#it’s been just over a week and a half since their creation and I’m still not any less obsessed with these girls :)

[cuteniarose]

PART 5 of my incorrect quotes shenanigans featuring six of our newest OCs, which I am happy I kept forgetting to post because that means I now get to use them to hopefully brighten up @katkastrofa’s day a little ^–^

[toomuchracket]

if you're too shy (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

in which the other music journalist at the magazine you work at is the cutest weird boy you've ever met. enjoy <3

in hindsight, coming back from a two-week holiday the same day the magazine goes to print was a misguided idea.

your editor-in-chief tells you as much when you enter the office, pulling you into a half hug. “don't get me wrong, it's lovely to see you,” she says, scraping her hair back into a bun and securing it with a pencil. “but you'll be doing nothing all day, i'm afraid. maybe some last minute proofing, but i think everyone in nightlife and reviews has been alright. double-check with marianne.”

you do just that, weaving your way through people running copy and coffee between departments until you reach your own. it's mercifully quiet compared to everywhere else, the ten or so people dotted at desks around the sunlit room looking at their laptops and wearing headphones; you actually have to flick marianne on the back of the head to get her to notice you. “oi.”

“who the- oh, hi!” marianne's face softens when she sees it's you, and she stands to pull you into one of her infamously bone-crushing hugs before pulling back to get a good look. “well, you look annoyingly well-rested. but i suppose a fortnight in a spanish villa will do that to you. bitch.”

“i had a great time, thanks for asking,” you grin. “how’s everything been with you? stressful, without your star reporter?”

“well, for starters, you've been succeeded for that title.”

you frown only half-jokingly, scanning the room to try and guess which of your colleagues has replaced you as marianne's unofficial favourite. “who the fuck…?”

“language,” she lightly slaps your arm, in spite of the fact she was just about to say the same thing, then smiles suspiciously. “and i’m talking about our newest recruit.”

the brewing annoyance in your stomach dissipates immediately, replaced by a flock of tiny butterflies. “oh,” you try to keep your smile to a minimum. “that's okay. i like him.”

marianne sees right through you, though. she rolls her eyes. “oh, you would.”

“what?”

she sighs, motioning for you to lower your voice and modifying her own to a whisper. “he’s a curly-haired pretty-eyed vaguely scrawny white boy. you'd like him even if he didn't think the sun shone out of your arse.”

“marianne!” you hiss. “he does not!”

“don’t act all indignant, he has literally looked over at you once every thirty seconds since you walked in - and don't look, idiot, you'll freak him out. we need him on the ball, today of all days,” she rubs her eyes. “but yes, he’s very good at his job. i like him, even if i've no idea what in the world he goes off on his tangents about. great writer.”

“yeah, he is,” you risk a glance towards him, but all you can see is the back of his laptop - covered in stickers for things you can only name half of - and dark curls peeking out from the side of his headphones. “i like the references. different perspective from me, innit? that's why we hired him, after all.”

“who's we? you were too pissed off that i was hiring another music critic to agree to be part of the interviewing panel.”

you'd love to disagree, but you really were pissed when marianne and the other editors told you they were expanding the nightlife section. it didn't matter that it was in response to an increase in funding and readership, with the magazine switching to a print format as well as the online edition you'd contributed to since its creation - your fierce independence and pride meant you didn't take the news well, made you think it was an issue with your competence and writing ability that meant you'd be getting a new colleague. but once you were reassured that you'd still get to keep the Big Gigs and restaurant reviews to yourself, you were slightly more agreeable to the idea.

and once you actually met the new guy, stumbling over both his words and his own feet as he introduced himself, you couldn't quite remember why you'd been opposed in the first place.

“well,” you say, snapping back into reality. “thank goodness i'm over it now.”

“because you want to get under him?”

“no!” you stand indignantly, and then grin. “on top, maybe.”

“good grief,” your boss shakes her head. “don't you go bringing it up to him - excuse the pun - before this edition goes to the printers,” she points at you as you move to walk away. “or talking to him at all until then, actually, you hear me? i love you, but you're a distraction to him, and he's my best journo.”

“he's not, but alright,” you pat her head as you walk back towards the door. “i'll be in the staff room if you need me. and i won't talk to anyone, mum, i promise.”

“i'm only five years older than you!”

“whatever you say!” you reply in a singsongy voice, giggling to yourself as you wander towards the sunny kitchen. the little radio on the windowsill is on, as it always is, and you nod along to the cure while you wait for the kettle to boil. once you've made a cuppa (and grabbed a slack handful of the chocolate digestives marianne always keeps the cupboard stocked with), you settle at the table with your laptop, typing out ideas for your next feature and doing your best not to think about the boy down the corridor you've been instructed not to talk to for the time being. for the most part, you succeed.

that is, until he walks into the staff room two hours later.

you frantically wipe your face of biscuit crumbs as he does, smiling as sweetly as you can for someone with no idea if she has chocolate on her teeth or not. “hi, matty. how are you?”

“oh, hi! i'm, uh, i'm alright,” matty smiles widely enough that his verbal emotional downplaying is blatant - still, he's so cute, beaming at you like that with his little sweater paws. he’s always in a jumper or cardigan or hoodie of some kind, and on more than one occasion in the three months you've known him, you've absolutely thought about literally cosying up into him instead of doing any work. “how was spain? and the wedding - it was a family wedding you were going to, yeah?”

“that's right,” it’s not a big deal, but you glow at the fact he remembered. or maybe it's the soft intent he looks at you with. “it was lovely, yeah. although - wait, have we gone to print?” you ask, suddenly recalling marianne's instructions. “i'm not keeping you from work?”

matty's curls bounce as he shakes his head, light hitting off the metal hoop in his earlobe (that you're only mildly obsessed with). “we've gone. i'm just in here to get my lunch,” he pulls a tupperware from the fridge, cheeks rosy as he waves it. “made some soup last night.”

he makes his own soup. the thought is so endearing that it takes everything in you not to sigh; you settle for a smile. “carrot and coriander?”

“you can tell from one glance?”

you shrug. “s'my favourite.”

“really?” matty's face seems to light up. “mine too,” he busies himself with putting the tupperware in the microwave, taking his time pressing buttons and turning dials before looking bashfully at you. “so, you had a nice time at the wedding, then?”

“i did, thank you. do you, um,” you start, suddenly shy. “d'you want to see some photos from it, while you're waiting for the soup to heat up?”

he nods back just as shyly, sitting quite awkwardly on the seat next to yours; while you open your photos app, matty twists a stray curl around his finger, and the movement seems to send your nerves into vibration as well as the molecules in the air. with a series of shallow breaths, you locate the folder of the wedding pictures and set your phone on the table. “feel free to flick through them, if you like.”

“thank you,” matty sits forward, carefully swiping through the album. you lean on your elbow, doing your best not to beam adoringly at the way he looks intently at each photo before moving to the next. “the venue is really beautiful.”

“yeah, it was stunning.”

the next picture is one of you in your bridesmaid dress, taken by your sister the morning of the wedding. you watch, slightly heartsick, as matty's mouth falls open as he looks at you; the feeling worsens when he tentatively does the same thing in real life, those pretty eyes of his sparkling as he smiles softly. “so are you. really. like,” he looks down at the photo again, shaking his head slightly before looking back up at you. “that colour is beautiful on you. honest. you look incredible.”

“thank you,” the words come out in a whisper, and the two of you silently smile at each other for a moment until you clear your throat. “um, there are more of the official pics on my instagram, let me… actually, do you have my private account?”

“oh, no,” matty shakes his head again - god, you love the way his hair moves. “just the one for your writing.”

“well,” you tap on the app with an almost-imperceptibly shaky finger. “that's the username there, if you'd like to follow. no pressure, of course. don’t wanna fuck up your algorithms or anything.”

your nervous chuckle at the end of the sentence turns to a giggle when you see matty's face as you share your username; it lights up so much that you'd be forgiven for thinking he'd just won the lottery. he pulls his own phone out and taps away at it. “you don't have to follow me back, by the way,” his cheeks flush a deep red, a beautiful colour. “m'not posting anything interesting.”

doubtful. he might be one of the most interesting people you've ever met, all talent and sweetness and a wealth of cultural understanding wrapped up in a sweater and a pretty face. “no, i'd like to.”

“alright. thank you,” matty's cheeks seem to get even redder as he watches you hit follow back, face twitching as though he’s trying to stop himself smiling too big. when the microwave dings, he all but skips over to it, almost tripping over the leg of his chair in a sweetly awkward way; he swears under his breath when he lifts the steaming container out, turning back sheepishly to look at you. “sorry.”

