#i need to go back to painting i love doing that….

[darylbrainrot]

HEARTTHROB-

CHAPTER 1: Feeding Starving Influencers (2.4k words)

a/n: i messed up the date on the second ss, its supposed to be January 15

JANUARY 15— 1:51 PM

You were currently sitting in your office, doing nothing but trying to brainstorm some new ideas on what to post for your youtube. You have been feeling a bit burnt out, feeling as if every single unique idea has oozed out of your brain and formed a puddle of mush at the bottom of your feet. Uninspired, dull, and discouraged were some simple adjectives to put into perspective of your current feelings.

It felt as if your thoughts were the same as watching paint dry; boring, repetitive, and expected. Sighing, you grabbed your phone to scroll on whatever social media you want to pick to at least give yourself a sort of a brain break. That was until you noticed a new notification on your phone.

You felt nervous weirdly enough. This would be your first time even agreeing to collaborate with someone else and it's an all time new for you. You and Quen have been following each other for quite some time. You guys never texted, only comments left on each other posts was the farthest you've ever done. Even though this was an all-time new for you, pushing and challenging boundaries, you felt kinda glad this chance landed itself on your lap.

New opportunities dont come by every day, so you had to take this one.

Even though you don't know her, you can clearly tell she's a genuine person. Through this short interaction, you already felt so much better.

JANUARY 17— 7:30 AM

Today was the day you are going over Quen's to film for her youtube. You were excited and anxious at the same time. Quen sent you her address a bit ago after you both agreed on a time for you to get there. She lived around 2 hours max away from you, so you decided to leave a bit early to beat traffic. You both had decided to meet at 10:40 am as it was a good time for you and Quen.

Grabbing your keys, jacket, bag, and whatever necessities needed, you left your apartment and started heading towards your car. You started your car, hearing your engine roar into power, as you sat in the driver's seat. You had a Nissan 350z, one of your dream cars from youth that you were able to buy at a good price a couple years back. It had a black glossy exterior shining brightly and a matching black and red interior. Though you had one of your dream cars, your true dream car was a 1965 Ford Mustang.

Getting comfortable in your seat, you connect your phone to the aux to start playing your spotify playlist. The first song that came up was dive in by pierce the veil, one of your favorite songs. Singing along, you finally pulled out of the parking lot and headed your way toward Quen's address.

Traffic was quite forgiving today, as surprising as it is. It was a decently long drive but you felt glad that there was no heavy traffic on your way to Quen. Glad that you slept a bit longer yesterday, you were nearing her house and you can already tell its gorgeous.

it was a modern house, still, you can see Quen's personality seeping through.

Sending her a quick message about your arrival, you quickly found an empty parking space and parked. Grabbing your items, you made your way to her house.

It was cute, with pretty greenery outside, giving the house some personality. Your heart was beating rapidly, and you felt your nerves at an all-time max even though you knew that Quen was a nice and chill person. You felt your hands get clammy so you quickly wiped your hands on your pants. But as soon as you reached her doorstep, the door flew right open.

She yelled your name with a huge grin, quickly catching you in a hug.

"HEYYY! You're literally so much more gorgeous in person that I think I'm already in love with you", Quen said

You laugh, your smile matching hers "I think I should get on one knee already, I already love you."

You both laugh, she quickly moves out of the way and welcomes you in. The inside of her house was cute, with some nice vintage furniture and random pops of color here and there that highlighted her personality. There were silly pictures on the walls of her with friends or family, each sharing a big smile on their face. Seeing those photos puts a smile on your face.

"So, our set is all ready, I have all the cameras and audio prepared with the kitchen already set up with everything we need to cook. Do you want to start right now or do you want to relax for a bit, I know that you mentioned your car ride was pretty long." She said, moving her hands as she spoke. It seemed that was a habit of hers.

"I'm fine with recording right away" She nodded as she made her way to the kitchen with you following behind.

Once you made it to the kitchen, you saw how big it was. It was huge with white walls, wooden shelves with plants, and an assortment of tiny and cute decorations on them, the shelves were a nice shade of light gray that complemented well with the marble countertops. The ingredients needed lied on the countertops ready for use and the rest of the room was filled with cameras, lights, microphones, and people.

"Okay, so everything is set up as I said, my crews are here to make sure the audio is working and they're making sure the camera is good and shit." She was pointing at her crew and naming them, with them waving at you and you waving back with a smile.

Nodding, she continued, "We can start in 5, I'll do the intro and introduce you and what we're gonna do and will continue from there. You feeling alright? I know its your first collab and I would feel hella anxious if I was you right now."

"Okay that sounds good but yeah I feel a bit anxious right now, but I'll feel better as we film though, thanks for checking in." She nods, signaling her crew to get ready for filming as they all start their checking on the filming gear.

As soon as you knew it, 5 minutes had passed and filming started.

Quen positions herself in the middle of the kitchen island, arms stretched out. The person with the camera zoomed in into her as she began speaking, "Hey guys, welcome to this next episode of feeding starving celebrities, and today's guest is... Pierce the y/n!!!!" She yelled excitedly, with a huge smile on her face.

She raised her hands, signaling for the camera to pan to you. You smiled at her, your smile matching hers as you waved at the camera.

"hi"

"Okay so while she trying to act nonchalant, today I have a fat stack of questions to ask her while we make her favorite dishes. Any guesses on what were making?" She turned to you, waiting for your response.

"Umm... based on what ingredients are out, are we making sopes maybe? Hmmm, maybe agua de horchata too?" Your face was curious, hands on hips as you took a look at the variety of ingredients covering her marble counters.

"Okay, I see you!! You basically got it right but were also making jericallas, I know you're from Guadalajara and that's a very popular dessert there and you mentioned it as your favorite before. Sooo, that will be the menu for today! Lets hope and pray we don't burn down the kitchen!"

"Damn, you really did pull a Nardwuar on me, am I in one of his interviews?? Cut the cameras." You grin, successfully feeling less nervous.

She laughs, "Anyways, let's not expose my secrets. So we're gonna start with the sopes. I have the the masa, beans, meat, lettuce, cheese, and the cream." Nodding in confirmation, she continues.

"SO, step one, we mix the masa harina with salt and water," She says, grabbing the Maseca corn flour from behind her as well with the salt. "According to my directions, not really mine but from this website but let's pretend it's my recipe, we need 2 cups masa harina, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and 1 1/4 cups of water."

As Quen goes to fill a measuring cup with the needed amount of water, you grab a bowl big enough to mix the ingredients and start to pour out the needed measures of both the salt and flour. Pouring them into the bowl, Quen comes back with the needed water.

"Okay, so now, we pour the water in and mix with our hands. Do you wanna do that or do I do it?" She asks you.

"I got it, can you pour the water in though?"

She nods, pouring half of the water into the bowl so you can start mixing. Slowly, it starts becoming into the dough as Quen pours the rest into it. As you continue to mix it, you see Quen reach for her questions.

"So y/n, question numero uno is - wait actually its not really a question more of a statement. Anyways...", she looks into the second camera, giving it a mischievous glance that you didn't notice. "Look at this photo for me and tell me what you think about it. Does it trigger any feelings or memories?"

As you glance up from the bowl, Quen shows you the big notecard with her question written on it, but instead of a question, there's a photo.

"Oh my god" your jaw drops, "how the fuck did you find my middle school graduation photo. Dude... I swear to god do I need to put myself under witness protection, like I'm fearing for my life right now how did you actually find that. This is like lost footage." You start looking around as if you were being watched to further add to your bit.

Quen laughs loudly, doubling over as she shows the camera your middle school graduation photo. You had a heavy side bang, a terrible sense of fashion as if you just walked out of hot topic and Spencer at the same time, and heavy eyeliner.

"Dude, like seriously, I don't know how I was allowed to walk out of my house looking like that. I still feel the eyeliner in my eyes from the amount of times I messed up my eyeliner and ended up poking my eyes."

"STOP, you do NOT look that bad queen, man, have you seen how I looked like when I was doing Vine?" You laugh along with Quen, still wondering how she even got that photo.

"Dude this is actually insane, I was expecting some icebreaker type of questions but instead we just dove straight into it??? Oh my god. This is making me nervous for the rest of my questions."

The rest of the time goes on well, Quen asks some questions here and there while you both continue making the sopes. It was going pretty good, you started to cook the beans to place onto the cooked sopes while Quen started to work on the agua de horchata.

As you finished heating up the beans while Quen was talking to you, she suddenly cut herself off her sentence.

"You know what song has been stuck in my head as of recently?" You hum, asking her to continue as you started to spread the beans on each sope. "You know the song with Jorjiana and GloRilla? ILBB2?"

"Yeah, I've heard of it"

"So, the part thats stuck in my head is the one that goes like" Quen clears her throat, "They say shooters shoot... Duke Dennis, whats up with you?"

Before you can reply, she hits you with another line.

"SO WHO YOU TRYNNA SHOOT AT? WHOS YOUR YOUTUBE CRUSH??" She squeals, showing off her card with her question reading "who’s your youtube crush", pride evident on her face at how smoothly she was able to ask this.

Most people wouldve dodged the question, claiming it to be too risky for them to answer or either they were too scared to answer it. They would've played it cool, given a safe answer.

But you? You doubled down.

So, with all the confidence you could muster, you leaned over the kitchen counter, looking deadstraight into the camera in font of you, and said, "Hamzah, whats up with you?"

Quen lost her mind, squealing as she look at you in disbelief.

She yelled your name, "HAMZAH? As in hamzahthefantastic? The guy who's a part of slushy noobz?" Her eyes were wide as you nodded to her question.

"Girl I strive to be as bold as you, but as much as I strive to be as bold as you, I pray for you as well cause damn, may those fan girls not release their wrath on you."

"Anyways, back on topic, how do you know about Hamzah?" Quen asks you as she starts to drain the horchata she made in the blender into a pitcher, making sure to strain it.

You were finishing up the toppings on each sope, veggies, Oaxaca cheese, and crema. "I've seen some clips of both Martin and Hamzah on tik tok. I like them both, they're funny and seem like genuine people. I've seen Hamzah though and just thought he was cute, especially when he wasn't bald but he's still cute without hair." You shrug as Quen laughs.

The rest of the video goes well, you both finished making the sopes and horchata and moved on to making the jericallas which were simple enough and easier with two people. Quen kept on asking you questions with you answered them, you both were a good duo.

Laughs and screams were shared between you both as you conversed, your face hurt with how much you were smiling all throughout the hour and more of filming.

You finally finished making all the food and tried it together. It was really good in your opinion and Quens. Finally filming the outro and everything needed, at around 12:50 you were done with filming and cleaning up everything.

Since it was still bright out, you and Quen decided to hang out since both of your schedules were empty. It was a great night, full of laughter and meaningful conversations. Your bond with Quen was strong and you were glad you accepted her collaboration.

You had gotten home at 7:46 PM, finally worn out with all the action that you just headed straight into the shower and took a very deserved hot shower. You successfully ended your day at 10:26 PM and decided to treat yourself to early sleep.

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taglist *ੈ✩‧₊˚- @marixoa @vivianne666 @amoreemiaa @emilyloves5243 @lunascerebro @prettylittlevampire12 @urthem00n @a1exaaaa

[jjmayhem]

Enemies-With-Benefits (MDNI)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron & Fem!Reader

Genre: smut

Synopsis: You can’t stand Rafe but that doesn’t stop the heat from happening. After all, there’s a thin line between love and hate, huh?

CW: piv (from behind), unprotected, rough, teasing, some erotic asphyxiation, dirty talk, creampie

“I really, ahh, can’t stand you…” That sentence came out of your mouth, with a heavy strained breath and moan.

Rafe Cameron grunted, pounding his cock deeper as he fucked into you hard. His voice sounding smug and pleased, “Yeah? That’s why your cunt is wrapping around me so tightly right now.”

“Because. You. Can’t. Stand. Me.” Every word got punctuated with a sharp thrust that made you groan and shudder, your hands gripping the edge of the table that he had you bent over while he fucked you from behind.

“I c—can’t, you damn—“ You couldn’t even finish spitting out those words because he suddenly pulled all the way out. The tip of his dick still against your dripping folds, teasing.

You missed it instantly. He knew and you knew because you whipped your head around, pants escaping loudly. Your eyes told Rafe more than your mouth ever could. He wore a smirk, eyeing you.

“What, babydoll? Wanna finish that sentence?” His tone was amused, taunting you. Especially with that damn pet-name; it wasn’t meant to be sweet, no. It was meant to be derogatory, he loved pushing your buttons.

After all, you and Rafe Cameron were enemies; couldn’t stand each other. You two had been at each other’s throats for years until all that fighting suddenly turned into you two fucking like cavemen on primal instinct only. It had been a hazy, mind-numbing blur on how it started, several months back. One thing led to another and then there you both were, having hatesex with each other and probably the best sex ever that would make way for more of these illicit encounters. Not that either of you would ever admit that. There was no way that you or him would admit the obvious attraction you had because why else would you two keep doing this? Why did everyone else fade in the background when you two saw each other? Why did Rafe love seeing you so worked up and why did you give him the attention?

There was never any kissing or gentleness—the sex mirrored the fights you two would have, it was always rough. However, he wasn’t having it today. While he was absolutely hellbent on frustrating you because he loved how angry you’d get, something else stirred in him right now.

Something different.

Was it the way you were staring right now? Still pissy with stubbornness yet that scarlet flush had painted on your face a little? That look in your eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by him. The way your pupils were dilating a bit, told him everything he needed to know. He did spit out the pet-name ‘babydoll’, intending it to piss you off more. Having your enemy call you something sweet with sarcasm but now, the energy was charged with something else.

Maybe it was also the way your dripping folds was leaking on his swollen tip that remained still and near, his cock throbbing more.

He licked his bottom lip then leaned over, close to your face; you blinked, panting harshly.

“You really hate me, princess?” His voice was husky-sounding, the desire in it obvious.

“Yes,” You forced out too quickly but your pupils dilated more and something in him snapped at that, he crashed his lips against yours while plunging his cock right back into your soaked velvet walls—the tight heat engulfing him and he groaned loudly against your lips.

Setting back his relentlessly fast pace as he pounded into you while your lips trembled against his—you hadn’t expected the kiss. Now it felt intimate; kissing your enemy while he fucked into you, every veiny line of his cock rubbing against your hot walls. His balls hitting against your skin, making obscene sounds of flesh smacking echo in the room.

“So much hate huh,” He practically growled against your lips then you two separated abruptly as your head went forward to lean on the table. You wanted his lips back on yours but that realization hit you like a ton of bricks and lucky for him, it also made your slick pussy clench around him with flutters. He practically rolled his eyes back at the feeling, getting more encouraged now to have his hips piston faster—his cock plunging in and out of your grasping cunt with increasing fervor.

“Fuuuuuck, hate me so much,” He grunted with a harder thrust, “So much that you keep gripping my cock like that.”

Your hands gripping the edge of the table tighter and tighter, the moans you wished to control because they started getting louder. It all just made him want you even more; made him enjoy of single second of this intense session. His grip on your hips became bruising and the table was creaking, moving up with every single pump of his long cock.

“That’s it. Keep telling yourself you hate me if it keeps your pussy feeling like a damn vice.”

When it hit a fever pitch of lust—he did something you always liked, choking. He would carefully wrap his hand around your neck, lifting you up so you were both in standing position while he continued his slamming, stroking your insides. Your back started to arch against his chest as he started putting light & firm pressure on your neck. Your eyes going to the ceiling but closing as your mouth hung open in ecstacy—the pleasure was overwhelming. This was the one time you couldn’t get sassy with him anymore plus he knew how much you liked it. He knew everything you liked, had your body and reactions memorized by now.

Your brain starts buzzing from the slight cut off of the air, making you want to come almost. He put some more pressure on your throat as you let out some choked out moans. He let his other hand find your clit, pressing hard and rubbing circular motions. And this position had allowed his dick to hit even more deeply, rubbing at your g-spot. Your body started shuddering against his.

“Like that, huh? How my hand is wrapped around you while my dick impales you?” He bit his lip after, trying to bite back a low guttural groan because of how good you felt too.

“You’re so filthy, letting me do this to you.”

When he got rougher (if possible), you almost thought you’d feel him in your throat too—but then he applied more pressure to your neck, your legs started shaking and you let out a strangled moan. It was amazing how you held back on finishing right then and thetr. He knew when to let up which was now, he slowly released—thumb barely stroking the skin. He never did that before but you were seeing stars for a moment to realize.

You planted back to the table on your front, breasts sliding against it as he let out a low, rough noise of pleasure.

Rafe felt his balls drawing up tight as his climax built up—usually, he never came inside but this time, it was all different. Suddenly, he found himself having this inexplicable urge to claim you in the fullest way possible. So you could be entirely his already.

He knew it was more than hate; he wasn’t dumb. He didn’t crave anyone as much as he craved you. There was no comparing the intensity and raw emotions you could make him feel. Not just during the sex but the fights and more.

His pace grew sloppy, messy but stayed at that hardcore speed—his cock was begging for release, starting to twitch, “not pulling out.”

He groaned again, holding onto you like you’d disappear.

That turned you on and it pissed you off, your stubborn ways setting in despite the fact that you wanted him to stay inside.

“Wha—you’re not coming inside!” You strained out, voice still a bit rough from the choking.

But then you felt it; a hotness start to flood your walls and it felt too damn amazing. You instantly let out a breathless, shattered gasp as your eyes fluttered. Among that gasp was a soft, four-lettered word too. Your mouth staying opening as you felt Rafe’s cum fill you up and so much of it. Ropes of it, painting those walls of yours. A very crimson & deep blush was forming on your face as you realized he’s coming so much… because of you.

You hated to admit it. That you enjoyed every moment of it. You also came as soon as you felt him emptying inside—your body had tensed and squirmed in orgasmic bliss.

“I just did, babe.” He panted as the last spurts pumped into you—he collapsed onto your back, not pulling out yet.

“F—fuck… y—” You barely breathed out before he cut you off; both of you were a mix of satisfied and exhausted. He felt so warm resting on top of you—his cheek managed to rest on yours as your heads were turned to the sides.

“Just did that too,” He let out a humorless chuckle but laced with pride. You hated cocky men but when it was him doing it? You almost felt your feminism want to leave your soul.

You couldn’t find the words but he felt it, how hot your cheek was against his. He also felt how you came when he did—he had even heard that exquisite, breathless gasp of a moan you let out. The way you just suddenly took it. His heart was pounding in his chest but he slowly lifted off of you then reached down, grabbing your chin, asking you to get up too and look at him.

When you did, he had a small smirk forming back, “Why do you look like that?”

He pulled out of you now, cum spilling out slowly—dribbling down your thighs as he suddenly looked there. Swallowing his own saliva because he swore, his cock was about to get hard again if he kept staring. He focused back to your face quickly. You had noticed this all but ignored it as it only made you feel weaker.

“Like what…?” You whispered, your heart pounding too and despite your attempt of a glare, you looked soft right now and as vibrant as a painting. He never saw you blush that much and look even more of a hot but beautiful mess.

“Like that was the best experience of your life—better than our other times and…” He leaned his face close to you and you found yourself holding your breath.

“Like it meant something to you.” His smirk stayed but his eyes were softening up. It was almost as if, he was asking if it did. Maybe he wanted to. So badly but he seemed to be leaving it up to you.

