#i need a frog and a glass table

[ayellowcapy]

Chonk

[hearteyes4logan]

sick days — cl¹⁶ charles leclerc x fem!reader requested by no one word count: 411 words! fluff

Gif by @ttzjune on Tumblr!

synopsis: he was supposed to leave for training but instead he's looking after you

The sun shone through the open windows as you lay in bed, the Mediterranean saltwater lingering in the air as you groaned. Although it was a good day, it was one you would not be enjoying. You were curled up in bed, hair messy and throat scratchy — absolutely hating the world at the moment.

Tissues scatter the shared bed you're in with an untouched glass of water beside you on the bedside table.

Charles was meant to leave for gym training with his personal trainer 10 minutes ago.

He didn't.

Instead he was standing in the doorway of the bedroom in his hoodie — the dark grey one you always steal whilst holding a tray of chamomile tea and your favourite type of honey that he drove halfway across Monaco to find for you at 7am.

"Tu n’as pas mangé. (You haven't eaten anything.)" He says, walking over and setting the tray down. "You have to eat something."

You groan into the pillow.

Charles chuckles — gently, cautious that even making you laugh might hurt your head. He sits beside you, hand brushing your hair back.

"You're not dying my love." He murmurs, brushing a thumb under your eyes. "But if you are, tell me now so I can cry dramatically."

"Not dying." You croak, your voice barely even audible. "Just being dramatic."

"I know." He smirks, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair. "That's why we work."

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

An hour later, you're lying on his chest, half asleep whilst Charles is softly scrolling through his phone with one hand and rubs circles gently onto your back with the other. He's cancelled his meetings and even told his trainer that he was on 'nurse duty'.

"Your fans will riot." You mumble.

"They'll survive." He replies dipping his head to kiss your forehead. "Where you won't.. You sound like a dying frog."

"Really? A dying frog.. Charles.." You say, smacking his chest weakly.

He just smiles.

"Rest." He whispers. "You're gonna need it if you wanna attend the event we have in a week or two."

You nod your head before resuming the position you were in earlier whilst trying to fall asleep. Charles holds you steadily as he goes throug social media posts and replying back to emails about brand deals and photo shoots he needed to answer and attend to — it didn't matter tho, he needed to look after you.

For him, you always came first.

© hearteyes4logan

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @jozzieblood @buckysteveloki-me @dragonoftheshadows @plaidconvers @kateawolf13 @keira-kaz2y5 @frog-fans-unite @doilooklikeagiveafrack @verynormalsstuff @nynxtea @iminyourceiling @seventeen-x @mgchaser @y0urgirl @lovely-seb @laughterafter @mysuperlaserpissnumber1fan @irasciblemogwai @svtbpbts @vivalas-vega @chonkybonky @bmyva1entine @homiesexual-or-homosexual @aoi-targaryen @bitter-semi-sweet @soflegacy @kath-666 @hiireadstuff @highhopes1008 @sineminuse @hawkinsavclub1983 @buckingforbuckybarnes @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @huang-the-geek @joewhs @witchywannabe3263 @ironenemycollective

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Tw: cussing, blood.

Part 6

Words of Command - Part 7

The glass-walled conference room at the top of Stark Tower was designed for clarity and power. Wide windows framed the skyline, and sunlight spilled in at a sharp angle, catching on every surface—like the room was made of polished nerves.

The long table was already crowded.

Tony sat at the head, fingers steepled, a holographic interface flickering mid-air in front of him. Nat lounged in her chair beside him.

Steve stood, arms folded, barely containing his tension. Sam had pulled up a second chair just to lean on it backward, his stare bouncing between the projections and Bucky. Clint paced near the back beside Thor.

Even Bruce was present, eyes watchful behind his glasses.

And then there was you.

You sat nearest to the door—near Bucky—hands folded in your lap, trying not to shrink under all the attention.

Bucky had refused to sit. Instead, he stood behind your chair, silent. His flesh hand hovered near your shoulder, not quite touching, but always there.

The others noticed. How he kept his eyes on you, not the speakers. How he didn’t so much as blink unless you moved.

Tony tapped at the interface, pulling up STRIKE files, security footage, and a list of recent attempts to claim “dangerous assets.”

“We can’t just keep pretending he’s not on every watchlist known to man,” Tony said, exasperated. “They’re coming. STRIKE was the appetizer. The main course is going to be alphabet soup—CIA, NSA, maybe even S.H.I.E.L.D. if they get twitchy.”

“I’m not locking him up,” Steve said sharply.

“No one’s saying that,” Tony shot back. “I’m saying we need a plan before someone else makes a plan for us.”

From behind you, Bucky shifted—barely a noise. But you felt it that silent wind-up of tension through his spine.

Your hand rose instinctively and gently rested on his wrist. He froze. Stilled.

Only then did he speak.

“Don't cage me again” The Brooklyn was thick in his voice now. Slow. Dangerous.

“No one’s caging you, Buck,” Steve tried, stepping forward, palms up.

Bucky didn’t look at him.

He only looked at you.

“Doll.” His voice was low. “You want me to stay ?”

Your lips parted. “Yes. I… I do, Soldat.”

He gave a tight nod. “Then I stay.”

The room fell silent.

Tony leaned back, eyes wide. “Okay. That’s not terrifying at all.”

You tried to focus on the meeting, but every so often, you caught Bucky watching you—not the others.

Not the screens.

You.

When your voice wavered while explaining the STRIKE breach, he stepped closer.

When someone raised their tone—Tony, especially—his fingers twitched at his side.

When you finally leaned back in your chair, pale and drained from having to defend him only hours earlier, Bucky dropped his hand to the back of your seat.

Not protective.

Possessive.

He didn’t speak again during the meeting. But his silence was a clear message:

If they pushed too far—

He wouldn’t need your orders.

Sam, ever the realist, leaned forward. “So what—you’re her guard dog now?”

You flinched.

Bucky didn’t.

He stepped around your chair like a ghost sliding into the living, eyes narrowed.

“I ain’t a dog,” he said coldly. “But I do bite.”

Nat raised her brows. “He only listens to her?”

“He responds to her,” Bruce corrected. “That’s different from control. It’s trust. The Winter Soldier didn’t trust anyone.”

Bucky tilted his head, voice cutting in rough.

“She told me not to kill the men who tried to take me,” he said. “So I didn’t.”

A pause.

“I wouldn’t have stopped.”

That landed like thunder.

You glanced around the room, anxiety crawling under your skin. “He’s not a threat unless someone makes him one.”

Tony exhaled deeply, then pointed at you. “That right there? That’s the plan. We keep you two close. We build a safe structure around you—not him.”

Steve looked mildly horrified. “C'mon she's not a tool, Stark," Steve said, voice dangerously low. "And he's not a dog to be trained."

Nat leaned forward, her expression carefully neutral. "Steve's right about that part, but Tony's not entirely wrong either. She's our best connection to Barnes right now."

Her eyes flicked between you and Bucky sitting quietly at the edge of the room. "He's got a connection to her. We need to understand why."

Sam leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Look when I worked with veterans, this kind of attachment wasn't unusual. He's found something—someone—that makes him feel safe in a world that probably doesn't make a whole lota sense right now."

Bruce removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The psychology here is... complex. If he sees her as his handler, that relationship comes with certain expectations. Power dynamics. Conditioning."

"Which we can use," Clint interjected from where he perched on a cabinet.

"Not in the way Stark's suggesting, but strategically. The guy clearly responds to her."

He studied Bucky with the calculated gaze of a marksman assessing a target.

Thor, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, placed his hammer on the table with a gentle thud. "In Asgard, warriors who have seen too much battle sometimes lose themselves."

His eyes were thoughtful as they rested on you. "You may be his tether to humanity, Little one"

"She's not trained for this," Steve protested. "We can't put her in more danger."

"Sunshine here is already in danger," Tony countered, spinning a pen between his fingers.

"STRIKE tried to grab him today. Next time, they might not care who gets caught in the crossfire." He closed the holographic display with a flick of his wrist.

"But maybe I was... insensitive in my approach. Not that Thumbelina can't handle a little straight talk."

"That's an understatement," Nat muttered, with a roll of her eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, acutely aware of Bucky's presence beside you, he had finally taken a seat.

His flesh hand rested on the table, fingers curled slightly inward, while his metal arm remained tucked close to his body, as if he were trying to make it disappear.

"What if," Bruce began tentatively, "we don't use her as his handler, but rather... help her become a bridge? Something familiar as he transitions back to himself?"

"You mean coaching her to help him remember who he is?" Steve asked, a glimmer of hope breaking through his concern.

Sam nodded. "Create a safe space where memories can resurface without triggering a defensive response."

"Exactly," Bruce nodded. "Not commands, but connections. Memories. Identity."

The team fell silent, considering.

"She'd have to agree," Clint said firmly, looking directly at you. "And be prepared for whatever might happen."

"She's right here, Clint" you said waving at him.

"We'd be there," Steve added, looking between you and his oldest friend. "Every step. Ready to help or ... intervene."

Tony tapped his fingers on the table. "I could create a safe environment. Monitoring systems, panic buttons, the works. Though something tells me Thumbelina here has more spine than most of my security team."

At that you rolled your eyes at your boss.

Sam leaned forward. "I can help, give you strategies for when things get... complicated. Because they will get complicated."

Nat's lips curved slightly. "So we're not using her as bait or a trainer. We're asking her to be..." she searched for the word, "...a lighthouse?."

Tony pointed a pen at Nat "exactly"

Steve's shoulders relaxed slightly. "That I can get behind."

Tony smirked. "Fine, no treats. But someone should probably ask Sunshine if she's even willing to play lighthouse keeper to Metal Arm McGee here. Not that she hasn't been doing a stellar job already, considering he follows her around like a very scary, very lethal shadow."

Seven pairs of eyes turned toward you expectantly. Beside you, Bucky sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the floor, but you could feel the tension radiating from him—alert, wary, ready to move at the slightest sign of threat.

"Of course, I'll do it," you said, your voice steadier than you expected. "If it helps him, and if its what Soldat wants."

Bucky's eyes flickered toward you momentarily. "Where you go I go, Doll" that same not quite warm tone.

You gave him a smile, genuine and warm.

"But I have questions," you continued, sitting up straighter and looking back to Tony "These monitoring systems and panic buttons—they'll work through JARVIS, right?" You looked directly at Tony. "And are we staying here in the Tower? Because I don't think moving him around a lot would be good right now."

Tony's eyebrows shot up, a smirk playing at his lips. "Listen to you, thinking like a tactician already." He nodded approvingly.

"Yes to JARVIS—he'll be watching 24/7. And yes to staying here. I've got a whole suite that nobody's using except for storing Cap's vintage record collection and Thor's growing Pop-Tart stash."

"I do not—" Thor began to protest, then cleared his throat. "Perhaps I have acquired a modest collection."

"You'd have everything you need," Nat added, studying your face. "And we'd all be close by."

Steve leaned forward. "You're sure about this? It won't be easy."

Your eyes drifted to Bucky, whose posture remained rigid but whose breathing had slowed since you'd agreed to help.

There was something in the way he held himself—not quite at attention, but as if waiting for instructions—that made your heart ache.

"I'm sure," you said firmly.

The door slid open silently, revealing the suite that bore Tony Stark's signature blend of luxury and technological overkill.

You stepped out first, watching as Bucky hesitated at the threshold, his eyes methodically scanning every corner, exit, and potential threat.

"This is us," you said, trying to sound casual despite the nervousness fluttering in your chest.

"Apparently Thor's Pop-Tarts used to live here."

Bucky didn't smile at your attempt at humor, you didn't expect him too.

But he did step into the room, his movements measured and precise.

His flesh hand flexed slightly at his side while his metal arm remained still, tucked close to his body.

Tony materialized from another room, tablet in hand. "Welcome to Chez Safety Protocols," he announced with his typical flourish.

"Complete with everything the well-appointed fugitive assassin and his keeper might need."

You shot Tony a warning look.

"Right, right," he backpedaled.

"Tour time. Thumbelina, you already know the kitchen common room yadda yadda." Tony said waving his hand towards the entry door.

"Reinforced furniture throughout—had to rush order that after Point Break sat on a regular couch last month." He tapped the wall, revealing a discreet red button. "Panic buttons in every room. Press once for general alert, press twice for 'Terminator is having a bad day' protocol."

Bucky's eyes locked onto the button, his posture stiffening subtly.

"JARVIS is always monitoring," Tony continued, either oblivious or deliberately ignoring Bucky's reaction. "Say the safeword—which is 'blueberry,' by the way, don't ask why—and the team comes running."

"Is all this really necessary?" you asked quietly.

"STRIKE team tried to take him, and the momentary lapse your frontal cortex had made you believe you where a tank" Tony replied, suddenly serious. "So yeah, it is." He tapped his tablet. "There's more. Windows are reinforced. Door requires biometric scan—both of yours are already programmed in."

Bucky moved further into the space, inspecting each feature with clinical detachment.

When he reached the large windows overlooking the city, he stopped, his reflection staring back at him—a ghost caught between worlds.

"The bedroom on the left is yours," Tony told you. "The one on the right is set up for Terminator here, though JARVIS tells me he's been sleeping on your floor, so..." He trailed off with a meaningful look.