“don't worry,” you grin at him, feeling slightly bold. “i still think you're sweet when you swear.”

he giggles, and the noise makes your heart leap; in addition to being one of the most interesting people you think you've ever met, matty healy is without doubt the cutest. watching his lips pout in concentration as he stirs the soup and checks the temperature, you briefly imagine what they would feel like against your own, how he would be if the two of you were to kiss. just as giggly and endearingly awkward as he usually is, you think - eager to please, lips and tongue a little sloppy and unsure but enthusiastic enough for you not to mind, slightly unsure of where to put his hands so as to not make you uncomfortable… the scene is as clear as day in your head, and you really, really want to recreate it. you'd devour him right now if you could, the sweetheart.

and then, matty reaches up to get a bowl from the shelf, the hem of his shirt goes with him, and your want to devour him suddenly takes on a less pg-rated meaning than it did a second ago.

he has a fucking hip tattoo.

you’re pretty sure it's only a sliver of the full design you can actually see, but the hints of red and blue and black ink and the glimpse of his happy trail are enough to fuck you up completely. as you register what you're seeing - what you're discovering about the seemingly buttoned-up, shy, unassuming-to-everyone-but-you matty - your breath catches in your throat, forcing you to cough quite obviously on the mouthful of lukewarm tea you'd just taken. one cough turns into another, and you clap a hand over your mouth to make your tattoo reaction attack the least obvious it can be.

still, the ever-perceptive man across the kitchen notices, running over to crouch in front of you with concern filling those beautiful eyes of his. “you alright, darling?”

darling?! no, you most certainly aren't alright.

but you can't tell matty that, so you stick to gesturing to let him know you'll reply once you've managed to swallow your tea. “i am, yeah, thanks. tea just, y'know, went down the wrong way.”

matty tilts his head. “you sure?”

“yeah,” you smile, slightly embarrassed. “really. thank you, though.”

“of course,” he smiles in return, knee brushing lightly against your leg as he steadies himself; he looks down, eyes widening as he registers how close the two of you are, and quickly stands. “i'd better, y'know, get my lunch.”

you nod, despite the strange loneliness settling into your bones at the lack of him next to you. “i can head back to the office, if you want peace?”

“no, no, please stay!” matty all but gasps, turning to look at you like a deer caught in headlights - he clears his throat, blinking a few times before speaking again. “please don't feel the need to leave on my account, i mean. or feel obliged to talk, really - i was just going to read.”

“you're sure i won't be a bother to you?”

matty smiles warmly, shaking his head. “that'll never happen.”

christ.

“okay,” you whisper, winking at him - and savouring the little giggle that bubbles out of him when you do - before turning back to your laptop. 

matty settles at the table a minute or so later, pulling a paperback from his back pocket and holding it open quite attractively with one hand. you peek over the rim of your laptop at him every so often, never for more than a couple of seconds at a time; partially to avoid the mortification of him catching you, but mostly because if you look at him any longer you know your mind will wander back to that fucking hip tattoo of his, and what it might look like completely visible to you, and what it might feel like under your lips, and what noises matty might make if you slowly dragged your tongue all over it before moving to the side to lick a wavy line up the length of his-

enough. he's literally right there.

the room feels hot, all of a sudden, your cheeks flushing and throat drying to match. on only slightly shaky legs, you pick up your waterbottle and head to the water fountain, crouching as best you can to fill it. even though he stays silent, you can feel matty’s eyes on you from across the room, but it doesn't bother you or freak you out in the way that other men ogling you at a water fountain would - it's quite obvious that matty has some sort of more-than-platonic affection for you, but his gaze has always been one of appreciation and awe when it comes to you, not the predatory one you've come to expect from men. and yet, his is the only male gaze that makes you feel slightly nervous, unused to being looked at with such reverence and tenderness by an attractive boy; in complete contrast, though, it also makes you lower your guard, pull down the bricks from the wall you've built around your heart, and allow yourself to actually feel something for matty, for once. something good, honest, promising.

matty looks up from his book as you sit down, smiling pleasantly. he opens his mouth as if to talk, and then closes it immediately, shaking his head slightly.

this intrigues you. “you okay, matty?”

“hmm? oh, yeah, i was just thinking,” his cheeks go a shade of pink you would buy in blush form if you could find it. “when you were first talking about the wedding… you said although, and then we got off-topic slightly. what, um, what were you going to say, if you don't mind me asking?”

“oh, right,” you wrack your brain, doing your best to not get distracted by how cute you find his perception. “i think i was going to say something about how, as good as it all was, there's nothing like a family wedding to remind you of how single you are.”

his jaw falls open. “you… you don't have a boyfriend? wait, sorry,” he blinks. “or a partner?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip to stop yourself smiling. “no boyfriend, no. and thus, constantly advised by a never-ending flock of aunts that i should get one so i could get married.”

“christ,” matty winces. “yeah, my cousin's getting married in a couple of months - not looking forward to everyone asking me when i'm going to meet a nice girl and settle down, as if i can answer.”

no girlfriend. how interesting. “you're single? really?”

he rolls his eyes, still smiling at you. “be serious. course i am.”

“i am being serious! that surprises me,” you lean on one elbow, tilting your head to look at him. “you're lovely, matty.”

matty’s eyes widen, and he blinks adorably a few times before he smiles shyly again. “thank you. i think the same about you.”

“you do?”

he simply nods, total sincerity in those pretty eyes. 

you feel your cheeks warm, but you make no effort to hide it. “thank you.”

matty shrugs. “just telling the truth, darling,” he looks panicked when he realises what he's said. “sorry for calling you that, twice, it just-”

“i like it, matty, it's alright,” you say reassuringly. “and i like-”

“oh, thank god you're both here,” marianne bursts into the room, carrying her laptop; you frown petulantly at her for ruining your moment, but shuffle your chair round closer to matty's so she can sit at the table too. “something weird’s happening.”

matty squints. “what d'you mean by weird?”

marianne pushes her laptop towards you both. “there's overlap in your planned reviews - the band you're going to see at the end of next week, matthew, have just been announced as the opener for the next Big Gig. i need to know how we want to go about this.”

“oh,” he looks at you. “i don't mind if you want to just review them as part of yours.”

you're shaking your head vehemently before he even finishes talking. “no, that's not fair,” you tap your lips with your index finger the way you always do when you concentrate, trying to ignore the glow within your body when you see matty looking at them from the corner of your eye; inspiration strikes, and you turn to marianne. “matty could come with me, couldn't he? if he reviews their headline gig, and then he does a follow-up review of their opening set in the Big Gig feature - we could just do a joint byline, work together on it.”

both of them turn to look at you in slight shock. marianne is the first to speak, her words trickling out slowly as she processes the fact you've just agreed to let someone else work on a Big Gig for the first time. “you're… happy with that?”

“if matty is, yeah,” you turn to him, smiling. “sound alright?”

he beams. “more than. thank you.”

“of course,” you turn back to the boss. “there you go. sorted.”

she sighs, relieved. “thank goodness for that. alright,” she stands, picking up her laptop and heading back to the main office. “i'll coordinate press passes. thanks for making that simple - you're both stars.”

“anytime!” you call after her, before turning back to matty. “you're sure you're happy to do this? i realise i've just given you more work to do, but…”

he laughs, a beautiful sound. “nah, i don't mind. also,” he shuffles in his seat, bashful again. “i actually have a spare ticket for the first show, if you'd like it - bought it before i saw it was on the review roster. doesn't seem fair that i get to go to two gigs while you only get one, i think. i mean, no pressure, obviously, but the offer's there.”

god, he’s so fucking cute. how could you ever say no to him? “i'd like that a lot, matty, thank you,” you beam at him. “i think us working together is going to be a lot of fun.”

matty beams back just as enthusiastically. “i think so too.”

[pascaloverx]

DEVIL (+18)

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Honestly, I’m not sure if this story will have more than one chapter, but it will contain adult content and inappropriate language. Violence may also appear. Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. To anyone reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.

ONE THREE

TWO

The man knelt before you, pleading for more time. He tried to bargain, claiming he was on the verge of creating a scheme that would corrupt countless souls for you.

"My dear, don’t waste your breath. Our pact was sealed long ago; I used you for the purposes I desired, and now Satan wants your soul. It’s quite simple—it won’t even hurt. It was pleasurable while it lasted, wasn’t it? I gave you every sinful delight imaginable. Now, it’s time to pay the price," you murmur as you crouch down to speak face to face. The man, now sobbing, desperate to avoid death, shakily points a gun at you. His hand trembles as he aims it at your face, and you can’t help but find it almost endearing that he’s so determined to live.

"It wasn’t going to hurt. I wasn’t planning to harm you—I was going to leave that to the demon in charge of your soul down in Hell. But you’ve just lost that privilege," you say, your voice calm as the man frantically throws objects at you, screaming for help. And then you touch him and immediately he catches fire. The flames cover his entire body, as he agonizes and screams in pain, almost roaring for help. When you get bored of seeing a man like that, you touch him again; and it's as if he had never been burned.

"What have you done to me, you demon?" he yells, charging at you like a raging bull, which only makes you laugh.

"I gave you a little preview of your future, darling. Now, brace yourself for your next adventure." You mockingly reply, and before he can reach you, you make him vanish, sending him to his rightful place. Being a demon certainly has its ups and downs, but truthfully, you're growing weary of it all.

Perhaps it’s a good time to visit your favorite priest for confession. It's been a week since you last made contact. You slip into a red lace lingerie set and throw a black coat over it. Naturally, you can’t forget your rosary—it’s essential for keeping appearances. With a final touch, you teleport to Father Charlie Mayhew’s location.

You appear in his room, where he’s half-naked, engaging in self-flagellation while reciting scripture. "Ephesians 6:11: 'Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes,'” he says, inflicting pain upon himself, still unaware of your presence. His back was covered in cut marks, bleeding everywhere, his eyes closed as he felt the pain rack his flesh.