There was a fear. For both of you—this was uncharted territory. Having feelings for the enemy? Feelings for the man who drove you nuts but you do the same to him? Feelings that were probably there before you started being sexual with him?

“And I heard it. The way you let out my name when I came inside.”

Your heart was going into overtime in your chest—so you did what you do best; deny, deny, deny. Continue dancing around the flames of passion; driving each other too much up the wall.

It was something he would do as well though, try to act unbothered other times, like you weren’t the center of his focus always—how long can you two keep playing this game?

At least he loved your stubbornness. That fine line between hate and love ran deep for you both.

[yuechihua]

a midnight guest.

summary: jamil has to contend with an unexpected guest and his own growing feelings when ramshackle dorm's pipes burst and kalim invites you to stay at scarabia.

notes: 4.7k words, author's notes, fluff

Jamil has long known of Kalim’s unfortunate habit of picking up strays, his inability to resist a pitiful look or downturned mouth, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised when Kalim shows up at the dorm with you and Grim in tow. 

“I’m giving them a place to stay!” Kalim announces, gesturing at you and Grim like he’s presenting Jamil with two kittens he’s found off the side of the road. His smile is bright, even as the sun slips down the horizon, painting the entrance of their dorm in darkening oranges and reds.

A cool breeze stirs through the evening, and Jamil keeps his face perfectly neutral as his eyes bore into you and Grim. Grim shuffles like an impatient child, but you’re more tranquil, clutching a duffel bag to your chest.

When you notice Jamil’s eyes on you, you smile at him, apologetic.

“Sorry,” you murmur. There’s a trace of embarrassment in your voice. “I know this is unexpected. But the pipes at Ramshackle burst, and no one else has room for me. I was going to ask Crowley, but—”

“But I found them!” Kalim interrupts. “And we have so much room, and the idea of our friends out in the cold is sad, and the more the merrier, right?”

Kalim picking up strays is a kind gesture, sure, but with his scattered attention, the responsibilities and care inevitably end up falling on Jamil. Promising things he can’t keep, making plans that just end up creating more work and stress for other people, thinking kindness is a convenient excuse for every irresponsible action: it’s all so painfully Kalim it makes Jamil want to shake him until some loose screw in his head clicks into place.

You’re not to blame for this situation, not really. Jamil doesn’t even hold any particular distaste for you; his shit list is a mile long, but you’ve generally managed to keep yourself off it. Still, that doesn’t mean he’s enthused at having to put up another guest for the night. It’s a security risk, even though he doubts you could do anything with both a lack of magic and malice.

Additionally, you’ve always been more of Kalim’s friend than his. Everything he has belongs to Kalim, but nothing of Kalim belongs to him, as much as Kalim insists they share everything, like true friends do. It’s a naive thought, ugly in the pure way Kalim says it. Jamil has no desire to compete for things that can’t be his. 

Besides, friendship means nothing in their world. Someone is always waiting with a knife behind their back or poison in their hand. You could mean well, but who’s to say you don’t have ulterior motives of your own?

“Come in,” he says. His voice is smooth, cordial. The perfect attendant, the diligent servant. “We do have quite a few spare rooms. I can make one up for you.”

“Oh, and they should join us for dinner, too! Jamil is the best cook,” Kalim says, turning towards you with puppy-dog enthusiasm. “You’ll love anything he makes!”

“I don’t want to impose,” you begin.

“Free grub? Count me in!” Grim says. “Whatcha got on the menu?”

“Ooo! I don’t know! But I just know it’s going to be good. Do you have anything you want? I’m sure we can get it for you!”

Jamil lets a sigh escape him. You’re the only one who seems to notice, watching him with a tilted head, as if observing him, but he has no time to puzzle out your intentions. Dinner was just supposed to be Kalim and him, and now he has to figure out a way to feed two additional people. There’s no reason for you to pay attention to him, regardless.

The rest of the evening passes only with the minimal amount of trouble that Kalim’s presence usually brings: careless promises of future parties, a mess of dishes he has to clean, and overwhelming generosity that needs to be checked. Somehow, Jamil manages to whip together a few more dishes to feed both you and Grim, the latter whose stomach seems to be endless. Kalim’s chatter flows just as eternally, and Jamil can only pray for dinner to be over quickly.

When it’s over, he guides you and Grim to your room, leading you down winding hallways and luxuries strewn carelessly at every corner, priceless vases and artwork that’s worth more money than he can make in a lifetime. It’s a constant reminder of Kalim’s wealth, his endless presence saturing into every corner of the dorm.

“This is your room,” he says. It’s a spare guest room, one of many, in fact, that Kalim has. It’s sumptuous as all of them are, with silk drapes, embroidered bed sheets, and heavy wooden furniture crafted by skilled artisans. 

“This is one swanky place!” Grim crows. “Do ya think we can take some of it home?”

Jamil smiles, a touch coldly. “Only if you can afford it. A pillow alone is worth more than your entire dorm.”

“Okay, jeez,” Grim murmurs. 

“Thank you for this, Jamil,” you say. You linger at the doorway, even as Grim runs in and starts jumping on the bed in delight, the mattress soft and springy enough to launch him several feet in the air.

“Say nothing of it. Kalim invites friends over all the time.”

“It just seems like a lot of work,” you venture. “And it was last minute. I feel bad.”

“Don’t. It’s no more work than I’m used to.”

“All right.” You look like you want to say more, but mercifully, you only dip your head at him. “Good night, Jamil.”

“Good night, prefect.” If there was one thing to say about you, then it was that you understood when to keep your mouth shut and read the mood, a skill both Kalim and Grim sorely lacked.

It’s late at night when Jamil finally has time for himself, and he settles on the edge of his bed, letting his hair loose, running through the list of everything he has to do in the morning. It’s exhausting that his day never really seems to end. There’s always something to prepare for, another task to consider, someone else to watch over.

Not even his time belongs to him. His life will always be spent at another’s whims. 

His head throbs. He stands, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he’ll grab some water to help him sleep.

The halls are silent at this time of night, a change from the usual noise and rush of students. It’s peaceful, the shadows pooling at his feet, the moonlight gilding everything in silver. In its solitude, it almost makes Jamil feel like the dorm is his, as foolish of a thought as it is.

There’s shuffling coming from the kitchen. He freezes just beyond the door, hand gripping the pen in his pocket. An intruder? Or another student? Regardless, he rounds the corner, pen in his hand, a spell on the tip of his tongue—before you whirl around, lit by the buttery yellow light of the fridge, clutching a plate of grapes and a glass of water with one hand.

“Jamil,” you say in a gasp, startling just enough that the water ripples in your cup. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

“I could say the same of you,” he says, relaxing his grip on his pen.

“I was still feeling hungry. I didn’t want to bother anyone, so…”

“What about Grim?”

“He’s asleep. Here, let me get you some water.”

“I don’t need–” But you’re already reaching for another ceramic cup, and it’s more trouble to refuse this small kindness than it is to accept it. He leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen, marble counter digging into his hip, watching you fill the glass at the sink.

“Here.” You offer it to him. “Want some grapes, too?”

He looks at the pile of grapes in your dish, shining in rich, luscious purples and greens, like miniature jewels, dew clinging to the skin. “I’ll take one.”

The water is cool, and the grapes burst with fresh, sweet juice on his tongue. The two of you snack in the quiet. It’s surprising how relaxed he feels, how easy it is to be by your side. There’s no malice from you, nor a crushing weight of expectation. You’re like the clear, refreshing water in a stream.

The grapes are almost gone when you speak, rolling one between your fingers like a marble. “I’ve always wanted to talk to you more.”

“Me?” he says.

“Is there another Jamil Viper in the room?” you tease. “Yes, you.”

“Why? There’s no benefit to getting to know me. I’m not like Kalim.”

There’s a mischievous edge to your smile as you glance at him. “So what? I just want to get to know you.”

“... I’m not an interesting person.”

“I like people like you,” you say. “Here. Let me wash these.” Before he can protest, you’re already grabbing his cup and bringing all the dishes to the sink. Your words are strange, and he can’t make sense of them at all. Him? You want to know him? After everything he’s done to present himself as an ordinary student, why would you take an interest in him?

Maybe it’ll be to his benefit, though. You have ties to Crowley, and your own social connections could prove useful someday. There’s always the possibility that you’re attempting to use him in some regard, too. If that’s the case, then a relationship of mutual give and take isn’t the worst thing in the world, despite your lack of magic.

“Good night again, Jamil,” you say. It’s an odd feeling, not having to rush around, knowing things will fall apart if he doesn’t keep them together. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” he says. You leave. For a few seconds more, Jamil lingers in the empty kitchen, the memory of the sweet taste of grapes on his tongue.

In the morning, you act no differently than usual. It’s as if Jamil dreamt the entirety of last night’s encounter.

“I hope you slept well,” you greet him at breakfast.

“I hope the same for you,” Jamil responds. He’s attentive to your movements, studying you out of the corner of his eye. You act no differently than normal, chiding Grim for eating so fast he chokes, and bantering with Kalim. You’re casual, relaxed. 

The day passes much the same after that. He keeps track of Kalim, handles various chores throughout the day, and attends classes, perfecting his goal of keeping his grade at a middling, respectable level.

It bothers Jamil, just a little, how aware he is of you, seeing the flutter of your uniform in the corridors, hearing your laughter across the lunchroom. When you’re with your friends, Ace and Deuce, passing him in the halls, you smile at him.

“Hello, Jamil,” you greet.

“Hello,” he responds.

There’s no more to your conversation, simple and short as it is, even as he hears Ace in a fierce whisper, exclaiming, “Prefect, I didn’t think you knew Jamil!”

Jamil entertains the thought that you’re simply trying to cozy up to him in order to target Kalim, but he banishes it as soon as it arrives. You’re already friends with Kalim, so if you wanted to harm him, you’d have the chance to do so by now. So why the interest in him? What possible reason could you have to get closer to him?

That night, as he sits in bed, Jamil can’t bring himself to sleep. Instead, he heads out to the kitchen again. It’s for no reason other than a midnight snack, he reassures himself, even as his pace quickens when he hears the quiet noise of someone in the kitchen past the hour everyone should be asleep.

You’re perched on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs, a pot of warm tea gently humming on the stove. There are two cups and a plate of crackers set next to you.

It’s hard to believe you’ve taken a genuine interest in him, but the suspicions temporarily relax as you offer him a cracker from the same stash you’re munching on. He takes it without a word, and you pour tea into the second cup, sliding it over to him.

“You look nice with your hair down,” you greet. “Can’t sleep?”

“I wanted to stretch my legs,” he says. “And you?”

“I’m just here because I want to be.”

“I see.” Jamil takes a sip from his tea. It’s fragrant and floral and altogether a gentle taste.

There’s no more conversation until the food is done and the tea is cooled, at which point you simply hop off the counter and say, “Good night, Jamil.”

“Good night, prefect,” he responds.

In the morning, over breakfast, as Grim squabbles over Kalim feeding him too many crackers, you say, over your own plate once he finally sits down, “Good morning, Jamil. Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. It was fine.”

It’s a simple greeting, nothing more. But there’s a weight to your words, as if your day can’t start and your night can’t end until you see him.

After that, it becomes an unspoken agreement for the two of you to meet every night. In that quiet space of time, when everyone else is asleep and the halls belong to him, Jamil finds himself drawn to the kitchen. It’s rare that he arrives before you do, with your plate of simple snacks and quiet companionship.

The two of you talk about nothing in particular, but even a relaxed, meandering conversation still washes away the exhaustion of his day. The sound of your voice has come to be rather familiar and soothing.

“Grim keeps a stash of tuna cans under his bed for emergencies, but keeps eating through them whenever he gets hungry, which defeats the point of having a stash,” you’ll tell him. 

“Kalim doesn’t even think to keep food on him,” Jamil will reply dryly. “All he has to do is ask someone to fetch him something if he’s hungry.”

This is the only time of his day in which he has a moment for himself. Yet, he doesn’t mind sharing a piece of his time with you. You have common sense; you don’t irritate him unnecessarily; you’re clever and useful. That’s all it is, and no more than that.

“You look at the prefect a lot,” Kalim remarks once.

“I don’t,” Jamil replies. “Since they’re our guests, I’m just taking it upon myself to make sure their needs are met.”

Still, perhaps Jamil has gotten too used to your presence if even Kalim notices, though Kalim has always had his moments of unnerving emotional perception.

Several weeks or so later, you, Grim, Jamil and Kalim are passing time in the lounge. The four of you are supposed to be “studying” (read: you and Jamil are going over class notes, and Kalim and Grim are playing some nonsensical card game whose rules they keep making up). Occasionally, though, when he looks up, he’ll meet your gaze, and you’ll make a silly face at him. It’s cute, not that he would ever tell you that.

He’s just put his pen to paper when Kalim exclaims, in a voice louder than it needs to be, “Ramshackle is fixed?”

“Yeah, they just got it done. But dunno if I wanna go back tomorrow,” Grim says. “We’ve got a nice gig here.”

“You can stay for as long as you want,” Kalim says. “Oh, and feel free to visit as often as you want, too! It’s going to be lonely without you two!”

A blotch of ink is forming under his pen, staining his paper with a dark pool. Of course. How could he forget? Your time here is temporary. You were always going to leave, and it’ll be a relief to have two less people to worry about. 

He only feels so strange because he’s fallen into a habit of greeting you every morning, and seeing you every night. It’s simply difficult when his routine is shaken in unexpected ways, that’s all.

Jamil risks a glance at you, but your head is still bent over your paper. He can’t make out your expression, but your hands have stilled over your notebook. What are you thinking? He won’t be able to find out until tonight.

Grim and Kalim chatter in the background, returning to their game, but you and Jamil are both weighed down by unexpected silence. The blotch on his paper has grown, ink staining and spreading. There’s no way to fix it now.

The evening passes slower than usual. Jamil finds himself hurrying to the kitchen, the moon lighting his way as he flies with silent steps. However, several feet away, voices and warm light spill out from beneath the door.

Jamil’s pace slows, something sludgy and dark churning in his stomach. He doesn’t want to look, but he has to. You’re in the kitchen as usual, elbows propped against the counter, a plate of cookies resting beside you. And right next to you, his smile glowing like the sun, eyes crinkled in foolish complacency, is Kalim.

The two of you are engaged in some conversation about classes or extracurriculars. As Jamil stands in the pool of shadows, outside the reach of the light, all he can think about is how wide your smile is, an ease in your stance that only Kalim can bring out in people.

“Hi Jamil!” Kalim chirps, head perking up in his direction. “You can’t sleep, either? I was just going to grab something to eat, but then I saw the prefect was here!”

“No,” he says. “I wasn’t able to.”

“Come join us,” Kalim urges. “Do you want some of these cookies?”

“I’m not hungry.”

The thing about wanting, Jamil finds, is that it’s useless. Desires like his will only go unfulfilled, because, after all, he can never put himself first. Everything he does, everything he has, will only ever be given in service to Kalim. He’s doomed to forced mediocrity, to hide in the shadows to make Kalim shine brighter.

It’s a lesson he’s had to learn again, and again, and again. Nothing is his. He can only bite back his own useless anger, a snake choking on its own poison.

“I’m going to go on a walk,” he says.

“Okay! Come back when you’re done!” Kalim exclaims.

Jamil doesn’t meet your eyes as he strides away, keeping his steps even, measured, and fast. You’ll be gone by tomorrow, and he will still be here with Kalim, the shackles of an unchanging relationship and routine and future.

His body reacts before his mind can when he hears footsteps behind him, whirling around before your outstretched hand can touch him. It hovers in the air between the two of you, before you let it fall.

“Jamil,” you say. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just needed to clear my head.”

Your eyes are luminous, reflecting the silver of the moon. “Can I walk with you, then?”

“You left Kalim behind?”

“I was worried about you,” you say. “He’s all right. He was going to head to bed soon, anyway.”

He lets out a sigh, runs a hand through his hair. “All right.”

It’s a quiet walk. He’s learned to keep his footsteps silent, but you haven’t had to learn that same skill. It’s a strange comfort, the echo of your rhythmic steps, a constant reminder of your presence. He finds himself trying to match your particular pace.

“Grim and I are moving back to Ramshackle now that the pipes have been repaired,” you say. “They had to overhaul the entire thing.”

“It’ll be nice to go back home, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but I’ll miss Scarabia.”

“Like Kalim said, you’re welcome to visit.”

“Would you be okay with that?”

“If Kalim says it’s all right, I don’t see why not.”

You scuff at the ground with one of your shoes, as if you’re unsatisfied with that answer. “I’ll miss this too, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Getting you to myself every night,” you say. “I like Kalim, but I don’t really get to spend time with you alone like this.”

At some point while you’ve been talking, your steps have slowed to a crawl until you’re no longer moving. He’s stopped as well. You stare at him, unflinching, chin raised. What does he look like in your eyes?

“You say a lot of bold things, prefect.”

“You don’t get what you want if you’re not bold.”

That’s not true, he wants to say, but what would the point be? Right now, you’re still here. You’re with him. Your words are assured, confident, in a way that makes him want to believe you. 

“It’s a nice night,” he begins. “Nice enough for a flight.”

If Jamil was a better person, he could say the suggestion in his words is born from affection, an innocent desire to be close to you. After all, Kalim is the one constantly offering people rides on his magic carpet, as if the sky is also a luxury he can own. But he doesn’t own it, and he doesn’t own your time, either.

“Should we go for a loop around the area, then?” you say.

It takes little effort to find a broom and repurpose it for his uses; flight magic is a parlor trick, but magic has always come easily to him. What Jamil has to be more careful with is flying with another person as he drags the enchanted broom out to a balcony. You hop on with ease, keeping a suitable distance behind him, hands wrapped around the handle in front of you. 

You seem used to the process. Have one of your freshman friends taken you out like this? Or Kalim? Were you comfortable enough to wrap your arms around their waist with the unthinking nature of affection?

“Should I get closer?” you ask. There’s new mischief in your voice, as if you can sense his thoughts. If nothing else, Jamil is tangibly aware of the warmth and weight of you behind him.

“Only if you don’t want to fall off,” he says curtly. There’s rustling, and then your arms are sliding around his waist, hugging him close. Jamil is silently thankful for the fact you can’t see his face.

“It’s always important to be careful of flight safety. Vargas told us that, you know!”

“Don’t let go, then.”

With no more warning, he sets off into the air, ascending with a practiced ease and speed. Up, and up, and up, until he can disappear into the clouds, reach up close to touch the frosty brightness of the stars, until everything below him shrinks and disappears into insignificance and nothing matters except for this.

The wind kisses his face, the cool night enveloping him. He’s free. He could go anywhere, do anything, and there will be nothing to stop him. This is his, all his.

“How far do you think you can go?” you shout, raising your voice against the rushing air. 

“As far as I want.”

“Are there any places you want to visit, then?”

“Everywhere,” Jamil says. The wind frees an honesty in him he wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise. Or maybe it’s just because it’s you. “I’ve always wanted to go all over the world at some point.”

“Well, we have one night to do it all,” you say, playfully. 

“You want to come with me?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Your arms are still looped around his waist, the only spot of warmth against the cold night.

“It wouldn’t be too bad if you did.” 

In response to his words, you squeeze his waist once.