"Thank you, Tony," you said firmly. "We'll be fine."

"Sure you will, Sunshine." He headed for the door, then paused. "Cap's three floors down. Wilson's next door. I'm... somewhere in the building. Probably." With a mock salute, he was gone.

The silence that followed felt heavy. Bucky hadn't moved from the window.

"Do you want to see your room?" you asked gently.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. "Is that a order, doll?" he asked, his voice all brooklyn now and not quite as rough.

The question caught you off guard. "No, Soldat. This is..." You searched for words. "... a choice."

"Doll" Something flickered in his eyes—confusion, maybe recognition. "You stayin"

"Yea. I'm not going anywhere"

He looked at you for a long moment, then slowly, deliberately moved away from the window. He paused by another panic button, studying it.

"For if I hurt someone," he stated flatly.

"For emergencies," you corrected. "But they won't be needed."

Bucky didn't agree or disagree. Instead, he completed his circuit of the suite.

When he finished, he simply stood in the center of the living room, awaiting... something.

Orders, you realized. He was waiting for orders.

The tower was unusually quiet that morning. The coffee had brewed, the team had drifted into their own routines, and Bucky sat inside your room—calm, still, eyes locked on you like he was awaiting the next mission.

You stood near the doorway, peeking back at him nervously. “Hey, uh… Soldat?”

He turned his head immediately. “Doll?”

“I was thinking… maybe today you could try shaving. You’ve got a bit of stubble and, I mean, it looks nice! But… maybe you’d feel more like yourself if we gave you a clean start?”

A pause.

Then, a faint nod. “If you say so.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. “Okay, but I don’t really know how guys shave— I was gonna ask Steve to help show you? Is that okay?”

The shift in Bucky’s body was immediate.

Shoulders stiffened. Jaw tightened. His eyes snapped toward the door behind you, the entrance to the suite like he expected an ambush. “Show me?”

You blinked. “Yeah… like, just show you how to do it. I’ll be right there the whole time.”

He stood, slow and cautious. “He better not come near you with a blade.”

You led both men into the large bathroom in the suite. Stark had kitted it out with sleek, modern features. But the atmosphere in the room was ancient—two ghosts of the past and one woman standing between them with a nervous laugh.

Bucky stood in front of the mirror, scowling at the unfamiliar reflection. His eyes flicked to you every few seconds—like he couldn’t decide if this was a trap or some kind of test.

Steve—calm, patient, used to navigating trauma even if it was only his own—stood off to the side, holding a can of shaving cream and a fresh razor like it was a live grenade.

“All right, Buck. It’s not complicated,” Steve said gently. “You just—”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You touch her with that blade, and I break your arm.”

Steve froze.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Your really not kidding, Pal"

You waved your hands quickly. “No no no! He’s not going to touch me! Soldat, he’s just going to show you. I swear.”

That seemed to settle him—slightly.

“Okay,” Bucky grunted. “But I watch first.”

Steve, ever the responsible star spangled man, took a glob of shaving cream and smeared it across his own jaw. “See, Buck? Circular motion. Like that. And then, short strokes—careful pressure.”

He began dragging the razor down his face in smooth motions, talking the whole time.

Bucky watched like it was a combat technique.

“Do that to my own face?” he asked, skeptical.

You giggled from the sink, sitting on the counter between the two sinks with your knees drawn up, chin resting on them. “You’re in control you dont have to be suspicious, Soldat.”

“Blades belong in the field,” he muttered. “Not near your neck.”

“But you’re not gonna cut your neck,” you said, trying not to laugh.

He took the razor from Steve—too hard—and inspected it like he was checking a sniper scope.

Steve sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Just go slow, Buck.”

Bucky stared at the razor. “Why’s the blade this flimsy?”

“Because it’s not meant to decapitate anyone,” you said quietly.

Bucky applied the shaving cream like he was camouflaging for war—entire face covered in thick white foam.

“Buck, you only need a thin layer—” Steve started.

“I do it my way.”

You and Steve shared a look.

The strokes were tense. Calculated. He pressed the razor to his cheek and dragged it down slow—gritting his teeth like it was physically painful.

You tried so hard not to laugh, but the sight was too much, a deadly assassin shaving with the intensity of a sniper lining up a shot.

“Stupid,” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“You look great,” you said, smile blooming wide. “Like a grumpy snowman.”

Bucky squinted at you through the foam. “Doll ?”

You immediately burst out laughing.

Bucky suddenly hissed.

You leapt off the counter instantly. “What happened?!”

He touched the edge of his jaw and saw a pinprick of blood.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth. “Oh shit!”

Bucky locked onto your reaction. Misread it. His expression turned cold.

“She got scared, you let me scare her” he growled, turning on Steve.

Steve backed up. “Oh come on—your holding the razor!”

“I’m fine, Soldat stop!” you jumped in between them, both hands on Bucky’s chest, trying to anchor him. “Soldat, Stand down”

His eyes were still locked on Steve, breathing heavy, protective rage simmering under the surface.

“…Say the word, Doll.”

“No, Steve is helping, everthings ok" you whispered, stroking his arm. “Just breathe.”

After a tense beat, he exhaled through his nose.

“…He’s lucky.”

Steve raised both hands. “Always fun helping.”

You shot Steve a sympathetic look.

[yvesssssssss]

hiii! love your writing sm!! wondering if i can request headcanons or a scenario, whichever you prefer! Of Shin and Nagumo’s reaction to their child telling them in the middle of the night that they have an art project due tomorrow >< kyaahh tysm!!!

Art attack at 2am

HIII you're the sweetest—thank you sm!! I hope you like it!!

Shin Asakura

It’s 2:37 a.m.

You’re sound asleep beside Shin when you hear light tapping on the door. Before you can sit up, a tiny voice calls out:

“Dad…? I have an art project due tomorrow.”

Shin jolts upright like he’s just heard a gunshot.

“Tomorrow TOMORROW or tomorrow today!?” he whispers frantically, already fumbling for his glasses.

“Today-tomorrow,” the kid replies with the guilt of a felon caught red-handed.

Shin’s brain immediately spirals.

“What kind of project? Do we need paint? Paper mache? Glue? GLITTER?!”

You groggily mumble, “Shin… go back to sleep, it’s just art.”

But it’s not just art. It’s a grade, a reflection of his parenting, the beginning of a domino effect that could potentially affect college applications 15 years from now—

He’s already dragging out every supply box in the house.

By 3:30 a.m., your dining table looks like an arts and crafts tornado hit it. Shin’s stress-level is at DEFCON 1.

The child is peacefully coloring. Shin is cutting construction paper with military precision.

You return from the kitchen with snacks and see Shin muttering, “This is due today. It has to be perfect. We will not be the reason this kid gets a C.”

You lean over and kiss his head. “You’re insane.”

He smiles. “Insane about our kid’s future.”

Nagumk yoichi

It’s pitch dark and you hear little footsteps approaching.

“Dad…? I have an art project due tomorrow.”

Nagumo lifts one eyelid.

“Tomorrow, huh? Sounds like Future Nagumo’s problem.”

He flops back down.

Your kid hovers at the bedside. “It’s a diorama. About the rainforest. I forgot.”

Nagumo sighs loudly, sits up, and gives your child a deadpan look.

“…You waited until now? You’re totally your mother’s child.”

You throw a pillow at him.

Five minutes later, he’s strutting around the kitchen in pajama pants, swiping bits of tinfoil, toilet paper rolls, food wrappers—improvising like MacGyver on a budget. No scissors? He uses a butter knife. No string? Dental floss.

You hear him whisper to the kid: “Alright, I’ll be real with you. This jaguar might look like a blob, but if you say it’s abstract, your teacher can’t question it.”

He even draws a tiny frog with googly eyes and glues it to a stick of gum.

By 4 a.m., they’ve got a full rainforest scene made of recycled materials and spite.

“Boom,” he says, arms crossed, admiring their chaotic masterpiece. “Tell your teacher we believe in eco-art.”

You stare at him, sipping coffee. “You’re actually kind of terrifying.”

He grins. “Thanks, sweetheart. Parenting’s all about improvising under pressure.”

[dollyswishingwell]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request an oneshot or maybe scenarios of caleb and zayne childhood or growin up with female reader. If you could ad a little bit of yandere thay would be great. I’m so happy i found your blog, your writing is really good.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Always

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Zayne and Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆ ✮ fluff, lowkey yandere, i tried my best guys :(, i imagine them to be like 3-5 years older than mc?

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They were always there for you

Age 5 — Gran’s House, the First Storm

You were scared of thunder. The storm cracked the sky like glass, and you’d hidden under the kitchen table, sobbing into your nightgown.

Zayne came over to hang out, after-all Caleb was older than you and needed some closer to his age. He found you first, silent as ever, crouching beside you with a flickering flashlight and a book on frogs. “They like rain,” he said, flipping the page. “You don’t have to like it, but you don’t have to be scared either.”

Caleb came skidding in next, socks sliding on the hardwood. “There you are!” He squeezed under the table beside you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Don’t worry, ‘kay? I’ll punch the thunder if it tries anything.”

You didn’t know then, but both boys stayed up all night listening to make sure it didn’t come back.

⸻

Age 8 — Primary School Playground, First Bully

You came home with a torn dress and scraped palms. You tried to hide it.

Zayne saw the blood before you opened your mouth. His voice was cold. “Who did it?”

Caleb was already crouching to wipe your tears with his sleeve. “Did they touch you? Did they push you?”

You shook your head, trying to be brave. But the next day, that boy never came near you again.

Zayne’s knuckles were red that evening.

Caleb’s smile was too wide.

⸻

Age 12 — Campfire Sleepover, First Panic Attack

It was your first night away from home. The other girls giggled about ghost stories while you sat frozen, quiet, breath catching in your throat.

You didn’t even call them. But Zayne showed up at the edge of the woods, flashlight beam slicing the dark. “She forgot her allergy meds,” he told the counselor. “I’ll take her home.”

Caleb was waiting in the car, snacks and your favorite plushie in the backseat.

Neither of them said it, but you didn’t go back to camp the next day.

⸻

Age 15 — The Dance You Didn’t Want to Attend

Everyone was dressing up. You sat on your bed in pajamas, arms crossed, too anxious to go, too scared to be left behind.

Caleb knocked once, then walked in, holding a sparkly purple corsage. “I bought it just in case,” he said. “Figured you’d want someone who won’t ditch you for punch.”

Zayne stood behind him in a neat black button-up. “I had a suit anyway,” he said, brushing invisible dust from your shoulder. “And you look better than everyone else either way”

They slow-danced with you in Gran’s living room.

You don’t even remember who won prom queen.

But you remember them.

⸻

Age 18 — Graduation, and the First Goodbye (Almost)

You got accepted into a university far away. You didn’t tell them for two weeks.

Zayne found the acceptance letter under your mattress. His jaw clenched, his eyes unreadable. “Are you leaving us?”

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” you whispered.

Caleb was quiet, his fingers interlaced with yours on the couch. “Then come back every weekend,” he said, voice soft but firm. “Or don’t go. We can pay for a school here.”

You ended up deferring a year.

Zayne made sure your application stayed valid.

Caleb bought you a charm bracelet: one charm for every year of your life they protected you.

[revelboo]

laying my coveted collection of three (3) muppet dvds down at your feet/general offering table. my soul for some bluestreak, if you wanna. if not then enjoy the muppets- but! i never knew they did cover songs for stuff like "got my mind set on you" by george harrison and kokomo until recently!! or that bluestreak brought "the muppets take manhattan" with him onto the lost light!! idk i really like the mental image of this giant sci-fi robot next to kermit the frog, not doing anything in specific or whatever, just... vibing. if some cybertronians think humans are like weird protoforms, i cant help but wonder what they think of muppets, ykwim??? either way, have a happy new year!!

Blue needs some love and he’s such a goober sometimes. I can see him absently humming Rainbow Connection

Where I Belong Pt 10

Bluestreak x Reader

• Carrying you back to his quarters, he absently rubs a servo against you and warms when you hook an arm around it to hug him. “Sorry about worrying you. I didn’t want to bother Ratchet and it wasn’t really that bad. I’ve seen worse and-” Trailing off when you look up at him. Because he knows he’s rambling, but you don’t huff at him. Don’t tell him to shut up. You never do and every time you don’t his spark aches with it. With all the things he wants to say, but doesn’t dare. “Sorry.”

• When he smiles that self-depreciating smile, that sense of a lost boy lifts through you again. He’s older than you, much older, but still it’s there in the fear you see in his optics sometimes. An unsettled feeling you don’t know how to deal with, but that makes you think the smiles and chatter on the surface are all for show. That he’s still reaching for you like he had that first time, desperate and afraid. “Don’t apologize. Just take care of yourself. I like having you around.”

• Do you? No one else does and his servos flex around you as he lets himself into his quarters and sits on the side of his berth with you. Reluctant to give up your warmth. Feels bad about clinging to you like he does, but can’t make himself stop. Optics shuttering as he braces for the rejection, he mass shifts. Hears you yelp as you end up in his lap and he wraps his arms around you, chin on top of your head. “I like having you around, too.”

