysfunction and/or difficulty focusing, the burst of urgency that comes from a shorter timer is very helpful.

And speaking of the sense of urgency: gamify your writing! There are different ways to do this, with varying elements of risk. I'll link some ways to do this at the end under "resources".

Exercise. I don't necessarily mean hitting the gym, but a quick burst of exercise prior to writing to get the heart rate up can help wake your brain up a bit. (Or, if you find repetitive exercise mind-numbingly boring like I do, the writing sure does start to look appealing lol).

Meditation. Okay, this one is sort of 🤔 for me, because I do often hear from fellow autistics and our ADHD cousins that meditation is literally impossible for us. It is for me. But! Like with exercise above, if meditation bores you instead of helping relax and ""clear your mind"", you can probably use that boredom to your advantage. Or, it might work as intended.

Change your workspace/situation/routine. Sometimes the problem is that you need new sensory input, or that your brain has gotten thoroughly bored and decided not to tell you. Use a different chair. Move to the kitchen table. Write at a different time of day. Have a different snack (or try having a snack while writing...). Basically, look at what you're currently trying, and see how you can do it differently.

It's also really good practise to get comfortable with Being Bad At Writing. Perfectionism and Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria are the biggest, meanest brain weasels with the sharpest teeth. Don't let them bully you. It sucks. It takes a lot of time and effort and internal work, which is why I was loathe to include this on a post of quick solutions, but. It is important.

And getting comfortable with this doesn't necessarily mean learning how to accept critique, or accepting that sometimes you'll write things that suck. It means accepting that sometimes you won't handle critique or feedback well, and also accepting that you won't always manage to beat the writer's block or be productive. Sometimes you have to make peace with the fact that you're going to feel horrible, feel your feelings, and try to remind yourself on the other side that none of it means you're a talentless hack.

Resources

Anything with a 🪙 next to it is paid only (I've tried to limit these and find alternatives).

The resources are split into things that "gameify" writing (i.e., hack your dopamine/serotonin in ways that reaaaaallly help autistic and ADHD folks), writing programs that are designed to help you focus, writing programs that track your habits and appeal to the "ohhhh numbers going up" brain, focus-aiding apps, and some miscellaneous stuff. Under the cut to save your dashes.

"Gamifying" your writing:

The Most Dangerous Writing App – You can't stop typing before your set timer runs out, or you risk losing your work. Excellent for warming up, stream-of-consciousness, or if you're feeling reckless, working on your actual project. I did a lot of the second draft of When Dealing with Wolves on this thing (it was terrifying yet highly effective).

Written? Kitten! – Get rewarded for meeting your set writing wordcount with kitten pictures. Haven't used this one personally, but heard wonderful things about it.

4TheWords 🪙 – This one gamifies writing in the most literal sense. As in, it's an online game where you defeat monsters, explore and level up by writing words. I did the free trial a couple years back, and I've heard there are a lot of different ways you can lower the subscription cost. The only reason I haven't gone back to it is because I feel like I can't justify spending money on it when I'm doing fine with Scrivener and free resources, but maybe one day I will purely for the fun factor...

StimuWrite – similar idea to Written Kitten; the app provides visual/audio stimulation while you write, which is great for many ADHD-ers and autistics. There's a progress bar, soundscape options, typing effects and emoji reactions as rewards, among other features.

Write or Die – This is The Most Dangerous Writing App meets Written Kitten. As far as I can figure out, the basic web version is free to use; you can set the parameters like how how long you want to write for, how many words to reach, and whether you want rewards for meeting goals or punishments for failing to meet them. There's also a stimulus mode, where the nice auditory stimulus goes away if you stop writing.

Minimalist/Focus writing programs:

Focus Writer [Windows] – thoroughly stripped-down minimalist word processor. As far as I know, it has basic functions like find-replace, but mostly it's designed only for writing. Not for formatting, spellchecking or editing.

iA Writer 🪙 [iOS] – Similar to Focus Writer, it's designed to fill your screen with a simple workspace. Allows you to use markdown formatting, and has a feature called Focus Mode that blurs out everything except the sentence you're typing. (If I could find a Windows-friendly alternative to this with that same feature I would be so happy). A cheaper alternative is 1Writer, but that doesn't have the focus mode.