“Father Mayhew, need some help? There are parts of your back that remain untouched,” you say, catching him off guard. Leaning casually against a piece of furniture near a crucifix on the wall, you smile wickedly as he jumps in shock. The towel wrapped around him nearly slips, the only thing keeping him covered. Your eyes glint with amusement, knowing you’ve disrupted his supposed sanctity once again.

"Are you really here?" Father Mayhew asks, standing up, now nearly face to face with you. His gaze is intense, as though he had been thinking about you long before you appeared in his room. You move around the room slowly, admiring the details, your movements deliberate as you subtly encircle him, using your body language to create a sense of dominance. His eyes follow your every step, conflicted between fear and desire.

"How could I not be here, my dear Father, when you bring me such satisfaction?" you say, your voice laced with dark amusement. "I’ve heard you’ve kept your sinful habits, wishing only for my return. I believe you’ve earned a reward." Your fingers lightly trace over the fresh wounds on his back, sending shivers through him, eliciting a soft groan from his lips. His eyes stay locked on yours as you slowly remove your coat, revealing the red lace lingerie beneath, a sinful gift crafted solely for his eyes. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight, the temptation too powerful to resist, his internal conflict laid bare in the silence between you.

"Galatians 5:16: 'So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh,'” Father Mayhew murmurs, moving closer to you, his eyes fixed on your chest, tracing every curve and detail of your body. If you weren’t a demon, his gaze might have made you feel shy.

“I’m usually the one who hears confessions, but I must confess to you... I longed to see you again, with a fervor far beyond what is permitted,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he stands mere inches from your face, as if yearning for a kiss, the tension between you palpable. You regard him with playful amusement, as if he were your favorite source of entertainment.

"Confess to me, Father. Show me what you desire, and prove what you're capable of," you say, your voice laced with a subtle challenge as your fingers brush against his chest. He inhales sharply at your touch, his eyes reflecting the battle between restraint and temptation. The air between you is thick with tension, and despite his struggle, you sense the pull of his desires growing stronger.

The priest kneels before you, gazing up as though seeking your blessing for survival. "Forgive me, in all Your glory, Lord. For I am devoted to You and should turn away from sinful desires, striving to be a good man," he says, yet his eyes remain fixed on you, laden with a sinful intensity. It’s as though his words are meant for God, but his confession is entirely yours. The feeling of power surges through you. Your hands glide over his face, which now seems to exude a wickedly sinful allure. Your fingers lightly trace his full lips, the touch both tender and commanding.

"You must be devoted to me as well. Embrace your darker side, Father. Do not hide it behind your robes. Accept who you truly are," you whisper, your hand gliding along his neck as his head tilts back, eyes wide and fixed on you.

"And who am I, demon?" Father Mayhew asks, his voice trembling slightly, as if he genuinely seeks the answer. His gaze is locked on you, watching intently as you kneel before him, the tension between his devotion and his desire thick in the air.

"You are mine. You belong to me—not only your body, but your soul as well. Punish yourself as much as you wish, but never forget, it is I whom you must worship and fear," you whisper softly, standing before him, your presence enveloping him. The weight of your words lingers in the air, both a command and a promise, as his gaze remains locked on yours, torn between submission and resistance.

"For the love of God, you are the most tempting creature I have ever encountered. How am I to remain pure in your presence?" Father Mayhew exclaims, his voice filled with helplessness as he gazes at you, nearly unraveling before you.

"Father, you're taking the Lord's name in vain... what a naughty boy," you respond with a playful laugh, lowering yourself slightly to kiss his neck. His body shudders under your touch, a wave of tension and desire sweeping through him as your lips brush his skin. Then his fingers trail down to the underside of your lingerie. You lift yourself up a little to help him touch your pussy over your lingerie, biting your lip when you feel his cold fingers touch there. It doesn't take long for him to tear the fabric and finally massage your wet pussy, making you moan softly. His fingers touching you, gently massaging your clit as you touch his strong arms, encouraging him to continue fingering you.

"Say that you are mine as well, demon. Tell me that you are under the spell of what I do to you. Beg me for forgiveness," Father Mayhew demands, his voice taking on a more assertive tone, as if he wishes for you to confess your own sinful desire.

You move toward him, pulling him close, and without hesitation, your lips meet his in a heated kiss. It’s a battle of passion, a wordless exchange of defiance and submission. Neither of you yields, tongues entwining in a struggle for dominance, each unwilling to surrender to the other.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you moan against his lips, the words flowing like a dark and twisted prayer, as if reciting a beautiful, forbidden verse.

"I forgive you..." he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as his lips crash against yours in a heated, desperate kiss. It's as if he needs the taste of you more than he needs to breathe, each movement of his mouth against yours betraying the battle within him, torn between what he knows is wrong and the temptation he can no longer resist. His hands caress your body, stopping at your thighs, and as he grabs them, you open your legs so he can penetrate you.

"Father Mayhew, are you there?" A woman's voice calls from outside, her knock firm against the door. You and Father Mayhew lock eyes, both silently exchanging glances that hold the weight of unspoken words. He knows your nature, the dangerous allure you carry, and in this moment, he acts on instinct. As he tries to compose himself, he quickly places his hand over your mouth, silencing any response that might expose you both. His expression is tense, a silent plea for discretion, as the tension in the room grows thick.

"Yes, Sister Megan. Do you need something? I'm just finishing getting ready," Father Mayhew calls out, his voice steady despite the situation. He glances at you, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. It’s clear that, though he might never openly admit it, he's waiting for whatever mischief you might stir. He craves it—your demonic influence, your unpredictable nature—and the subtle tension in the air reveals that he is far more enticed by the chaos you bring than he dares to acknowledge. You then use one hand to masturbate Father Mayhew, who moans in response to the sensation of your hand touching his cock, which is already covered in pre-cum. Your fingers running the length of Father Mayhew's cock as he closes his eyes feeling you touch him.

"I would love your opinion on an article I'm considering publishing. It's quite intriguing, I must admit. It discusses some recent murders that are likely related to the church. I thought we could discuss it over a meal," Sister Megan says, her enthusiasm palpable. Father Mayhew shuts his eyes tightly, his hand still covering your mouth as he stifles a few muffled groans. The tension in the room is thick, a stark contrast to Sister Megan’s casual demeanor, as he struggles to regain his composure, caught between his duty and the forbidden thrill of your presence.

"Wait for me at the church entrance... I will, I will be there in a few minu...tes, now please allow me to dress in silence," he stammers, urgency lacing his voice as he attempts to gather himself. His eyes flicker to yours, a mix of desire and desperation evident as he fights to maintain his composure while you continue to captivate him. Your hand closed around the contour of his cock, moving back and forth, sometimes touching the head of his cock. He is on the verge of cumming, one hand under your mouth, the other under your breast, squeezing your breast, causing you a pleasurable sensation.

"I'll be waiting for you, Father," Sister Megan says before leaving, her footsteps echoing in the silence. You couldn’t care less about her departure. The tension in the room escalates as you release your grip on him, locking eyes with the Padre. He removes his hand from your lips, frustration etched across his features.

"Why did you stop?" Father Mayhew asks, a sultry grunt escaping his lips, revealing his longing for your sweet touch. His gaze searches for you, desperate and yearning, as he grapples with the overwhelming desire you stir within him. The air crackles with unspoken words, the thrill of the forbidden intensifying the moment.

"Next time, give me more importance. Your attention must be entirely mine, just like your devotion, but right now, neither belongs to me. I'm sure you can call Sister Megan in here to assist you if you wish. Until our next encounter," you say, your tone tinged with irritation as you reprimand him with a piercing gaze.

As he reaches out to touch your face, murmuring a soft, "I'm sorry," it’s too late. You vanish into thin air once again, leaving him frustrated and uncertain, haunted by the question of whether you will truly return. The echo of your presence lingers in the room, a reminder of the intoxicating temptation he now craves.

[merlucide]

SEA’S SECRET ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Notes: .. sorry for how long this took 🫠 I started writing then I stopped, then I started, then I stopped, I started— also wrote the majority of this sleepy so sorry if it’s wonky😭🙏

pairings: merman!chigiri x mayor’s daughter!reader

wc: 1.9k

warnings: reader is fem, thalassophobia(?)

chpt: 1 2 3

You had been visiting the merman almost every day since the day you two met. Over the weeks, you’d grown to know him, and he’d grown to know you. You’d share stories about your lives—your hopes and dreams, the mundane tasks of both of your lives, and so on. Each encounter was a revelation, a dance of curiosity and laughter, deepening the bond that had formed between you.

Your regular meeting spot remained by the cliffs, but you always ventured a bit further down the beach, away from prying eyes and the bustle of town. The soft whispers of the waves greeted you as you made your way to the secluded cove. Today, you carried a wicker basket, its woven fibers tightly bound with a little blue ribbon tied on the side.

As you approached the meeting space, you scanned the shimmering sea for his signature raspberry hair. Just as you were about to settle onto the rocks, his head popped out of the water, and a grin spread across your face.

“You’re late,” Hyoma remarked, feigning indignation, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed his playful demeanor.

You scoffed, a smile dancing on your lips. “Oh, am I? Ha, my sincerest apologies, my good sir.” You lifted the flap of the basket and pulled out a piece of fairly warm bread, presenting it like a prized treasure.“I hope this can excuse my tardiness,” you said warmly, placing the basket down and stepping into the cool water, your loose dress swirling around your legs.