• Heart racing, you shudder and try to shake off that awful feeling of falling. Not even sure why you’re surprised by anything at this point when you live with a giant alien robot. Shrinking? Sure. Why not? “Warn me before you do that next time.” Or you might get sick on him. Distracted when he so gently curls his fingers around your wrist and pulls it to him. Watching him line up his palm with yours and even smaller, his hand dwarfs yours.

• “Sorry.” You’ve always been so small and fragile to him, but putting himself closer to your size really drives it home. Your hand so tiny in his. “I just wanted to hold you. And I can’t normally because you’re so small and you’re still small. I feel like you’re going to break,” he murmurs, embarrassed. You’re always touching his servos, hugging them, trying to comfort him. He wanted to return it, but still can’t. Like he can’t begin to explain how much he loves you for being with him. For not abandoning him when he’d needed you. For keeping him from being so alone.

• “I’m not made of glass.” Shifting more to sit across his lap, you reach back and find his other arm and pull it around you. Encouraging him to hold you like he’d wanted and you lay your head against him, seeing his door wings lift from the corner of your eye. “See?” You can hear his internal systems and the thrum of his spark as he cautiously rests his hand on your hip. “This is okay.” Breath catching as his head dips and his cheek brushes yours. That hand still curled around yours tugging so he can brush his mouth against the inside of your wrist, his optics still shuttered. That gentle touch spreading warm through you.

Previous

Next

[uki01]

hey!! may i please request a dbbq froggy x reader romantic/fluff fic/hc piece? ive seen two others but love seeing everyones take on him.

we NEED more froggy fiction my guy is LACKING i am starved!!

no rush, and if you dont feel up to writing him for any reason, thats fine! i hope youre having a good day/night

”Get back to work!”

Froggy x Reader

Author’s Note: Froggy is a funny fella ain’t he? One of my favourites, I wish I had bros frog outfit, also he might be a bit OOC i apologise for that

Pairing: Romantic

Type: Headcanons and Fanfic

Warnings: None!

Froggy is proud to have you by your side

You first met Froggy through Ena when she convinced you to take this job since you were unemployed

It was a rough start but was worth at the end

You and Froggy work alongside together, so you two can grow an even stronger bond together

”These people can be very restless it’s frustrating! But their lucky enough to even have me and you by their side right Y/N?”

”Yeah sure”

Whenever the days over you two would go on dates, somewhere nice, or somehow in this wacky world

Whenever cuddling hours is in the works, he’s usually the bigger spoon with you guys either having you between his legs and arms or just in the couch hugging against each other and dozing off

Ena is you’re guys number one supporter

”My my! Why isn’t this such a lovely scenery, never thought that something like this would happen between you two?”

”Eh!? Stop poking around and get back to work Ena!”

I don’t see Froggy being into PDA, especially at work, so the closest thing you’ll get is holding hands with him

But inside in your guys house, hands everywhere, with consent!

He usually makes dinner and breakfast if you aren’t up early, I think he wakes up early just to get ready for work

Best cook ever

You guys switch topics really fast at home about anything really

”But seriously, I don’t think that should’ve happened anyways it could’ve gotten them in serious trouble and bad image” You said

”Yeah unlucky for them, I remember this one time I saw an pentagon helicopter” Froggy mentioned

Whenever you and Froggy have to work separately, Froggy would call you every hour just to make sure your okay

”Y/N! Are you okay? Do you need any help?”

”Froggy you said the exact same question one hour ago”

You two drink together whenever you guys are feeling down

Overall, Froggy is a funny lad and he loves to share his experiences with you because he loves you

it was you, and Froggy’s day off today, you two were just lounging about in your guys house, with Froggy bringing in some drinks

“Want some?” Froggy asked as he handed some to you

“Awh, thanks Froggy” You thanked him

“No problem” He said

You two clinked your cup of glass together and drink your drinks, you had an idea pop in your head as you settles the cup of glass on the coffee table and decided to put some music on, Michael Jackson

“Eh? What are you doing?” Froggy asked

“Putting on some music, wanna dance?” You asked as you started to walk up to him to pull him up

“Uh… I’m not much of a dancer that’s more of Ena’s style” Froggy shrugged, nervously

“Oh don’t worry! I won’t judge” You reassured hum

You two then started dancing to Michael Jackson, as the song kept progressing you can see Froggy have genuine fun and decided to take your hand and start dancing with each other, twirling and spinning around, laughter all around by your guys voices

“Froggy you’re a natural!” You laughed

“Heh! Guess that’s just my specialty huh?” Froggy grinned

With another few twirls you and Froggy laughed and kept dancing along the way, keep putting on more music and dancing along to rhythm, you didn’t care but just happy that it’s just you and Froggy

After all that, you two decide to read a book together cuddling each other with you between his grasp and him holding you and having his head on the top of your head

“This is nice… we should do this more often, wouldn’t you agree?” Froggy said looking down at you

“Of course, you didn’t even have to ask” You smiles as you looked up at him

You gave him a kiss to which it caught him off guard but just laughed and kissed you back and continued reading the book, this was heaven

Author’s Note: Hope this is good! Thanks for the request!

[q-gorgeous]

Our Friend the.. Ghost Boy?

ao3

ffn

word count: 2104

prompt: No one knows AU - Sam and Tucker know something's wrong with Danny -- he's shut them out completely since the start of high-school and they want answers. @phanpheekingtastic

i think ive got my mojo back

Sam watched Danny walk past their table to sit somewhere across the cafeteria. They didn’t know why he’d been so weird lately. They knew something was wrong but he never told them. Ever since high school started, he’d shut them out completely. He didn’t talk to them anymore outside of them inviting him to things but eventually they didn’t extend the invitation anymore. It hurt less to not try to invite him than it did waiting and hoping he would be there. 

The only indication they had that it might not have been about them was the fact he seemed to be injured all the time. 

Everytime they asked about it he brushed it off. Pretended he did something stupid or it happened doing something normal. Eventually he started ignoring the question altogether. Sam thought he was running out of excuses. Tucker thought that he just didn’t want to talk about it. 

But they were best friends! They should have been able to tell each other anything. They should’ve been able to rely on each other when something was wrong. She knew she relied on Tucker when she needed help with something or when she needed a listening ear. What had changed that Danny couldn’t trust them anymore? 

The windows suddenly shattered and the glass blew in at them. Sam covered her head and Tucker pulled her below the table. 

The glass settled and Sam opened her eyes, scanning the cafeteria for Danny. She wanted to make sure he was okay. 

But it seemed every time a ghost attacked, Danny disappeared. He was never around. It always left her wondering if a ghost got him or if he was injured somewhere or stuck in a pile that used to be a building. Every time he showed up afterwards relief flooded her body. But she didn’t check on him anymore. He would never tell them where he was during the attacks. 

She didn’t see Danny across the cafeteria where he was sitting. She hoped he had already slinked away and wasn’t lying on the ground impaled by glass. 

“Hey! Big, green, and slimy!” 

Sam turned towards the voice. Phantom was floating in front of the ghost that had shattered the windows. It looked like a giant deformed frog. It belted out a ginormous ribbit and stuck out its tongue. It wrapped around Phantom’s middle.

“Oh, come on! Ahh!”

Phantom got pulled inside the ghost’s mouth. Sam could see punches through the frogs cheeks. And then Phantom was flying intangibly through the ghost’s face. 

“Gross! Frog spit!” 

Phantom flew around the ghost a couple times. It looked like he was trying to disorient it. 

After a couple more spins it started swaying and then it fell on the ground. It rumbled the ground and Sam could feel the vibrations from where they were crouched in the cafeteria. 

Sam watched Phantom pull a Fenton thermos off his belt and suck the ghost up. She still didn’t know how he got that. Did he sneak into the house or ghost hunters and steal it? He was either really brave or really stupid. Sam couldn’t decide which one it was. 

Then he was flying away.

“I really wish these ghost attacks would stop.” Tucker sighed as he stood up. He held a hand down to help Sam up. She grabbed it and he pulled her up. 

“I used to think ghosts were cool. But now they can interact with the physical plane and attack us.” 

“I know, right?” Tucker shivered. “I’d take your spooky horror movie ghosts over these any day.” 

Sam saw Danny slink back into the cafeteria. He bent over and picked up his backpack, shaking it off. Sam nudged Tucker and he looked up at him. He let out a breath. 

“I’m glad he’s okay.” 

Sam nodded and looked up at Tucker. “Are you still going to invite him to your birthday?” 

Tucker shrugged. “I’ll try. I guess it depends on if I can make it through a conversation before he walks away from me.”

“We could go try-” Sam turned to look at Danny again but he was already gone. “Or not.” 

The announcement speaker blared above them.

“Attention students! Due to the ghost attack, classes are cancelled for the rest of the day as we get the school cleaned up and repaired. Please make your way out of the building.” 

“Sweet.” Tucker nudged her with his elbow. “Wanna go to the Nasty Burger?”

Sam smirked at him. “Only if you’re buying.”

“What?!” Tucker followed behind her. “You’re loaded! Why do I have to buy?”

“Isn’t it the chivalrous thing to do?”