Typewrite Something – Absolutely bare minimum web-based typewriter simulator. Basically just a blank screen that you start typing on, and the words appear in a typewriter font. Great for stream-of-consciousness without the risk level of TMDWA because you can't backspace. If you don't like the clacky sound, turn off your volume.

Focus Apps

Cold Turkey – Block applications and websites on your laptop/computer for a specified period of time. You can even block the entire internet.

Forest – Similar to Cold Turkey in that it stops you from seeking distractions or getting distracted. Set a timer and the app starts growing a tree. If you leave the app, the tree dies. Once you have a tree, you add it to your forest.

Habit-building writing programs:

Novlr – Simple, minimal layout, and tracks your writing goals per month and day, and your daily streak. There are more features in the plus and pro versions, and you can only have five projects in the free version, but otherwise it looks like a good free alternative to the next two programs:

750 Words 🪙 – Made for free writing, but also very useful for drafting. I had it for a month or so a while back on the free trial. It tracks writing streaks and gives you fun graphs and statistics at the end of each session, including number of distractions, actual typing time vs total time and average words per minute. Also, it analyses the mood of what you wrote, which I always found delightful.

Writing Analytics 🪙 – If writing streaks, badges and analytical graphs get your dopamine going, then I really recommend this one. The writing screen itself is very minimalistic, but it still shows your writing speed (I loved watching that go up) and your goal progress. In terms of analytics, it tracks a LOT of different things, including time spent writing vs revising, average wordcounts per day/month/year, and words written vs words deleted. I used this for about a year before I switched to Scrivener, and the switch was purely because I needed something that wasn't subscription-based. (Apparently since I stopped using it there's also a new feature that lets you create private writing rooms and see other writer's progress).

Misc.

WriteTrack – Not a word processor, but it has very good tools for tracking and planning your writing. Again, if graphs going up helps your brain, this is excellent, but you can't see it in real time.

10 ADHD-friendly brain tricks for writers – what it says on the tin: ten tips for writers with ADHD; I'm particularly fond of "Put away one knife", which breaks the nebulous task of "start writing" into something really simple like just... pull out your desk chair.

[our-destiny]

If you’re comfortable with it can I request a blurb or headcannons (whatever you prefer) with yandere Bucky Barnes with a darling who never wears anything that goes above the knee but eventually they get comfortable (assuming they haven’t been yoinked at this point) with Bucky that they take a chance and wear something that’s above the knee, and they just have a lot of SH scars on their thighs. I struggle with it still so it’d be v comforting.

That or a darling with an eating disorder because they feel like they don’t deserve to eat, or others deserve it more than them (I also struggle with this) (multiple skill issues on my part👎)

Tyyy!

-💪🌝

Thank you for sending in a request, in this post I'll do SH scars but I'll do another post for an ED, and I'll link it here when I'm done. Anyway, we're gonna do headcanons! <33 Also I hope this helps comfort you bb

Yandere Bucky sees GN!Darling's self harm scars

Trigger Warnings: Self harm (both past and present), implied suicide, stalking, kidnapping, Bucky's a perv and watches you change + a sappy note at the end from yours truly - if I missed anything please let me know

Want to read more of my work? Check out my Masterlist

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

First off, our baby boy here definitely stalks you, and has probably seen your scars when he'd watches you get changed (little pervert). So when he sees you wearing something that shows them, he won't be very surprised. Chances are he'll just gloss over them and not mention them to hopefully make you more comfortable. But let's talk about how he first felt when he saw them.

Bucky was absolutely heartbroken when he saw them. You hurt yourself? Why? He thinks you're the best person in the world, he would move Heaven and Earth for you, what made you do that? He's not judging you, no he would never. He's just worried.

He probably stays awake at night for the first few days when he finds out. Worrying if he's gonna lose you, or if he's done something wrong. His stalking gets more intense, wanting to make sure you don't do it again, or hurt yourself worse.

If they're fresh ones he thinks about confronting you. About giving you a long speech about how he loves you, trying to intervene and help. But then he remembers that you don't know he knows. He shouldn't know. So that idea gets scrapped. So now he has two options.

1. Take you home with him (he doesn't like the word ''kidnap'') so he can physically stop you, even if he has to tie you up or lock you somewhere.

Or 2. Physically stop you by just taking away whatever you're using to hurt yourself. Knives would be the easiest, he'd just take them when you weren't looking, and if you bought more he'd take them, too. But if it's something else (your own nails, burning yourself, hitting yourself) he'd have to do something else. In that case, he'd be forced to take you, to keep you by his side and under his watch so you didn't hurt the person he loves any more.