The two of you soar through the air for another hour, until you start shivering and Jamil brings his broom around, alighting on the same balcony you departed from. It’s over, but the thrill of his momentary freedom still hums in his blood.

Perhaps you’re feeling the same way, because neither of you make a move to head inside. Instead, you rest your arms atop the white stone balustrade, staring out at the sky.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” he says. 

“Yeah. I can’t impose on you any longer. So, can you indulge me a little?”

“What is it?”

“Let’s spend a little more time together.”

“All right,” he concedes. You start making your way down the halls, a cheer lighting your steps. You’re heading to the kitchen again, and this time, it’s mercifully empty. No Kalim in sight, all the lights turned off. The only reminder of his presence is the empty plate left on the counter, which Jamil will have to wash later.

You drum your fingers on the marble island, some imaginary rhythm he can’t follow, before sliding down to sit against it, knees tucked up to your chin. You wave a hand at him, and he reluctantly sinks down until he’s cross legged, right next to you, on the cool tile floor. Shadows and appliances he uses everyday stretch out before him, but the darkness always makes everything a little unfamiliar.

“It feels like this is our secret clubhouse,” you say. “It’s nice.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I like spending time with you.”

“Why?” he asks. “I told you from the beginning. I’m not an interesting person. There’s not a lot I can do for you.”

Your smile is cheeky as you rest your head on your knees. “Let me tell you a secret, Jamil. Ramshackle was actually fixed a while ago. Grim and I could have left a lot sooner; he just let the proverbial cat out of the bag by accident today.”

“Prefect,” Jamil says, appraising you with renewed interest. “You’re slyer than you look.”

You wiggle your fingers. “You don’t get by without being a little underhanded, you know!”

Your conversation winds pleasantly through all manners of topics, from the mundane to the academic. The hours are ticking away, and he’ll have to get up in the morning to handle all his various responsibilities. But it’s hard to tear himself away from you, even when his limbs grow numb from sitting for so long. If Jamil leaves, he knows the moment will be over. Just for now, it’s the two of you, alone in your own world. 

You’re yawning when he finally broaches his question; he’s been waiting for just the right moment. “Prefect.”

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t you leave once Ramshackle was fixed?”

It’s hard to look away from you when you keep smiling at him like this, as if he’s being drawn like the tides by the moon: a helpless, and inevitable, phenomenon. “Because I want to say good morning and good night to you every day.”

“Oh.”

“Jamil?”

“Yes?”

“What about you?”

The thing about want is that Jamil is familiar with it; he knows acutely what it’s like to desire more than he should, to have it fester and rot from inside, as if it’ll destroy him if he doesn’t do something about it. Nothing is his, but maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to have just one thing, something he can’t let anyone else take from him, to selfishly cling to it.

 “I’m going to tell you good night, prefect. And when you wake, I’ll be the first one to greet you,” he says.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Even right now you’ll do it?”

“I’ll say it first if you want. Good night, prefect.”

 Good night, Jamil.” The sleepy excitement in just those few words alone is palatable.

You lean your head against his shoulder, and he shifts so it’s comfortable. Neither of you speak. From your even breathing, you might have fallen asleep already.

In a second, Jamil will move. He can wake you up just long enough for you to walk back to your room, or he’ll carry you if he has to. Then, he’ll slip into his own bed. If the two of you are caught together, it’ll cause too much commotion. 

But for now, Jamil will simply enjoy your presence, and tomorrow, he’ll be the first to tell you, “Good morning.”

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 25

The suffering of Bruce will continue for maybe 2 more chapters and then we're back on the timeline- Alien Rubicon was... painful. But it did make me finish ch26 so- enjoy-

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 25 >>next(TBC)

You’ve gotten too used to the chaos, to something always happening- maybe that paranoia will be your downfall, maybe it was just your mind telling you your life wasn’t meant to know of peace and serenity. You did thrive on the adrenaline fights provided, no matter how much you dream of living quietly, painting and just existing in a better world.

Sadly, that wasn’t a reality that could be, not for you. So, while the sun was still yet to rise, you basked in the night, letting the shadows provide warmth and letting them speak to you- you haven’t done that in a while. “You’ve neglected us.” Maybe John was right for once- even if you initially laughed at the idea, meditating won’t hurt you now.

Well… you weren’t one to stay still for long, so despite letting your mind fly, eyes closed softly, you let your body twitch, shift, move as it wished. You let your thoughts and worries pass through you- let the thoughts that you were failing Debbie, or your brothers, come and go, you let the guilt that kept you awake go with them- even if it all still lingered. The shadow’s whispered nonsense became clearer the more time you spent like this, body resting on the recliner, warm blanket over you- “Open your eyes, darling.”

The clear voice made you flinch awake, and yet, as you looked around, it was clear you were dreaming, your body sat upright in a void of complete darkness. “It’s nice to finally meet you, daughter.” The voice accompanied by a warm hand made you gasp as you turned around, your eyes immediately meeting a woman’s, a woman you’ve never met before, and yet you knew her-

“You-you’re Death herself.” Your statement was met with a gentle caress and a loving smile as she confirmed her identity. Death has been written to be this cold, awful thing- ripping and painful- and maybe it was to others, but all you saw was love and melancholy. You saw the love of a sister and the sadness of loss only a mother could hold. “Did meditating kill me?” At your whispered words She could only laugh, a melodic thing that filled you with warmth, and you definitely understood why the Dacians referred to Her as they did. She was a sister guiding you, a mother to welcome you on a lonely road to whatever afterlife you believed in, the warmth needed to face mortality… but- “It’ll never be your turn. We both know that.”

“I would have caught you in your realm, but you move so fast, you could rival the speedsters. It won’t kill you to take it slow sometimes, but then again, Morpheus couldn’t understand that either.” She teases, and your cheeks flush. You felt like a child being scolded for drawing on the walls. “I have eternity and beyond at my disposal to take it slow-“

“You do. But do you understand what that means?” You knew. It’s another reason why you’ve been unable to sleep sometimes. Immortality- it’s a dream, especially when it comes with the powers gifted to you. “It’ll be lonely. I won’t age, but everyone- Mark, Oliver, dad, mom-“ your voice shook. “They will eventually have to walk by your side. While I’ll have to keep moving the other way.” It wasn’t natural for you to speak so freely about things so personal. But you couldn’t bring yourself to lie or do your usual avoidance tricks.

“You’re still holding back.” She said softly, with so much understanding that it made your lip tremble and your eyes tear up. “I appreciate it- I really do- I don’t want to give this up. This opens so many possibilities- I can learn every language, can learn any skill, and see so many things I wouldn’t have had the time to, but it still hurts so much to think about how everyone I know will eventually meet the same fate-“ She let you sob into her shoulder, her hands running soothingly over your back. “Yes. But what’s life without love and hurt? I know you think the one thing that makes humans human is hate, but I’m a romantic at heart-“  Her soft palm raised your head and wiped off your tears. “I think it’s love, and I’ve never seen love like you humans hold for each other, platonic or otherwise.”

“You came to tell me to be a lover?” You sniffle as you chuckle. “No. I’m just being selfish and wanted to see you.” Death nudges you. “But it won’t kill you. You’ll see, the fates have already sewn your threads. It’s just a matter of which one you decide to walk.” You didn’t move away from her, but you did wipe away your remaining tears. “Sounds like the illusion of choice.”

She just smiles. “You have choices. Plenty. And all will work out in the end. You’ll see.” Her hands came to cup your cheeks again. “Oh, you’ve grown so much- still tripping on stairs, but you’ve come so far in life.” You whined as she teased and pinched your cheeks. She truly was a mother in the end. “We’ll have eternity to know each other, but sadly, I can’t stay anymore. You make sure to visit Gotham too, she misses you-“

And just like that, you woke up before you could say your goodbyes, hand reaching for someone long gone. Your eyes barely opened, your relaxed expression turning into a frown as your eyes caught an imposing and dark figure flying just a few paces over you, its figure obstructed by the shadows in a familiar manner. “…Dad?” You groan as you raise a bit, your hands trying to rub the sleep from your face. “No.” The unfamiliar voice immediately woke you up fully, your body tensing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Debbie has been sleeping in today, granted everyone did, so by the time they were supposed to eat, it was already lunch. Everyone was slugging, still tired from moving, packing, and unpacking, but Nolan’s and Debbie’s eyes moved over the present people, counting heads, before the mother locked eyes with her son. “Mark, is your sister still sleeping?”

The young adult shrugs, hair disheveled as he gets up. “I’ll go check, we stayed up quite late-“ A scream cut him off, and before he could react, his father was already outside.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You’ve been staring at the balding Viltrumite for a while, and he’d been staring at you right back. “And he sent you to give me- this?” Your eyes went down to the- you weren’t sure how to describe it… It was a plant- that you were sure of. Similar to the carnivore Pamela had and yet it was very clearly alien. The colors of it are continuously changing, seemingly settling on a color when it feels strongly in one way- is it even sentient like that? “I offered.”

“You offered?” Your eyes went back up to him. “Yes. We’ve been watching you. We’ve seen you deal with Vidor with no hesitation, you’ve dealt with most enemies efficiently, put fear and doubt in quite a few of the younger ones, and stood up to Thragg with no fear whatsoever. You’re brutal and efficient. We two are similar to a point,”  you couldn’t help but trace your hairline at that, “we enjoy what we do. And yet people talk to you, they want to be your friend-“

“You Viltrumites have friends?” Your mouth moved faster than your brain could process, but your words only earned a dry laugh. “I guess we don’t, not in the sense you humans do-“ The man continued speaking, and the more he did, the more you felt bad for him and the Viltrumite way of living- even though a part of you felt like it was manipulation. “You can change all of that- but you haven’t, you’ve just accepted it as an absolute, unchanging fact.”

“If I go against the Empire everyone would be trying to eliminate me-“ You just huffed at his words. “They’re already against you. You’re so lonely most days you want to cry, they think you are unstable, you said that. If they think of you as a means to an end, what do you think will happen when they find someone better than you, whom they can control even more? You’re at rock bottom with nothing to lose, the only way is up.” You shrug. “Or just die in the ditch and cover yourself with the dirt you dug. You want change, you’ve gotta fight for it, grandpa. You’re giving incel ‘woe is me’ vibes right now.”

You looked back at the alien-plant thingy. “What even is this? How sentient is it?” Your eyebrows raised as the plant seemed to coo. “I can’t take care of a sentient thing that needs attention 24/7- I can barely keep up with taking care of myself-“ The plant stuck its- uh- tongue? Out and licked Conquest’s hand. “… Well… it likes you more.”

“I think it wants to eat me.” The deadpan way he delivered the line made you snort. “I- fair. I can’t keep a carnivorous plant around a baby, tho- so you can go back to Thragg and rip him to shreds-“ Conquest was quick to interrupt. “He wanted to give you the pelt of an intelligent and endangered alien species. Kregg and I insisted on the plant.”

“ ’aight- that makes both of you more intelligent because what-“ Your hands rubbed your face. “I’ll take the plant- just- no pelts of aliens, please.” You did as much, putting the little thing on the small accent table next to the chair. “… You’re still here.” You sigh. “I wanted to fight you.” You quickly answered that you weren’t going to fight him. “I’m on vacation- mom would kill me if she found out I went and picked a fight!” Conquest crosses his arms. “You’re afraid of your human mother?”

“Yes. Yes, and you should be too, a mother is a scary thing, and when she finally loses it, I know where I’ll stand.”  You floated up to his height just to poke his chest while at eye level with the Viltrumite. “Motherly instincts are an insane thing- that being said, I am bored.” You cross your arms. “…Have you ever heard of the game tag?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were ashamed of the scream that left your lips as Conquest grabbed your leg out of nowhere and turned you upside down, your body hanging limp as he laughed, boasting with glee that he won. You’ve had a good comment about it, but your focus was on the blur that crashed into the older Viltrumite making him let go of you. You kept your body floating on its side as you looked at Nolan ducking it out with the older Viltrumite, pouting as you realized this might be more complicated than it needed to be.

Keeping up with them was easy- making them slow down and listen wasn’t as easy. It did feel nice to know Nolan was so willing to fight for you, but alas, you had to bring out the big gun- Debbie. So with your mom in your arms and a very confused Mark, you let the woman tear into the two Viltrumites like they were little children, nodding along with her words. “And you-“ Your eyes widened as she turned her finger to point at you. “What were you thinking? Not only about interacting with him- but did you even sleep? Did you eat breakfast? You’re in your pajamas- it’s cold!”

“Grandpa Morgan isn’t that bad-“ You pouted. “Grandpa Morgan?” Everyone questioned, and you shrugged. “He said Conquest is more of a title than a name- He’s old and he sounds like Jeffrey Dean Morgan- so- Grandpa Morgan.” Debbie sighs and rubs her temple. “Wha- I can’t just keep calling him something he doesn’t want to be called-“ the oldest Viltrumite couldn’t stop himself from laughing, his shoulders shaking with the unhinged sound that escaped his throat.

“He’s laughing-“ You turned from Mark to Morgan. “You’re laughing at me?! I can just call you Jumbo, you old elephant-“ The balding man just laughed harder, making Nolan squirm with unease. “Mom!” You whined at the woman in your arms.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

As night came and your parents were getting ready for a party, you and Mark were feeding the alien plant thing to see what it liked- you were still pouting over Grandpa Morgan laughing at you. Alas, seeing the carnivorous thing favor eggs over mice or raw-cut meat was an interesting sight. Ivy’s plant was the opposite- but this may be because yours seems to still be a kid, she may need the calcium… You were getting too attached to the thing.

“Mark, what are you doing? Why aren’t you dressed?” Debbie’s voice brought both of your attention. Marked looked from you, dressed in a plain black dress with a set of pearl jewelry, back to his mom. “Well, I thought I could stay back and help April-“ Debbie crossed her arms. “If your sister has to come, so do you. Get dressed.” And Mark pouted, but did as told.

“Who’s throwing the party, and how were we invited anyway?” You ask as you put the eggs away. “Oliver Queen, I actually sold him a house about a year or two ago.” Your mother smiled as her fingers gently moved some of your stray hairs back in place. “Nice guy- a bit eccentric.”

“He’s a rich man. They all are. And he’s a hero, so…” You shrug. “Robin Hood, right?” Nolan’s voice came as he patted down his suit, making Mark snort as he too appeared. “Green Arrow, dad. But he does look like a Robin Hood movie fancast.”

“He’d make a great Robin, though Prince John would be more fitting, no?” You joke as you stick your thumb in your mouth and rub at your earlobe. Debbie, despite the twitch of her lip, swats at your hand. “Stop it. The man has done nothing wrong to us.” She tried to be stern, but the amusement was clear in her tone.

Your mom turned to April, but before she could speak the blonde woman was already going down the checklist. “-and I’ll make sure to keep an eye on the new family pet as well. Everything will be fine, Debbie. Enjoy the party.” Debbie sighs, but her shoulders relax. April was right- she was supposed to be relaxing on the family vacation… She felt it in her bones that the vacation wouldn’t be as relaxing as the average, normal family vacation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nolan didn’t like parties, and he sure as hell hated all the heroes present at this one- Bruce included. Granted, he was glad that Mark and you stuck with Jason and his two red-headed friends. He squinted at your animated form speaking with the Tamaranean. You were too happy to be talking to her. Maybe it was a terrible idea.

“Leave it.” Debbie swatted at his chest. “They’re just talking.” Nolan pouts. “They’re too close, that other man too. Not to mention the other bats and their friends are trying to get close as well- I can just feel it.” Debbie raised an eyebrow while calling him paranoid, yet as her eyes drifted over a few of the heroes she recognized, she couldn’t help but feel the same.

You, on the other hand, were yapping Kory’s ears off with questions about her, mostly- Jason could only watch with amusement as your eyes sparkled at the tall woman. He knew you two would be immediate friends. His eyes drifted back to Roy who was talking with Mark, both complaining about shitty fathers. He couldn’t help but nod- this felt much more like a family, annoying little siblings and all.

Sadly, Jason never could get much peace these days- the sight of Slade with his crotch demons made his eyebrow twitch- wait… his- “Slade? Since when do your kids hang around you?” You asked before Jason could. “Are you really blackmailing them?” Your eyes moved to the three young adults behind the man. “Is he blackmailing you? Holding you hostage?” The three all seemed to smirk with amusement at the annoyance on their sperm donor as they all affirmed your line of questioning.

Slade just huffed, pouting as he turned to face you. “I’m not holding them hostage-“ The young woman commented something along the lines of him being too old to be holding anything up, which Slade ignored- “-but the media may have gone a bit crazy, and they wanted to meet you.”

“Is this about the prank? Because it was a one-and-done, old man.” Jason jumped in, and while Kory was still on edge, Roy and Mark immediately recognized what he meant. “Oh-yeah, Jason just wanted to mess with the bats- your father and Lex aren’t actually dating my sister- I’m uh- Mark, by the way. Nice to meet you.” Mark held his hand out and you did the same, introducing yourself and smiling once you could put names to their faces. “We were worried he had you under mind-control or something.” At Jericho’s amused voice humming through your heads, Slade sighs with defeat while you snort with amusement. “I fear I’m too thick-headed for that.”

“You call it thick-headed, I call it paranoid- not even John has as many protection spells set up, and I honestly think he needs them more than you.” Mark teases you. “There’s never too much protection-“ As you and Mark got into a friendly conversation with Slade’s kids, pulling a reluctant Roy and Kory in too, Jason’s eyes stayed on Slade's face. The annoyance on the man’s mug slowly turned to a softness the crime lord didn’t trust- it made Jason all kinds of twitchy.

The presence of Slade and his kids distracted Jason from the reason he brought Kory and Roy along to a party he otherwise would have avoided, Bruce. The man was inching his way closer and closer with each minute that passed- he was sure it’d be okay, despite what his kids said- You danced with Diana, let Oliver and Dinah twirl you around until all three of you got sick, you must be in a good mood.

However, he was making the same mistake over and over again, much like a crazy person, expecting a different outcome. He was approaching with his Brucie persona instead of the true face you knew him as. So, when his sickly-sweet voice called out your name with a familiarity he wasn’t deserving of, everyone around you noticed how you immediately tensed up. Slade’s hoard seemingly to be the first to crowd you and Mark as the man approached. Jason was right by them once the oldest Wayne was face to face with you.

Your eyes narrowed at the man. “Great. You’re here.” Bruce decides to brush off the annoyance and clear nervousness he brought you. “I was invited- but it’s nice to see my daughter while at it too.” Mark, the usually chill kid Jason knew him as, scoffed as he muttered under his breath about the man’s audacity. “Your mug is pissing me off.” Rose snorted at your bluntness, and Bruce’s smile twitched. To him, it was Jason all over again- but at least with him, he was sure he could fix it one way or another. He wasn’t even sure where or how to begin. “I just want to talk- actually talk-“

“Talk? You’ve had years to talk to me, just because now you feel guilty or some bullshit like that-“ Strike two for Bruce was interrupting you. “I know. But I’m still your father,” strike three, “and I have a right to see and speak to my daughter-“ And he’s out- quite literally. With one punch, he was out, passed out with his back flat on the floor, and Jason’s screech that turned into a boisterous laugh drew everyone's attention to your little group.