“We both know you don’t care about that!” 

~~~~~~~

Sam sat down at the first empty booth she saw. She was saving their seats while Tucker ordered their food. She pulled out her phone and was about to start scrolling on it when she heard the door open and instinctually looked up. 

Danny was standing just inside the open door. He locked eyes with her and cringed. He let go of the door and it shut behind him and he looked away. She frowned at him. 

“Yo, Danny!” Tucker put his hand up in the air and waved at him. Abandoning his spot in line, he walked over to Danny. “I’m glad to catch you. Come on, let’s go talk to Sam.”

“Tucker, I-” 

“It’ll only take a bit. Then you can go back to ghosting us.” 

Danny cringed again and Tucker wrapped his arm around Danny’s shoulder and almost dragged him over to the booth Sam was sitting in. 

“Hey, Danny.” She lifted her hand up and gave him a little wave. 

“Hey.” His voice was soft. 

“So, as you might remember, my birthday is coming up soon.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I totally remember.” 

Sam rolled her eyes. Danny wasn’t very slick.

“Yeah! We were thinking of going to the comic convention that was gonna be in town that week. I wanted to invite you.”

“Oh.” Danny looked down at his feet. “I can’t.”

Sam scoffed. She was over it.

Danny frowned at her. “What?”

“I find it hard to believe that you can never make it to anything ever. How long has it been since we hung out? Months? Did you even notice that we stopped inviting you to things while you’ve been ignoring us?” 

“Of course I’ve noticed!” Danny shot back. “I’ve just been busy!” 

“What? Busy getting in fights? Hurting yourself? The only thing it looks like you’ve been doing is getting injured. I can’t believe that that’s more important than us.”

Danny looked away from her and her heart plummeted.

“Sam, I-”

He gasped. It almost looked like his breath fogged in the air. Danny’s eyes widened and his fists clenched at his sides as he looked around the Nasty Burger. 

“I have to go.” Danny turned and ran out the back door of the Nasty Burger.

“What the hell?” Tucker said.

That was it. Sam was going to figure this out once and for all. 

She shot up out of her seat and ran towards the door he just exited out of. Tucker shouted behind her. 

“Sam!” 

She could hear her boots hitting the ground behind her. She shoved the door open and looked down both ends of the alley. As Tucker caught up to her, out of breath, she saw Danny at the end of the alley. 

“We’ve gotta-” 

Sam was cut off as Danny lit up with a flash of bright light. 

A ring formed around his waist and her eyes widened as it split and traveled up and down his body. 

Left behind was Danny Phantom.

Then a large ghost landed on the ground in front of them. 

It was a big hairy one with large teeth and an underbite. It sniffed a couple times. 

Sam was still staring down the alley at where Danny had transformed. Tucker stared at the ghost as he screamed. 

Danny whipped around and flew towards them. Just as the ghost bent down to take a chomp at them, he grabbed them around their waists and pushed them backwards with his shoulders. He flew into the air with them as he pulled them away from the ghost. Sam watched it chase them as she tried to grip onto his shoulder. 

They were so high up.

Tucker pounded on Danny’s shoulder. “Dude! Why aren’t we on the ground!” 

“Why do you think, Tucker?!” She pointed at the ghost chasing after them. “Do you want to be a snack for Chompy?”

“We’ve gotta find somewhere safe for you guys to hide!” 

Sam watched as the three of them faded from sight and her heart almost climbed into her throat. Then a tingling sensation spread through her. They were coming up on a building really fast and she closed her eyes, bracing for impact. Then suddenly they were no longer moving. 

She peeked an eye open. They were inside the Amity Park library. 

Danny placed them on the ground and let go of them.

“Stay here. You’ll be safe.”

He flew back through the wall and Sam watched him fly back towards the ghost that was sniffing at the air again. Danny punched it in the face and the ghost roared.

She felt Tucker’s hand land on hers. She twisted her grip to hold it. She couldn’t look away from the fight.

“This is what he’s been doing this whole time?” Sam whispered. “How is this even possible?” 

“Danny’s dead?” Tucker whispered. He was breathing fast, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “How is Danny dead?” 

Sam turned to him. “Tucker-“

“How did our friend die and we didn’t even notice?!” Tucker brought both his hands up to his head and pushed them underneath his beret. “Maybe that’s why he started ghosting us. Literally! Maybe he was upset that we didn’t realize he died!”

Sam turned to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Tucker, I don’t think he’s actually dead.”

“How do you explain that then?!” He gestured with a hand at the window.

“I don’t know!” Sam threw her hands up in the air. “He looks like a ghost like that but not at school! Maybe he’s like- half and half! He still seems alive!”

Tucker took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s still somewhat alive. But why didn’t he tell us?” 

“Maybe-“ 

Sam was interrupted when she saw Danny floating through the window in front of them. 

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you guys were okay. That ghost didn’t get you or anything did it?”

Sam shook her head. “No, we’re okay.”

Danny smiled at her. “That’s good. I would’ve hated for someone to get hurt during a ghost fight.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

They all stared at each other for a few seconds before Tucker broke the silence. 

“We are so-“ Sam interrupted Tucker with an elbow to his ribs. “Ow!”

“Did you see our friend? Danny?” Sam asked. Danny’s eyes widened. “We were trying to catch up with him but he was gone when we got outside. I’m worried the ghost got him.”

“Oh. The Fenton kid?” Sam nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine. He got out of there before the ghost showed up. You don’t have to worry.” 

Sam nodded. “Oh that’s good. I’m glad he’s okay. And thank you for saving us. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”

Tucker shot her a look and she shot him one back.

“Yeah, thanks, dude.” Tucker said. He held his hand out for a high five. Danny awkwardly gave him one. “We would’ve been that things dinner without you.” 

“Yeah it’s no problem. That’s what I’m here for.” Danny pointed his thumb over his shoulder as he floated back. “I gotta go. Maybe I’ll catch you later.”

He flew through the wall and then he was gone. 

Tucker looked at her. “Why didn’t you say anything? I wanted to apologize to him.”

Sam turned to look at Tucker. “He didn’t tell us for a reason. Either he thought we wouldn’t understand or that we’d be afraid of him or whatever reason he could’ve had. I want him to come to us with it on his own terms. I want him to trust us.” 

“Oh.” Tucker looked at the floor. “I guess that is a good reason. Do you think he’ll ever get there?”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. It was a text from Danny in their old group chat. 

What did you guys have planned for Tucker’s birthday again? 

She smiled. “I think we’ll get there.” 

[inquirepannacottafugo]

If you want to could you talk shit about the others in your team? I like drama. You can skip Giorno if you want because I know you love her ❤️

I will include Giorno because it is for fairness,

Bruno:

-Likes fish a little bit too much, I think there's something deeper going on. I'm not sure what, but something is happening with him and those scaly creatures.

-Bad at cooking, specifically soup.

-He doesn't fucking use doors, he just zips his way in. Fuck locking the door, he'll zip his way in, like the nosy scum he is. Respectfully, keep it zipped.

Mista:

-Said he has never tried fresh celery, dirty little man.

-Unpleasant smell, it sticks to everything. Trust me, you know when he's coming.

-Asks the worst questions over meals, I don't want to hear his validations for cannibalism, even if he's against cannibalism himself.

Narancia:

-Plays his music too loud. His room is directly attached to mine by shared wall and he puts his speaker up against that wall in particular, I need him to stop.

-I don't understand how he talks sometimes, I didn't almost get a degree to have to learn what a 'skibidi' is. I don't care about Mr Toilet or his camera men, are they in a harem or something alike?

-He peels fruits and leaves the skin on the table and the table almost always has fruit juice on it, irritates me. I don't want my hand being on a sticky mess, it ruins my day.

Trish (I suppose she counts) :

-I believe, in my personal opinion, she has too much stuff. There is a lot of items in her ownership and it's getting hard to keep track of.

-She keeps calling me emo (I'm fucking NOT.)

-Generally annoying, she keeps taking MY seat at the dinner table (which I've had the same seat for three plus years) and she needs to recognize that she doesn't always have special privileges. If anything, she should have reduced privileges because she was the ex boss of Passiones daughter, indirectly, she caused a lot of people to die/almost die. She will make me end my life if she takes MY favorite seat one more time, I don't like sitting anywhere else and she needs to know her place under my heel, not on my chair.

Giorno:

-Doesn't let bugs out of the house when someone tells her to, 'it's their home too now, they're too little to know where they are'. Shut up, Narancia's plenty little too and he fucking knows where he is. Plus Abbacchio's a little cockroach, he knows where he is, get those fucking little crawlers OUT.

-Keeps turning my pencils into frogs, stop it. I need my pencils, what I don't need is a Lake Titicaca Frog. Thank you very much.

-More of a complaint directed at Golden Experience, but she willingly let's Golden Experience out, so it's on her. I need that damn stand to STOP hugging my stand, Purple Haze is a rabies ridden little freak who does not deserve a hug. Additional little point, stop comparing my stand to a dog, Purple Haze may drool like one and rub his face against things, but that freak is not a dog.

Abbacchio:

-Ugly.

-Seventeen teeth.

-Seventeen teeth and one growing.

-Still bitching about his seventeen toothbrushes that went missing, one for each rotten little tooth.

-Hasn't replaced his toothbrushes in over fifteen years.

-Alcoholic bitch who leaves glass bottles on the floor in front of my room to watch me trip over, it's NOT funny.

-I'm convinced he hasn't read a book in over ten years.

-Ex cop.

-Smelly.

-I haven't seen him sleep in his actual room in over three months.

-His lipstick looks bad, It's not your color, let it go.

-Has a stupid little 'A' bag that reminds me of the Lost Relic Of Atlantis from Spongebob Squarepants.

-Hair looks like Squidward (from Spongebob Squarepants') tentacles, it also makes the noises when he walks, I bet it's so greasy it sticks like tentacles too.

-Copied my hair color.

-Has a stupid fucking stand who looks like a stingray.

-Stand has ugly eyes.

-Listens to bad music.

-Stupid.

-Outfit is an ugly color.

-I don't like his shoes.

-Depressed.

-Broke the toilet by shitting too hard a few weeks back.

-Pisses really loudly, seriously, it sounds like chicken being fried.

-What is up with that stupid fucking little purple thing on his stupid fucking cone head?

-Resting bitch face but in a bad way.

-Why does he look like that?

-In dire need of cosmetic surgery.

-I'm half convinced he didn't graduate Elementary School.

-I don't like his personality.

-His beer is cheap and tastes like shit.

-Eyes are an ugly color.

-I saw him eat cake barehanded once, no utensils, no nothing, he didn't even wash his hands before or after. He just committed the diabolical act and left the plate on the side, before scurrying out like the little spineless rat man he is.

-Should be dead.

-Generally just disappointing to be around, he's just so uninteresting.

-Owns a rat, which he probably got so he could sit on the floor and munch cheese with and claim it to be 'bonding' instead of him trying to be the mischievous little mouse he thinks himself to be.

-I fucking hate him.

[writing-intheundercroft]

“I hate her.”

Read full fic on AO3

WC: 6,356

Rating: T (Overall fic is E, MDNI)

“I hate her.”

Ominis leans against the foggy glass wall of the greenhouse, rolling his opalescent eyes in Sebastian’s direction. He cannot see him, but they’ve been friends long enough that he can sense Sebastian better than anyone else, save for his own twin.

”You don’t hate her,” he says lazily, drumming his finger tips against his arm. “You’re jealous of her.”

Sebastian runs a hand through his thick waves, made even more unruly by the damp air in the greenhouses. The two Slytherin boys are at the edge of the group, the rest of the class standing in the center of the room. That’s where she stands, smiling broadly as she feigns humility over the obscenely giant venomous tentacula she’s submitting for her final project of the term.

”What could I possibly be jealous about?” Sebastian asks bitterly, fingers digging so hard into his forearms that he might actually bruise.

Quite a bit, actually. The new girl (she’d always be the new girl to him, considering they’d hardly gotten to know one another upon her arrival in fifth year) was somehow now their class valedictorian, much to the chagrin of every Ravenclaw in their year. With barely three years of magical education under her belt, she’d not only saved the school from a goblin invasion, achieved all outstanding marks on her OWLs, become Head Girl, and was the youngest witch to earn both a chocolate frog card and an order of Merlin.

Worst of all, it was near impossible to hate her. How could hate someone with perfect manners and a kind heart? Someone who would direct first years in the right direction, who would always defer the first turn in Summoner’s Court to her opponent. She’d jumped headfirst into the Black Lake just to help Grace Pinch Smedley find a rusted old astrolabe, and had been the only person to actually return gobstones to Zenobia Noke. And when she wept in front of the whole school at Eleazar Fig’s funeral, nearly everyone cried with her. After all, it was easy to be sympathetic to someone who deserved it.

What did Sebastian have to show for the last three years?

A dead sister, died and buried without fanfare in a garden plot. A barely functioning relationship with his best friend, who stayed around even after Sebastian’s multiple attempts to push him away. Homeless, technically, considering Uncle Solomon’s speech to him the night before leaving for seventh year. The two of them had sat silently at the dinner table, a gaping, bleeding hole left at their sides from the empty third chair between them. Solomon had made Sebastian’s favorite fare, and had even opened one of the dusty bottles of scotch. Sebastian almost thought it was a celebration, but Solomon’s eyes had said otherwise. His obligation to Sebastian is complete; he is seventeen, educated, and no longer needing a guardian. Sebastian is unwelcome at the Feldcroft cottage upon graduation—character building, Solomon calls it. A chance for a young man to prove himself.

Sebastian kicks a rock under a table, stubbing his toe in the process. Fuck.

[blockedbykei]

HIHIHIHIHIHIHHIIHIHIIIII IT'S ME AGAINNNNN AND I'M HERE TO PROVIDE MORE DAD TSUKKI BRAINROT 😈😈

Imagine how absolutely concerned, protective, worried, caring, loving (probably feeling every single emotion LMAO) Tsukki is when he's taking care of Hoshi who has a common cold but he's acting like she's about to die

ALSO I LOVE YOU PLEASE DON'T DIE, TAKE CARE AND NO NEED TO RUSH THIS, TAKE UR TIME‼️‼️

I LOVE YOU TOO! thank u for this request 🙏

—

you have never seen kei this frantic since the first time he was almost late to his first sendai frogs practice.

he runs back and forth between the kitchen and hoshi's bedroom, picking up a bowl of soup, fever syrup, a cold rag, a glass of water, a jar of honey, chamomile tea—

everything to assure hoshi's cold.

she'd gotten it yesterday, you assume. it was flu season, but you had all made an unconscious mistake of not wearing a mask. but you and kei had strong immune systems; it's just that little hoshi was still developing her weak lungs.

you follow kei, except walking behind him as he strides five steps to her bedroom. you rest your shoulder on the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling at the sight of your worried husband sitting beside hoshi—who sat with a thick comforter around her arms and a rag on her forehead.

it was only a fever, but kei's treating it like she was about to die at any second.

"eat it, baby," he holds a spoonful of honey, floating just above her tiny pale lips. "for papa, please?"

she shakes her head petulantly. to be fair, this was her third spoon.

kei sighs forlornly. "please, hoshi."

"kei," you walk towards him, placing your hand on top of the one that holds the spoon. "let her rest. you've been all over her since this morning. you're going to get sick."

"we can't leave her alone here–"

"the door's open. and you're not even wearing your mask," you take the spoon, placing it on the empty bowl on hoshi's bedside table. you're glad that she had at least finished the okayu you made. you bend down to let hoshi lay on her bed. "take a nap, sweetie."

she whines, wrapping her blanket around her. "i wanna watch tv."

"she wants to watch tv," kei echoes. "okay baby. i'll take you to the couch."

and before you could protest, he'd already scooped her into his arms, walking rapidly to the living room and laying her down on the couch. kei barely takes his eyes off her, blindly reaching for the remote. and when he has it, it's only when he looks away to look for her favorite show.

his adamancy at being present at her side when hoshi's sick was something you had always admired but had grown to find just the tiniest bit incredulous. you see how hoshi, while she enjoyed his pampering, seemed to not know how to tell her dad that she was (at the moment) content and fine. but whenever she was sick, even at the slighest cough or the tiniest sniffle, kei was on her like a fly on an open meal.

it seems as though she was still enjoying this extra ounce of attention.

"papa," she croaks, nose stuffed. "can i have tonkatsu for dinner?"

"of course, baby," he smooths her hair down, kneeling beside her. "you can have anything you want for dinner."

you sigh. "hoshi, you need to take a nap."

"but i don't wanna."

"hoshi."

"love," kei looks up at you. "she's had a rough day. let her watch. she hasn't caught up with her show for a week." then he pushes himself up, taking the alcohol with him and spraying his palm, before touching your face. "i'll take care of her honey, yeah? it's okay."

you give him a tired gaze, but you can see his worry through the glaze of his eyes, looking down at you with pinched eyebrows. with a huff, you kiss his cheek. "i'll cook the tonkatsu. but i want you to wear a mask, okay? we can't get sick."

after dinner, kei's cuddled with hoshi in the living room, a mask on his face. he's not supposed to cuddle her, but his stubborness had blossomed when hoshi came, especially when he sided with her wants. you take a note of buying adult medicine the next day.

because just as you predicted, he had began to sneeze the moment hoshi had her normal temperature back. kei greets you with a pout, knowing an "i told you so" would be his good morning.

[t1red-twilight]

through the ages

part 1

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, doesn’t follow cannon super closely (i’m stupid), cursing, mentions of spencelle (bc i said so)

notes: lmao finally got this out

word count: 2.0k

masterlist series masterlist s. r. masterlist

hotch opened the door and brought you in. spencer took note of everything; the curve of your lips, the way you walked. he had never been so enamored with a single person before. sure, he’d had crushes. but never once had he immediately needed to know someone.

aaron’s introduction of you was wordless; the world lagged as spencer gazed upon you but desperately tried to avoid eye contact. every spot of your face, every imperfection had him speechless.

you had just graduated, masters in criminal justice and a minor in sociology from princeton. full ride scholarship, spencer later found out. (your writing was exquisite; very insightful. he looked it up in the hotel later that evening.)

it had been a normal day in the office, as normal as it could be. then, his world stopped when he saw you. after elle had left something in him felt sort of numb; maybe, you could give him a spark.

you sat in the chair directly to his left on the opposite side of the table. one elbow leaned on the desk, and you wordlessly mouthed words he couldn’t make out as the case was described. your eyes flicked over to him, and he quickly looked back at hotch. had you caught him staring, or had you wanted to catch a glimpse of him? he knew that this could maybe mean that you were trying to look at him from the same motivations that he was, enamorment, or maybe you had just sensed him staring like a frog at a fly: quickly, insignificantly.

the only issue was that it seemed you liked morgan.