Either way he is incredibly worried, and would act as soon as possible to try and help you from the shadows. He'd also insist that he's here for you, that you can call him whenever you want, even if it's the middle of the night, your safety comes above anything of his. He just wants to make sure you stay by his side, and happy. Is that so bad?

If they were old ones and healed up he wouldn't be as worried but still heartbroken.

Even the thought you did something like that just makes him want to cradle you and kiss your cute face all over, reassure you for hours on end. But he can't, because you don't know that he knows.

Either way, he becomes a lot more clingy and reassuring, telling you he's here for you if you should ever need him and showering you with even more love. Again, once you actually showed him, he wouldn't mention it or make a big deal out of it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into talking. But if you do want to talk, he's all ears. And has snacks and cuddles at the ready to comfort you.

As always, don't hesitate to reach out if you are struggling, there are many resources available to help you, pkease use them. Even if you feel no one cares, I care. And I love you. So take care of yourselves <33

[fierce-deity-bgg]

How about legend and four with a reader who is seen by others as a boy because of his haircut? Like they cut it when they were in guard training or whatever from their hyrule, and the boys see the girls trying to flirt, without knowing that it's not a man? Feel free, just a stupid idea

Four and legand x kinda masc F! Reader / gender-fluid 

OMGGGGGG first of all I just wanna say thank you for this request I never thought that I would get a request from one of my fav story makers!! BTW LOV YOUR DARK LINK STUFF :D 

(Reader is going to be mostly like shuri from black panther movies and a bit non cannon reactions from characters😔)

Btw sorry this took so long seasonal depression hit me like a truck over the past few weeks:

~~~

Only just yesterday you finally decided it was time to cut your hair after a while of letting it grow all the way down to your waist. When you finally came out of the inn you and the chain were staying at for a while in gerudo town in wilds world you were almost unrecognizable at first. The only reason they actually knew it was you is because twi sniffed your sent from a mile way.

Wind: “wow I almost didn’t recognize them at first!” 😦

Time: “I don’t think any of us did wind.”

Four: “well he’s got a point- uh… and thei r gone.”

Legand: “great..”

You literally just dashed out of there going to the up draft before taking off the go find riju and hopefully train with her for a while. You eventually found her in north gerudo ruins training on dummies again and you both agreed to battle each other for a bit of training. Little did you know that four and legand were looking for you in gerudo town thinking you’ll be there.. 

(Yeah I’m doing a lot of time skips because I’m getting a mind grain😬)

—————————

After around 3-4 hours of training with ruji (Btw ruji was the only one that recognized you straight away) you both decided to head to the town hoping the see the chain their already and only after the first few minutes of you both walking into town you started getting stairs and people whispering..

“Did ruji let in an another voe already?”

“Most likely but he’s cute in my opinion.”

Once you heard the vais say that you started giving ruji a side eye like your telling her “let’s bounce” but before you could even take another step a group of vai walked up to you and started commenting how you looked or how strong you were (not like they knew) 

While the crowd was just getting larger and ruji was just trying to get you away from there you saw four and legend, and legend looked like he was about to beat the shit out of someone but he somehow kept his composer dragging you out of there in a instant with four watching

“You vai know that’s a female right?”

Four yelled into the crowd making everyone but ruji stunned as they were both pulling you back to the chain

“Never again..”

They both said almost in sync while you just nodded

“Fine fine… bozos-“

“Hey!”

~~~~~

Ye so uh that’s the end I might make a part two after Christmas but ye- 

Requests are still open and I’m posting my ais on here so wait up for that and pokepasta stufffffff 

BTW STILL LOVE UR STORIES AND THANKS FOR THE REQUEST😁

[dee-the-red-witch]

Holy crap. I actually finished writing a story for the first time in AGES.

So, I'm gonna trat you all to the teaser for the draft post. Want the rest? Go hit the post link.

Old Ghosts

I'd felt bad about leaving this one to wait for so long, but to be fair, I hadn't known. You hear enough 'spectral hitchhiker' urban legends that you just tend to throw it off and dismiss it out of hand. Until someone had mentioned where. That was when memories clicked back together like tumblers in a lock and I knew where I had to be going next.