Hyoma inched closer, propping himself up on the sandy shore, half in and half out of the water. He took the bread, inspecting it with an air of curiosity. “What is this? You eat it?” he asked, tapping the surface of the crusty loaf.

“Mhm! I made it myself—hope it’s still warm.” You boasted, pride swelling in your chest as you watched him take in the aroma of your creation.

He took a cautious bite, his sharp teeth sinking into the crisp yet soft dough. Instantly, his eyes widened, and his fins expanded in delight. 

“Glad you like it,” you laughed, watching him eagerly take another bite, bits of bread clinging to his cheeks.

“Do oo havph moor?” Hyoma snaps his head to you, his slitted pupils widening and cheeks puffed out as he spoke. You couldn’t help but beam at the sight.

“Why, yes, I do! But don’t eat it too fast; it’ll upset your stomach if you gobble it down,” you replied, pulling out a second loaf from your basket.

As you stood there, watching him scarf down your bread, you studied the way his fins perked up after every bite, how his gills flared in and out with each breath. his dazzling tail swayed against the gentle waves, and his hair was perfectly messy. If you looked close enough you would see tiny shells tucked away in his braid. 

“Thanks for the bread,” Hyoma said, rinsing his hands in the sea. “I don’t have anything to give you in return..”

“Ah, it’s no worries! I don’t need anything, really; I’m just glad you like my bread,” you replied, a warm smile lighting up your face.

“Tomorrow I’ll bring you something,” he promised, his gaze locking onto your e/c eyes, sincerity shimmering in the depths of his slitted pupils.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Alright then, thank you.”

Hyoma grinned, his demeanor brightening as he slid back into the sea. “Bring more bread.”

You chuckled and nodded, watching him disappear beneath the waves, the water rippling gently in his wake.

The next day, you were determined to make an even more delicious bread than before, it would be the perfect loaf of bread. As you kneaded the dough, your hands working rhythmically, you could almost picture his delighted expression when he tasted your creation again.

“Goodness, Miss L/N, you’re making more bread? The two loaves you made yesterday weren’t enough?” Aya remarked softly, a hint of mischief in her tone as she wiped her hands on a dishcloth.

“A-Ah well, I believe I’ve perfected my recipe and wanted to try again,” you replied, rolling the dough against your palms with care.

Aya smiled, her warmth radiating through the kitchen. “Your bread is just fine already, miss. Your husband will most definitely love the meals you’ll make.”

Ah, husband. The word echoed in your mind. “Haha… yes, I’d hope he would.” Even with Aya, you couldn’t escape the pressure of being wed. The expectations hung like a heavy cloud over your head.

Noticing the change in your mood, Aya softly bowed her head. “Ah, forgive me for mentioning that, Miss. You really mustn’t worry too much about that. You still have plenty of time before you are to find a husband,” she reassured you, hoping to ease your mind.

You have confided in Aya, how that isn’t what you want, and that you don’t even know what you want! She does her best to console you, but she doesn’t entirely understand. To Aya, it seemed like a luxury to have handsome, wealthy men lining up for your hand, but for you, it felt absolutely suffocating.

Hours passed, and finally, with a larger loaf nestled securely in your basket, you made your way back to the cliffs. As you sat down on one of the sun-warmed rocks, fiddling with the ribbon tied around the basket, you couldn’t help but notice he was a bit late this time. Normally, when you two met, he’d be waiting under the waves for you.

Just as you were beginning to worry, ripples formed closer to you, and there he was. Hyoma swam over, crawling up the beach just enough to stay halfway in the water. He held a brown sack in his hands, a soft expression on his face.

“Oh? What’s this?” you asked, gesturing to his bag with your eyes.

“I told you I was going to give you a gift in return for your bread—and you brought more, right?” he confirms, tone becoming more serious.

You tapped your basket’s side and murmured a soft ‘yes’ in response, earning a joyful flick of his fins.

“Now, I wasn’t sure what to give you… but I hope this will suffice,” Hyoma said, his voice tinged with nervousness. He pulled out a necklace from his sack, a string of pearls and smaller shells adorned with small starfish, and a sand dollar in the middle. It was so pretty, so dramatic, and so different. Out of all the gold and silver jewelry you had been given from your parents and suitors, this was the most beautiful of them all.

“Mermaids my age wear necklaces like these; I guess they’re pretty popular,” he said shyly, his gaze lowering. “So if it doesn’t meet your standards— I wasn’t sure what would be a good gift for your bread—”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, holding the necklace delicately, your fingers grazing over the divots of the sand dollar. “It’s absolutely beautiful-  Goodness, Hyoma, this is gorgeous!”

He could feel his cheeks warming under your admiration. “I-I’m glad… I helped make it.”

You looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. “You made this?”

His fins opened wider, and he darted his eyes around nervously. “Well, I mean— yes, I guess. Not all of it; I just found the shells or whatever. My friend actually made the necklace.”

(He’s had this necklace for a while, just wasn’t sure if he should give it two you for not) don’t alter this !!

You beamed at him. “Thank you, I love it.” You smiled warmly, putting the necklace on.

“Now give me the bread,” he said, his expression shifting to serious.

You laughed, pulling the loaf from your basket handing it to him, which he eagerly accepted.

Hyoma’s fins perked up, “Oh- I’ve told you before I like to collect human things that have sunk—“ he said dumping his brown sack onto the shore, and a variety of trinkets spilled out.

“Can you tell me what they are?” Hyoma asked, his curiosity piqued as he eyed the assortment.

You focused on the items, examining the ordinary yet intriguing objects. “This is a pocket watch, or a clock. You can tell the time with it, but this one is broken from getting wet,” you explained, closing the lid of the watch with a soft laugh.

“I thought maybe it was part of a lady’s necklace or something,” Hyoma murmured, munching on his bread.

As you went over the other items, you pointed out coins, compasses, and various bits of metal, each with its own story and history.

“This is the last one,” he said, handing you a small metal cylinder covered in rust with tiny bumps along its surface. It took you a second to realize what it was—it was the inside of a music box, and it looked like it had seen better days.

You rinsed it off in the water, trying to free it from the sand stuck between the gears. “I don’t have a clue what that is, to be honest,” Hyoma stated, eyeing the metal contraption with intrigue.

After scratching off some rust and turning the crank, a rough but lovely tune played into the air.

Hyoma’s eyes expanded, and his fins flared as he stared at your hands in awe. You finished the tune and handed it to him, who took his turn first playing with it. The rusty-yet delicate notes echoed softly in the air, mixing with the gentle sound of waves lapping at the shore.

“I’m surprised it even works,” you smiled, watching Hyoma spin the shaft. 

He played around with it, the sweet melody filling the space around you. You found yourself playing with the shells on your necklace, lost in the moment. The music floated in the air, weaving a spell of comfort and connection between you.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Hyoma gathered his belongings and shuffled back into the soft waves. You waved goodbye, promising to see him soon.

Hyoma swam away from the cliffs, diving deeper into the clear sea. His shimmering scales caught the last remnants of moonlight filtering through the water.

After some time, he finally made it back to where he called home. Surrounded by coral and sea life in every direction, Hyoma felt a sense of belonging, yet his heart tugged toward the surface. Most mermaids stayed in groups and traveled together, which made Hyoma a bit of an odd one out. He had a ‘group’ but was more independent, more curious of what was above the surface. 

All mermaids are curious, no doubt, but most ignore their curiosity out of fear of being caught. No one knows about Hyoma’s trips to the surface, not his friends or family, and he intends to keep it that way. Well, intended. 

As he entered his hidden cave surrounded by seaweed and clams, he dumped out his sack, placing his trinkets back with the others. But he didn’t expect to be met with two mermen floating in the entrance.

“You’ve been going to the surface this whole time?!” A blue-haired merman exclaimed, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Ooohoohooh~ You’re breaking the rules, y’know~,” The other friend giggled, his yellow eyes sparkling mischievously.

Well, the cats out the bag now.

pt 4 (not here yet!)

taglist: @gigiiiiislife @sharkissm @luvingshidou @kurona-theshark@soleilonthesun @duckydee-0 @someprettyname @thebestsetter @ih8tegeography @rinitoshisgirl @lobster3713 @thebestsetter

help I wasn’t sure how to end this 😭 sorry if this didn’t meet ur expectations dawgs 💔

Made Oct 5th 2024

[wosowrites]

Moose (Jessie Fleming x Reader)

warnings: none

prompt: in which the reader and jessie play for chelsea and before they leave for the world cup reader makes jessie a crochet moose which becomes the team mascot for canada.

a/n: based off this request here also a super short fic because i’m still broken.

You were not at all a crafty person. Jessie had grown up with a craft room in her house and she liked to paint, draw, and do artsy things to calm herself down like her mother had taught her. When you started dating a year into her contract at Chelsea, her calmness had rubbed off on you. You had always been a stressed out person and moving in with Jessie had made you into a much more relaxed and happy human. You would go on bike rides, hikes, make crafts, paint the house every time you got bored of it and do everything together.