las vegas, nevada was where the team was headed. being here reminded spencer of things, memories he didn’t care to recall. he noticed how you were hesitant to speak up, a feeling he had been familiar with a few years ago when he first joined the team.

the police station was incredibly stuffy, typical for the las vegas summertime. if you looked out into the road, you could see mirages. the police station had ac, but it was not helpful by any means at all.

spencer looked over at you. your hands were in your lap, and you were intently focused on something that morgan was saying. morgan was sitting on the table in the centers of the conference room, and you were looking up at him.

the stretch of morgan’s muscles underneath his shirt made spencer’s chest pang with envy. what did you think about morgan? was morgan your type? oh, god. maybe spencer didn’t even have a chance.

he didn’t see hotch approaching. “you find anything on the geographical profile, reid?” spencer blinked rapidly in an effort to clear his mind. he turned around to face the map that he had been leaning on. “distracted?” hotch’s eyebrows raised in what spencer knew to be amusement, though he was never hyper-expressive.

“uh- no. i’m alright. all the murders were in the same police jurisdiction, and all within a mile of each other. the focal point of these suggest that the unsub might live-“

-

you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking. this introduction could make or break your relationship with the bau team. it didn’t help that you were so young and inexperienced. hell, you were still working on your phd.

aaron hotchner guided you into the room and recited your name and qualifications. however, your eyes were glued to the wall right above the shoulder of a tall man, who had a goatee.

when you peeled your eyes away from the wall, you saw him. he had light brown hair, and starry eyes that were behind thick-rimmed glasses. one of his plump lips was tucked between his teeth.

once hotchner finished, you sat down paid attention as much as you could to the case that you were being sent on. baptism by fire, you guessed.

every now and then, you’d look out of the corner of your eye to look at the man in glasses. hopefully he wouldn’t catch you trying to memorize every freckle and line on his face.

you stayed mostly silent on the jet. you figured that you could mostly shadow the other people on the team before you got the hang of things. the chairs on the jet were not super comfortable; or maybe, you were just ridiculously tense.

you had only been to las vegas one or two times, and one of those times was just driving through. the police station was crowded and full of typical police assholes. that, you were more than used to. a bead of sweat dripped down your back.

when you sat down to look at the police reports one more time, you heard the table creak as someone sat upon it. looking up, you saw the man with the goatee from earlier. “so, where’d you work before you landed this gig?”

you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. at least he was being casual. still, you dropped your hands to your lap to fiddle with your fingers. “i was an assistant at a firm up in jersey,” you said, pausing briefly. “remind me what your name was again?”

“i’m morgan.” you followed by telling him your name. he must’ve seen you glancing over at the man in glasses repeatedly. he was raptly describing the geographical profile to agent hotchner. “that’s reid, if you didn’t already know.”

“that’s good to know. this morning was a little rushed.” your eyes trailed over agent reid. the way his fingers moved across the map with intense dexterity was enticing.

morgan chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully (even though you couldn’t see it, your gaze still locked on reid). “he’s single,” morgan purred, jumping off the table to return to his previous task.

you felt like a deer caught in the headlights, but morgan was gone before you could protest to what he was alluding to.

-

the case had gone by smoothly. but spencer could hardly even focus when you were within fifty feet of him. he was inexplicably drawn to you.

the jet was much cooler than vegas had been, and the entire team felt relieved. you were the last on, spencer quickly sat upright. were you walking towards him?

you spoke in a soft tone, “can i sit here? all the other seats are taken.” you clasped your hands together, likely out of nerves.

spencer nodded vigorously before he answered. he almost forgot to respond verbally. “yeah!” he said loudly. shit. he didn’t want to seem too eager, he might embarrass himself. “yes, of course you can.” this time, he spoke as quietly and calmly as he could muster while simultaneously scooting over to make room for you on the couch.

he tried to avoid eye contact. luckily, you weren’t even looking in his direction. if you had been, you might see the red creeping up his neck. you had a light floral scent about you, one that reminded him of simpler times when life was less hectic.

“agent reid, right?” you murmured. even though it was just his last name, he loved the way you said it, rolling off your tongue so smoothly and delicately.

he shrugged and leaned back on the couch slightly, trying to relax his shoulders. “doctor, actually, but you can just call me spencer.”

your tongue swiped your bottom lip before you spoke. “spencer. that suits you.” oh god, it did sound great when you said it. it sounded downright angelic; almost as if you were the only person meant to say it.

a silence followed. while being slightly awkward, spencer wasn’t too concerned about it. at least you were sitting next to him and not derek. “did you have a job before this one?”

“yeah, i was a lawyer’s assistant.” your voice was more soft than it had been. spencer looked over at you for the first time since you sat next to him.

“you like the bau so far?”

“how long have you worked for the bau?” you both spoke over each other; you turned and met his gaze. your eyes were beautiful, the lighting of the jet illuminating your face in a perfect way. spencer gestured for you to speak first.

“yeah, it’s alright.” a small smile adorned your lips. spencer wondered what they tasted like, before shutting that thought down completely. he couldn’t be thinking that about his coworker, let alone one he met less than forty eight hours ago.

you mirrored his gesture. “i’ve worked at the bau for a couple of years now.” what a dumb response. why couldn’t he think or speak properly?

his mind kept wandering. “you like it so far?” he whispered.

“yeah, it’s pretty cool.” pretty cool? who even says that? “just let me know if you need anything.” you gave him a warm smile and nodded. the way you smiled made him giddy and filled his stomach with butterflies.

-

being last on the jet didn’t work out well for you. every seat was taken, and the few that weren’t had feet propped up on them. in the back, you could see the couch still had space. perhaps spencer wouldn’t mind?

you walked over hesitantly to the couch. he didn’t notice you right away. “can i sit here? all the other seats are taken,” you noted, rocking on your heels.

he looked up at you, responding brightly. “yeah!” he moved over and spoke more quietly. “yes, of course you can.” there was a good six inches between the two of you, but it was as if you were brushing up against him with how your nerves were treating you.

small talk sucked, but you figured it would probably benefit you in getting to know your coworkers. “agent reid, right?” you recalled morgan’s anecdote from earlier, at the police station. it would really suck if you had somehow managed to forget his name in the time it took to solve the case and fly back to quantico.

“doctor, actually but you can just call me spencer.” shit, you totally just disrespected him. if only agent hotchner had properly introduced everyone when you were introduced.

trying to hide your increasing embarrassment, you tried, again, to be casual. “spencer. that suits you.” you should have apologized. not knowing what to say, you sat in the silence that consumed the rest of the jet. your knee bobbed up and down, you pulled at your fingers, and breathed deeply.

“did you have a job before this one?” he cleared his throat. did everything he did have to be attractive?

“yeah, i was a lawyer’s assistant.”

he had been looking at you, you realized. how long had he been looking at you and you were too skittish to look at him? how could you, with his gorgeous starry eyes.

in another circumstance his ‘interrogation’ would have intimidated you but, you only felt anxious from trying to impress him. “you like the bau so far?”

“how long have you worked for the bau?” the two of you interrupted each other. a laugh was shared and you relaxed for once, your posture looking a little less like you were constipated.

the chill of the jet was setting in; that, or spencer was just giving you goosebumps. he waved his hand in a motion saying that you should respond first. “yeah, it’s alright.” you actually really liked it (despite the morbidity, but that you were used to). but, you had to seem cool. chill, not like you were analyzing every thing he did and said to see if he liked you.

copying what he did, you silently urged that he was good to respond. “i’ve worked at the bau for a couple of years now,” he nodded as he spoke.

small talk did suck, a lot, but at least you were talking to spencer and not alone with your worried thoughts. “you like it so far?” you asked.

“yeah, it’s pretty cool.” his adam’s apple bobbed. “just let me know if you need anything.” you smiled at this, his comfort proving successful. the tension in your spine finally dissipated. it was good that you were at least on good terms with the bau member closest in age with you.

next part

[milswrites]

A thousand roses

~ Cassian X Fem!Reader

Summary: Every day you curse the books that gave you unrealistically high expectations of men. Sure you were going to be single forever until you meet Cassian. Adamant he wants to take you on a date, Cassian does his best to impress.

Warning: ⚠️ Reading this may give you unrealistically high expectations of men ⚠️

Actual warnings: Lots of sex talk and inferences to sex but no actual smut!

“And then he made her orgasm three times! Three! The last guy I was with didn’t even manage to squeeze one out of me!”

Upon finishing your latest read, you just couldn’t help but give a very detailed review of exactly what you thought about it to your co-worker. A packed cafe in Velaris during the middle of the day was probably not the most appropriate location to shout about your sex life, but you just had to share how the smut filled pages had left you more satisfied than any man had ever done.

Jadis snorted into the steaming hot tea she was drinking, liquid spilling everywhere, “I’m telling you girl, you just need to get out there, kiss a few frogs to find your prince. I don’t know how many more of your smut reviews I can take. It’s not natural to be this turned on at work.”

You hummed in response, fingers absentmindedly brushing over the pages of your book, “But that’s the problem. I’m too picky to go for a frog!” You blame the hundreds of books in your library at home for that, millions of perfect fictional men literally at your fingertips. “Real men just don’t do it for me anymore.”

This statement was confirmed as you miserably scanned your eyes over the customers in the cafe, none of the males present seeming to stick out to you meet any of your self-imposed standards. You only had yourself and your books to blame for your lack of a relationship.

“I’m just never going to find anyone! Forever reading in my house wishing I was at the mercy of one of my book boyfriends” you sighed, not wanting to seem downhearted but you just couldn’t help it. Velaris just so happened to be a haven for beautiful relationships, everywhere you turned you’d see interlocked hands, affectionate hugs and the occasional heated exchange of kisses. You could only wish that one day you’d be in the same boat as them, overwhelmingly in love with someone who you could call your own. There’s a reason the night court was so affectionately called the court of dreams.

Jadis reeled in your wandering mind, “Well darling, I hope you enjoy forever fantasising about sex rather than having it. I for one can’t wait to take Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome for a spin.”

She was referring to the moderately attractive male who had asked her out the other day during the preparation of his morning coffee. In your opinion, it wasn’t the most romantic scene. Though Jadis hadn’t been on a date in a long while and so in her own words she was going to implode if she didn’t get a good fuck in soon. So who were you to judge.

The bell above the cafe door twinkled, ending the conversation about your book and pathetic love life. Your eyes travelled to the cafe entrance and stopped when they landed on the biggest male you had ever seen. The Illyrian walked through the door, having to duck his head and draw his wings in to fit through the much smaller frame. His presence in the cafe was enough for you to lift your head from where it was sat in your palm, interest peaked.

There was no doubt that this Illyrian was one of the most attractive males you have ever seen. His long brown hair was pulled back messily into a bun. You didn’t normally like the rough, slightly barbarian-esque type, typically preferring your males to be more clean-cut. It was clear this man didn’t look like most males. No, he looked as if he had just stepped out of one of your deliciously sinful smut books.

He began to approach the counter, his body taking up so much space that he bumped into tables, displacing the drinks of customers who were grasping at the mugs and glasses to try and prevent them from spilling at the earthquake caused by this ginormous man. He apologised to each of them as he moved but kept his eyes locked ahead. Locked on you.

Your friend, noticing the effect this man had on you, spun around and immediately started acting as if she was busy with another job, leaving you to serve him in your hypnotised state.

“Just a coffee please love” he said, pulling you from your stupor as he finally came to a stop at the counter. Mother, even his voice was hot. It was resonant and also bore the twinge of gruffness which left goosebumps on your arms in its wake. There was no doubt everything about this man oozed pure sex appeal. You were too mesmerised to move, brain not registering that he had asked you to do your job. Instead, like a besotted fool, you stayed stood behind your counter, feet rooted to the ground.

“You alright there gorgeous?” The unbelievably good looking male asked, roguishly handsome smile growing on his face, clearly aware of the effect he has on you. This spurred you to move, the stacked cups surrounding you rattling at your sudden movement. “Coffee! Right. Yes, of course!” Managing to squeak a few words out, you turned around to busy yourself with making the coffee, hatred in your eyes as you glared at Jadis who left you stranded making coffee for this very handsome man who’s looks alone were doing very strange things to you and making you think very indecent things. Jadis, undeterred by your glare, wiggled her eyebrows at you, grin stretched across her face, beaming from ear to ear.

With shaky hands, you finish up with making his coffee and without turning around, afraid you’d accidentally start professing your undying love to him if you did, you ask, “any sugar?”

His honey coated voice replies, “No thanks, I’ve already got my eye on something sweeter.” You ignored the sight of your friend’s head snapping speedily to look at you in glee. Heat burning across your cheeks, you turn back to face him, avoiding the man’s eyes.

Hands still shaking, you place the coffee in front of him and wait for him to pay. The sooner he leaves the sooner you can gossip with your Jadis about him and moan about your inability to act normal in front of incredibly attractive men. He pulls out the money from his pocket and places it on the counter, pushing it towards you, but before you can take it from him he drags it back in his direction, finger holding it in place. “How about you and I go out together sometime sweetheart? You’re obviously desperate to.”

At this, the lovesick fog that had been swimming in front of your eyes since this man had entered the cafe dissipated. Rose-tinted glasses off you noticed that the smile that adorned his face was more of a cocky smirk. His confidence and tone of voice told you that he asks this question a lot and most likely always gets the answer he desires. It was clear this man wasn’t the personification of one of your book males come to life. He was just another playboy.

Not wanting to just be another name on the list for this man, you slid the money out from under his hand, sickly sarcastic smile on your face, and said, “I think I’ll pass thanks sweetheart.”

The males smirk promptly fell from his face in shock, clearly not expecting, nor used to rejection. He sputtered out a few buts and whats, flirty demeanour forgotten, a slightly pathetic butt-hurt one taking its place. This was definitely a man not used to losing.

“Have a nice day!” You enthusiastically, and very satirically, finished this interaction before walking away to busy yourself with clearing some now empty tables in the cafe. Wings hung low in defeat, the man at the counter left the cafe, bell ringing as he exited. This surprised you, having expected him to put up a little more of a fight, but nonetheless you were glad that it was over with. Cursing yourself for falling for just another pretty face, standards forgotten.

“What?!” Your friend screamed running over to you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you vigorously as if you had lost all senses. Unafraid of scaring off the customers who still sat in the cafe, some clearly entertained by the whole event which had transpired. “Do you know who that was? Oh Y/N he was totally into you! Why did you say no?”

“Because he was looking at me as if I was a piece of meat! And no, I have no idea who he was and unlike you I don’t go jumping on every stranger who asks me out at work” You brushed Jadis off of you and started taking the dirty glasses back behind the counter to be washed, your friend hot on your heels not wanting to finish this conversation just yet.

“That was Cassian!” She continued, expression as if it should have been obvious to you who the Illyrian male was. “Good for him” you replied, no idea why it should matter to you who he was, clearly if Jadis and the few interested by standers in the cafe knew who he was he had quite the reputation in Velaris. Surely that mustn’t be a good thing.

“Cassian? Lord of bloodshed? General and Commander of the Night Court’s army?” She continued, seriously not convinced you could have absolutely no idea about him.

You snorted, “I’m sorry, no one actually has that many titles unless they’re from a book… or if they just have a very large ego”.

Jadis groaned, hands fisting her hair in exasperation, “Y/N he’s like totally hot and totally loaded and super important! And he was so checking you out!” You could tell all this was upsetting your friend who was most definitely hoping you were about to get some much needed action, but all you could do was shrug, “I’m sorry babe but I’m a romantic, it’s going to take more than pet names and a stupidly attractive face to gain my interest.”

Giving up, Jadis dropped her hands from her head in acceptance, disappointment clear on her face, “I know, but don’t come running back to me to complain how unsatisfied you are when that Illyrian god was basically throwing himself at you.”

After the topic of the male was dropped, your day continued as normal, whilst Jadis had promised not to bring it up again but you couldn’t help but notice the angry glances your friend kept throwing your way during the last few hours of your shift, distressed that you had let a man go who had seemed perfectly acceptable in her opinion.

At the end of your shift, in an attempt to get her to understand where you were coming from, you slid your book towards her, “Here. Read it and then maybe you’ll understand what I mean.” She picked it up, looking at the cover eyes bulging at the title, “Bound in chains? Really?”

“Trust me, sit down with a large glass of wine and read it. You’re going to love it!”

With that the two of you locked up the cafe, book secure in Jadis’s bag. You said your goodbyes at the door and headed your seperate ways, all thoughts of the handsome man from earlier in the day long gone. Upon your arrival at home, you wandered to your favourite room in the house, your library, wanting to select a new read to cosy up with for the evening.

Approaching your shelf that you reserved exclusively for books you had bought but had yet to read, you pulled one out by its spine, eyes glancing over the cover. The cover which bore the image of a large, well-muscled man, whose long brown hair flowed freely over his shoulders. Eyes blowing wide and blush returning to your cheeks you shoved the book back onto the shelf. Thoughts drifting back to the Illyrian with the same looks who had been flirting with you earlier. Maybe you’d be better off reading a safe fantasy book tonight. Or better yet a book that had no man in at all, although that would be a rare find in your library.