Central Washington. Just a bend of the road in westbound I-90, a bit west of vantage, still east of the pass by a good hour and change. It was the detail of the old power station and the trestle bridge that ran over the freeway that really picked it out in my head.

The problem was, it took timing. you didn't find ghosts by looking for them, you found them by being in the right place at the right time. I knew both, one from motorist stories, and the other from what I vaguely remembered, but it had to be exact. It was the fourth time when I finally got it right. Coming from the east, headed west, all intent on getting to Seattle before 9pm, and then there I was, entering the turns just past the windmills that now churned along the side of the road just past sundown, the sky that deep deep early spring blue that it hits just in between the sun disappearing and full black settling in. Thankfully they still hadn't installed the giant LED streetlamps over this stretch of I-90 yet. I don't know if those coming on would have broken the mood or not, but as I moved onto the shoulder and slowed down in the last turn right at the power station I could feel it. That tight whine in the back of the ear that I'd always associated with high-tension lines and towers, but had, in the last couple years, become an indicator of a few other things as well. I brought the car into the last turn, a left that took the freeway under the old trestle bridge now trail bridge in a few hundred more feetand parked it on the shoulder next to the guard rail, switching on the hazard lights and doing my best to hopefully be far enough off the freeway for anyone who slid a little too far right on the corner.

I stepped out, feeling the March wind rip at my skirt and coat, and was immediately glad I'd grabbed the thermal leggings underneath this time around. At least there wasn't snow. and then I saw it about fifty feet ahead of me- part of the guardrail twitched for a second, like a slightly-out of tune tv station, intact one moment, and a wide open broken gap in the rail the next, then back to unbroken steel on 4x4 supports. Fuck. I'd have to time this. I slowly approached it, keeping a count in my head. solid for thirty seconds, then intermittent flashing, then broken for a clean five seconds, back to intermittent and then solid. on a loop, thankfully so I wouldn't just be guessing, but still it was tight enough that I had reason to worry. try and walk though at the wrong time and I'd just hit the barrier of the rail and probably throw the whole thing off, wreck tonight completely. I watched it loop again, checking against the count in my head. When I got to twenty seconds of solid I closed my eyes and started counting down. Sometimes going in blind helped. Eight seconds. I took two steps forward, edging closer. Five. one more step, lining myself up with the gap I remembered. Three. Deep breath. One. I stepped forward, hard and fast, boots turning the loose roadside gravel ans I walked straight forward, through air that seemed to almost resist me for a moment, and then nearly fell down the steep slope on the other side, eyes opening in startlement as I slid for a few feet before catching myself.

Want more? Go get it here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/old-ghosts-102735746

[mildmayfoxe]

big fan of your romance novel complaint posts (love to see a fellow hater living it up) but i’m also curious if there are any you would recommend? not looking for anything in particular, just would love to hear your thoughts as someone else with nitpicky reading habits and a taste for trash

ok hello. i left you hanging for a FULL week and for that i am sorry but i wanted to be able to have some time to sit down and type out a real answer to which the short version is YES of course there are several that i have enjoyed!! my disclaimer is that i almost solely read gay romance so if you are looking for lesbian or even straight reccs i don't have much for you (although i will put a couple at the end anyway). hopefully something in this list is interesting to you or at least interesting to someone else! links are mostly to goodreads. break bc i'm gonna write too much

-kj charles is one of my fave authors in this genre bc they're all pretty reliable and there's a ton of them. they're all historical fiction and usually there's at least one murder- she's good at keeping a plot going while developing a romance. often supernatural or magical elements. sometimes cults! i've read almost all of the books she's written and have enjoyed them all

-charlie adhara wrote a really incredible werewolf series that i loved, the first of which is the wolf at the door. this is one of the only series i've read which keeps the emotional stakes up through the whole thing & kept me interested in a relationship after it was established bc sooo many series get boring the second the leads get together. i actually read the first book of the spin-off series (a pack of lies) first which is technically possible but i don't recommend bc i was like "wow they're really throwing me in here. i love it" and then i read the first series and i was like "oh i was supposed to know all this stuff." but i actually liked the dynamic between that couple better and i'm suffering every day because the next one still doesn't come out til 2025 and i read it in 2022. also worth noting that this (the original series) is cops-ajacent (~federal special agents~) and one of the characters is really prejudiced at the beginning & imo doesn't have enough character growth before it's waved away but if you can ignore that it's really good. mysteries! werewolves!