However the only thing you started doing on your own was crocheting. Jessie had tried it but was never big on it, so all the spare yarn in the house went to you. You loved it. You were horrific at it however. Everything turned into little colourful blobs and your creations were constantly either too loose or too messy. That’s why, when you walked into the house one day and pulled out a beautifully crocheted moose with a Canada jersey on, Jessie was baffled.

For the past three weeks, you would escape to a café every day and crochet for about an hour before going back to your girlfriend. Jessie was not a worried person and as madly in love as you both were with each other, spending a small amount of time away from each other every day just made you closer. Some days you would tell her you were grocery shopping, other days it was a meeting with your agent, a hang out with one of your German teammates.

But today, Moose was finally done.

You finished him a week and a half before the departure of the World Cup and you were in Canada with Jessie and her family. It would make it harder to travel all the way back to Germany and then to Australia but you didn’t care. All you wanted was to be girlfriends instead of rivals for as long as possible.

At the dinner table that night, you picked up your glass and straightened up.

"Um, I’m not big on words as you guys have seen by now but I wanna say a couple words," you said.

Jessie’s entire family put down their cutlery and looked up at you. "I’m terrified for this World Cup. Like… horrified. It’s been four years since I’ve played a major tournament so far from you, Jess. The olympics are in one city so we can visit but in Australia… we’re constantly going to be flying around. So… I made Moose," you said.

From under the table, you grabbed a bag and pulled out the knit animal. He had a red and white swear and big old antlers. Jessie’s mouth fell open and a large smile cracked her freckled face. "I’ve been making him for weeks, and he has like… five half knit siblings that went wrong if you want them," Jessie laughed loudly and extended her hand to take the crocheted animal. "Baby… it’s perfect oh my god," she said, smiling down at the animal. "Klara taught me how to make him. That’s why I was always out for an hour or so these past weeks," You said.

Jessie hugged the plushy to her chest and then put it beside her plate. The brunette stood up and walked to behind your chair, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing you.

Elysse took a quick picture as Jessie’s parents raved over your new talent.

Over the next couple weeks, Jessie was seen carrying Moose during press, in the bus, around the city, at training, everywhere. She always had Moose. And if she didn’t, she had entrusted Christine Sabrina, or anyone else on the clamer side to take care of the little mascot.

After Canadas 2-1 win over Ireland, Jessie was interviewed and eventually, the subject of Moose came up.

"Is that a moose?" the woman asked, looking down at the plushie tucked under Jessie’s arm. The camera followed the reporters eyes and then went back up to the Canadian. "Yeah it is," she laughed shyly, holding up the mascot. "Is there a story benne that? I mean it’s been showing up everywhere. "There is, yeah. My… uh my girlfriend made it for me. She’s at the world cup and her friend taught her how to make it for me. We won’t be seeing each other for a while depending on how the games go so she said she wanted me to have a piece of her. It’s cute, and I didn’t think she was this artsy so it caught me by surprise for sure," Jessie said, shyly and gently.

The reporter awed over Jessie’s story but the midfielders brain was just full of images of you. She missed you so much.

That night, she called you and the whole Canadian team joined the call behind the vice- captain, thanking you for the mascot.

[biggestxsimps]

Top Priority

Dad!Tony Stark x Son!Male Reader (PLATONIC!)

A/N: This was requested over on our Wattpad! I surprisingly enjoyed writing this. It’s been about a year since I’ve watched the Marvel movies so my memory is pretty rusty, please let me know if I’ve mixed anything up and I’ll give it a quick fix. Also, I’m not from America so I’m not sure with their states/cities so please point out any mistakes I might’ve made.

Y/N's POV:

Things used to be good between my dad and I, but ever since Peter had shown up, all his attention had stuck on him. It wasn’t all too noticeable at first, we would still hang out when he was free, spending our Saturday nights watching movies together.

Though it only took a few weeks for him to start to brush me off more. Similar excuses each time he rescheduled our weekly plans. “I have improvements to add to Peter’s suit.” “I’ve got work to finish with Peter.” “Peter needs help getting used to the suit.” Peter this, Peter that.

It was like Peter was his son and not me. Just like that, I was thrown into the background, a minor thought in the back of his mind, it was like he no longer cared for me.

~~~

We had a recital coming up really soon, one I had expressed my excitement to my dad before for. He used to be so proud, so ecstatic to eventually see me up on stage. I hoped this would be the push he needed to give me the attention I had so easily and so quickly lost.

Dad was downstairs in his workshop, that’s where he usually was, always working on something new to dazzle the public with. I slowly open the glass door, stepping in as he speaks up. “Peter, you’re finally here. Here, try this-” He turns around, a metal plate in his hand as he props it towards me.

“Oh Y/N. Sorry about that, what do you need?” He turns back around, placing the metal back down, keeping his attention on his creation. I silently sigh as I walk over to him, taking the folded poster out of my pocket. I hand the piece of paper to him, his eyebrows raised in confusion before reading through it.

“The recitals in a couple days, I know how excited you were to come see me, and I’d love for you to be there” He smiles, stuffing the paper into his shirt pocket. “Of course I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, kid.” I can’t help the smile that grows on my face, “Thanks dad. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Dad sent a smile back my way before I swiftly left his workshop, excitedly practising my songs in my room for the upcoming day.

~~~

The day I had longed for had finally arrived. It was around 6:30pm and I was currently backstage, I was going up on stage in only half an hour. I had been practising the whole year for this recital and I was determined to perfectly execute it. I couldn’t wait for dad to see the progress I had made.

Some time had passed, the curtains would open in 5 minutes, parents and friends of the people performing with me had started to fill the seats. I looked out from the slight gap in the curtains, hoping to see my dad amongst the growing crowd.

My eyes darted across the plethora of seats, filled with unfamiliar faces. I deflate as I can’t find him, hoping, praying he was just running late.

We got into our places behind the curtains, a countdown being played in our headsets before the curtains swung open. I noticed my friends looking around for the people they invited, their faces lighting up when they did. I followed suit, taking another quick look over the crowd, never finding my dad though.

My heart pangs at the realisation, he wasn’t here, he didn't come to see me perform. Whatever. I could do this without him, I didn’t need him to make this my greatest performance. And so that’s what I did, I put my all into everything. Making it a performance he would regret not coming to see.

~~~

The recital lasted about an hour, my friends walking out with me into the cold night. The fresh air was a stark contrast to the heating anger I felt in the enclosed room. As my friends split up, they waved goodbye as they hopped into their parents cars, driving off to their homes.

I sat there, sitting on the staircase leading to the doors of the building. Usually dad would send Happy or even Pepper to come pick me up from things he wasn’t able to. But after sitting out on the chilling night, it became apparent that he wasn’t coming, no one was. I take one last look at my phone, the lack of notifications making me sigh.

Defeated, I picked up my belongings and started my journey among the dark streets of Manhattan. I dragged myself back home, walking almost sluggishly as my mind raced. Did he care? Why else wouldn’t he come? Did I do something wrong? Anger him? Maybe it was my fault he didn’t show up. Maybe something came up. But why didn’t he message me to let me know.

I’m brought out of my thoughts at the feeling of something escaping my eyes, and the taste of salt falls onto my upper lip. Fuck. I wipe my cheek, setting my mind on making it home, not wanting to fall apart on the side of the streets. I wasn’t far anyways, only another 20 minutes until I would be back home.

~~~

As I reach the front door, I unlock it with my spare keys before walking in. “Good evening, Y/N.” I hear F.R.I.D.A.Y’s robotic voice shoot from the speaker beside me. I smile slightly. “Hey Friday.” I walk to the kitchen to pour myself some water, after taking a sip I ask. “Friday?” “Yes Sir?” I look around the lit house. “Where’s dad?”

It takes a second for her to answer. “He’s in his workshop.” I nod, thanking her as I start to make my way there. Before reaching the stairs though, the sound of two voices makes its way through the glass. Dad’s laugh booming as a young boy’s follows. I didn’t even have to see him to know who was down there. Peter. I sigh, I guess I knew why dad didn't come now.

I step back up the stairs, ignoring the two as I bee-line to my room. I throw my bag onto the floor, changing my clothes as tears start to well up in my eyes once again. I curse myself, putting my clothes away before falling into bed, muffling my sniffles with one of my pillows.

“Friday. Lock my door please.” I hear her voice once more “Of course.” before the sound of a ‘click’ comes from the mechanical door. I groan into my pillow, lying to my side as I closed my eyes.

~~~

The whole night, I had thought long and hard, messaging one of my closest friends about what was going on. He offered to let me stay at his place, for as long as I needed to. We spoke about it all last night, planning for him to come pick me up tonight. It wasn’t too long of a drive, less than an hour. He lived in Hillsdale, a nice change in scenery.

I stayed in my room, packing my things in a suitcase I would use when dad and I went on his “Business trips”. Once packing all the things I wanted to take with me, I stuffed the case under my bed. I groggily walk into the kitchen, look around and not see dad anywhere. I mutter before cooking breakfast for myself.

He was probably in his workshop, working on god knows what now. He hadn’t bothered to check up on me last night, not even to make sure I made it home safely and now he hadn’t bothered to greet me. Finishing my food, I stomp back into my room, eating my food as all I can think about is how much I can’t wait to leave this stupid house.

~~~

When night arrives, I sneak to the front door, suitcase and an extra backpack in my hands. It’s not like dad would’ve noticed anyways, he was still busy ‘working’ I sigh as I open the front door, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice stopping me. “Where are you going this late at night, Y/N?” I checked my watch, it was only 9:30.