~~~~~

“I am a changed women”

Returning to work the next day, you were greeted by Jadis smiling, bouncing up and down on her feet, and holding your book in her hands.

“I take it you liked it then?”

“Liked it?”Jadis squealed, “it was like reading pure porn. I loved it”

You laughed along side her, of course Jadis would read an entire book and focus on the porn rather than the actual plot of it.

“Truly I did,” she continued, rushing about and gathering her things, “and I would love to stay behind now my shift has finished to talk about it but I have to go home and get ready for Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome, maybe tonight I can try out some of those moves I read about!” She winked at you, handing over your book before rushing out of the cafe with an excitable “Wish me luck!”

Work had been very quiet today, allowing you time to sit and read your newest book. After finishing a simple fantasy last night you were left unsatisfied by the lack of enjoyment it provided when it came to the physical romance. Needing more, you had selected one of the filthiest books you could find.

Engrossed in the pages, plot thickening by the minute, you were absorbed into the book. Only to be broken from its spell when the familiar chime rang of the bell rang out, signalling a customer had arrived. Rushing to finish the page before they reached the counter, your eyes flew over the words before you finally reached the end of the page. Enabling you to look up from behind your book only to see Cassian standing before you, lips formed into a cautious smile. As if unsure of how you’d react to his presence after yesterday.

“Coffee?” You ask, eyebrows raised, placing your book down before standing up from the stool you were sat on behind the counter.

“Please if you don’t mind, but don’t let me stop you from finishing ‘Fated Frenzy’… cauldron do women really read books like this?” Cassian exclaimed, picking up your book and flicking through the pages, holding it out of reach so you couldn’t snatch it back.

Clenching your fists together as you glared at him you replied, “well if only men knew how to actually please a woman then we wouldn’t have to.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right man then,” Cassian mumbled, focus still on the book that was dwarfed in his large hands. He must have reached a particularly risqué part as his eyes widened slightly, tongue peaking out from between his lips. Now as he spoke, reading from your book, he wore a large grin, “I mean not every man has a cock that looks as if it was sculpted by the gods themselves.”

You scowled, now managing to take hold of the book grasped in one of his large hands and snatched it back. “I’ve certainly never met a man like that” you replied as you slammed your book back onto the counter and moved off to make his coffee so he could leave you to read in peace.

“Don’t want to check sweetheart?” He teased from behind your back, clearly trying to get you as flustered as he had managed to yesterday. Pleased at your banter. Not wanting to give him what he wants, and definitely not wanting to turn around to see his stupidly handsome smirking face looking back at you, you replied from over your shoulder while you were busy finishing his drink, “it doesn’t take a fool to know the spymaster has a larger wingspan. Now his I’d like to see.”

You heard the catch of his breath, causing him to choke on air at what you had said, clearly not expecting your confident retort, and not saying anything at the discovery you do indeed know who he is all thanks to Jadis. Cheeks stretching into a grin of your own at his embarrassment, you turn and place his drink in front of him. Unlike yesterday, Cassian didn’t even attempt to reach for his money before asking, “Please, let me take you out somewhere nice”.

Your smile dropped, head shaking slowly, “What classes as nice in your books? Other than a quick fuck behind the back of the building.” This comment made Cassian’s eyebrows knit together, not happy with the impression you had of him. “What will it take for you to understand I’m serious? That I want to take you on a date to get to know you.” He sounded earnest you’d give him that.

“I don’t know ok! I just know that I’m not going to say yes to a man I don’t even know who asked me out while I was just doing my job.”

He stretched out his hand, trying to meet yours which was resting on the counter but you pulled away before any contact could be made. “I want to get to know you, if you’ll let me. Likes, dislikes, good bits, bad bits, everything.”

“I- I don’t know Cassian, I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“What will it take?” He begged, eyes desperate.

“For you to be like one of them” you said, nodding your head towards your book.

“An overly sexual alpha male?” He said, confused as to what you were actually referring to. This made a small laugh escape from your lips, “No that’s just a bonus. I’m sorry Cassian, I just dream about being swept of my feet by a man that acts like one of them. Romantic, sweet, not asking out every other woman they see.”

“I can be romantic” Cassian said defensively, “I can be incredibly romantic”

Wanting to get this interaction over with you decided just to agree with him. “I’m sure you can Cassian, no doubt there’s a very lucky woman waiting for you somewhere”.

You weren’t sure it was possible for his brows to furrow any more than they already were, “I’ll prove it to you. Prove that I’m all in on this. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I’m not going to let you go that easily.” Determined look plastered on his face Cassian grabbed his coffee and walked towards the door pulling the it open, bell chiming, and before he stepped outside he called back to you, “I’ll see you soon gorgeous, you better be ready for me” and with that Cassian left, the cafe silent apart from the bell still ringing, the sound helping you realise that Cassian was real and that interaction did actually happen.

It was only five minutes later, when your wild thoughts were tamed by another customer entering did you realise that Cassian never even paid for his drink.

~~~~~

“Y/N!” Cassian shouted bustling through the tables to reach you as he entered your work once more. Shock flooded your system, he had learnt your name from when you last spoke to him two days ago. After causing a ruckus, and spilling many drinks onto poor unsuspecting customers laps, he reached the counter where you were stood waiting for him.

“What are you-“ you started angrily, worried he would scare away valued customers. Though you were interrupted by Cassian whose arm, which was hiding behind his back, shot out revealing the largest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen.

He held them out expectantly, waiting for you to take them but your suprise had you rooted to the spot. Familiar with your freezing by now, Cassian impatiently shook the bouquet in your face, movement bringing your thoughts back to the present. Still not taking them, not quite believing something so beautiful could be gifted to you, you spoke, “They’re lovely Cassian but you just cut right in front of Matilda who was here first!” Cassian’s features faltered as he dropped the bouquet in disappointment.

Matilda , the lovely little old fae who frequented your cafe, leaned around Cassian’s broad figure so she could see you, “it’s alright Y/N! Take the damn flowers and talk to the man!”

Cassian thanked the older women and stuck out the flowers once more. “For you,” he said encouragingly, willing you to accept the gift, “I told you I’d prove myself to you. I’m here for a date.” By this point you had been stood there for a ridiculous time causing your Jadis to stretch her arm past you and grab the flowers smirking as she says, “Thank you Cassian, they’re beautiful, Y/N loves them. Lillies are her favourite, how did you know?” Winking as she walked off with the bouquet it was clear Cassian has been getting some insider information from the mouth of your best friend.

The Illyrian nodded his head at your friend gratefully and you finally rediscovered the ability to speak, “Thank you, but if you’re here for a date I’m sorry I can’t help you, this is my work Cas, I have to do my job.”

“Pfft bit presumptuous I’m here for a date with you”

At that your face fell slightly before you quickly returned you expression to normal, not wanting Cassian to know his words had an effect on you. Surely he wouldn’t bring you flowers just to have a date with another woman in your workplace. Was this some twisted way to try and make you jealous?

Flirty expression on his face Cassian adjusted where he was stood and flung his arm around Matilda who began to blush, “Have to find out everything I can about you from my beautiful date Matilda here! One coffee for me and one of whatever my darling date would like” he said, making Matilda giggle before asking for her usual. Relief flooding you body, your lips twitched and you began to make their order, “my, my, Matilda. I have to say I expected better in your taste of men”.

“Woah woah no need to tell her,” Cassian joked, “don’t want this hot commodity to leave me for something better” he finished, winking at Morgana who looked as happy as if it was Solstice morning. Grabbing the finished drinks you had placed before him, he headed to a table, coming back once the drinks were down to walk Matilda to her chair, but not before placing his money on the counter, saying, “Moneys there for the other day by the way, I’ll speak to you later.”

Cassian must have sat talking with Matilda for hours, watched closely by you from the corner of your eye as you worked, customer after customer coming and going. Finally when the rush had died down and your shift was coming to an end, the two who had been huddled together gossiping over more than a few coffees, hot chocolates and cakes stood to take their leave. Or more accurately, Matilda was taking her leave. Cassian had said his goodbyes bending down to give Matilda a big hug and then scooped their empty plates and cups into his arms before walking towards you.

There wasn’t enough time for him to place the items down on the counter before you watched as Matilda lay a firm smack to his backside before giggling, “I’ll see you later hot stuff.” Lucky not to break any cups, Cassian jumped, flying forwards and dropping them all onto the counter before you, eyes terrified.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, placing the cups the right way up before checking on the male, “you alright there hot stuff?”

“Oh don’t even start. That woman’s got one strong slap” he whined, hand rubbing his ass to relieve some of the pain.

“Don’t act like that’s not how all your dates end” you goaded, cheeks twinging at the effort to stop yourself from bursting out laughing.

“Trust me gorgeous, if any of my actual dates ended like that I wouldn’t be complaining” he winked at you, all the while pulling a napkin out of its holder to help you clean his mess from the counter.

As you watched him clean, you couldn’t help but admire the way his brows slightly furrow when he’s concentration, noting the way his focused mouth tilts to once side, tongue slightly poking from between his lips. He was handsome there was no denying it.

“Will you walk me home?” You blurted, snapping your mouth shut and internally cursing yourself for asking such a ridiculous thing, digging yourself into an even deeper hole you continued, “it’s only that the flowers you got me are so big… and I have all my other things…and…uh..”

“Y/N, I would love to walk you home”

“Great! I’ll just um, go and grab my stuff”

You turned, heading towards the cloakroom, only to be met by Jadis, bag and bouquet in hand. She shoved them eagerly into your arms squealing, “go get him girl!” Hands pressed against your back, she forced you to move forwards until you were in front of Cassian, “don’t have too much fun you two” she said now guiding you both from the cafe, tripping and stumbling over each others feet as Jadis’s excitement led to some very firm shoving.