-speaking of werewolves (i could suggest several but i'll keep it to two) tj klune's wolfsong ends up at the top of a lot of gay werewolf novel lists (i'm keeping tabs) and there's a good reason. i enjoyed it a lot. made me kind of sad which is always a good sign to me. the writing voice was very fresh and novel at first but i did find it a little grating by the end so i've put off starting the second book in the series (it's also about a different couple which was disappointing) but i will get around to it. i enjoy tj klune in general although his recent stuff has a very different vibe than this and lightning struck heart is very 2015 in a bad way imo

-bone rider by j fally is a standalone that really delighted me. the russian mob? aliens? vaguely western? possession? throuple? it's got it all. very fun

-ok speaking of westerns there's this other series called magic & steam (yes it's steampunk. sorry. it's very silly) that starts with the engineer. a federal agent is sent to a town to apprehend a ~madman engineer~ except he runs into an infamous outlaw in the process. and the outlaw is really sexy. and probably why i enjoyed the series so much. the series also keeps them apart a lot in a way that i enjoy- i love when things take a long time. it's ongoing so this is another one that i keep checking for updates on

-i've read a lot of stuff by nr walker and they tend to be VERY hit or miss for me but one of my faves is evolved which is almost pure smut. it's about a sex robot that gains sentience. what more do i need to say. she also wrote a three-book series about an amnesiac that made me cry cry cry. and her cowboy (australian rancher) series is pretty ok. i could go through a list and tell you which novels of hers aren't worth it and which ones are good; i've read most of them

-salt magic skin magic by lee welch was a big surprise to me. cool magic, good folklore, fairies in there too. historical. big kj charles vibes which makes sense bc she edited it. welch also wrote a book called seducing the sorcerer which i had more mixed feelings about but had magic in it that i think about OFTEN (the horses)- that one's about an imposing sorcerer and a rundown groom cum handyman. and they're in their FORTIES!!! 🥳🥳🥳 (i love when books are not about 23 year olds)

-another one with a magic system i enjoyed was magician by kl noone. this was the first book i read by this author and i liked it but generally i find their books are too "nice" for me. i'm in the middle of one right now that i started months and months ago that i keep trying to go back to and it's sooo rough for me. but this one and the twelfth enchantment are pretty ok

-emily tesh wrote a duology of silver in the wood and drowned country that i loved because i am suuuuch a sucker for a wild man/green man story. really good. haunting! evocative! kj charles has a green man story too which was actually the first thing i read of hers (spectred isle)

-i complained about the monsterfucker book i was reading a while back but despite that i will also recommend the series it's from: lily mayne's monstrous, which starts with soul eater. are they messy? yes. are they repetitive? yes. are the monsters usually disappointingly humanoid? yes. are a lot of them about the military? also yes. so we're starting off on a bad foot. but the world building is interesting and there's LOTS of kinds of monsters and most of them were pretty fun. the one i just read (#7) was the worst one of the bunch though imo. and i have problems with #6. but 1 2 and 5 were good

-ok i should do a quickfire round. honeytrap: about two enemy agents during the cold war. put it off for a long time bc i didn't love that but it takes place over a VERY long period of time which is always interesting to me. zero at the bone: about a hitman who needs to protect a witness to a mob hit. really strong start but fell off a bit in the middle to the end imo.

-you'll notice a lot of these have subgenres of like fantasy historical supernatural etc but here's some regular contemporaries. a lot of these are about sad guys bc those are my favorite. best laid plans: hardware store owner helps a guy fix his house. in the middle of somewhere: same author actually. guy moves to small town to work at a college. mr jingle bells: this is a christmas one. bad title. fake dating. part of the reason i think i liked it so much is because i expected it to be awful but it was actually pretty good. good emotional stakes. published 2021 but feels very 2014. ignore that part. work for it: i rated this five stars but actually don't remember much what it was like. i think they were both really sad which i love. give me big emotions and i eat them right up with a spoon. i should read it again