“I’m having a sleepover at a friend's place.” F.R.I.D.A.Y replies with something along the lines of “Have fun.” I scattered out the door and looked around for the car my friend drove, once it came into view, I made my way to it. “Hey man, you got everything?” I nod as I place my luggage in the back seat, hopping into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, thanks for this.” I buckle my seatbelt before turning to him. “Of course, I’m here for you man.” The ride to his house is mostly silent besides the quiet music playing from the car’s speaker. I lean my head back, taking out my phone as I distract myself on the long drive.

~~~

A week had passed when my phone started to blow up, messages from friends and people from school filled my inbox. “Hey, are you okay?” “Where are you?” “I haven't seen you in a while, are you alright?” However, nothing from dad. I make sure my location is turned off before continuing with my day, sitting down to watch some T.V. I scroll through channels, my eyes landing on my name on a news headline, I put down the remote as I read the whole heading.

“Y/N Stark, Son of Tony Stark, has been reported missing.” An explanation of the time of my ‘disappearance’ was reported, including the places I would most often hang out and where I was last seen, at the performance theatre our school had rented out for the recital. Shit.

I hear my friend’s footsteps behind me, “I think it might be time for you to go back, everyone’s worried sick.” My phone rings over and over again with messages, calls, mentions on social media. Everyone asked about the news and if I was okay. I shut down my phone, shoving it in my back pocket. “Yeah, maybe.”

I hear a familiar voice play on the T.V behind me, I shoot back around to face it as I see my father being harassed by paparazzi. Microphones and cameras in his face as he tries to get into his car. “Do you have any idea where he could be?” “Do you have anything to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” “Is he alive?” “Do you have any information on Y/N’s whereabouts?” A frown appears on my face as he looks at the camera, his eyes sunken and dark and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I know as much as you guys do.” He aggressively replies. “And if the lot of you don’t leave, I’ll have you all jobless by tomorrow.” The voices quiet down, interviewers walking away from the car he got into, the engine starting with a roar.

I sigh, I never meant for it to go this far. “Let’s go” I leave to pack my stuff back up again.

~~~

It’s late at night as my friend parks in front of my house, I see extra security put up to keep the paparazzi out. I turn to my friend, thanking him before stepping out of the vehicle, I pull out my luggage, walking towards the gate. As I open it, I trudge up the long driveway to the house. Making it to the top, I drop my bags beside me, taking deep breaths as the steep walk winded me.

I bring them back into my hands, pulling them to the front door. I try to quietly open the lock, keys jingling as I hear the slight ‘click’ to indicate the door unlocking. I push against the handle, pulling my bags in as I hear shuffling in the room near me.

I looked over to the living room, my dad curled into himself, maps, documents and holograms covering the table. My heart wrenches at his appearance, the lack of sleep evident on his face and scruffed hair.

I pull my bags over to the staircase. “Y/N?” Fast footsteps approach me as I turn to the noise. I can’t help the bittersweet smile that makes its way onto my mouth as he grabs my shoulders. His eyes darted across my face, looking for any sign of injury. His arms wrap around me, tightening as I feel his relieved breaths escape him.

I hug back, head shoved into his chest as I hold onto him. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. I didn’t mean for this-” “No, no, no, no.” He repeats sullenly “It’s my fault, I shouldn't have done what I did, I’m so sorry.” I chuckle as I shake my head. “Please forgive me Y/N.” I let out a short breathy laugh. “Of course, I’m sorry I didn’t just talk to you about it, I never wanted to worry you.”

He smiles, “I never wanted to make you think I didn’t care about you. You’re my son. So much more important than anyone, especially Peter.” He rubs a hand against my back. “You’re my top priority, and I’ll make sure you never doubt that again.” “Thank you.”

That night was spent in the living room, we spoke to each other, explaining how the situation affected us both. The both of us understanding the other’s view, making sure to talk about what’s going on next time. We talk for a while, sleep only falling upon us hours later.

As I start to yawn, dad brings my head to his chest. My eyes drift shut as I fall asleep in his arms, the same way I used to when I was younger.

~~~

It had been about a month since the whole ordeal. News of a new recital making its way into school newsletters and I was beaming. I couldn’t wait, this time being able to truly showcase my abilities with my dad being there to witness it.

Once arriving home, I quickly threw my bag on the floor in front of the door. I rush down the stairs after, opening the door with a little more patience so as to not startle my dad. “Hey dad!” I close the door behind me, making my way to his workstation.

“Hey kid, what’s up?” He turns from his work, leaning back against the table as he looks at me. I handed him the poster I had borrowed from one of the drama students. He reads through it, eyes tracing each word before lifting his head back up to me. “Another one?” He holds a wide smile on his face as he drops his hand down.

“Yeah, you better come to this one.” He laughs at my playful jab, nodding as he holds the poster close to him. “I’ll be there, I promise.” I nod. “Thanks dad. I really appreciate it.” “Of course.” He lightly responds, pulling me into a hug.

~~~

It was yet again, time for me to perform. I couldn’t wait, knowing my dad would definitely be out there this time. As we get ready on the stage, I take a quick glance at the crowd, my eyes landing on my dad, sitting in the middle of the front row. I chuckle to myself, of course he was.

As the curtains draw open, I can’t help but smile at the proud look he gives me. As the group starts to sing, I look down at him, both of his hands presenting a thumbs-up. My heart warms at the action. He turns to the parent to the left of him, whispering something. I only catch onto a couple words “That- -y son-.” He points up to me, a look of admiration plastered across his face.

A/N: I wrote this entire thing in one day, it only took me about 5 hours. And it’s somehow my longest fic yet. It's not proof-read tho so apologies for anything that doesn't make sense or anything like that.

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

[prettymrswright]

not in the way I want to. (s,f)

pairing: shuri udaku x black!fem!reader

background: you and shuri met in college while the young prodigy was freshly on the rise in the media for her latest creations. the two of you were inseparable from the very first class you had together. many people would assume the two of you to be romantic, but you guys knew it wasn’t like that. you’ve had the same boyfriend since freshman year, and up until recent events, considered yourself straight (curious at most). shuri wasn’t too fond of him, and initially, it perplexed you. but what happens when trouble arises in ‘paradise’, and hidden feelings are revealed?

content warning: fluff, smut (18)+, sub switch!shuri, dom switch!reader, explicit language, dirty talk, pet!names, overstimulat!on, oral (both receiving), strap (reader receiving), scissor!ng, finger!ng (both receiving), rough!gestures, praise!kink, multiple orgasms, mentions of coming out, cheating

word count: 9.6k translations: nkosazana, princess. usana, baby. mhlobo wam, my dear. intombi entle, pretty girl.

authors note: y’all! hello everyone 🤭 i was gonna insert an intro but imma put it in my bio chile ik what y’all here for. i’m excited for this, this is my first fanfic on this app & y’all done woke up the writer in me again, these stories are so good!!! i’m usually a reader/consumer of the content but I love this community so I wanted to jump in there myself. i hope you guys love it, im gonna figure out the masterlist/requests/taglist thing if you guys want more. below tagged are my favoriteeee writers on here, baby y’all write down!!! oh and baby this is SMUT, okay we ain’t come here for play play! 🤣 no need for likes or reblogs, just wanna hear y’all feedback in the comments! (divider by @firefly-graphics)

@inmyheadimobsessed @pinkwright @generallysapphic @vixentheplanet @ventingfanfics @zayswriting @vampzx

"sssshit, baby wait--" you hissed through slightly parted lips as the princess's hands slid all over you, one finding its way to your entrance making teasingly slow circles. she brings you closer to her chest and lowers her pretty lips to your ear. "please don't deny me, nkosazana" she says with a low tone, sending chills down your spine. "i've been waiting so long." and that she has been. and you'd be a fool to deny her any longer. you fully surrender to her touch, and as soon as you relax, she sends her slim, polished, ringed finger up your pussy, pumping with a curve, sure to touch your center. "aghhh--" you let out a sharp wince and bite the corner of your bottom lip, preventing your scream. she then slips another finger & with each pump, she coos your praises sending you into overdrive. "shuri i'm so close please--" she moans at the sight of your reaction, pleased to have been successful in pleasing you. "let it go for me, usana, that's it" "fuck!" you cry out. "I love you so much" you throw your head back into her neck and flutter your eyelids into a slow shut, anticipating your release. 3 seconds away from arriving and-- ERRRR!! ERRRR!! ERRRR!! you launch your body up rapidly at the sound of your alarm, panting, attempting to catch your breath. "ugh," you groaned, as you turned over to silence the machine, almost breaking it with the force you applied. that was weird. this was the third time this week alone that you have had a wet dream about shuri. even weirder that you were annoyed at its end. the two of you have never been intimate; you weren't even attracted to women. sure you two were close, but it never exceeded its platonic state. awoken by your sudden movement and noise, your boyfriend, Jalen, turns over to you, eyes still shut. "mm, you good baby?" he asks, still half asleep, not totally interested anyway. "yea i'm cool, just startled that's all." halfway through your sentence, he was fast asleep again. you rolled your eyes before grabbing your phone to send a much anticipated text. "Happy Birthday to one of the realest, flyest, smartest, coolest, and kindest people to ever tread this floating rock. I love you! Oh-- and you a bad bitch too." you giggle at your dry humor. tonight was your friend Sevyn’s birthday. Sev had been there for you and Jalen all throughout college. she helped coach y'all through y'all issues both together and individually. she had been there emotionally, mentally, and even sometimes financially. she was an outstanding friend, and it was important that you made tonight special for her. you decided you would get up early and run some errands before the event tonight. as you rise up out of bed, you lightly stretch out your limbs, and walk to the bathroom to get ready for the day. after your normal face and dental hygiene routine, you prepare to take a warm shower. sliding down your underwear, the crotch of your lace peels off your body like a banana, slowly being attached to your skin by the slick caused by the series of imaginative events. it made your skin hot, leaving you slightly embarrassed at the fact that even affected you like that.

as you run your shower, you're certain Jalen was still sleep, and he needed to be up getting ready too.