While Slade and Mark made quick work of grabbing you and pushing you away before you could start beating on the unconscious man, Tim sighed and pulled out a tablet, opened an Excel sheet titled “forgiveness chart” and started updating it. Steph looked over his shoulder, her eyes tracing over it. “What’s up with the numbers on Damian’s thing?” She asked, and Tim’s eyes followed what she was referring to. “54 72 79 20 74 6f 20 73 61 62 6f 74 61 67 65 2e” Tim looked at the blonde with a blank expression. “Must have been a glitch.” Stephanie gave him an unimpressed look. “Tim. Nobody believes that.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Kon-El kept replaying the punch one reporter caught as he tried not to laugh like Jason, who, if it weren’t for Roy, would be rolling on the floor. It was family night at the Kents, specifically “Make fun of what the rich wear” family night. “What did Bruce do to that poor girl? This is like the third time he gets hit by her.” Martha asked Clark, who was slumped, almost falling off the couch, as he rubbed at his face. He only groaned. “She seems like the type of woman who’d like to still work after marriage… I’d make a great house husband-“ Kon’s comment went ignored by everyone but his grandpa who started complaining about the economy and how he should keep working.

Jon’s eyes remained on the clip as it carried on playing when Kon stopped rewinding it. “It’s… a long story.” His mom sighed as she ate more of the popcorn they had around. “That man is getting more beat up than usual by his own kid-“ Grandpa Jonathan started with a huff. “We aren’t getting any younger, we have time.” Everyone’s attention was brought back to the TV as a reporter was quick to jump in front of you and your family, asking exactly what everyone wanted to know. And your angry glare and sadistic smile didn’t ease Clark’s worry. “I’m glad you asked- better be recording, because this is the only answer you’re getting to what my relationship with the fucker is-“

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince @swanluver @ohnoivefallen @eyeless-kun

The chart in question:

Tim doesn't know as much as he'd like to.

ch 26 Sneak peek

“It was a clean punch, good job.” Diana’s comment got a few reactions, mostly snickers and Hal almost choking on the coffee he was drinking, but her smile was due to the way you puffed out your chest. “Thank you- I’m glad someone can appreciate my skills.” Cecil huffed at the look you threw at him. “Anyway-“ He cleared his throat.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

House Party | Drarry

feat. Draco Malfoy x roommate!reader x Harry Potter

summary: all your friends come over for dinner party at your shared flat. little do they know, you've been fucking your roommates in secret for weeks. when one of them makes a move on you, your boys decide to remind you who you belong to.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, spit roasting, mfm, praise kink, switch!Harry, dom!draco, drinking, smoking, fluff, guyliner, Draco's a slut

an: I just passed 2,000 followers!! I love you all so much and I'm so grateful for the community I've found here. and what better way to celebrate than with our two favorite boys??

more drarry!roommate au | masterlist | requests open

Crossed legged on your vanity stool, you set down your blush and accessed your reflection. Too pink? Not enough?

“Looks gorgeous, baby.” A voice interrupted your pondering, low and sweetened with affection—Harry.

“It's not too much?” You asked, turning to look at him. He was leaned against the doorway, a pink wine cooler in his hand, already dressed for the party starting in over an hour. A white t-shirt, undone flannel, and light wash jeans, black hair messy and a little overgrown.

He had no business looking so effortlessly hot all the time.

“Definitely not too much.” He pushed off the door jam and crossed the room to you, setting the drink on the vanity for you. “Your makeup always looks perfect,” he said, tilting your chin up to get a closer look, his fingers cold from the bottle. “I like the, uh—the pink stuff.” He tapped the apple of your cheek gently with his pointer finger.

“Blusher,” you supplied. “And you only think that because you don't know anything about makeup,” you argued, despite the smile tugging at your lips.

“I know that you’ve looked beautiful every second of every day that I've known you, and that has to count for something—”

You swatted his broad chest, rolling your eyes and turning back to your makeup. “You're so full of it,” you laughed.

Grinning, he flopped onto your freshly made mattress, an arm folded behind his head, bulging bicep on full display. “You're about to be full of it—”

“Harry!” You scolded, tossing a brush at him.

He caught it without looking, spinning it around his fingers with a cheeky smirk. “What can I say? You bring it out in me.”

Another eye roll. You take a swig of your drink and grab your eyeliner, bracing your elbows on the table. You can feel Harry watching with abject horror when you paint your waterline. He gasped dramatically when you make a quick flick, resulting in a crooked, lightly smudged wing.

“Shit. Harry!” You huffed.

“I didn't do anything!” He laughed. “You're the one about to stab your eye out—”

“I am not! You're distracting me!—”

Something mischievous glinted in his green eyes. “Oh, you think that's distracting?” Harry hooked his foot under your stool, jerking you back towards the bed.

“Hey!”

“What are you children going on about?” Draco appeared in the doorway, half-dressed in trousers and a sleeveless undershirt.

“Harry made me mess up my eyeliner,” you scowled, turning back to the mirror. You attempted the wing again, only for it to skip and pull a little too long.

“He did?” Draco tsked, casting Harry an authoritative glare as he strode towards you, his equine legs taking him across the room in a few unhurried strides.

“I did not!” Harry argued. “I'm just sitting here, minding my own business—”

“Saints sake!” You cursed, pouting at yet another failed wing attempt.

“Do you need help, darling?” Draco asked, gently taking the eyeliner from your fingers.

“You can do eyeliner?” You asked, brows lifting.

He smirked, long fingers reaching out to grasp your jaw and tilt your head back. “Why so surprised?”

“Because you don't wear eyeliner?”

“My father taught me when I was kid,” he clarified. “It's something he does for my mom all time. Close your eyes, love.”

You were speechless, shocked that Lucius Malfoy not only willingly did his wife's makeup for her, but cared enough to teach Draco how to do it too. Something fluttery bloomed in your chest; Draco was doing it for you. Even Harry had fallen silent, watching with rapt attention.

This is how things were between the three of you—from silly friends one moment, to almost saccharine domestic sweetness another, then near-debilitating lust. Sexual tension so taught, you feared it would throttle you.

It was confusing, exhilarating, and deeply complicated. But it was worth it to have even a small piece of them.

Your closed your eyes, breath hitching when his grip tightened a fraction on your jaw, holding you steady.

“Breathe,” he instructed, his voice coming from much closer now, tinged with spearmint, and you loosed a shaky exhale. “Good girl. Now hold still for me.”

Your heart rate accelerated, thrumming eagerly under your skin. It was staggering how quickly he could send you reeling.

So light it almost tickled, Draco swiped a smooth arch above your upper lashes, flicking just a bit at the edges. With his thumb nail, he sharpened it to a point. An expert maneuver that had your belly somersaulting. He repeated the motions on the other eye, his hand delicate on your face so as not to disturb your other makeup.

“Open your eyes at take a look,” he murmured, and you obeyed, blinking up at him. Merlin, he's gorgeous. With his regal bone structure and those bewitching blue eyes. He smiled at you, catching your lingering stare, and leaned down to peck your lips. “Look at yourself, love, not me.”

You turned, eyes immediately snagging on yourself, and the sultry, flawless eyeliner he'd bestowed up on you.

“How the hell are you so good at that?” You asked, leaning in to get a closer look.

Harry got up and leaned over you, making an appreciate oooh. “Damn, Malfoy. If Auror-ing fails, you've got a back up career as a makeup artist,” he said, smiling over the blond.

Draco chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear while he admired his hand work. “Happy to help.”

“Your turn!” You whirled around and tackled Draco onto your bed, eyeliner lofted high.

He caught your wrist, grip tight enough to immobilize your arm, but not enough to hurt. He tsked, shaking his head at you. “Gonna have to be quicker than that, pet,” he chided, amusement glittering in his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, spreading your knees to lower yourself fully onto his lap. “Please?” You fluttered your lashes, tilting your hips just slightly to press against the growing ridge in his pants. He swallowed hard, eyes flitting down to where your bodies touched.

Harry snickered. “You're not playing fair, lovely,” he hummed, plucking the eyeliner from your fingers.

“But he would look so hot,” you argued, and Draco scoffed, releasing your wrist and resting his hands on your thighs.

Harry contemplated this, tapping his chin with the eyeliner. “That's a fair point.” And he handed you the eyeliner back.

“I don't get a say in this?” Draco huffed.

“Nope, you can wash it off after if you don't like it,” you chirped, uncapping it with your teeth and leaning down towards him.

“You know, it's unsanitary to share eye makeup—”

“Quiet, unless you want me to poke out your eyeball. Look up for me,” you ordered in your best Draco impression, and Harry laughed again.

Draco rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

“Good boy,” you purred, and you felt his cock surge beneath you, Adam’s Apple bombing in his throat.

You drew a short line just under his lower lashes, barely more than a dot of product, and smudged it out with your pinky. Just enough to give him a little bit of a shadow.

When you pulled back, his eyes flicked back down to you, blinking away the little bit of water the collected. Your breath hitched in your lungs. His eyes looked almost silver, brighter than you'd ever seen them with that little bit of extra contrast.

“That's not fair,” Harry whined. “How can he get hotter?”

You set the eyeliner down, grinning triumphantly, until Draco bucked you off, flipping your bodies around before you'd even registered you were moving.

“And what do you think?” He asked, voice low and vaguely threatening.

Your brain short-circuited, completely mesmerized by his eyes. “I, uh—”

Draco smirked. “Not so bold now, are we?” He teased, leaning down to place a singular, open-mouthed kiss to your neck before pushing himself up, releasing you from his hold. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish getting ready.” He turned, pausing to pass a smoothing hand through Harry's hair before exiting your bedroom.

“It's not fair,” Harry grumbled, scratching his head where Draco just touched.

“You're gorgeous too,” you said, wrapping your arms around his middle. “You want some blusher?”

He barked a laugh, carding his fingers through your hair to tilt your head back to steal a kiss himself. “I’d hate to steal his thunder,” he joked, lowering his voice.

You giggled, pinching his cheek before pressing a kiss to it. “Natural blush, then?”

“Fiiine,” he smiled, pulling you up to standing. “Anything for you.”

You finished getting ready and joined Harry out in the living room, setting up the snacks and ambiance, getting the final details in order before your friends arrived.

You leaned over the counter, adjusting the candles at the center, when a heavy weight pressed against your back. Hands trailing up the fronts of your thighs, sliding under the hem as they pulled you closer.

“Sorry, lovely,” Harry purred, nosing into the back of your neck. “Couldn't resist.”

You could feel why against the fat of your ass, his cock throbbing eagerly under his jeans.

“They'll be here any minute,” you giggled, arching your back to press against him.

He groaned, calloused hands tightening around your fleshy thighs. “We'll cancel.”

“And eat all the snacks ourselves?” A breathy sigh stuttered from your throat when he rocked against you.

“Yeah, yeah—” he rasped, mouthing at the top of your spine. “Will need to refuel for round two—”

“You two are insatiable.” Draco’s accusatory voice cut through your haze like a lance.

Harry didn't relent, straightening. “Can you blame me?” Harry chuckled, his hands smoothing down the curve of your spine, the flare of your hips.

Draco hummed, and you turned your head to look at him. And oh, did he look good. Black fitted t-shirt tucked into his slightly baggy trousers, a patent leather belt cinching in that slutty little waist, silver rings on his fingers and chain around his neck. His eyes practically glowed from the eyeliner, giving him just that little bit of an edge, almost Bowie-like.

You extended a hand out to him, making a grabby motion, and he smirked.

“I have to admit, the eyeliner is growing on me,” he said, gently taking your hand and brushing a kiss along your knuckles. “But still, we're going to have to work on your manners.” He rotated your arm, bending your elbow to press your hand against your lower back. Harry caught your wrist, pining it down and pressing you harder against the cold granite.

“Seems well behaved to me,” Harry praised, his free hand trailing higher between your legs. “Isn't that right, baby?”

You nodded, thighs trembling as he inched higher, higher—

Knock knock!

Harry jumped back from you and Draco's head snapped up, scowling like someone personally offended him.

You straightened, smoothing your dress and taking a swig of your drink, willing the throbbing between your legs to subside.

“Sorry, love,” Harry said, pecking your cheek before rushing to open the door.

Draco shook his head and stalked over to the bar, uncapping the fire whisky and filling his glass.

“Harry, you will not believe what happened at work today.” Hermione charged in, jumping headfirst into a story about her idiotic supervisor.

Ron trailed in behind her, laden with takeout bags and a twelve pack that Harry helped him unload.

Hermione only paused her story to throw her arms around you, greeting you with one of those bearish hugs she was so good at it. Ron waved from across the island with a shy smile.

“Merlin sakes, Grainger. Do you ever stop talking?” Draco droned, leaning against the island beside you, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Unlike you, I actually have interesting things to say,” she bit back, pulling him down for a hug that he pretended to hate.

The boys ventured out to the fire escape, taking Draco's immaculate prerolls with them, leaving you and Hermione cozied up on the couch. But it wasn't long before Theo, Blaise, and Pansy arrived.

“Eccola lì!” Theo cried, handing you a gorgeous bouquet of roses and wrapping you up in a big hug. “I’ve missed you, carina,” he cooed, an incorrigible flirt as always.

“Hi, Theo,” you giggled, slipping away to hug the other two before tracking down a vase.

“What the fuck, Nott!” Draco shouted, throwing up the window, a plume of smoke pouring in. “Where are my flowers?”

“Sod off!” Theo shouted back. “Grainger, darling, if I’d known you'd be here, I’d have brought you the most gorgeous—”

“Watch it, Theodore,” Ron chuckled, his eyes already bloodshot, his smile melty. “Get your own bird, yeah?”

“Lo farò,” he purred, winking at you.

“Ignore him,” Pansy laughed, helping you fill the vase with water. “He got rejected this morning at the café, so he's feeling sensitive.”

“Oi!” He yelled over his shoulder as he climbed outside.

Blaise rolled his eyes and peeled away from Pansy’s hip, helping himself to the whiskey and sinking into the couch beside Hermione, launching into questions about her work. Pansy joined the boys on the porch, bringing out a tray of chips to uproarious applause.

Draco climbed back inside after her, swallowing the rest of his whiskey, and joined you in the kitchen, taking the roses from your hands.

“Thorns?” He asked, checking the stems. “I'll take care of it, go get a drink,” he murmured, fingers lingering on your lower back, hidden by the island, before he turned away.

“Thanks, D,” you said, squeezing his shoulder as you slipped past him and out of the kitchen. You grabbed another wine cooler and headed out to the fire escape, earning a trill of applause yourself.

Harry was perched on the steps, Ron on his left, while Pansy and Theo leaned against the railings. You turned towards Harry, but Theo caught you first, slinging an arm over your shoulder and tugging you into his side.

“Now the parties started,” Theo joked, offering the half-smoked blunt between his fingers.

You couldn't help but glance at Harry, who was watching you from the corner of his eye while chatting about classes that week with Ron.

If you were honest, you wanted a hit from Harry’s joint, preferably directly from his mouth, but you couldn't exactly refuse Theo and go to Harry without letting the cat out of the bag.

But would that be so terrible? You trusted your friends to not leak the news, and hiding what the three of you were was proving harder than you'd anticipated.

Sure, you weren’t a couple, but it was easy to forget what the arrangement actually was when it was just the three of you in the flat, free to express your affection however and whenever you wanted.

Going back to being friends, even if it was just temporary, was leaving your heart a little bruised.

“I'm okay, Theo. Thanks, though,” you said, offering as sweet a smile as you could muster, and Harry visibly relaxed in your periphery.

“Tranquilla,” Theo said, taking a hit himself and relinquishing his hold on you.

As casually as you could, you sidestepped to sit on the steps beneath Harry, his shins at your back, and started chatting with Pansy about her and Blaise’s upcoming nuptials.

A few minutes later, something heavy and warm dropped on your shoulders, wafting a familiar, amber-scented cologne over you. Harry's flannel.

You curled your fingers around the collar, wrapping it tighter around you, and felt like you could breathe for the first time since everyone arrived.

He offered you his blunt, holding it carefully between his fingers so you could hold onto the flannel. The acrid burn filled your lungs, cast a haze over your mind, and you exhaled, letting the smoke carry your racing thoughts to the stars.

"Better stop looking so damn kissable before I do something stupid," he muttered against your ear, a shiver rolling down your spine. Before you could respond, he leaned back against the stairs, slipping back into conversation with Ron like nothing happened.

A few hours passed, traveling back and forth from the fire escape to the living room, but as the evening wore on, it was too cold to sit outside. So everyone crammed into the living room, sprawled out on the couches and cushions tossed onto the floor.

You were stretched out on the floor between Draco and Theo, the latter seeming more interested in you than usual. He'd barely left your side all night, jumping up every time your drink was empty, or you eyeballed a snack for a few extra seconds.

They were reminiscing on their Hogwarts days, swapping stories and laughing. You were a year below them, and had only really known them from afar, so you just listened, and laughed when everyone else did.

“What'd you think of us back then, carina?” Theo asked, bumping his knee against yours.

Draco and Harry perked up a bit.

“I mean…” you trailed off, glancing around the group as heat crawled up your neck. “He’s Harry Potter. We were all a little starstruck.”

Harry flushed, and everyone but Draco laughed.

“And Hermione, I would write down your class schedule to try and copy it so I could be as smart as you—clearly, a failure,” you added, and Hermione blew you a kiss.

“Theo and Blaise, you guys stole my Charms coursework once, so…”

Theo balked, and Blaise snickered.

“I would never do such a thing,” Theo argued, clutching his gold chain like it was a string of pearls.

Immediately, everyone launched into different stories where Theo had done that and worse.

“Alright, alright! Stronzo’s,” he muttered, pouting.

“And Draco,” you said, finally turning towards the sulking blond. Were you really about to admit this out loud? “I had an absolutely debilitating crush on you.”

“Whaaaat?!” Everyone cried, and Draco's scowl lifted to a smirk, something warm blooming in his glacial eyes.

Harry rolled his eyes, slumping back against the couch, but Draco drew your attention back with an arm snaking around your waist.

“Did you?” He cooed, tugging you into his side. “How adorable.”

You shoved him away, giggling, though he didn't let you go far, socked feet still touching. “I was young, and had questionable taste!”

Everyone howled with laughter, and Draco chuckled, though his eyes promised you'd regret those words. And you couldn't wait.

They dove back into conversation, and you slipped away to check your makeup and calm your racing heart.

A soft knock startled you from your vanity, and you turned, expecting Harry or Draco, but were surprised to find Theo leaning against the door jam.

“Didn't mean to scare you, amore,” he said, eyes sweeping over you, openly appreciative.

“Oh, uh—it’s okay. What's up, Theo?” You asked, setting down your powder brush.

“I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me this week?” He asked, and your stomach dropped. “I think we'd have a lot of fun,” he added, sensing your hesitation.

“Oh, Theo. I—I’m not really in a ‘dating’ place right now,” you said, fidgeting a bit. “But, I appreciate the offer.”

Theo smiled, though it wasn't exactly friendly. “Still have a crush on Malfoy, hm?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don't need a reason, Theo,” you bit, crossing your arms over your chest.

He held up his hands. “I know, I know. That's not what I was trying to imply. Mi dispiace. I had a feeling you'd say no, but figured I'd try my luck anyways. Your reasons are your own.”

You nodded stiffly, still a bit perturbed by the interaction.

“But, if you do still have a crush on Malfoy—”

“What’s that, Nott?” Draco suddenly appeared over Theo's shoulder, expression dark as a burgeoning storm.