-OK now i've got some straight & lesbian options. talia hibbert's brown sisters series is good and cute. she also wrote work for it, above. the unhoneymooners is the first real Romance Novel that i read and it really surprised me because i had fun! previously i had kind of written off romance novels as not for me but this kicked off a reading habit that is still going strong (primarily reading romance novels). i read this in 2020 so it might not be as good as i remember. as for lesbian options olivia waite has a series that i enjoyed that's also historical, and a friend of mine really enjoyed delilah green doesn't care (but i haven't read that one myself). and while not really romances i will always be a sarah waters fan: you may recognize her as the author of fingersmith, which is the novel park chan-wook's movie the handmaiden is based on. if you haven't seen the movie or read the book i recommend both. her books are very dramatic lesbian historical fiction; they don't always have happy endings but they're all very good

ok i think that's the end! regular disclaimer that romance is generally not a genre notable for Good Writing so a lot of these are just things i had fun with or just stuck out in my memory for having fun conceits etc. i can't guarantee that any of these are actually good, especially because this is a list solely based on my own taste and bad memory. would love to hear anybody's thoughts and/or if anybody has recommendations for ME!!! this post took me over three hours to write! crazy!

[aerodaltonimperial]

the junglecorpse story primer

so i've been pretty obsessively cataloguing everything between them in my last year or so of being in AEW fandom, and since they are my Hyperfixation™️, i thought i would put together a little primer for the people who may not have been spending every waking thought thinking about the chemistry these two end up having with each other and how their story has played out. there's some videos in here that are fun watches and hopefully this adds a little bit to the knowledge bank!! (i love wrestling so much lol)

2019//

as far as we can tell, their first time ever wrestling was in 2019, which is what we like to call "the lost 2019 bar match," on february 24, 2019, at the high hat in los angeles. when we say lost, we literally mean lost. i would cut off my left arm to get a video of this damn match-up. the only video we have is a short bit from when they were hitting each other with empty water bottles, shown here. (tumblr won't let me embed these links without crashing.)

there's also one photograph of this match, posted on instagram, by a wrestling photographer:

according to cagematch, darby won this match. given how many people in that crowd have phones out, i cannot BELIEVE that we haven't been able to hunt down the rest of the videos, but here we are, crying into the abyss that we can't find this. someone has it. name your price lol. i'm very open to negotiation.

2020 //

the only thing that 2020 had in it was another "lost match," this time from the jericho cruise, so we hate jericho even more for refusing to video the matches there so we can see them when we do not have $5k to go on this trip. but this one is just a 3 v 3 match, where private party and darby beat jurassic express (jack, lucha, and marko). probably not life-changing, but i still want to see it, as a completionist.

2021 //

by 2021, they had both been in aew for several years and were settling in. darby had the TNT belt, and jack was working up through both the singles division on his own, and the tag division with luchasaurus. surprisingly, they never matched up on their own! but in april of 2021, aew asked twitter to pick darby's next opponent for the TNT, and twitter chose jack. this is where things get interesting.

darby makes a promo talking to jack about the match that gets posted on darby's twitter here and reposted to aew's twitter here. (the link doesn't work to the video anymore, but don't worry, i backed it up on my yt account because i knew twitter would implode eventually.)

this is the first time, that we can find, that anyone has gone after the "if you stop being such a goodie two-shoes, you could be great" angle with jack. this promo actually pre-dates christian cage even joining AEW (he would join in the next month or two)! but this thread remains pulled alongside jack's next several years of kayfabe stories, so it's worth pointing out that darby may have been the first person to use it.

video link to youtube

jack makes a follow-up video for this and it gets posted on aew's twitter, and as luck would have it, that tweet no longer exists. i'm not sure where it went, to be honest. it wasn't much except "i've proven myself" and "my record is great now." it's worth noting that neither of them tag the other in their promos, which makes me laugh. darby calls jack "jungle jack," which also makes me laugh.

they have their 2021 match, which is amazing, and don't worry, i also have that video link, so if you'd like to watch it, the full thing lives here. after this, darby loses the TNT belt to miro, and jack wins the battle royale after throwing christian cage out of the ring. important story beats for both of them.

2022 //

in 2022, they end up on the same side of a 6 v 6 match that i'm assuming was kind of just random match-ups, on june 1st at the kia forum. we've watched it, because of course we have, but it wasn't anything particularly interesting haha. however, in january of 2022, jurassic express wins the tag belts. they hold them until that summer, when they lose them, and christian turns on jack. lucha then also turns on jack. jack's heel turn gets majorly delayed due to christian's injury that takes him out through the whole end of the year. at the end of 2022, junglehook starts up after hook comes out to save jack from getting the shit beat out of him (this is the start of his heel turn).