"Jalen!--" You shout out of the bathroom. "hmmm?," he groans in annoyance, proving you right. "you know we got somewhere to be right?," you semi-yell and wait for his response. "I'm up, I'm up" he says, not convincingly at all. lately, he had been constantly putting off important things, or 'forgetting' them and you didn't know what the root of the issue was. It just seemed like he lacked interest lately. you just blamed it on his work, since it had been requiring his attendance overtime recently. spending all that time could drain somebody for sure. you were sure he meant no true harm. you take a hot, brisk shower, filling up the bathroom with vanilla, white birch, velvety rose and a drop of strawberry nectar-- the scents emerging from your you're the one shower gel from bath and body works.

your mind begins to wander as you lather up your body. you couldn’t figure out why you were so on edge. You and Jalen haven’t been too sexually active the past weeks, or active at all in that matter, but even when you were, it never riled you up like you had been in that dream. maybe you were just missing the constant physical attention you received at the beginning of the relationship. but didn’t that mean you would’ve had a dream about him?

today was so exciting. you had been so emerged in your own adulting, you barely had time to see your friends. you couldn't wait to link back up with sevyn, riri, and shuri. at the end of your shower, you dry off, lotion up, and get dressed in your fav, emerald green, 'running errands' sweatsuit. you put your thick, kinky hair in two space buns, slip on your AF1's and grab your things. walking past the bedroom you hear the deafening snores coming from your boyfriend. you decided to leave anyway and go run errands on your own. .. in a three and a half hour timespan, you were able to get your nails and toes done, pick up some new accessories for your outfit, and get your hair freshly silk pressed. the first time you have put heat in your hair in 3 years, and the health benefits were showing. you had it up in pin curls, and tucked away.

after your errands, you head to the venue and drop off the balloons, the cake, and the shoes you set out for Riri to match her outfit. Sev had no idea she was having a party. she knew you guys were taking her out tonight. you helped set up for a little before you headed out. as you go back home to get ready, you walk in and see Jalen on his game. "Baby, we gotta leave in a couple of hours. How have I managed to knock out my whole day and you ain't move but 3 feet?," you spat, visibly annoyed. "Oh uh, actually," he began, "I can't make Sev's tonight." you walk closer, scanning your boyfriend's facial expressions and body language, waiting for the punchline. "What do you mean you can't make Sev's? We been planning this for weeks, J."

he sighs in a somewhat sympathetic tone before standing to meet your gaze. "I know, babe, I'm sorry. Work called ag--" you cut him off, ready to spazz, but trying your hardest to remain a least a little level headed. "Work? you had all this time to put in for today, J. I mean, damn, they need you there, late, every day?" he pulls your body closer to him and lifts your chin to meet him eye level. "I'm sorry. I'll make up to you and Sev, you know I'm good for it. " he exclaims before slowly pecking your lips. you slightly shudder at the interaction, the most you have gotten in weeks. you roll your eyes before turning to walk away and he pops you on your ass. "Aye, don't give me that 'tude, aight." Jalen laughs. "Go finish getting sexy. And make sure I get my pictures!" he trails off to the bathroom.

you were disappointed, but decided you wouldn't let that get the best of you. you go back into your room and begin to set up your vanity dresser/mirror, in glam mode. you plug in your speaker and shuffle your caribbean vibes playlist, pre-gaming before the festivities. you took off your clothes, leaving you in your panty and bra set, and turned up the lights beaming from your vanity mirror. nothing could ruin this night, not even Jalen's lack of attendance. you decided to text the groupchat to check everyone's status. m'baku's big toe

you: ahem, hearye, hearye. i hope you hoes is getting ready! riri: girl i been getting ready, yk beauty takes time. or do you? idk you be lookin' a lil questionable 🥴 you: girl, fuck you! 🤣 shuri: I’m quicker than you both. 🙄 I’m dressed and out the door before you could attach your second false lash. sev: what you guys wearing?🙃 you: aht aht! it don't matter what we wearing, it's YOUR birthday. sev: i know, but i still don't know where you guys are taking me, i don't want to be over or under dressed😩 riri: girl you could come to the corner store in a disco ball. it's YOUR DAY. you: no, exactly shuri: whatever you guys wear, I'm sure it'll be glorious. now please hurry, i'm falling asleep!

you smile brightly at the texts laying out before you. one thing your friends could always do, was boost your mood. you breeze through your makeup, pausing mid-blend and mid-bake to buss a quick whine or to shout lyrics at the mirror with your gun finger emotes up.

you cocoa butter and oil up your body, giving it that shine and glow. you loved to look like you were glowing when you were dressed up. you slip on your black, mini, spaghetti strap body-con dress with a small slit in the thigh. you put on your sandal strap heels with the black base and clear straps. you place the single gold chain with a heart-shaped herb pendant on your neck, and the gold name plate bracelet to match both gifted from Shuri. It went perfectly with your outfit and the gold accents in the black hand purse you chose to wear for the night. you let your pin curls down and let them fall, slightly below your collarbone. you grab your favorite scent, instant crush by mancera, and give a spritz to all your intimate areas. glancing over yourself in the mirror, you have to say; you totally outdone yourself. it's been a while since you gave yourself this much attention to your appearance and it was well overdue. Jalen pops his head the room, dressed and seemingly in a rush. "alright babe, I'm out. have fun tonight and be safe." he turns out before you can even respond. "you didn't tell me how I looked!" you yell, trying to catch his ear before it was outside. "you look great as always! Love you, bye!" and with that the door shut. it's not that you needed to hear him say it to confirm how you looked, it was no question. but it's always nice to hear it from your partner. you shake it off and hype yourself up in the mirror before your phone begins to ring. it was Riri. you swipe to answer and were met with an enthusiastic exclamation. "We outsideeee!" Riri shouts, followed by cheers from the rest of the group. "Aowww!" you chuckle. "I'm on my way out now." you begin to walk out the door and towards the black Mercedes SVU truck, driven by Shuri. the windows roll down and it is an immediate uproar.

"Bombaaaa, what a gyal suh pretty, man eeee??!" Sev says flick-snapping her fingers, accentuating her Jamaican accent. "No, you look tf goodt! This how you step out for your friend, okay!" Riri says smiling ear to ear. Shuri's reaction is delayed but only because she's trying to take it all in. you were beautiful to Shuri, in every way, and she never hesitated to tell you that. Immediately she felt all the feelings she felt when she first met you rush to her heart , her throat and her stomach. If pupils could take shape, hers would be shaped in hearts. looking at her and waiting for her reaction, you catch her scanning your body and getting flustered. It was silent for a minute until she snaps back to the present moment. "Damn." she breathes out, causing everyone to fill up the rest of the silence with laughter. you hop in the backseat with Riri, admiring her orange turtleneck dress and her small straight back feed-ins. you guys take off, riding out about 20 minutes to your destination. every few minutes or so, you and Shuri would exchange a glance in the rear view mirror, slightly making you nervous. it wouldn't have been the first time, but this time was particularly making you feel a way. she had on a white hoodie and matching white joggers, a pair of 1's and a single plaited gold chain. she smelled of satin and eucalyptus, a strong but soothing scent. the fingers attached to her tattooed hands were freshly polished with a clear coat, reflecting a glare off of the traffic lights as her hands rested on the wheel. her undercut was freshly buzzed, emphasizing the powerful structure of her face. she was breathtaking. your mind began to wander, if you weren't mistaken, in the direction of the dream you had the previous night. before it could get too deep, your thought was interrupted.

"Time out," Sev turns to face you from the front passenger. "Where is J?" you sigh, initially forgetting all about him. "He had to work late, he told me to tell you he'd make it up to you." "Yo, that man is gonna work himself right into an early grave" Riri exclaimed. shuri scoffs at the sentence. you look up, interested in what she thought. "That's some bullshit. Ain't that much overtime in the world." she spat. you knew the two weren't the best of friends. but this comment was clearly shade. you got somewhat defensive. "What are you implying? I mean, he is the main provider of the house. It sound like his priorities are straight to me." you say, colder than you would've liked to. Shuri stared off into the distance of the road, giving a condescending hum before responding. "Mmm. Is that what it is? Okay. I mean one of your closest friends of 4 years' birthday sounds worth prioritizing to me, but what do I know, right?" this was the most you've seen Shuri get aggravated over him. Or anything for that matter. and in a weird way, her protectiveness made you feel something you wouldn't want to admit aloud. The silence after was bitter, but quickly broken after Sev jumps in. "Hey, look, it's fine" she lowly smiles and places her hand on mine. "I'm sure he didn't mean any harm by it. I'm with my girls tonight, let's just have fun." Shuri immediately shoots you an apologetic look. although she didn't regret what she said, she was always gentle with you & didn't want you to feel otherwise. you give her a slight nod and half smile, letting her know it was okay. I mean after all she was right. how could you wither away all your time somewhere where you didn't even need to, especially when you had the choice to be there for your friend? we park and step out the car, walking towards the venue. you could now see everybody in their entirety. the assignment was very clearly understood.