~~~~~

Once outside in one piece, no thanks to Jadis, Cassian plucked the flowers from your arms allowing you to swing the strap of your book-filled bag over your shoulders. Timidness now overcame you, what were you supposed to say to him now? Had asking him to walk you home seemed too desperate?

“So what are you reading now? Not another book about a poor sexually frustrated female?” He asked, breaking your panicked thoughts as he walked side by side with you.

“No sex this time,” you giggled lightly, “this one’s about a man who sacrificed his kingdom for his true love”

“You really like that stuff huh?” Cassian spoke softly to you, he sounded like he was truly interested in finding out exactly how your brain worked, “that true love and romantic gestures shit?”

“It’s not shit” you defended, “sometimes it helps me not feel so alone. Reading about all these grand gestures and things people do for the ones they love.”

Cassian cleared his throat awkardly, his hand which was not holding the flowers moving up to scratch at his head, “and you’re into that? Romantic gestures?”

“It’s hard not to be. Pretty sure it’s every girls dream to be swept of their feet and fall as deeply as characters do in books.” Cassian was nodding along to what you were saying but his eyes showed he was lost in thought. It was your turn to draw him from his head, “you never done anything romantic for your ladies Cas?”

His name on your lips seemed to work, the clouds of thought in his eyes fading as he turned his gaze from the road ahead to you, “I guess I’ve normally always thought that just me is enough”. He didn’t say this to be cocky or narcissistic, you could tell. You didn’t mean to make him feel shame over the situation, you had been genuinely curious. Perhaps a little jealous at the thought of Cassian putting in just as much work into chasing other women as he has been with you.

“That’s ok. I think romance is more reserved for the pages of books these days than in actual reality”

Not a fan of where this conversation had turned to Cassian did his best to lift the mood, “I’m not surprised you think that if all your books were like that one I caught you reading. Heck where are you meant to find a overprotective god of war with who hates everyone but the lowly daughter of an inventor and they go on to have insane - and totally not physically possible by the way- sex!”

You scrunched your face, “Cassian there’s no way you were able to get all that from one page…Oh cauldron! You read the book! You read Fatal Frenzy!”

As if only now realising what he said to you, a flustered Cassian tried to provide you with lame excuses as to how he knew that information until it was clear you weren’t going to let it go. After about five minutes of listening to your constant prodding, poking and teasing as you walked, Cassian caved, “Fine! Fine, I read it ok. I was curious as to how he was going to put his god level cock to use!”

By this point you were full on cackling, having to stop your walking to put a hand on your stomach at the thought of this mountain of a man sitting down to read a devilishly smutty book. “I have to say”, you gasped out in-between giggles, “I’m surprised you can even read”.

Cassian acted out the most overdramatic reaction to your words, his hands flew to his heart, bouquet still in his grasp, and released loud, exaggerated noises of pain and cries of just how horrible you were. People had began to stop in the street, wondering why the Lord of Bloodshed was acting as though he had just been shot. Rolling your eyes and wanting the attention off the two of you, you elbowed his side prompting him to stop, “careful you’ll crush my flowers if you die any wilder.”

Charming grin of his face, Cassian looked down at you, “we wouldn’t want that would we? Not when a super hot guy went through the effort of finding out your favourite flowers for you.”

“You’re crazy” you said in dismissal, continuing to walk in the direction of your home.

“Your kind of crazy?” A hopeful tone in Cassian’s voice.

“I haven’t quite decided yet” you said honestly. You couldn’t deny that Cassian was already proving himself to you more than any man has. No one had ever bought you flowers before and no male had ever attempted to read a book you were reading for your attention.

“Well you just let me know when you do” Even the way Cassian looked at you made you melt.

“You’ll be the first” gentle smile on your face. Nerves building in you once more as you thought about what going further with the man next you you would entail.

Content to let you walk lost in your thoughts, Cassian didn’t try to force any conversation. A natural peace fell between the two of you, the silence not an awkward one. It wasn’t until you neared the outside of your house that you broke the silence, “Well, this is me”.

Nodding Cassian passed you the bouquet. For the first time you looked at the flowers and really admired them, admired the fact this man had gone out his way to go to your friend and make sure he got your favourite ones.

“Thank you Cassian,” you said, laying a kiss onto his stubbled cheek, “they’re beautiful.”

Cassian’s usual confidence gone, it was his turn to blush. Shyly, he tried his luck again, “so about that date?”

You walked over to your door, pulling out your key, turning back to Cassian, twinkle in your eyes, you said, “ask me again tomorrow”.