Theo glanced at him, then back to you, still wearing the mischievous smirk. Apparently oblivious to the trap he'd stepped in. “Buona fortuna, carina,” he said, lifted like a farewell, and stepped back into the hall, leaving Malfoy fuming by your door.

“Draco—”

“He asked you out?” Draco asked, leveling you with those piercing eyes.

“And I turned him down,” you retorted, irritation flaring at the possessive way he was acting.

He was the one that suggested this arrangement, wasn't he? He made his bed. You weren't his. Not officially.

Something in your tone broke through the fog of war, and his expression softened.

“Can't say I blame the poor sod,” he said after a moment, eyes drifting down your body. “But I can say that I don't feel all that bad for him.”

You shook your head, walking towards the door to head back to the party. “Try not to look so smug,” you teased, pecking his cheek as you passed by him.

But his arm shot out, hooking you around the middle and flipping you around to press your back against the doorway, his body looming over yours.

“How could I not be?” He murmured, dragging his nose along your temple, the heat of him wrapping around you like a blanket. You could look nowhere but him, completely engulfed in his aura. “I've got such a pretty little thing wrapped around my finger.”

You rolled your eyes, but made no move to escape, the party with all your friends just down the hall completely forgotten. You only wished it was Harry you were pressed up against instead of the wall. Sandwiched between them was your favorite place to be.

His lips trailed down your neck, the feather light contact sparking along your skin like a live wire, and you gasped, arching into him.

“Is it too early to send everyone home?” You whined, raking your fingers through his hair. There was something deeply satisfying about being the one to ruin his always immaculate appearance.

“Just say the word and you'll never see any of them again,” he promised, earning a giggle from you.

“That seems excessive,” you teased.

“I disagree entirely—”

“I'm sorry to be a cock-block, but our guests grow suspicious.” Harry's voice filled the empty hall, and you felt Draco sigh against your neck before stepping back.

“I don't think you're sorry at all,” Draco chastised, throwing Harry a sardonic grin.

Harry shrugged, smirking back. “C’mon, lovely. They're trying to argue that the Demiguise is uglier than Grindylow.”

You gasped. “What?” and raced back out into the living room.

An hour later, you lead Pansy and Blaise to the door, waving goodbye to your final guests and hopping you didn't seem to eager to have them leave.

When you returned to the living room, you found Draco already picking up empty bottles and cans, while Harry was sprawled out on the floor amid the aftermath of the party, leaning back against the couch.

You thought about going to help Draco, but Harry looked far too cozy to pass up.

Harry grinned when you approached, crooked and honey-sweet, and it made your heart skip a beat. “Hi, pretty,” he said, opening his arms to you.

You sank to the ground and laid against his chest, one leg slung over his. “Have fun?” you asked, pecking his cheek. “Seemed to get a little jealous earlier.”

He shrugged. “M’fine,” he muttered, his tone shifting at the mention of Theo’s advances.

You didn’t buy it. Lightly, you dragged your fingertips down his chest, feeling his muscles twitch and bounce under your touch, and leaned in. “Are you lying to me?” you asked, breath fanning across his cheek.

“No, no—I, uh, I’m fine,” he stammered, breath hitching when you leaned in to kiss along the flush crawling up his neck. “Never been better,” he added, a little breathless.

You smiled, pulling at his earlobe with your teeth, before kitten licking the shell. He was trembling a little, his hand on your waist growing heavier, fingers curling around the bunched fabric of your dress.

“So, you don’t need me to show you how much I adore you?” You asked, pulling back a bit.

“No—yes, I—fuck, please don't stop—” He cupped your face, reeling you in for a messy, indulgent kiss. Lips slick with spit, tongue heavy with his lingering high and sweetened by booze, prying apart teeth to get to the softness of you. “Show me, please?” he mumbled against your mouth, breathing labored under the weight of his desire.

How could you refuse such a sweet request?

You shifted down, kissing along the valley of his sternum towards his navel, his skin deliciously warm through his thin shirt. Once settled between his thighs, you quickly undid his belt and fly, freeing him from the confines of his jeans. His cock was already throbbing, flushed with arousal and leaking pearls of precum. So sensitive, he hissed through his teeth when the cold air of the room kissed his fevered skin.

“You need me this badly, darling?” you cooed, blowing air on the rosy head to tease him further.

His chin bobbed, his entire body rigid with tension. “Please, baby, please touch me,” he whimpered.

Taking pity on him, you wrapped your lips around the head, flicking over his slit with your tongue. His whole body shuddered, a broken little groan slipping through is teeth. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, the hot, heavy slide of his silken skin on your tongue making your thighs clench, honey leaking through your underwear.

“F-fuck,” he moaned, covering his face with his hands. “Feels so good—you’re so good.” His thighs flexed with the effort of not bucking into your mouth, desperate to keep still so you didn’t stop.

You hummed in appreciation, taking him as deep as you could manage, tongue swiping along the root of him. Drool was collecting at his base, stringy as you lifted up and down, making a mess of his boxers and yourself.

“Look at you,” Draco cooed, startling you when you felt fingers glide through your hair. “Such a fucking mess.” He collected your hair into a ponytail, starting to lift and lower you on Harry’s length.

“Draco, f-fuck,” Harry moaned.

Draco chuckled, guiding Harry’s hand to hold your hair and releasing you. “You can do it, Harry. She won’t break,” he teased, and you felt Harry’s hand tighten, adding a little more force to your own movements, pushing you a little further each time.

Tears collected at the corners of your eyes, Harry’s thick length making your jaw ache, and the need between your legs bordering on painful.

Then, you felt Draco’s hands slide under your hipbones, lifting you up to your knees in a quick motion and making you slide further down on Harry’s cock, gagging on him.

“Sh, sh, there’s a good girl,” Draco soothed, pushing your dress up over your hips, and rolling down your sodden panties. His fingers ghosted over your cunt, applying the lightest pressure, and you keened, the sound muffled by Harry’s length. “Don’t worry, pet. I’ll only stop when you do,” he challenged, circling the pool of moisture at your entrance before dipping a finger inside your heat.

You moaned again, redoubling your efforts on Harry to encourage Draco's fingers, rocking back against him as you bobbed up and down Harry's length. Harry was a mess beneath, gasping and whimpering, a sheen of sweat making his shirt stick to his skin, his dark hair cling to his forehead. Even his poor glasses were fogging up.

“Merlin sakes, baby—” Harry grunted when you swallowed around him, taking him deeper than before.

Draco rewarded you with a curl of his fingers, prodding that ruinous spot that had your whole body tingling, eyes rolling back in your head. “You take that cock so well, love. Such a perfect little cocksucker, aren't you?”

You nodded, pleasure unspooling in your belly and making your limbs grow heavy, wanting to dissolve onto the floor and let them ravaged you. Take what's theirs.

“Look so pretty,” Harry cooed, his free hand cupping your jaw, stroking away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Tell us how pretty you feel,” Draco instructed, his fingers withdrawing from your heat.

You pulled off of Harry, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I feel so pretty. Thank you for making me feel so pretty,” you babble, reaching back to grab Draco and squeezing Harry's thigh.

Both men grinned, tutting proudly, and your reward prodded against your entrance, much thicker than a finger.

Harry guided you back down to his cock. “Remember, lovely. Don't stop unless you want him to.”

You nodded, lapping at the mess you'd made around his base. Draco swirled his cockhead through your folds, lubricating himself, mimicking the movement of your tongue.

Carefully, you took Harry into your mouth, slowly sinking down his length while Draco pushed into you, just as careful. Stretched perfectly, deliriously full. Pleasure dripped from between your legs, flooding your mind and body. You reached for them again, needing an anchor in the storm, and they both reached back for you, Harry hands over your on his chest, and Draco's fingers twined with yours on your shoulder.

“All ours, hm?” Draco gruffed, rocking his hips into you, his iron length dragging against your gummy walls. “Our mouth, our cunt—” he snapped his hips forward, sending you down on Harry's cock and making you gag. “If only Theo could see you now…”

You shook your head as best you could. “Omphly yours,” you mumbled, tongue squished against your teeth by Harry's girth. Harry keened at the feeling, hips stuttering up, the tendons in his neck pulled taught as you felt him start to swell—so fucking close.

“That's right,” Draco purred, stopping his punishing strokes to grind into you, the squelch of your pussy unforgiving, undeniable. “You're both mine.”

You and Harry nodded automatically, letting Draco's pace pull you up and down Harry's length, all of you rocking together like a castaways on a lifeboat, clinging to one another so you weren't pitched into the churning sea.

“F-fuck, ah—I’m so close,” Harry whimpered, hands tightening as he started to tremble, body burning like a furnace beneath you.

“Not yet, Potter,” Draco grunted, his hand sliding from your hip around to your belly, long fingers finding your clit and the sticky mess you'd made between your legs. “Not until she comes.”

It was like Draco struck a match, your whole body lighting up as he worked you with expert precision, knowing your body even better than you did. You tried your best to keep pace sucking Harry, but your mind was starting to fog, limbs going stupid and gelatinous as every nerve pulled taught in your stomach.

Harry whined, head falling back against the couch cushions. “Oh saints—I can't—”

“She’s almost there—you can. C’mon, angel. Come for us—He's been so good, he deserves to come, doesn't he?” Draco was starting to ramble, a tell-tale sign that he was getting close too, his cock thickening, pressing harder against your cervix with every thrust.

“Please, please, please,” Harry pleaded, and you were done for.

Your orgasm crested, the tension severing in your gut and sending you reeling, quivering so hard Draco had to wrap his arm under your hips to keep you upright.

The boys were dragged into oblivion with you, their cries combining into a single roar as they pumped you full of release, painting your insides white as they fucked you and one another through it.

“That's it—so fucking good for us. Did so well,” Draco said, stroking your spine and Harry’s outstretched leg, praising you both. He eased you off of Harry, laying you gently on the carpet and using his wand to clean you both up.

You were completely spent, wrung out like a washcloth. Boneless, brainless, and practically giddy with endorphins.

“You're amazing.” Harry offered you a sip of water, holding your hand while to you recovered. “Smiley girl,” he teased, leaning down to peck the grin tugging at your lips.

“Feel good, darling?” Draco asked, massaging your legs, his own smile breaking through. Viscerally pleased that he had you so thoroughly wrecked.

Harry was trying to be coy, but you could see the possessive gleam in his eye, the greedy way he took stock of every red mark and bead of sweat on your body. “Looking a little starstruck, love," Harry teased.

"Still think you were naive and had questionable taste?” Draco asked.

You shook your head, too breathless to speak, your throat raw and tender in the best way.

Poor Theo didn't stand a chance.

© agreeeeeeeeeee 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[lesbiianpeach]

summary: Wanda wanted a new life after everything she had suffered, she wanted to be loved, and she got it after a long time.

warnings: cute, soft!Wanda AN: I don't use Y/n or any kind of variation of [name] in my fanfics, I use nicknames, in this fanfic Natasha calls the reader princess and wife.

All Wanda wanted was to start again. She hadn't forgotten Vision yet, but the memories made her ache, and she needed to put the past behind her. It was then that she met a girl - someone who, without realizing it, won her heart. She reminded her of autumn days, the girl conveyed a cozy feeling, like being around a warm blanket on a cold day.

Almost a year later, Wanda found herself looking at that same woman, who prepared breakfast for them and took care of the cat's food. Wanda smiled as she watched the woman in the kitchen stirring the pancake batter and passing the coffee, she saw you putting the food mixed with tuna in the handmade, painted bowl, next to the now fresh bowl of water.

Wanda smiled and went after the cat, picking her up and taking her into the kitchen. -Wanda put the cat near the pot of food and walked over to you, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck. - Do you want to watch TV? We can watch that series you wanted - Wanda said as she used her magic to take the pancake from the frying pan to the plate. 

- Sounds great, honey. Just let me finish this batch of pancakes - you said, smiling before turning and kissing the redhead on the cheek. Wanda smiled into the kiss, resting her head on her girlfriend's shoulder as she caressed her waist.

-I love you, you know that, don't you? - she said, kissing her shoulder.

-Of course I know that, darling, you know I love you too, don't you? - Wanda smiled and nodded as she used her magic to flip the new pancake on the frying pan.

-You know, I think we could adopt another kitten, I feel that Sapphire is very lonely - Wanda said as she laid her head on her back and looked at Sapphire eating from the bowl. 

- We can do this in the afternoon, we can take the opportunity to buy some new cushions and plants. - Your remark made Wanda laugh slightly, knowing how worried you were about the house being comfortable for you.

She kisses your neck as she sees you put the last pancake on the plate, takes your hand and starts walking towards the sofa while using magic to bring the pancakes and cups of tea.

-We'll do all that later, but right now let's just be together and relax - Wanda said, putting her hand on his waist as the plate of pancakes and the cups of tea made their way to the coffee table. For the first time in a long time, Wanda felt like she had a new life, a new start and a new reason to live and this time, she wasn't going to let anything take it away from her.

[svelish]

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

Parenting 101

To Claudia: Do you have a minute?

Billie sent the message to her 'like a sister-in-law' who's out shopping right now with her wife. Ever since you and Billie got together, you and Claudia have become such close friends.

Billie almost didn't want to leave their bed this morning for being so tired last night. Both of them stayed up because their children just wouldn't go to sleep. Well, it was Billie's fault because she gave their six-year-old daughter and almost three year old son dessert before bed time.

You told her that giving them sugar at night will only lead to a lack of sleep for the whole family because of an increased energy level.

But Billie, being none the wiser at the moment and also because she always gives in when it comes to her children, reasons that it's just two spoons of ice cream. Then there they were, their firstborn, Bea, who can now sleep in her pink and white painted room alone, was with you, her mommy dozing off while the little girl was busy playing with her toys.

And Billie, in the adjacent room with their son, Kai, who was just laying down on his bed, but his eyes were still wide awake.

Not until Bea got tired and passed out on her bed beside you while their little boy slowly fell asleep after some rounds of his favorite 'night night' song. Both women tiptoed their way out of their children's bedroom.

"Gosh, that's a lot of energy for a six-year-old." You grunted as you settled down on the bed, while your wife was putting on an oversized shirt before getting in and cuddling with you.

"I'm not allowed to feed them ever again, am I?" She asked you whose eyes were half closed, your head resting on Billie's chest.

You hummed, burrowing your head deeper into Billie's neck, the scent of vanilla body wash that she uses and Billie's particular smell, comforting her that it could lull her to sleep.

You hummed. "You're still allowed, love. But if you insist on giving them even just a pinch of whatever sweet food you have before bedtime ever again, you're not gonna get any kind of sugar from me."

"Copy that, ma'am." Billie mumbled, tilting her head down, kissing the crown of your head while you let out soft snores, her arm tightly draped around your body.

Her phone vibrated over the counter.

"Hey, what's up?" Claudia's voice whispered on the phone.

"Are you guys almost done with your shopping?" Billie asked, biting her lower lip.

She hears Claudia excuse herself, then she hears some rustling on the other line— "Yeah, just about. Are you okay?"

"I need your help," Billie said frantically, not even bothering to greet her best friend.

Claudia stood confused inside the washroom. If this is something urgent shouldn't she be calling her wife first? She thought. "Whatever for?"

"Y/n's ganna kill me. Can you stall her for a few hours? I just need to take the kids somewhere."

"What in the bloody hell had happened?"

"I'll send you a text. Just hold her off for a bit, okay? Thank you!"

Claudia's phone chimed, and she opened Billie's text. Her eyes widened, shaking her head. "Fucking hell.." she mumbled. Before putting her phone back in her pocket and going back to where you were.

-

Earlier

The house is quiet.

Like awfully quiet,

Billie was in Bea's room, putting away the freshly dried and neatly folded clothes of her daughter, putting them back in her closet.

She left them in the playroom, as they watched their favourite tv show while she did the laundry. But there's a monitor installed in their laundry room, so she can see them. Smiling when she heard her son mumble gibberish words to her sister.

He can talk, oh so adorably. He even gets silly sometimes, mimicking the words what his parents and sister were saying as they talk to him. When their son was born, you and Billie thought Bea was going to have a hard time adjusting to the newest addition to their family.

Afraid that their daughter would feel neglected because the newborn child will need more of their attention; but Bea was doing so great as a big sister though, she's been very ecstatic to meet her baby brother, always wanted to stay close to her mom and watch her feed Kai and sometimes help her mom by holding the feeding bottle for his brother's formula.

Her little brother fascinated Bea, always touching his cheeks and his tiny hands. Talking to him like her brother's understanding of her incoherent ramblings. Makes their parents happy and proud.

It's just so fulfilling to watch their family growing, since you and your wife grew up with siblings (or not), it's the greatest feeling to see that their has someone too.

When asked if she wanted another one, she always says why not, because it's been her dream to have a huge family of her own and how lovely would that be, because she's ganna be sharing it with the love of her life.

Everyone loves their darling boy as much as they love Bea. Their auntie Claudia and uncle Finneas were a huge spoiler, buying them things that they thought, especially Bea might like because Kai is still young and she's sure that when he grows up a bit, Claudia and Finneas will definitely spoil him the same.

-

Your daughter has taken a liking to arts and crafts. It's her and Billie's bonding time whenever Billie asks to do it with her. May it be some drawings, watercolour paintings, the mother and daughter even create cute cards, using colour pens.

And now, Billie is in a huge dilemma. After she finished folding her daughter's clothes, she went back down for another load, this time for her and your laundry.

But it's odd that it's awfully quiet upstairs.

"I'll just move you here, okay? Just sit there." Bea told her brother. "This won't hurt, okay?"

"Kay, Bea.." the toddler answered.

Billie furrowed her eyebrows, because she could hear some rustling on the speaker.

"Oh, Kai, don't move." The little girl said.

After loading hers and your clothes, she ran upstairs to the master bedroom to have a quick change of her shirt into a cleaner one, before checking on the children because she feels sweaty and her shirt has got dirty after cleaning up a little in the house while waiting for her laundry to be finished.

She ties her lustrous hair into a loose bun. Noticing that it has got longer again when she just got trimmed last month. Summer in Los Angeles is really hot, that's why whenever they go for a walk in the oark and she knows that she's ganna follow her running kids around, it's not ideal to have her hair down for how hot the temperature was outside.

Bea has long hair too, loves it when her mommy braids her hair and their youngest hasn't got his first haircut. You wanted to keep it growing, beautiful curls that she always tied into a topknot. Showing her son's ample cheeks and the face that has the spitting image of her wife. Both of their kids are actually the carbon copy of Billie and honestly, you can't complain because you love it.

"Baby? What are you up to?"

Billie asks.

She hears Kai giggle again. "tickles, Bea." He said.

"Oh, no," the big sister mumbled.

Then Kai started crying.

Just in time, their mother opened the door wide which was already ajar when she left them. She can hear her son crying. Billie stopped on her tracks, staring wide-eyes at the mess.

Kai was sitting atop one of his sister's chairs that she uses when she plays tea parties with her mothers. Her big sister is behind him, giving her brother a haircut.

Billie gasped at the curly hairs on the floor, then back to her son. Glorious and shiny curls now on the floor and the haircut- Your mummy's going to kill me. She inwardly thought. Not only has her daughter given her little brother a haircut, there's also a slime sticking on his hair.