2023 //

and then we get to 2023, the year that i was watching and promptly lost my mind, because we got the pillars storyline! right before this, jack beats christian in the coffin match, which finishes that particular aspect, but it butts right up to the pillars stuff. i've waxed poetic for like 4k about how jack was supposed to be a heel in the pillars story, but everything got delayed due to christian's injury, and they had to run him as a face for this because too many people were involved, and that's not really the point here, but it sure makes a lot of the decisions made in the pillars story fucking unhinged as shit lol.

i've made a video for the junglecorpse moments in the pillars storyline that is here if you have 23 minutes to experience the absurdity of what they chose to do here.

but abridged version is that jack and darby have to team up for the pillars tag match, and don't seem to get along well. they run a full thing where mjf asks jack to betray darby (so they lose) and jack gets up in his face, and then darby walks in to see it. after this, darby comes out for jack (and sammy comes out after) to save him from LFI killing him after jack beats rush.

prior to their tag match, they run this promo with the two of them, where darby references the lost 2019 bar match (DOES HE ALSO SIT AND THINK ABOUT IT FOR HOURS??? LIKE I DO???) and also mentions that they would probably be friends if they weren't wrestlers, which is worth holding onto lmao.

in the actual pillars PPV 4-way at double or nothing, they run a large segment of jack having the belt and a clear shot to take darby out with it (and win) and he doesn't end up doing it. they make a big thing out of it. this is insane given that a month later, jack turns on hook at forbidden door 2023 and eventually takes the FTW off him. i wish to speak to whoever thought this was normal. he couldn't cheat to beat darby, who he supposedly doesn't even like, for the world championship, but can betray his best friend for an unsanctioned belt a month later??????? this makes me insane. don't touch me chompie.

also worth mentioning is jack tweeting this during the storyline, with nothing else attached to it. merry early christmas to me. (jack tends to post a single photo for important story beats, with no text on it. he's done this for quite a number of things within the last few years. weird that he did that here, when they had one tag match together.)

2024 //

and that bring us to this year! jack is back in AEW after his unjust and sad-making time out. anarchy in the arena happens at double or nothing 2024, and jack and darby spend 75% of the match beating each other up alone backstage. jack hits darby with the bus, darby sets jack on fire. it's lovely.

if you haven't seen the video that leaked of jack preparing for the fire spot in the early part of 2024 with a stunt team, it's worth watching. (no sound)

darby is out again to recover since i don't know how he managed to get clear for AITA in the first place, and then he comes back with an obsessive single-mindedness to call out jack perry by beating up brandon cutler. jack then also beats up brandon cutler in the strangest mating rituals i've ever fucking seen lmao. INTRICATE RITUALS!!

that's all i've got right now, but hopefully this ends up being a decent overview of all the stuff i tend to reference in my fics. 💚💚💚 sorry tumblr won't let me embed these videos in here, but it kept crashing the draft, so i had to revert them all just to links. homophobia.

[clown-friend-gt]

Up, Up, and Away: Chapter 2

Not much actual g/t in the chapters I posted today, but that will change soon. These chapters will set that up, don't worry!

Hopefully the Spanish in the chapter doesn't sound too odd to those who speak it. I took four semesters of Spanish in college, but I haven't used it since, and my ability to speak it has definitely suffered because of it lmao.

Link to Masterpost

************************************************************************

Growing Pains

1.2k words

The change started early morning one Friday. Trevor woke up because his whole body screamed with pain. His muscles felt strained, like he was on one of those medieval torture racks. Even his bones were sore.

He figured he should take something for the pain. But when he tried to move, he couldn’t. The slightest movement sent shocks of pain through him.

So for a while, he stayed as motionless as possible, tears streaming down his face. He tried to fall back asleep, but the pain made it impossible.

Finally, he worked up the courage to move. Groaning in pain, he slid out of bed and onto his feet. His legs shook unsteadily but managed to hold him up. He took one slow step and winced, his breath escaping him in a hiss.

He had to walk slowly; each step sent spikes of pain shooting up his leg. He knew his mom had to get up early for work, so he tried to stay quiet. But he couldn’t stop himself from whimpering with the effort it took just to move himself.

He made his way into the bathroom. In the low light he could just barely make out his reflection in the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. He looked just as miserable as he felt.

He opened the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of painkillers inside. Even opening the child-proof lid made him wince, his hand cramped instantly as he did so. He shook out two pills and swallowed them dry.