“That wasn’t a no!” He said, confidence rushing back into him. As you entered your house and peaked through the window behind your curtains you couldn’t help but watch Cassian, beam on his face, as he jumped on the spot. A small celebration that you hadn’t fully rejected him once more. A matching grin on your face as you observed him, you stayed watching until he took off from the ground, large angelic wings spread, wondering what in Prythian was this man doing to you and what sinful things you’d like to do with those wings.

~~~~~

You were sorely disappointed over the course of the next week. Since that evening Cassian had walked you home to the cafe he had not returned. Jadis tried to keep your thoughts positive, saying he was probably away on important Night Court business, being the General of its army and all. After being the one to speak to Cassian about you she was adamant that he was undoubtedly in love with you and he wouldn’t leave you hanging.

It was hard though, when the eighth day of his absence rolled round, not to think that he had found someone more interesting to pursue. Someone who didn’t make him work as hard for their affections. Your mood was so glum that you didn’t even have the heart to read. Why read about love when you’re not sure you believe in it anymore?

You had spent days wondering what you had done wrong. Had you been too forward? Or did he find your obsession with males that weren’t real a little too bizarre? You did your best not to dwell on it but it was so hard not to, the flowers you had placed in a vase on the side table in your library, right next to your reading chair, still flourished beautifully, a constant reminder of the man who crashed into your life only to leave it in shambles.

So here you were, sat on the stool in the cafe, your thoughts being the only thing to keep you busy due to your sudden lack of interest in reading. It had been another quiet day, but it wasn’t long now until Jadis would arrive, you had opened the cafe for her after she asked for a favour so she could spend the night at Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome’s, who’s name you had learnt was Arthur. Happy that even if your love life was crumbling, at least Jadis’s was blooming. However, you were thankful you weren’t actually supposed to be working today, not sure if you could survive another shift listening to her unintentionally boast about how perfect Arthur was and how good he is at sex.

So you sat there and waited for her arrival, desperate to go home and crawl into your bed. Without your typical reading to do, you found yourself spending most of your free time sleeping, wasting away the hours you didn’t know what to do with yourself in.

It was finally an hour after the time she had promised to be in for, when Jadis flew into the cafe, bell ringing aggressively at her sudden entrance. Running to where you were at the counter, coat and bags in hand, she was profusely apologising over and over for her tardiness.

“You must have had a good night with Mr Handsome” you teased, trying not to let your slight annoyance at you still being here show. Confusion flashed across her face before she quickly corrected it in realisation, “Oh yeah! Totally great sex, every woman’s dream. Hugeeee dick.”

Opening your mouth, ready to ask her about her odd behaviour, she pulled you from your stool before you could talk. Dragging you out from behind the work area, saying “Come on Y/N it’s your day off, don’t want to be here any longer than you have to be!”

Now you defiantly knew something was off, Jadis typically keeping you an hour in-between shifts to catch you up on everything that has happened since the day before. “Jadis, what’s going on?” You asked cautiously, had something happened between her and Arthur? No. Jadis would definitely tell you if that was the case, or maybe she just didn’t want to make you any more depressed than you already were. Still in that strange tone of voice, Jadis kept pushing you to leave, “Nothings wrong! I’m fine. Now leave, you still have the whole day to do something, go read one of your smut books!”

This confirmed she was definitely hiding something, knowing that you haven’t picked up a book for the past week after listening to your incessant complaining about the matter. If you weren’t so desperate to leave and go rot in bed for the rest of the day you would have stayed and forced whatever it is she was hiding out of her. You decided that was tomorrow’s job, when you had a nice six hour shift together where she couldn’t avoid your pestering.

Shrugging on your coat and promising to yourself you’d find out what she was dodging tomorrow, you left the cafe. Turning your head around to look back through the windows only to be met with Jadis and her crazed eyes watching, as if making sure you were walking in the direction of your house. Unsettled, you followed the streets leading home, praying to the Mother that your friend was alright and you weren’t about to have to kill a man for upsetting her.

Finally, you arrived at your door, turning the key in the lock you were startled to discover the door was already unlocked. You were exhausted when you left that morning but you could have sworn you weren’t so tired that you’d risk your property and your safety like that.

Fear now coursing through your veins, you quietly pushed your door open, scared you would alert anyone in your house that you were there and something bad would ensue. The fae lights in your hallway were all lit, softly casting a warm glow over your home. You stepped inside, and instead of your foot meeting the usual plush of your carpet it was met with a slight crunch.

Casting your eyes to the ground you gasped. There were hundreds of rose petals scattered across your floor, leading towards each of your rooms. Following the trail, you made it through to the entrance of your living room, if your jaw dropped any lower you were sure it’d hit the floor.

The entire room looked as if it had been covered in a red blanket, a sea of roses covering the entirety of your room to the point where you couldn’t actually see anything that wasn’t a deep shade of red.

By this point your heart was pounding in your chest and you were sure you could feel your eyes watering, the hundreds of roses placed around you getting blurrier and blurrier. But there was no sign of the man you were sure had placed them.

Turning around you sped into each of your rooms, wanting nothing more than to find Cassian and throw your arms around him. Each room the same as the last, filled to the brim with the most beautiful roses. Lillies may once have been your favourite flowers but you think the kind-hearted man, who had wormed his way into your heart, may have just changed your mind. Roses were perfect.

Still no Illyrian insight you flung open the door to your library. Room decorated just as over the top as the others. And there in the centre of it all, sat waiting for you to return home, is Cassian. He stood quickly, treading on some of the flowers placed by his feet.

“How?” You asked, voice cracking as you tried to hold the tears at bay.

“It wasn’t easy, Jadis let me in.” Cassian said lightheartedly from where he stood across the room, too far from you for your liking, “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I wanted to do this the day after we last spoke but I guess I didn’t actually think about the logistics of getting thousands of roses delivered.”

You stayed silent, heart overwhelmingly filled with love for the man before you, the man who had spent the past week getting a thousand roses just to ask you on a date. Taking your silence for something bad, Cassian began to ramble, “My brother Azriel - the spymaster - he helped too…I wanted to make sure it’d be done in time. It’s a mess I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll clear it all out for you I just-“

You cut him off, tears now flowing freely down your red hot cheeks, hands trembling, “it’s perfect Cassian. Nobody…nobody has ever done anything like this for me” At the sign of your tears Cassian made to make his way towards you but was stopped by the fact he just didn’t know where to place his foot without ruining all his hard work.

“Clearly I didn’t think this through very well” he mumbled, arms out to keep him balanced and preventing him from falling. Not wanting to spend a minute more away from him after having to suffer through a whole week, you ran, roses be damned right into his arms. Throwing yourself at his muscled body as he caught you, pulling you close to his chest in midair.

“You’re crazy!” you exclaimed, head tucked into his neck as you rested it on his shoulder.

Cassian placed you down gently, arms still wrapped tightly around your waist but he wanted to look into your eyes for this, “your kind of crazy?” His eyes held that same hopeful desperation that they had when he last asked you out.

“Hell yeah” and with that you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and connected his lips to yours.

The kiss was like nothing you had ever read before in one of your books. It was everything and more. A fire ignited within you, burning hotter and hotter and you just kept needing more. Cassian the fuel to your fire and you were sure that as long as you had him with you it was a flame that would never die out.

It was a messy clash of teeth and tongues, both of you uncaring of how sloppily and uncoordinated were kissing. All you knew was you needed each other like the pages of a book needed ink. You kissed and you kissed, hands wandering until you weren’t sure which parts belonged to Cassian and which to yourself.

The need to breathe forgotten, you continued. Hands running over his back which was rippled in muscles before reaching around his neck, holding onto him tightly as he picked you up once more.

It was only when the need for air was so overwhelming that you had no other option to pull away that you did. Heads pressed together, lips still slightly touching, a trail of saliva linking the two of you together. Cassian continued to hold you in his arms as if you were nothing but a feather, catching his breath he finally began to speak, “So about that date then?”

You giggled, pulling him even closer to you by his neck and laying a soft peck on his lips before drawing away to give your answer, Cassian’s mouth chasing after yours, “If this is how you ask me, I can’t wait to see what you have planned for our first date. Hopefully you don’t ignore me for a month whilst you prepare.”

Barking out a laugh Cassian placed you on the floor of roses, holding your hands to ensure you didn’t stumble. He looked around the room, proud smile adorning his face, he first took in the roses which he had took so long in prepping, screaming at Azriel when he hadn’t placed them down as he had pictured in his head. His gaze then swept your shelves, hundreds of books upon them.

“Ever read about this in one of your books?”

“Nope this is definitely a first”

His eyes landed on the book resting on your table, right next to the vase full of lilies he had originally given you, title in gold lettering along the front of the cover. Fated Frenzy. The book he had read because of you. You laughed as you spotted what he was staring at, his eyes travelling back to you, running up your body with hunger before finally settling on your eyes.

“You into roleplay gorgeous?”

With those words he smashed his lips back onto yours. The promise of an exciting night ahead.

Here, standing in your library entwined with the Illyrian you decided all those characters you have read about were lacking in one thing you never even knew you needed.

They weren’t Cassian.

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

Notes: You have no idea how much I wanted to finish this fic with “And so Cassian did” lol

Happy Valentines <3

[prismaticpichu]

If you know me, you know that I can go from angst to stupidity like THAT 🤣❤️

~

“We need one more chair,” Sephiroth noted, rearranging napkins and silverware as he set the last of the glasses on the kitchen table. “Go fetch one from the closet.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re four people and only have three seats.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Do I need to call a primary school teacher?”

That finally got Genesis to scoff, wasting even more time as the First Class continued to defy an instruction that a first grader could manage. "All I'm saying is that there’s a perfectly serviceable couch.” He side-eyed the nearby furniture, muttering aloud, “…if he won’t chew it up, that is.”

Sephiroth couldn’t look more bored if he himself had been transferred into primary school. “Would you stop it?”

“Of course! I’d be glad to cancel dinner.”

Deciding not to even address the petulance of that comment, Sephiroth tackled the herculean task of grabbing an extra chair himself, trekking approximately five feet forward to fish one out of the closet and ferry it back.

Genesis watched him deposit it at the table like the thing was fraudulent.

"...Wonderful."

"Please, do be so welcoming when Zackary arrives."

His friend was still stabbing ocular daggers into the chair. “…I’m not a dog person,” he grumbled.

“Oh, for Minerva’s sake, it’s a moniker.”

“And clearly one he gave him for a reason," Genesis retorted, folding his arms in emphasis. “You know he always goes on about how… peppy the boy is.”

“You always tell me to be more ‘peppy’,” Sephiroth deadpanned.

“Yes, because you have a pep deficit; meanwhile, I can assure you this boy is addicted to it.”

“Mnnhmm.”

“Whatever,” Genesis huffed, drumming his foot like he was trying to smother a flame. "Will Angeal's champion be here soon? Let’s just get this pet show over with.”

“Look, I’m sure he doesn’t literally behave like a—“

“‘GEEEALLL! “

Between one breath and the next, thunderous footsteps rolled up to the door, and the poor slab of wood was kicked open so fast that it ricocheted back shut again—just centimeters shy of hitting its abuser square in the nose as, in a spiky tornado of navy and black, Zackary Fair clomped inside, leaving behind blotchy boot prints of mue on both the doorstep and every step thereafter.

He squelched his way past a bone-white Genesis and towards his mentor.

"Geaaal! Look what I found!"

From the powdery light of the kitchen, Angeal poked his head around the doorway, meeting the energized Second as he came to a skidding, sticky stop at the threshold.

"Look!" Zackary didn't even wait for Angeal to open his mouth, presenting his latest discovery to the older man like some kind of ritual. "I found a frog, 'Geal! Isn't he precious?!"

[mountainsandmayhem]

hey hun!! for your 500 followers celebration could you do 📝, of a scenario in which joel comes home to find you all cramped up and in pain since you began your period and he decides to be the comforting little man and cuddles you to death??

(no pressure!! 🥰🤗)

-vii💗💗

Joel: Period Master

18+, but mostly fluff

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

AN: Thank you sweet Viv for this ask. This is based in the Little Dove universe, but Sarah and Ellie are teenagers and living at home. 💋 also, I 100% did not edit or proof read this. Sorry!

Joel has had a long ass day. A joke of a day really. First the concrete was late, then someone broke the powered wheelbarrow so they were moving gravel by hand. Then it started raining and they scrambled to cover everything, the job site soon became a muddy mess. He’s desperately looking forward to a hot shower and a glass of whiskey.

He pulls into the garage to see your vehicle already parked, which is strange since you had plans with a friend for after work drinks.

He trudges from the truck to the back door, mud still breaking off his work boots along the shiny concrete floor of the garage. He toes them off before heading into the back entry. Your heels are tossed on the floor, work bag and jacket haphazardly placed on the bench.

“Babe?” He calls from the back door, walking around to the family room to find his two daughters curled up on the couches.

“Hi girls. Where’s your mom?”

They both shoot daggers from their eyes, Ellie clutching the blanket tighter around herself and Sarah flipping the ice pack that’s draped across the back of her neck.

Shit, already that time.

The joys of living with all women….they’ve synced up. His usually sweet teenagers daughters turn extra moody, but Joel is the supporter of this family in every way, so he is always prepared for this time each month. Sarah, usually the sweet tooth, needs salt and chocolate milk. Ellie, usually the salty one, needs Diet Coke and green gummy frogs. All things Joel keeps tucked up in a cupboard, or in the back of the beer fridge in the garage.

He sneaks quietly back into the living room, putting the emergency supplies for the girls down on the coffee table as they watch Dirty Dancing.

Ellie looks up at him with sad eyes, tears welling in the corners. “Thanks, dad.”

He crouches down beside her and rubs her lower back through the big fuzzy blanket she’s cocooned in. “You’re welcome, kiddo. Do you need anything else?”

Sarah’s head pops up from her couch, “Mom’s not doing well. You should go be with her.”

He kisses both his daughters on the foreheads, taking a big breath before walking down the hall to your bedroom. Nothing in this world breaks his heart more than seeing you in pain. He knows some months can be worse than others, he knows about the bloating and the large clots you deal with. He knows that you can be insatiably hungry one minute and throwing up the next. He knows that your cramps can have you on the floor in the matter of seconds most of the time.

He opens the door as quietly as possible, finding you curled in a tight ball under the down filled duvet, just your hair peaking out the top. The room is stifling hot, the air almost thick, it feels like being in Phoenix in July as he pads over to the bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, carefully climbing up beside you, trying not to disturb you. A lesson he learned a few years ago when you had finally gotten comfortable, only to be brought to big crocodile tears when he moved a pillow that was tucked against your back.

A sad groaning whine leaves your throat as his large palm dips under the blanket to cup your forehead. “Sweetie, you’re burning up.”

“I’m freezing,” you whine, pulling the big blanket tighter around you.

“Ok, baby girl. I’m here now,” he says, standing and stripping down to his boxers briefs. You peek your eyes over the blanket, watching the way his strong body flexes and relaxes, the muscles ripping as he moves. The summer sun has tanned his arms a beautiful golden brown.

He wanders around to lay behind you. “Let me in, honey.”

You let go of the blanket so he can slip under, his warmth immediately sinking into you, heating your sore and achy body all the way to the bone. “You’re practically naked under here, Little Dove.”

You sink back into his heat. “Don’t look, I’m wearing the worst granny panties and one of those super pads.”

His hands trail around your slides, a large palm resting on the very bottom of your belly where the cramps are, hand sliding under the band of your incredibly unattractive panties. “You’re sexy to me no matter what you wear.”

Joel begins kneading the muscles of your lower abdomen, simulating the contracting of your uterus and the pain begins to ease. You moan and relax more into your perfect man.

“That feel good?” He says in a deep, gravel filled whisper.

“Mm-hmmm,” you hum, closing your eyes and finally feeling relief from the debilitating cramps.

Joel pulls you in tighter and kisses your shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re suffering, baby. I’m going to take care of you. Anything you need, I’ll do it or get it.”

“DAAAAAAD!!” Sarah and Ellie call in unison from the couch. “PIZZAAAA!!!”

You snort a little laugh. Poor Joel, having to deal with all these uterus’s.

“Pizza party?” You ask.

“Anything for my girls.” He hums, stubble grazing the shell of your ear.

“Anything?” You say mischievously.

“You’re not painting my toe nails again”

“Damn. I have this new hot pink that I think would really suit you,” you tease.

Joel’s quiet for a moment, still kneading the muscles absentmindedly, but with incredible care and precision. “I’ll lend you my favourite sweats and t shirt if you stay away from my toes.”

“Deal,” you say with a wince.

“What’s wrong?” Joel says, pulling you onto your back so he can look you over. Concern etching his eyebrows.

You reach up and rub the creases spot with your thumb, his eyes meeting yours. “Butt hole cramp,” you say flatly.

Joel smirks down at you, at this angle your swollen, heavy breasts are on display for him. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“You’re a menace, Joel Miller. And our daughters will riot if we don’t get them pizza soon.”

Joel lends you his clothes and helps you get dressed before sliding on his jeans and t shirt. He kisses your forehead and helps you to the lazy boy chair, brining your king sized duvet with him to wrap you up.

“I’ll be back with pizza,” he says to the group.

As soon as he’s out of ear shot Ellie pipes up, “do you think if we play this up we can get him to let us paint his toe nails again?”

[oceansubconscious]

half-neglected.

a prose-y drabble of post-DMC5 Vergil as V, in recovery. 579 words, vergil & dante, hurt/comfort, gen.

I woke up feeling remarkably human, so I shaved my face and wore a pair of shoes.

I went to the coffee shop to spend a calm day and read a book. I attracted strange looks. Eyes flitted away before I could meet them. Probably because of my tattoos. The woman at the counter, too, seemed to try not to stare.

I tried not to care. I wanted to do something normal and blend into the crowd of patrons. So I didn't leave. I sipped coffee and read my book. It wasn't until the sun crept down the horizon that an elderly woman came to my table and softly said, like I was her grandson, "Son, do you know you have shaved half your face and that your shoes are mismatched?"

My face went up in flames. I couldn't speak around the frog in my throat. "What?" I croaked.

I fumbled my phone from my pocket and opened the front camera. My red face looked back at me, fully shaved, and I watched in real time as the red color faded and my face hardened. I eyed the woman. "Is this a joke?"

She wasn't shaken. "No, no, son—you don't see it?"

She reached into my space and took my hand. Before I could react—jolt away, swat her hand, anything—she placed my own right hand on the left side of my face and there I felt it: prickly stubble.

She let her hand fall. My hand stayed, frozen in place. Almost afraid, I moved my hand and felt the other half of my face and I felt it like a stab in my gut: smooth, freshly shaven skin.

She sat down in the empty chair across from me, quite uninvited. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know—how?"

"My husband used to forget one side of his body after he had a stroke. Has this happened to you before?"

I shook my head, and tried not to shake.

"Do you have someone you can call? A friend that can help?"

"I—I need. To make a call."

I stood, trying not to bolt upright, and walked, trying not to run, remembering to take my book at the last second. I pushed open the glass doors with a cold hand. I couldn't make it far with the knowledge I was walking with mismatched shoes. I turned into the nearest alley and dialed the only number I would never forget. I pressed the phone hard into my ear—on the side of my face I didn't forget, running a shaking hand into my hair as I listened to the dial tone.

"Dante. I'm forgetting myself again."

Something clanged on Dante's end. "Where are you?"

I told him. So he came, dishevelled and worried, socks mismatched just like my shoes.

"Do I have tattoos?" I had to know.

Dante swallowed. Took my hand—the left, the one I keep forgetting. "No."

I tried. I tried all day. I was so tired of trying.

"It's okay, Verge. It's okay. We'll figure this out."

"I wanted to have a normal day."

"I know, Verge."

Dante winded his arm around my shoulder and led us through every alley that led to home. I couldn't express how grateful I was that no one else would see me like this until I made it home. Mismatched on accident, matching a twin mismatched on purpose. At least, I was still part of a pair. Even like this.

"Just one normal day."

"I know, Verge. I know."

— Hemineglect (neuropsychological condition) can disturb attention and action to the left side of personal space, objects, and to the left side of the patient's own body. Patients may fail to wash, comb, shave, and dress the left half of their bodies. When asked to touch their left arm, the reaching movement of the intact right hand may stop at the body midline or at the left shoulder.