"Hi, momma." The boy stopped crying, noticing their mother. But there were tear tracks still visible on his pink cheeks. The older child popped up behind her brother and Billie almost fell off the floor.

Her daughter is staring at her, chewing ay her lower lip nervously. It's just like you when she's nervous about something. Right hand holds a pair of zigzag scissors in her hands. Half of her beautiful dark brown hsir is missing from her head.

"Hello, momma."

Billie blinked as her children alternately. There was a chunk of hair missing on her son's head and Bea's bangs had been cut, zigzag patterns visible to it. It was only a tiny scissors that's inckuded in the art materials they got for her. She didn't think that the stupid scissors and could cut two beautiful hairs.

Fucking hell. She closes her eyes. Two things, she could get mad and make it worse because she'll make Kai cry more or she will remain calm and think of an impossible solution on how to fix this mess,

First thing she does is check the time on her phone. Trying to ascertain what to do next as she wills herself to calm down, becaude the damage has been done, and it's not like she could just glue their hair back together, and then it'd okay. She winced at the slime dangling from her son's hair.

"Lord almighty." She mumbled.

She took the pair of scissors from her daughter's hand. "Okay, darling, momma's ganna ask you something. But you have to be honest with me, okay?"

Almond eyes stared at her, lips pouting, almost ready to cry because she could see that her mother looked so serious. "You're not in trouble, darling." Not yet. Why do you think you need to cut yours and your brother's hair?"

Lips quivering, "b-because I want the hair auntie Claudia has."

Claudia, who had a haircut recently, Billie closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh. Of course. Her daughter loves her auntie Claudia, at this early age she even wants her wardrobe to be like hers. Leather jackets, sweaters, cool pants and all.

She just wished that her daughter would just use her markers and give herself several tattoos on herself just like Billie's, so then Billie could just scrub them off with soap during bath time but the hair. Not the freaking hair!

She stood up and turned the lights on to see how much damage this impromptu haircut session has made to her children's beautiful locks.

"You ganna fix it, mom?" Her daughter, who's probably thinking she's out of trouble, asks her coolly. "But you is not a hair person, momma." She pondered.

Billie dosen't know if she's going to cry or laugh at her daughter's antics. "No, i'm not and I can't tape it back to your head and don't even get me started on that slime in your brother's hair."

"Momma." Tiny voice calls for her again.

"Yes, my darling."

"You have long hair too.

"Mhm."

"How come?"

"Because I haven't cut it yet." And because your mummy likes it, says it's sexy.

"Okay."

She sighed again and called the inspiration for her daughter's new haircut, Claudia. She asked her to stall her wife for a few hours. Her only solution is to bring them to her hairdresser and see if it's still salvageable.

But before she changes her children's clothes and leaves the house, she opens her phone's camera and takes several photographs, sending it to her 'sister-in-law'. With the caption "Because she wants the hair Auntie Claudia has. Fucking hell."

Billie looks at the picture. This might come in handy one day when they grow up and so she could show this to their mummy when she comes home later.

Both kids sat in their car, and booster seats inside her SUV and pulled out of the driveway.

-

It's a mini spa-day for her children. When they entered the salon, her hairdresser already noticed what was happening. "Uh-oh." She said and all Billie could do was nod her head,

Haircut for Kai was easy. The hairdresser used a razor and went on with it. Giving his son a faux hawk haircut. And her daughter, no other option but to cut it into a blunt bob haircut with bangs.

Billie smiled because her kid's new hairdo actually looks good on them. She kisses her son's cheek, still looking at his new haircut. "Look at your hair, darling. There in the mirror. You like?"

"I wike, momma. No moh slime?"

Her son clapped his hand.

"No more." She beamed,

But then she could hear her daughter sniffling. "Mrs Eilish.." the hairdresser calls for her and she walks over to her daughter, who is now crying.

"Honey, why are you crying? Something wrong?"

She sniffled again. "I want my hair back, momma. I want hair like yours!"

"But, darling, your hair is nice, too. See, you look beautiful, and it's short, like Auntie Claudia's."

"No! I want my hair to be like yours, momma!" Fat tears streamed down her face.

Billie could't think of another solution, because her daughter will actually cry until they get home and it feels like this day had been long enough,

"Bea, how about momma getting a haircut like yours, hm? Momma will cut her hair too. Would that be okay with you? We're gonna be the same. Yes?"

She stopped crying and turned quiet, as if thinking thoroughly.

"Like mine?"

"Uh-huh.."

"Okay, momma." Her daughter smiled.

And the haircut she gets. Billie was just hoping that her wife would still find her beautiful with short hair. This is her first time again in a very long time to have her hair cut this short. The two of them, with Billie, are short wolf cut now.

"Wow, momma you look pretty."

"Do I, now? That's very sweet of you, peanut. Thank you."

She looks at herself in the mirror, and it's not that bad.

Billie received a text from Claudia letting her know you were on your way home now. She replied it's fine and that they're home now sending her kid's new haircuts.

"Kids looked beautiful and dashing on their new 'dos. Ha! So proud of my Bea, glad that she LOVES how cool my hair is!😎 And you brought back the wolf cut, i see. Looks good on you! See you soon pls! Love. Xx"

-

When you arrived at home, the house was quiet. But you can smell delicious food being cooked in the kitchen.

"Love?" You called, taking your stilettos off. After the shopping was over, Claudia asked if she could come with you to pick some new furniture for her newly finished house near them.

Although you wanted to go home after the shopping, you opted to go with Claudia, to check out if there's something you'd like to get in the shop.

You put your purse on the couch and went sauntering towards the kitchen. "Love? You in here?" You stood still by the kitchen when you saw a woman with short hair, her back facing you, rummaging through something into the sink.

Billie didn't tell you they'll be having someone over and you didn't know who it was. You didn't want to think about why there was another woman in your house with your wife and while your children are home with them.

You clears your throat. "Uh, hello. Can I help you?"

The woman in front of you shakes their head, still not facing you.

"Um.. Miss? Are you a friend of my wife?" stressing 'my wife' just in case. It's not that you didn't trust your wife, you trust her with all your heart and with your life, it's just the other people around that admire your beautiful wife that you didn't.

"Hello?" she calls again.

The woman slowly turns around to face you and your eyes widen like saucers, in shock to see your wife's long, lustrous hair cut in short like a wolf cut.

"Hi, love." Billie started. Staring at her wife's astounded expression.

"Hey." You mumbled, eye furrowed, looking directly at her.

They could hear the padding of little feet running into the kitchen. "Hi mummy!" Bea greeted you, hugging your midsection. You looked down and gasped. Your daughter has short hair now too.

What the hell?!

The behind, a chubby little hand tugged on your pants, as if you weren't feeling a wave of shock enough, your darling boy's curls are gone too.

"We got a haircut!" Bea exclaimed to her mummy.

"I can see that," was all you could reply to your daughter, eyes back to your now short haired wife.

"You wike, mummy?" The boy asks you adorably.

Kneeling in front of your kids, running your hand through their hair. "Hi buddy, can you please help your brother sit on the sofa in the lounge and watch T.V?" You asks, kissing both of them on their round cheeks.

"Let's go, Kai." The six-year-old said, holding her little brother's hand

Now it was just you and your wife in the kitchen.

"I see you and the kids had a spa day." You said, walking close to where Billis is standing by the counter.

Billie chews on her lower lip, tilting her head down. Sad, thinking that what if you don't like how she looks. "Yeah. You don't like my hair, do you? I-I can go back to the salon tommorow and ask if I could get hair extensions or something-"

Full lips cut her rambling short, kissing her deeply. Billie closes her eyes when she feels long fingers tugging on her shoulders, toned arms locking her closer to you. She couldn't help but moan into the kiss, returning her wife's kisses with fervour.

When they pulled away, Billie's anxiousness dissipated. "I thought you didn't like this new look."

"God, baby. Even if you shave your hair bald, I don't care. You'd still look beautiful. This hair looks sexy. Though I'll miss playing with your long hair, I love this. Fuck, I even thought that there's another woman in my kitchen wearing my wife's shirt."

Billie looped her arms around your waist, their faces, nose, and mouth touching. "Well, this hair is of use then. What do you say about role playing when Claudia takes the kids this weekend? Where it's just you and me. Anything you like,". She whispered, before leaning in one more time for a deeper and hungrier kiss.

"Mummy! Kai and I are hungwy!!!" they hear Bea yelled by the lounge, making the parents stop making out in the kitchen.

Both women chuckled at their daughter. "Now, wifey, can you fill me in on why suddenly my boy's beautiful curls and my daughter's long hair are now chopped off, and she now has bangs that led you into cutting your hair short as well?"

"Well, it started when your daughter thought it would be super cool to have Auntie Claudia's hair..."

[akanemnon]

you should bind all the comics into comic books and sell them at conventions. i feel like a lot of undertale/deltarune fans would love that because it’s just a fun silly novelty to have & they could get it signed. it falls under the Toby Fox Merch Rules (TM)

You know, many people have said something of a similar nature to me before. I DO appreciate your thought process here and it does mean a lot that, from what it sounds like, you'd love to own something like that.

It would be very easy for me to make and sell merch online. Incredibly easy, in fact. But I won't.

I've said before that I'm not making any money off this series, and I'm not going back on that word. This entire thing is NON PROFIT, and that does include merch. I know many of you have said you would like merch of anything Twin Runes related. But no matter what the Toby Fox Merch Rules allow me to do, fact is that I'm not doing this comic for the money. I do it because I love making it. I love this world. I love the characters. I love what Toby has created.

So, in the words of many abridged series', please support the official release (and the artists that work under the Toby Fox Merch Rules).

As a little side-note: This scenario you've pitched is not exactly possible for me haha You might wanna look up how expensive it is to print and bind books. And to get a table at a convention. Keep in mind I'm from Germany. Now, there ARE fans of Undertale and Deltarune IN Germany, but most of my readers are scattered around the globe. Unless I travel, I don't think it would get a net positive out of it... AND TRAVELLING ADDS TO THE EXPENSES. I have a normal job I need to be present at. So travelling like I'm self employed and successful is kinda off the table. I'm absolutely not knocking your idea. Far from it. I just want to paint a clearer picture here for this exact scenario if I was actually willing to profit off this work.

[honeylouwho]

་༘࿐ don't smile ft. PETER PARKER ꕥ

SYNOPSIS: don’t smile because it happened, cry because it’s over. who knew break up sex could be so hard, even when Peter would probably be knocking on your door the next day? PAIRING: TASM!peter x reader

WARNINGS: nsfw (18+) / fem!reader / break up sex / p in v / no kissing / some emotional turmoil / slightly awkward peter parker / tasm!peter  LOVE NOTE: this is for my short n sweet is super event and based on this anonymous ask

“I know,” Peter Parker rolled over in bed, the neurons in his limbic system going off like alarms as he felt the shift in atmosphere. Gently, he pressed his forehead against yours so he could get a good look at your face. His eyes scanned every single one of your features— taking in everything like it was the last time he would ever see your face, and he would be damned if he forgot even one line etched into your skin.

“I’m going to miss you,” you told him softly. Peter’s skin pressed against yours was warm and comforting, something you knew you would be missing shortly after he left. You always hated second-act breakups, which is really what this felt like. If you were both so upset over the parting, then why even do it? Couldn’t you make it work?

“It’s just… you know,” Peter grunted, the feel of his halfie against your thigh, feeling like his desperation for you was inappropriate given the current state of the conversation. “It’s so hard with my job.”

Peter Parker used the term ‘job’ lightly. It was clear he didn’t know what to say to your admission, the excuse of his ‘job’ always managing to fall short. Dipping his head down, he intertwined your legs beneath the sheets. Skin pressed on skin, his lips lingered near your cheek. Pressing a soft kiss to the apple of your cheek, you moved closer to him. Sex with Peter was always great. Phenomenal, even, but it was more than just good chemistry. It was an innate need to be close together, which is what you knew this was now.

Bodies connecting together, Peter moved on top of you to line the tip up with your entrance. His brown eyes started down into yours as his shaft slowly entered you, pulling a gasp from the depths of your lungs as soon as he bottomed out. The connection you both wanted to feel was desperate, the eye contact so intense it was almost intimidating. If you didn’t break eye contact soon, you were worried you might somehow fall inside Peter’s head, but it was clear he needed the eye contact— he was saving the memory of you beneath him into his hard drive. 

“Peter,” you gasped as he pressed his chest against yours. With one hand, he reached up, cupping your breast and offering a gentle squeeze. The feel of his fingers grasping your boob would imprint on your brain, and you were sure you would feel the phantom of his touch long after he was gone.

The combination of his hands moving against you, kneading into the soft tissue and the way the tip of his dick kissed your cervix had your eyes rolling back and drool threatening the corner of your mouth. Peter was in his own little world, the feeling of you around him was just too good, but he had places to be. Reaching behind you, he felt around the top of the bed frame for where his mask hung. As his hand looped around the spandex, he slipped it over his face, still rocking in and out of you. When your eyes opened, the red and black mask staring back down at you, you clenched around him, a mind boggling orgasm rushing through you and soaking his bare abdomen.

As if to punish himself, Peter slid out of you without finishing. Moving himself off the bed, he fished around for his spider suit, his still hard cock bobbing up and down as he stumbled around. In such chaotic movements, he slipped the suit over his body, awkward laughs pulling from his throat. Even with the mask on, you knew the apples of his cheeks were painted a soft red color.

“I… Okay,” Peter awkwardly mumbled, navigating around the bed (but not before hitting his shin on the frame), “Gotta go.”

It was the end for now, but you knew you would see your friendly neighborhood spider man again.

Probably tomorrow.

[brown-bi-beautiful]

Trompe-l'œil (Teaser)

Fantasy au

Pairing: Art! Kim Taehyung x Artist! Reader (Jimin x reader, very platonic)

Genre:- Fluff, Angst, Smut

Words:- (Est.) 15-20k

Summary: When a talented but struggling artist inherits a magical paintbrush from a mysterious great aunt she never knew, she discovers that her paintings come to life - and so does the handsome subject of her latest masterpiece. As she navigates the enchanted world of art and love, she must choose between the brush's magic and the possibility of a real-life relationship with the man who's captured her heart.

Warnings:- (Updated with the fic).

Coming soon

*******

You have never expected to inherit anything. Certainly not from a great-aunt you'd never knew existed. But when the dusty package arrived at your tiny studio, postmarked from a remote village in France, curiosity got the best of you.

Inside, wrapped in delicate, timeworn silk, lay a single paintbrush. Its handle was smooth, dark wood, and the bristles gleamed with an iridescent sheen, as though they held the last traces of an unfinished masterpiece.

A note accompanied it, written in elegant, looping script:

"To my lovely great-niece, whose hands hold more magic than she knows. Use it wisely."

*******

You rose from the bed and stepped out of your bedroom—little more like a bed tucked behind a dividing wall. As you prepared your coffee on the kitchen island, a flicker of movement in the living area caught your attention. Turning slowly, you froze, eyes widening in disbelief.

It took you a while to register, laying there by your futon sofa was... A man.

There was a strange man in your living room. A living, breathing, moving man. Handsome, yes—but undeniably a stranger.

The moment your brain finally caught up with your eyes, you screamed. Loud.

The man jolted upright, his wide eyes locking onto yours, his expression mirroring your own shock. Then, another scream rang out—high-pitched and panicked. Only this time, it wasn’t you.

For a moment, you stared at each other in mutual horror. Then, as he scrambled to his feet, you spun around, heart pounding, reaching for anything—a weapon, something, anything—to defend yourself.

Come on, a weapon. A weapon. Any weapon.

Where the hell was the knife when you actually needed it?

"Who are you?" You asked the man as intimidatingly as you could, pointing the ladel at him as if you would cook him to death if necessary.

"Who are you?" he shot back, matching your tone perfectly, as if you were the intruder in his home instead of the other way around.

"Who am—? I'm the owner of this house! At least for the next year," you snapped, tightening your grip on the ladle. "Now, tell me who you are."

The man blinked at you, looking just as bewildered as you felt.

"I—I don't know. Who am I?" he stammered, hesitation lacing his words.

You frowned, "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don’t know!" he insisted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just woke up here, and I swear—I don’t remember anything."

You were ready to call his bullshit, to tell him that his whole I-don’t-remember-anything act wasn’t going to work on you. But then—something stopped you.

He looked familiar. Too familiar.

Like you had just met him last night.

Only you hadn’t met any man last night. Except…

Your heart pounded as you turned toward the futon, your hands moving before your mind could catch up. You grabbed the painting, lifting it with trembling fingers.

“What the…!”

Your gaze flicked between the canvas and the man standing before you—identical, down to the last perfect detail.

Then back to the painting.

Then back to him.

Your breath caught in your throat. This was impossible.

"Okay, this is a dream. This is a dream," you muttered, squeezing your eyes shut. If you just said it enough times, maybe—just maybe—you would wake up.

You chanted a few more times, took a deep breath, and slowly cracked one eye open.

He was still there.

Still staring at you.

Like a lost puppy who had no idea how he ended up in your living room.

Crap! This was NOT a dream.

*******

The soft hum of the city drifted through the open window as you stood in before your closet, absentmindedly looking for a shirt for both of you, still wet from the rain. The day had been long, and yet, the only thing occupying your mind was the man sitting across from you, watching you with quiet intensity.

V had been unusually silent since you returned home. Now, he sat on the bet, his expression thoughtful. The only light in the room came from the glow of the streetlights outside, casting golden hues over his features.

“You’re staring again,” you murmured without looking up.

“I like looking at you,” he admitted, completely unashamed.

Your hand faltered on the spoon. A heat bloomed across your skin, creeping up your neck. “You can’t just say things like that,” you said, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected.

“Why not?”

You turned to face him, leaning against the counter. His dark eyes met yours, searching, waiting. The air between you felt charged, like the stillness before a summer storm.

“Because,” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

Because it wasn’t fair. Because he wasn’t real—or at least, he wasn’t supposed to be. Because every time he looked at you like that, it made you want something you weren’t sure you could have.

V stood, his movements slow, deliberate. He crossed the small space between you in a few steps, stopping just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Are you afraid?” he asked softly.

You swallowed. “Of what?”

“That if I touch you, you’ll feel it too.”

Your breath hitched. His hand lifted, hesitating just for a second before his fingers brushed against your cheek—featherlight, barely there. But God, you felt it. It sent a shiver down your spine, set your pulse racing.

You should have pulled away. You should have reminded yourself that this was impossible, that he was just a figment of your imagination brought to life.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb traced along your cheekbone.

“V…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His name had never felt so intimate before.

“I’m here,” he murmured, and then—he kissed you.

It was slow, hesitant at first, like he was learning, like he was savoring. His lips were soft, warm, pressing against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

The world outside faded. The only thing that existed was the taste of him, the feel of his hands settling on your waist, the way he breathed your name between kisses like it was something sacred.

Maybe this was crazy. Maybe you’d wake up tomorrow and none of this would be real.

But right now, in this moment, you didn’t care.

Right now, you just wanted him.

*******

"I'm scared." His voice made you look up at him. He has never admitted before, that he was afraid.

"Why?" You asked and He hesitated before replying "I don't want to not exist." " I like being here, I like looking at you all the time, being in your presence, I like when I can smell you, I like to kiss you and I don't want to stop doing all of that."

You sat up on your bed and gave him a reassuring smile, "You are not going anywhere, I won't let you."