Once he was done in the bathroom, he shuffled back to his room. He grabbed his phone from the table next to his bed. His mom would be mad if she caught him on it this late, but he needed something to distract himself while he waited for the painkillers to kick in.

Eventually, the pain died down to a more tolerable level, and exhaustion pulled him back into a few more hours of sleep. Still, the time passed too quickly, and before he knew it, his alarm went off, telling him it was time to get up for school.

He’d never snoozed his alarm before, but today he really needed the extra sleep. This turned out to be a bad idea, though, because he couldn’t stop himself from hitting snooze the next time, and then the time after that, and so on. His mom eventually interrupted her own morning routine to get him up.

“Mijo, get up,” she said sternly.

He groaned sleepily in response. Still, he rolled over in bed and propped himself up. He drew in a pained breath as he did, and she didn’t miss it.

“¿Qué pasó?” she asked, gentler this time.

“Nothing,” he tried to lie.

His mom wasn’t buying it, and only responded by putting her hands on her hips and staring at him pointedly.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. He didn’t want to worry her any.

He sat up with a grunt, but before he managed to stand, she was at his side.

She placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Ay, mijo, you’re burning up.”

“I’ll call the school, tell them you’re not feeling well,” she told him, standing up to grab her phone.

He wasn’t going to argue with that. He’d take an excuse to skip school any day.

“I’ll have to call out of work to take care of you, too.”

“No, don’t,” he said, stopping her.

“It’s fine. They can survive without me for one day.”

Trevor frowned. He wasn’t sure if that was true. She worked at a hospital, after all.

“I can take care of myself,” he assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

She gave him a look, appraising the condition he was in. Finally she sighed.

“Fine. There’s medicine in the bathroom and food in the fridge. Make sure you eat something today.”

Then she walked back to his side and planted a kiss on his forehead, and he was too tired to try and resist. “Te amo,” she said.

“Te amo,” he replied weakly. She gave him a smile that didn’t hide the worry in her eyes. Then she left him to roll over and go back to sleep.

The pain continued throughout the day. He slept for a few hours, then was woken up when the painkillers began to wear off. He repeated the same painful journey he’d taken earlier that day. This time, though, he kept the bottle with him so he wouldn’t have to do that again.

He laid down a little while longer before he had to wake up again, although this time, because of his stomach.

Despite his apparent illness, his appetite was seemingly unaffected. In fact, he found himself hungrier than usual. He moved around a little easier with the painkillers in his system, though the pain never really went away. He ate three packages of ramen for breakfast/lunch, then went back to bed.

When his mom got home that night, she fussed over him for a while, but otherwise, the day passed without incident. He spent the weekend bedridden, getting sleep when he could. The longer it went on, the more worried his mom seemed, and he hated that.

By Monday, the pain wasn’t gone. “You need to go to the doctor,” his mother told him.

“No, I’m fine,” he responded a little too quickly.

“Mijo, you’ve barely moved all weekend. You need to see a doctor.”

Trevor really didn’t want to put that kind of strain on her wallet, so he began to sit up. He did his best to hide his struggle.

“I’m feeling better,” he lied. “Look, I’ll even go to school today.”

He got up and went to his dresser to pick out some clothes. His mom looked like she wanted to argue, so he added, “Can you leave for now, please? I need to change.”

She sighed but left the room. Although he had lied about feeling better, he was getting more used to the pain as time went on.

He picked out some clothes without giving it much thought. Then he put them on, although felt a little small on him. He tried some other clothes but had the same problem.

Must have shrunk in the wash, he thought to himself.

Once he was dressed, he went to the kitchen to make himself toast for breakfast. His mom watched him warily the entire time. She wore a frown on her face, but said nothing to him throughout. Just as he thought he was in the clear, she spoke.

“Stand up straight,” she said, walking towards him. He obliged, straightening himself up from his slouched position. She inspected him carefully.

When she spoke again, her tone was lighter. “Since when are you taller than me?”

“Huh?” he asked, but looking closely, he could tell that she was right. Where before he’d been a little below her eye level, he now stood slightly above.

“You must’ve grown three-or-so inches in as many days,” she said. “That’s some growth spurt. No wonder you were so sore.”

“Oh. Yeah,” he agreed. After that, she seemed content to leave him be as he got ready. Finding the cause seemed to put her at ease, to Trevor’s relief.

Though it kept him from telling her that whatever was happening to him was far from over.

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