"And what if I do?"

"Then I'll paint you again, promise you'll remember me."

"I'll always remember you."

*******

A/n: if you wanna get tagged in this fic send me an ask or comment here.

[aaronminyardthebettertwin]

Platonics

Sirius and Marlene bond about gender ambiguity and the fact thats it not very easy to hide their queerness. They pretended to date each other at the start of puppetry to keep bigots of their backs and be able to come out on their own terms.

Peter an xeno love animals and bond over it. Xeno ones wrote a whole essay on why rats are important, miss understood and good for their native habitat because Peter said he hated rats that they are dirty and sick with the undertone of hating himself.

Barty and Sirius are in the same wavelength of chaos. They have prank wars and drag everyone into it. They have “secret” meetings to discuss what they really liked about each-others pranks but pretend to hate eachother publicly

James and Mary bond over the love they have for their friends they like planing things together, they also like to just be in the same room and enjoy each-others silence. They both have immense love and joy for life

Mary and Dorcas have a bookclub they recommend and discuss their reading material while making hand made crafts they gift each other

Sirius barty and Marlene commit crimes together if no one stops them and keep them away from spray paint.

Evan and lily are a smart chaotic duo. They start talking through a project in class and ace it. He teaches her in wizard tradition of old magic (also blood magic) and she teaches him about modern medicine/physiology and all kinds of muggle things he is interested in that muggle studies doesn’t cover

Lily Remus and Peter have tee party’s with actual and figuratively tee they gossip and drink tee combined they know every secret of the lions and most of the other houses as well.

Pandora barty and Evan are the weirdos they set up experiments off all sorts. They ones did a psych study in their unknowing friends and classmates. They have blown stuff up on multiple occasions but also managed to make the felix felicum on first try.

Lily and peter are quiet friends they would go to the end of the world for eachother but you wouldn’t know they even know eachother if you didn’t know them (that a lot of knows)

Evan and regulus are childhood friends. Evan is the brother that Sirius could never be. They insult each other every second sentence and get annoyed by the other but you say wrong one word about the other and they will never find your body (I am the only one to insult him)

Mary and xeno both love nature they go on walks and hikes.

Alice and lily used to not get along. They where compared and needed to measure up to the other in every instance. Until they realised that it’s not a competition that the adults are the only ones making it seem that way that they work even better supporting eachother.

Alice and Mary have know eachother for a long time. It’s all inside jokes, no secrets and a best friend packt they made in middle school the nicknames go crazy

Dorcas und lily just click they have the feeling they’ve know each other for ever a week after meeting they do each-others hair (Hc that Dorcas is black and Lilly has really tight Irish curls)

Sirius and Lilly are more alike as it seems they bind over random shit and are both dog people. She helps him discover makeup and teaches him the art of eyeliner

Sirius and Dorcas bond over sports. They play all sorts of different forms and are competitive as f. They also watch and analyse matches.

Sirius Mary and Marlene have girls nights

James and Evans grandparents are friends that know each other since forever they always saw each other on family functions as if they where cousins. They also used to get babysat at the same time. at school they act as if they don’t know eachother even though they always know what is going on in each others life’s

Lilly Evan and xeno go on adventures together and gather herbs and little trinkets one of wich is small bones that Evan found/took home and cleaned, Lilly painted delicate pictures on them and xeno bracelets with them as charms

Remus and Peter bake together and are always on the look for new recipes to try. The kitchen looks a mess afterwards cause the do things like throw flower at each other they dance while cleaning up

saw someone do this sooo

underated dynamics!

SIRIUS AND MARLENE

peter and xeno

barty and sirius

james and mary

mary and dorcas

sirius, barty, and marlene

evan and lily

lily, remus, and peter

barty, pandora, and evan

lily and peter

evan and regulus

mary and xeno

alice and lily

alice and mary

dorcas and lily

sirius and lily

sirius and dorcas

sirius, mary, and marlene

james and evan

lily, evan, and xeno

remus and peter

[imaginedreamwrite]

Ok hear me out, artist!reader makes a painting of the 141 for John to have in his office, just think it could be such a sweet and tender moment. Maybe it’s a birthday gift and the rest of the boys are in on the surprise, help sneak her into base without price knowing so she can hang it up in his office and be there to celebrate.

I need your help sneaking onto base to give John a gift

Why not, I got nothin’ better to do

The initial message and response is on your phone, and you glance at it while you wait for your escort onto base. The distraction is in place, and you’re simply wishing for Gaz or Soap to come and help guide you to John’s office.

You’d been planning this for weeks, putting hours of hard work into crafting a hand painted canvas of John. You loved painting, you loved creating things with your hands, and John loved watching you work. For John’s birthday you painted a portrait of him to hang in his office, only now you had to sneak it in.

“Coast is clear,” Soap appeared from around the corner, eagerly helping the Captain’s pretty bird especially since you seemed to ease his grouchiness, “he’s gonna be busy for a while.”

“What did you do?” You stared at Johnny, speculating what the demolition expert could have cooked up for your boyfriend.

“What didn’t I do?” Soap grinned and grabbed the top of the wrapped canvas, helping you carry it regardless of how light it actually was. “Cap’n might be a little pissed-“

“Johnny.” You felt like John, scolding his men like they were his own. “You didn’t-”

“Come on, lassie. It’ll be fine.” Soap brushes your concern off and escorts you through the maze like base, darting in and out of buildings and hallways to avoid being caught. “This way.”

You follow him until you arrive at the office of your devoted partner, your own eagerness almost transcending your patience. You wanted him to see it now, not in an hour.

“Help me put it up.” You crack open the door and slip in, Soap following you, and once you’re in, the door shuts behind you both. “Behind his desk?”

“Aye, that’ll work.” Johnny now follows your lead, as you step toward the desk and then around it, analyzing the wall for the perfect spot.

Johnny and you are quickly joined by Gaz that brings in the supplies you need, tools to hang the picture and some things for John’s surprise. Between Johnny and Gaz the canvas you created for your future husband is perfect—hanging on the wall in a centred position.

“There.” You step back and clap your hands together, pleased with the placement and the work itself. “Okay, let’s get this going.”

You don’t have much time to react, you don’t have. While lot of preparation before John arrives—sooner than expected. You position yourself on the desk, sitting on the edge with your arms folded. You wait until he enters the office and the door’s shut before he really notices you.

You and the men he leads, standing in his office wishing.

“Happy birthday!” You all catch him off guard and you know John wants to scowl and grumble about his birthday, but he can’t.

Not when his eyes flit away from you and land on the canvas you painted. It’s detailed to the point of almost looking like a photograph, and you know John admires the work. Though he’s silent now, the corner of his lips twitch.

“Darlin’,” John steps toward you, reaching for your hips to lift you from the desk, holding you securely when you wrap your arms around his waist, “what’ve I told you about painting my old mug-”

“You’re not old.” You scold him and lean down, kissing him lightly before you’re interrupted by a series of groans from the soldiers you both forget are here.

“Happy birthday, Cap’n.” Gaz raised an energy drink in place of champagne or a beer, and someone snaps a photo before he can avoid it. “Next one’s retirement-”

“Watch it Garrick.” John shoots a glare toward Gaz as he still balances you against him, though his attention quickly falls back to you. “Thank you, luv. You made these old bones feel young-”

“You’re not old!” You scold him, again, and silence him with a kiss—one that makes the other men in the room quickly take their leave because they know what’s gonna happen.

[techmomma]

Some more cleaning and mitigation tips, from your friendly front desk at a mitigation company (a part 2 to my first post of general mitigation and cleaning tips):

Anything involving sewage needs to be demolished and taken out. Sorry if you really really love that flooring or you literally just got it put in yesterday. Sewage isn't just YOUR poopwater, it's EVERYONE'S poopwater, it's farm poopwater, it's hospital poopwater, it can harbor MRSA and tuberculosis and staph and parasites and a host of things I don't even wanna THINK about.

That said, if you have a sewage backup or leak, and it's not cleaned up and demolished properly (aka, you have a scumlord owner of the house or someone willfully ignorant), THEY DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR HEALTH. Get the hell out of there. That is dangerous, and at the very least, it will guaranteed be moldy behind any surface.

The above does not count for people who literally cannot afford it, but also understand what is going on if it's not cleaned up properly.

How well something cleans depends entirely on the material. The more porous a material, the worse it will be to clean. For example, if you live in a house that belonged to a smoker for 20 years, how well you will be able to get the smell out will depend on the kind of paint in the walls. Generally, a shiny varnished paint will just need some elbow grease, but a matte paint (more porous) will probably need to just be entirely removed to get the smell out.

Speaking of smoke, smoke from protein-based fires require different cleaning than just regular soot. So, a soot stain from a candle needs to be cleaned differently than if you burned a pot of soup on the stove. The proteins get STICKY. (And yes, proteins come from more things than just meat.)

A lot of cleaning is chemistry. We use specific cleaners for a reason. So for example, going back to nicotine smoke, there's different chemicals that can help get rid of it. But some of those will also eat the paint or could give you ulcers in your lungs. We get trained (to a degree) on how different chemicals will react.

All of which can be further affected by temperature.

Mold on materials like concrete and wood needs to be cleaned, sanded, and then ideally given a coat of some kind of sealant. None of which will necessarily guarantee mold removal because mold is an unknowable and unkillable god, but you can get pretty damn close.

That said, there is always a degree of mold on literally everything. There's just certain molds (and in certain quantities) that our bodies are cool with! And some that they are not. This came with being alive on planet earth.

Smells don't always indicate mold. Nor does water damage. Nor does staining. Sometimes materials just get kind of stinky and discolored after they get wet for a while. (But all of that doesn't mean it's not mold, if you catch what I mean.)

If you suspect mold and want a confirmation/test of what kind of mold it is, you probably want to call a hygienist. Maybe miti companies do mold testing where you live, but here, they gotta be two separate companies (because you gotta take samples and culture them in a sterile environment in a petri dish and use special machines to determine what kinds of molds the sample contains; mitigation companies are basically blue collar cleaners and deconstruction/sometimes reconstruction crews who work in warehouses).

Believe it or not, our guys swear by magic erasers, btw. We don't use that specific brand, but the generic name is melamine foam sponges. You can even use them to get cat hair out of fabric. They're dope as hell for cleaning.

[rowdydevs]

*I'm reorganizing my blog and I accidentally deleted this 🥺 this is the alternate ending for Sharing.

Warning: angst, kissing, swearing, praise, pet names, make up sex, wet and mess, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (male + female receiving, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, owner ship kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, cum tasting, sucking fingers, fingering, overstim., unprotected p in v, squirting, teasing, and degradation, possessive sex with the twins they are only interested in the reader. <- please do not read if that makes you uncomfortable

“You’re goin’? I thought we talked about this?” Rafe asks breathlessly.

“Talked about what?” You ask as you look at Cam, then Rafe.

“You said you loved her, Cam,�� Rafe yells.

“I fuckin’ do, Rafe. You know I do…”

“Then where the hell are you goin’?” Rafe asks.

“Hearin’ all the shit I did, it’s-”

“Do you want him here?” Rafe cuts in, looking you in the eyes. You take a little breath, lips tugging to the side, nodding ‘yes.’”

“Baby…”

“I want you here,” you push the words through your trembling lips. “Don't go.”

He bites his lips, brows pulling together as he tries to regain his emotions.

“We didn’t want you to feel like you had to choose,” Rafe says softly, pulling your attention back to him. “We’ve already wasted all this time tryin’ to figure shit out, and I don’t want to lose you. I love you. And I’m not asking you to give anything up. No ultimatums.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Wh-What does that mean?” You ask uneasily, feeling like you did when Rafe asked if you wanted the boys to share you again. This time, not just for the night...

“You’d be with me,” Rafe smiles, relishing those words as he looks down at you. “You and I… Just like before. And, Cam, you can talk to him whenever you’d like, with or without me, hang out, go on dates and shit, fuck. I don’t fuckin’ care as long as I can call you mine.”

“Are you sure?” You ask Rafe, unsure if you're even hearing him correctly given everything that happened.

Rafe exhales deeply, his expression softening as he looks down at you. “Yeah. I don’t know what to call it. I’m no good with this shit. S’just, you, baby. You’re my girl…” Rafe voice gets caught in his throat. He swallows hard before trying again. “I want you to be my girlfriend. I know you and Cam have somethin’ special. I don’t fuckin’ get it…” He laughs weakly, through his emotion as Cam returns the same. “M’not sayin’ it’s gonna be easy. But these past few weeks have been hell… I would rather work through this than be without you. I need you in my life, princess. I know what I want, and if this is the only way to keep you, then so be it.”

Cam stuffs his hands in his suit pockets, looking back at you from the other side of the suite before walking toward you again. “I don’t expect anything from you, sweetheart. We don’t have to put a label on us. This is enough. And I won’t get in the way, I swear. I’ll respect you and Rafe’s space—I’ll be grateful for anything you can give me. I don’t want to lose you either.”

Your chest tightens at his words as they all start to sink in. This wasn’t something you had planned on happening, and definitely not how you saw the night ending. It seemed too good to be true.

“Just to be clear, if this were anyone else, they’d be fuckin’ dead,” Rafe mumbles, seeing the worry painted all over your face. “I know how much he wants to be with you, and I can’t take that from him or you.”

Cam nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “I want to be with you, sweetheart.”

“I wanna be with you too,” you smile weakly as you look at Rafe, “both of you… I just-”

“You think it’ll go up in flames like last time?” Rafe asks. “I don’t blame you for doubtin’ me, princess. But I promise, this time, it’s fine. We got you. Okay?” You look up at him, still in disbelief, your bottom lip wobbling as you try to keep it together. “Co’mere,” he chuckles softly as he pulls you in for a hug, lips pressing against your forehead. “You’re okay—I swear, pretty girl. Aight? Fuckin’ promise you. We’re gonna take care of you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice muffled slightly against his muscular chest.

“Does this sound like somethin’ you want, princess?” Rafe asks as he holds you close.

“Yes,” you whisper. Rafe lets you go, and Cam grabs you, tugging at your hand to pull you into his arms and lifting you off your feet in a hug as you bury yourself in his warm neck. “You love me?” You ask gently.

“Yeah, baby,” he hums, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

“Really?” He asks as he sets you down on your feet, looking into your eyes.

“Mhmm,” you smile. He cups your cheeks in his big hands, bringing you in for a kiss.

Rafe reaches for you, stealing you back and grabbing your hand just like Cam did, but you jump into his arms, lips crashing against his. He smiles into your kiss, holding you in his big, strong arms. “I love you, baby,” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he mumbles as his lips brush gently against yours. “Got you back…”

“You did,” you breathe as you scratch your nails into his hair, pressing gentle kisses against his lips and cheeks.

“N’you’re mine? You're my girlfriend?” He asks as he walks with you toward the bed.

“I’m your girlfriend, Rafe,” you smile. “And you’re my boyfriend?”

“I’m your fuckin’ boyfriend, sweetheart,” he groans before tossing you down on the bed, making you land with a bounce. You reach for him, pulling him down to your lips, kissing him hungrily. “Fuck, baby,” he grunts into your kiss as he grinds his body into yours, tongues tangling.

You watch out from the corner of your eyes as Cam walks to the foot of the side of the bed, free of his suit jacket, popping open the buttons of his button-down shirt as he looks down at you with a smile. You separate from Rafe’s lips, finishing the job for Cam as you open the last few buttons, lips pushing against his. “M’so glad you asked me to stay,” he whispers against your lips. “I don’t deserve you. I won’t lie to you anymore… I’ll tell you everything. Aight? Everything,” he pants as you pull his shirt off his broad shoulders. “You have no idea how much I crave you, sweetheart.”

Rafe moves behind your back, drawing down the zipper of your dress as he kisses along your shoulder, brushing the delicate straps off with his thumbs, letting the silky material fall to your feet. “Holy shit,” Rafe groans as he presses up into you, his rock-hard cock pressing against your ass. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby-”

“So perfect,” Cam mumbles between deep kisses, his voice heavy with longing. Rafe’s rough fingers unclasp your bra as you work on the button and zipper of Cam’s pants.

Rafe spins you around, pushing his lips against yours as his fingers play with the hem of your lace panties, snapping them against your hot skin, making you whimper against his soft lips. Rafe pulls them down as you kiss, leaving you bare and the boys in their boxers as you all climb onto the bed.

The boys sit beside each other, their backs pressed against the headboard. Rafe tugs you right where he wants you–your aching pussy pressed against his thigh, close enough to Cam where you could pull him in for a kiss. And that’s exactly what you do; your tongue dances with his as you grind yourself on Rafe's muscular leg while he plays with your tits.

The kiss is rough and needy; Cam quickly controls the situation. Rafe pinches and rolls your nipples, making you moan into his brother’s mouth as little spurs of pleasure spark between your thighs. Rafe captures your nipple between his lips, sucking and biting–chuckling wickedly against your skin. “Holy fuck, you’re wet, sweetheart,” he hums as he grips you by the hair, pulling you off Cam’s lips and onto his.

You let out a moan against his lips, Rafe taking the opportunity to lip his tongue inside, reeling with yours as you start to rut faster. Cam takes his chance to play with your tits, palming his cock through his boxers, but you push his hand aside, making him laugh sleazily as you do it for him. You wrap your fist around his thick dick, squeezing him, feeling the wet spot of precum gathered on the fabric.

Your stomach starts to coil, and your movements get more desperate by the second. Rafe grabs your hips, pushing you down, using his muscle to rock you, Rafe, sending you over the edge, making your pussy flutter around nothing. “That’s our girl… Fuck, princess? Does that feel good? You want some more?”

“Yes,” you whimper, shaky breaths fleeing your kiss-swollen lips.

“You’re cumming all night, baby,” Cam hums as he pushes your hair back, kissing your neck. “Gotta lot of time we need to make up for.”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” Rafe hums, reaching around you slap your ass. “I’m gonna taste you, princess. You wanna taste him?” Rafe asks, soothing the sting with the palm of his hand.

“Yes, baby,” you whisper, kissing him once and twice.

“Well, aren’t I lucky, huh?” Cam mumbles hot against your ear. The two boys lay you down, tugging their boxers the rest of the way off. Your eyes darken, mouth-watering as you take in every inch of tight, tan skin, muscles to spare, their dicks achingly hard as they move a little closer.

Rafe grabs your thighs in his big hands, pushing you open. He flicks his tongue against your puffy clit, still sensitive from your first release. Rafe laps up your pussy, moaning into your cunt, burying his face in you, inhaling your scent. He starts to grind himself into the mattress, his fingers finding your bud, tongue swirling around your hole.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out as he presses his tongue inside, tongue fucking you like you’ve been craving for weeks; the man chasing your second orgasm of the night, already thinking about the third as he works his cock against the bed, getting off on your taste at the moment.

You pout your lips in overstimulation, Cam slapping his tip against your pillow lips. He traces his fat head against your mouth, spreading his precum all around, watching with lidded eyes as you lick them clean, your eyes locked on his. “You look so pretty, baby–fuck, you look pretty with your cum on my lips.”

Rafe’s tongue glided up your slit, sucking down on your clit; fingers plunging inside you. Your mouth hangs open as he sucks down, curling and scissoring his fingers. Cam pushes his cock between your lips, making you moan at the weight of him on your tongue. You wrap your fingers around his thick base, stroking where your mouth won’t reach. Rafe runs a line of spit down on his cock; your fist working over him fast, keeping time with Rafe’s hands deep in your pussy.

“Fuck, baby…” He moans. “Just like that.” Rafe could feel your body getting close to yet another release, pounding his digits into you roughly, his other hand holding onto your fleshy hip to keep you from moving as Cam started to pump deeper into your mouth.

Your lashes flutter shut as Rafe hits your G-spot again and again. Cam reaches down, wrapping his big hand around your throat, making your eyes flash open. “Not yet, princess… I’m almost there, alright? You’re suckin’ me so fuckin’ good,” he praises, his voice husky and worn with pleasure. “Don’t cum… Not yet.”

Your eyes screw shut, trying to listen, stars dancing behind your eyes as you fight against your body, the pressure of your pleasure almost too much to handle. You cry out around his cock as tears slide down your hot cheeks, his hold on your neck growing tighter.

“Cum for us,” Cam grunts, quickly filling your mouth with his warm cum. You swallow it all as your body falls apart, quickly reaching for a breath. Rafe doesn’t let up pounding you with his fingers through your orgasm. Cam reaches down, slapping at your clit, making you sob pathetically, the man quickly adding his fingers to the mix, brushing side to side until you’re gushing around their fingers.

Rafe hums out a moan, licking up the sweetness between your thighs. He lifts his hands, and you quickly take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean. Cam leans down, kissing you deeply, tasting you on your tongue, groaning against your lips. “Just as sweet as I remember, princess,” he mumbles against your lips.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” Rafe mumbles, completely pussy drunk. He kisses your clit, making you whimper in sensitivity, fingernails scratching into his hair. You tug his hair by the root, pulling him to your lips; he crawls toward you, eyes raking up your body. He looks down at you, completely bare underneath him, looking up at him with glossy lips and wet eyes, the sparkly R pendant clinging to your dewy skin.

Rafe bites his lips, scrunching his nose as he’s hit with a wave of emotion, just knowing you never took it off, even after everything.

“I love you more than anything, princess,” he whispers.

“I love you, Rafe,” you breathe, the beautiful boy falling out of sight before you as tears shimmer in your eyes. You blink them away, and he cups your cheeks, brushing them away with his thumbs. Rafe leans down, kissing you tenderly, and it feels like home.

“Are you ready for us, baby?” He asks against your lips.

“M’ready,” you whisper.

“Greedy girl can’t wait to be filled, huh?” He asks through a raspy breath.

“I’m a slut for Cameron cock,” you giggle breathlessly, repeating those words he said in the shower before that first night–the night that changed everything. Rafe chuckles deeply, looking down at you with lust and love as he brushes your hair off your face.

“Have I told you you’re perfect,” he breathes against your lips, rolling you on top of him fast, making you gasp against his lips. You rise on your knees as Rafe takes his cock in his big hand, pumping his dick a few times as he takes you in. “I get your pussy,” he smiles.

“Well, shit,” Cam smiles as he slaps your ass playfully. “Keep gettin’ lucky, don’t I?” He leans in, kissing you gently, lingering on your lips as Rafe runs his throbbing tip up and down your folds. “You’re gonna let me fuck your pussy later. Aren’t you?” He asks, smiling as he feels your smile against his lips.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Think we both knew the answer to that, buddy… Just a whore for us, aren’t you, princess?” Rafe hums as he wraps his big hands around your hips. Rafe biceps flex as he pulls you lower, guiding you to fall on his cock nice and slow. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he moans as he throws his head back into the pillow, feeling your warm wet cunt swallow him up again. He lifts you off of him, using his muscle to move you up and down on him, using your pussy like a toy.

Rafe drops his hand, pressing it against your clit, making you throw your head to the ceiling; Cam’s muscular body moves flush with your back. “Feels so good, baby,” you whimper as your body trembles. Cam cups your tits in his ringed hands, squeezing as you start to bounce on Rafe’s cock; your wet skin sticking and smacking against his.

“Again?” Rafe asks through a breathy laugh, acting like he’s surprised to see you seconds away from yet another release.

“Rafe-”

Cam lowers his grip, grabbing your waist, bouncing you up and down on Rafe’s cock as your eyes squeeze shut. Rafe smiles up at you wickedly, slapping at your clit again and again until you’re sobbing above him.

“I’m–Fuck. I-” You ramble as your body surrenders to your release. Cam lets you go, and your hands come smacking down, gripping Rafe’s chest for dear life as your head hangs between your shoulders, trying to get your feet under you. And just when you start to have a semblance of control, you feel Cam’s fingers press against your tight hole, pussy clamping around Rafe.

“Relax, doll,” Rafe hums, almost condescending. “You’re good n’ wet.” Crack. He slaps your thigh, making your bottom lip wobble as you look down at him. “You’re so beautiful like this, princess,” he whispers as he cups your cheek, slipping his thumb in your mouth. You suck on it for a second, your body utterly numb with pleasure.

Rafe hisses out a breath as you bite down on his finger as Cam pushes into your second hole; he chuckles teasingly, taking his hand away, eyeing the bite marks left behind. Cam wraps his arms around you, burying himself in your neck, his cock nestled in your ass; Rafe still buried balls deep.

“Relax, baby,” Cam whispers. “You okay?”

“Mmm… Mhmm,” you sigh as the pain subsides, your trembling hand resting on your lower stomach, feeling the outline of Rafe’s long, thick cock.

Rafe rubs his thumb on your clit, his other hand squeezing your hip. You relax a little more, your body getting used to the feeling again.

“Doin’ so good for us, baby,” Rafe praises. Cam kisses along your neck as he draws out fucking back into you a little rougher. Your pussy clamps down around Rafe, making his brows tug together. “Goddamn… Feels so fucking good,” he mumbles under his breath as Cam starts to fuck into you hard and fast, making your pussy bounce on his dick from the backshots alone.

“Rafe… Fuck, Cam,” you mumble drunkenly. Going so dumb on their dicks you can barely think. Rafe smiles at you blissfully, hooking his big hand around you to pull you to his lips. Your mouth crashes against his, the angle making you gasp and cry against his lips. “I can’t…” You whisper between gentle kisses.

“You are though… You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good.”

“Fuck, baby,” you whisper as Cam moans behind you, watching his cock plunge into your perfect ass with each stroke.

“Does it feel good, princess?” Rafe asks as he sucks off your bottom lip.

“So fuckin’ good,” you whimper.

“Then fuckin’ take it…”

Your climax sneaks up on you fast, bringing Rafe with it; his muscles tremble with yours as he fills you with his warm cum, your tight cunt milking every last bit of him as Cam fucks you through your orgasm, filling your greedy hole with his seed as well.

“Good, girl,” Rafe whispers

The night stretched on, Rafe and Cam, never letting you go. All the tension you held in your body seemed to ease in his arms. Their strong hands trace your bare skin, keeping you like they’ve wanted to for weeks.

Apologies were said, but even so, the pain of the past few weeks lingered on, the sincerity in their beautiful eyes making you believe that you could get back to where you were before. Rafe and Cam weren’t asking you to ‘forget what happened’ or ‘move past it’; they were just asking for a chance to show you they could make it work.

Cam’s large hand rests gently on your body as he sleeps, snoring lightly behind you as you look at Rafe, wide awake, his beautiful eyes still on you like he’s afraid you’ll go away again.

“Princess,” he begins, his voice wavering, “Can you forgive me? Please.”

“I forgive you,” you whisper as you snuggle a little closer.

“I was nothin’ without you. You are the best part of me,” he whispers as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing kisses on the top.

Without another word, Rafe tugs his ring off his finger, gliding it back onto yours and setting it back as if it has always belonged there–and it has. Rafe’s expression softens as he lives in your sweet words, knowing that you still wanted to be with him even after everything that had happened.

“We’ll take care of you like you take care of us. Alright?”

“Thank you, baby.”

He tips his forehead, sharing his breath with you. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you too.”

"I get you last... I always get you last," Rafe whispers breathlessly against your kiss.

"Always."

[william-byers-1971]

Will, despite being the most sought-after and good looking in the group, has intentionally avoided any romantic flings, flirtations, or casual hookups. While it’s true that Will is the sensitive one who has faced a rough childhood and possibly dealing with feelings of depression, but it's also true that he has made his feelings for Mike clear by painting a heart on Mike's shield. It’s a signal that he's got desires, is capable of love, and longs to be loved.

I’m not completely against Will exploring only and exclusively Mike, Sure, if Mike is Will's first kiss, it would symbolize ONE TRUE LOVE, Mike is THE ONE, with whom Will is destined to be with forevermore. But if he were to kiss someone else (be it a guy or a girl) to realize he wholeheartedly belongs with Mike, it wouldn’t be a terrible thing. Mike has kissed El multiple times, yet Will "gorgeous" Byers has swiped left every time because his boy is busy snogging a girl. He’s been waiting for Mike to end his 'Hetero RPG campaign' (Sorry, Mike, but can’t you see that Will has been waiting for four seasons?! Mister "I’m busy kissing your sister," wake up, buddy! It’s time to set the record straight! Enough now!).

Maybe Robin, who was mismatching Steve and Nancy in s4, tells Will to go out and explore the gay world and give Mr. Chance a try, as they'll be 18+ in S5 with Will stepping into adulthood and would likely want to explore his life a little. But the worst-case setup would be portraying a "Desperate Will", a Will who suddenly jumps at the opportunity to go out with Chance! the same Will who has held off on kissing anyone because he’s fixated solely on Mike!? Not the best arc imo. I don’t want Will to come off like Josie (Drew Barrymore, from Never Been Kissed, desperately longing for a kiss)

Will's character is actually the opposite. He’s popular with the ladies and probably has admirers among the closeted guys at Hawkins High. Also, it would undermine the reason the Duffers chose to portray Will as a chick magnet who, despite having every opportunity, isn’t desperate for social acceptance. He’s likely exhausted by the attention but never desperate. Unless they planned to show a contrast: Mike choosing El because he conformed to heteronormative social norms, while Will didn’t back down despite countless offers from girls. Or, on a lighter note, Mike could be practicing kissing with El to get ready to woo Will later with his newfound smoothness.

The best scenario would be Will turning down offers from girls and Chance right in front of Mike, making it clear,  "What now Mike? what the hell are you waiting for?! Do you need another season to ask me out and hold my hand?!" Or is it.....

Will has to still accept himself on screen and they didn't dig into that enough for him to magically be doing gay stuff explicitly with anyone, Mike is the only one he would trust enough to do something like kissing him

[soulpager]

Hooo boy. Oh no. We're going down the rabbit hole of Shinji Hirako's hairstyle choices and what they mean, people. Buckle in.

So, this has been bugging me for a while, but oh my gawd, we need to get the story straight on Shinji's freaking hairstyles. Because I care far, far too much about this and need to get it off my chest.

Why do I care so much about this? Well, I have a degree in Japanese. And another in Japanese pre-modern history. And I used to live in Japan. And I went to a Japanese university, and uh...

Yes, I'm wasting my education. Moving on.

So what's the deal with Shinji's hair? Let's start with his TBTP arc hair, which is CRAZY. Oh my god.

In Bleach Tankobon #71, Chapter 652, we get this short flashback from Nanao with a surprise Shinji cameo. Please ladies, take note: Aizen may appeal to the common, everyday fangirl, but we Shinji stans are RARE and WE HAVE TASTE.

(Kubo not giving this chick page time is a CRIME, I tell you. I see you, girl. You're a woman of culture.)

Anyway, we can see from the dialogue that even in the Soul Society, home to Captain Kyoraku wearing ladies kimono around, Captain Unohana's front braid, and Mashiro's green hair, Shinji is regarded as weird. Some of that is undoubtedly referring to his personality, because Shinji is absolutely a weirdo, no question. He'd tell you himself. But his hair is somehow memorable, even when a number of male captains currently wear theirs long as well.

It's long in back, with slightly shorter locks in front, and then bangs.

Okay, you say. That's just a hime cut, right?

Well. Sorta. But also no? Listen, I have no idea what Kubo was thinking (obviously), so it's entirely likely and possible this was just what he felt like drawing, subtext be damned. You know, like that time he drew powered speakers in 1891.

Kubo, I love you, but you give historians like me the hives sometimes. That's clearly a 1970s style powered speaker.

And we know it's 1891 because Bleach started in 2001 and Kubo flat out admits it's 1891 on the little omake after that chapter.

Jazz started in the late 1890s Kubo, I'll give you that one: https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20120224-travelwise-the-birthplace-of-jazz

*squints*

Are - are those BAKELITE HEADPHONES?!? From the 1960s?!? In 1891?!?

*rage-gargling noises of a suffering historian*

ANYWAY. HAIR.

So here's the thing. A lot of modern hime cuts DO have bangs:

But they also usually tend to have much shorter front locks, usually chin length.

Some even do little multi-step cuts, but you can see how short they tend to be. Shinji's is much longer, and technically back then, the modern "hime" cut didn't exist yet. So what the hell is he wearing?

He's doing a popular noblewoman's Heian era hairstyle, which often involved leaving the long hair loose or arranging it over the shoulders or in a long tail. When a girl reached the age of 16, she'd have a ceremony called "binsogi" (鬢削ぎ) that cuts the hair around her ears shorter like seen above.

This painting of Murasaki Shikibu done by Tosa Mitsuoki (土佐 光起) in the 1600s shows another good example.

So this leaves us with three things about this already that might be making those academy students think he's a weirdo:

Shinji's not a woman, and that's pretty clearly a woman's hairstyle. Cross-dressing was absolutely a thing back then, but it was generally done head-to-toe, not just a woman's haircut with men's clothes.

The Soul Society is pretty clearly based on Edo period Japan, and NOBODY WORE THEIR HAIR LIKE THIS THEN. It would be like you walking around with a beehive or a wimple in the 1990s. People would ask you what costume party you were going to.

Shinji is pretty clearly not a noble. His name, "Hirako" (平子) includes the character 平, hira. One of the kun readings for that kanji is literally "common" (Hiyori actually pokes fun at this in the manga). Kubo has been shown to be pretty deliberate with names and mannerisms, and not only does Shinji have "common" in his name, he has a commoner accent - Osaka-ben, which is often seen historically/stereotypically as somewhat crude, lowbrow, and associated with merchants (whom the nobility hated for reasons I'm not going to bore you with here).

So, not only is he wearing an outdated super feminine hairstyle, he's almost poking fun at the nobility by imitating their style as a commoner.

But wait. There's more.

Because see, every single example I can find of Heian era noblewomen hair just DOES NOT INCLUDE BANGS. Bangs are absolutely a thing in Japanese hairstyles, but they're almost invariably swept back and pinned with a comb, not left down on the forehead.

This is a lovely example from this book, which is pretty awesome and I highly recommend it: Amazon link, but it's not an affiliate, I don't do that.

So wait a second, you say. I can see that middle one on the right. What's that one?

Well, here's where we get off into the weeds, because I don't think Kubo INTENDED this (or maybe he did, he's a massive troll), but this theory amuses me immensely.

See, that's a kamuro haircut. A kamuro is a young girl between 5 to 9 years old that is a courtesan in training to a very high ranking courtesan. (There was eventually a rule codified in the Yoshiwara pleasure district that high ranking oirans could have two kamuro and mid-tier could have one.) The girls wore their hair like that while it was growing out long enough to be able to style in an updo.

Now, this hairstyle is too short in back to be what Shinji's wearing. But it's also the only style I can dig up that had any kind of bangs at ALL during the Edo period (as far as I can determine, bangs just were not a thing in the Heian era.)

So Shinji is either wearing the outdated noblewoman's hairstyle WRONG or he's added the bangs to remind people of a kamuro hairstyle. Which is extra weird, because he's not the right age or gender, and he's not an oiran's attendant. He could also be imitating something from the world of the living at the time, but the length of his hair and shorter front locks tends to disprove that; that is VERY much a Heian style.

So yeah, he's absolutely, positively messing with people from the get go here. Like, this is peak Shinji Hirako going, "I'm going to deliberately come off as weird just so I can gauge how you react and see what kind of person you are by your reaction to me."

Except here's the thing. He later cuts his hair while in the world of the living, right? And this bothers me immensely because everybody, including the Viz translators, refer to it as a "bowl cut".

No. This is a bowl cut.

It's literally a home haircut for guys you get by slapping a bowl on your head and cutting around it against the rim of the bowl. Shinji doesn't have a bowl cut, and neither does Soi Fon, and the original Japanese was making a joke about a kappa that they didn't bother to translate.

This is a Yokai called a kappa, btw. They have an indent in their head they keep water in. Hiyori was just finding another way to call Shinji hideous, basically.

I've seen some people call it a pageboy.

Noooooo. It's naaaaaawt a pageboy. He's wearing a bob.

Okay, semantics. Point is, he's STILL wearing (traditionally speaking) a woman's hairstyle. We don't know how many hair revolutions he went through in the last 100 years, but you have to be supremely confident, because it can be difficult to pull off, regardless of gender.

(Seriously, some guys look amazing with bobs, especially when the lines are less severe and chopped.)

Also, Shinji appreciation time, because you either pull off those straight bangs or you don't. It is, as Tim Gunn says, "A lotta look."

But hang on, hold everything. When did bobs even show up in Japan?

Whelp. Actually quite a bit earlier than you'd think. Here's a postcard from the Meiji era:

HANG THE FUCK ON ARE THOSE KAMURO AGAIN?

Yep.

So it's entirely possible he's leaning on this weird imagery to further unsettle people, but having a haircut similar to a child attendant is a wee bit squicky and I don't think that's honestly what was intended.

So what was Kubo going for here?

Well, the bob came to Japan around the 1920-1930 period, along with jazz, and it was an iconic hairstyle for women, particularly for the "Modern Girl" or "moga" (and the bob was called a moga, the association was so strong).

You can read more about this cool Kiyoshi Kobayakawa print, "Tipsy", here.

You know what was really popular in Osaka, even after it started getting censored in Tokyo as WWII picked up?

Jazz.

You know who loves Osaka and jazz?

Shinji Hirako.

I'm not going to rant about this right now, I have a whole other post about Shinji and wartime jazz.

I honestly think by the time Kisuke figured out how to fix the Soul Suicide issue with the Vizards that it was just getting to be the jazz age. They would have had to move around quite a bit, since Aizen was actively looking for them, and Shinji in particular (in fact, in the manga he specifically only calls out Shinji. Aizen just DOES NOT LIKE his former Captain, but he also respects the guy enough to be concerned about him being a loose cannon.) So they might have been in Osaka for a while instead of Tokyo, where Karakura is located. (It's not a real place, but Kubo has addressed it.)

I think Shinji stuck with his thing of wearing women's haircuts and got a moga bob right around the time the jazz age was picking up and he knew he was going to live long enough to get a shot at Aizen. And I think he just stuck with it, honestly. Our boy was rocking a Heian hime for DECADES after it had gone out of style CENTURIES before. He's not going to change up everything on a whim (though I think he started fucking with his bangs purely to enhance the weird confusion of Sakanade's reversing sight.)

Also, since Hiyori's rampage sliced off part of his hair already, he'd have gotten a haircut asap to fix that, once he wasn't in any mortal peril. Our man likes to be stylin'.

Have this fun compilation of 10 decades of women's hairstyles in Japan. You've earned it.