Sev looked beautiful. her locs she had been growing since the 3rd grade were up tightly in a neat, high bun. she had on a silver sequined body suit with a white mini skirt and white open toe heels to match. the windows were made with an ashed out material on the outside, only being able to see the lights reflecting. you, shuri, and riri shoot each other excited looks as Sev walks up first. "Damn, this restaurant is big!" Sev says, having no idea what she was getting ready to walk into. "She don't got a clue in the fucking world--" Riri says under her breath, imitating the Druski meme. simultaneously, you and Shuri tap her arm to shut her up, laughing all the while. she opens the door and everyone turns around. "Surprise!" Everyone yells and cheers, phone light cameras on, brightening up the space even more. all of Sevyn's closest friends and family were in attendance. you and the crew spent weeks formulating this. you knew Sev was homesick, and you wanted to make it as special as possible. the DJ plays Barbie Doll by Vershon as she walks out, giving her her dream entrance.

the different color fluorescent lights lit up the entire space, making the dance floor look electric. there were purple, gold, and silver confetti balloons bunched together and tied in every corner. there was even two 2 balloons tied above the special chair you guys decorated for her to sit as you sung happy birthday. "Oh my g--" Sev turns around to us, hands on her now heavily beating heart. her eyes immediately well with tears. "No you guys didn'tttt" you guys pull her in a group hug. "Yes we did!" Riri says, grabbing a napkin off the side table to pass to me. "Hey hey, don't cry sister, you gon' mess up your pretty makeup!" you pout, using the napkin Riri passed you to blot the corners of her eye. Sev was so overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. she loved you guys dearly, but she missed her family back home as well. she mouthed 'I love you' and blew a kiss before she turned to make her rounds around the room. the three of you made a couple rounds yourself and headed for the bar, ready to get your night started. .. about an hour goes by, and Riri rounds everybody up around Sev's chair to sing happy birthday. Shuri brings out her favorite-flavored, cookies and cream ice-cream cake and lays it on the table before her. Happy Earthstrong, Bad Gyal Sevyn! it reads, in purple letters, two gold 2's standing besides each other in the middle. she makes her wishes and blows out her candles, and from there, the real celebration begins.

as the night went on, the tunes were rolling in and at this point every one was tipsy and dancing. one of your favorite Afrobeats songs off of Wizkid's new album started playing. before you knew it, you felt yourself floating to the dance floor. you began to roll your hips, slow to the downbeat, eyes shut, feeling every word.

Mami You making me lose my eyes for other girls No do me something wey go make me stress Give me less of that, give me more of you Give me something I'll never want to lose, yeah

as you continuing dancing, you feel familiar hands slide around your waist and pull you into them. It was Shuri. she had been watching you dance and decided she no longer wanted you to do so alone. as she presses up against you, she begins to whine her hips, matching your rhythm. smiling to yourself, you slightly bend over, adding more dynamic to your movement. as a result, Shuri leans back and catches it. "You go girl," she says in the American accent she had been practicing so heavily lately, making the two of you laugh. you lift back up, keeping the whine more intimate, and she lowers herself to your ear. "You look stunning tonight, nkosazana." She says, sending a chill through you. she had called you that same thing in the dream. her nicknames for you sounded so much better in Xhosa than it did in English. "As do you, my love." you reply, still dancing. "I'm sorry for earlier," she begins, "I didn't mean to offend you. I just get protective when I feel my friends are being taken advantage of."

you slide your hands down to interlock over hers, which were placed around your waist, in an attempt to soothe her, wanting to forget the conversation happened. It works, as you feel her melt further into you. "Shuri it's okay, I promise. I appreciate you looking out, you know that. you were right anyway. he should've been here." you lift a hand to place a kiss on it. she uses that same hand and turns you around to face her, wrapping her arms around your waist. you smooth your arms around her neck and for a moment, it feels like it's only you two in the room. the two of you rock side to side, legs intertwined, in a kompa-like style and she brings herself to your ear and begins to lowly sing-hum the lyrics to the song. Who's gonna know? At the end of the day, I'm yours For the night only, baby, ooh Turn me on, I'm yours For the night only, baby, ooh Ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh you felt like you were dreaming again. was she singing these lyrics to you? or was that just something you wanted to hear? you pull back and make eye-contact with the royal girl, and she's looking at you with a look you've seen before, but just not in real life. "I've been dying to hold you just like this." She blurts out, not breaking the eye contact and you can feel a lump begin to form in your throat. you smile at her, slightly nudging her off. "what are you talking about? we're always affectionate with each other. you hold me all the time" you laugh. it was true. hugs and kisses weren't foreign to you two, and neither was dancing. but somehow this felt intense. "not in the way I want to." she says, making a triangle with her eyes from your left-eye, to your lips, to your right-eye. "and what way is that?" you say directly, almost seductively. you felt it slightly inappropriate to build upon this tension, but once you got in that flirtatious mode, it was hard to come out of it. however, it only happened when you were attracted to said person. and you admit shuri was beautiful, but it never occurred to you that your attraction had been more than just a friend admiring a friend. she picks up on your tone, taking it as a green light to continue.

“Like this.”

she says into your neck as she turns you back around, leaving 3 soft kisses down your collar bone.

you lightly hum in satisfaction and reach your hand around Shuri’s head, bringing her closer and pressing yourself on her pelvis. you drag your hand down her undercut and across her jaw, holding her face to your neck, keeping it warm. she shudders under your touch and lowly moans at your reaction to hers.

I've been waiting for you to come my way (my way)

Put the sun in my rainy day (rainy day)

For your type, I go wait for days, my girl

Girl, your type of feel no dey give me pain

Girl, your picture fits my frame

There for you in a thousand ways, my girl

For the night, for the night

Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, ooh, yeah

“Come home with me, tonight Y/N.” she pleads. immediately you feel your knees buckle at the statement. you wanted to say yes so bad, but you couldn’t promise good behavior. And for that, it would be inappropriate for you to. besides you had to let Jalen in since he lost his key.

“I don’t know, Shuri. I gotta be home to open the door for J.” You say with slight disappointment in your tone of voice.

Before the Princess could respond, the two of you are interrupted by a loud mic feedback screech, followed by a very drunk and very happy announcement.

“Thank you everybody for coming out tonight!” Sevyn begins. “I’m so grateful for my beautiful family and my BOMB ASS FRIENDS, I’m having the time of my life, truly. One more year pan di fucka dem, how yuh mean?!!! “ The party erupts in cheers and mimicked mouth sounds of gunshots.

“And with that being said… IT’S SHOT O’CLOCK!!”

Beaming at her excitement, you match her energy. “SHOT O’CLOCK!!!”

Everybody takes their shot given out to them earlier throughout the night, raises it, and backs it. The music starts up again and people are back dancing. The four of you group up by the bar.

“So sis,” Riri starts, facing Sev. “Do you love it or do you love it?!”

“You guys are fucking unreal,” she says slurring. “I’m having so much fun. Thank you. All of you.” She hugs us each and begins to tear up again.

“You know we got your back like your spine do, Sev.” Shuri says, doing the handshake the four of you had created with her.

Riri’s phone buzzes and as she checks her notification, her face drops.

you all pick up on the shift in energy, but Shuri beats you guys to the chase.

“What’s wrong, Ri?” she asks attentively.

anticipating her answer, you look at her waiting for a response, and she immediately looks up at you.

“Y/N,…” She looked so sympathetic. As if something happened to you.

“What? what is it?” you began to get nervous.

Riri squeezes in between in all of us, sharing the view of the phone.

It’s a video sent to Riri’s instagram.

‘Ri, ain’t this your friends man?’

It was your boyfriend Jalen, wearing the same thing he had on when he left the house earlier that afternoon. In the bed, with another familiar face. It was his ex, Mya. the two were kissing. the video was captioned ‘never too far’ with the song “Can’t Leave Him Alone” by Ciara and 50cent attached to it.

a hot pit immediately formed in your stomach and you felt nauseous. Before you could think to cry, the tears were already flowing.

“Are you fucking serious!” Sevyn says, unaware of how loud she truly was, compliments of her inebriated nature.

“I’m sorry, sis. this is so fucked up.” Riri says rubbing your back.

work huh? he had been cheating the entire time. the lack of affection, the flopping on plans, forgetting important dates, no sex. the whole time you’ve been making excuses for him, considering his emotions and hardships, he had been occupying his time and energy somewhere else.

“That fucking jerk-off.” Shuri spat so harshly it almost made you jump. as you glanced over her face, you could see a dark, glossy glare in her eye and her jaw flexing from her biting down so hard. her Kimoyo beads turn a bright, glowy red, activating the mood generator she had added to it, just for shits and giggles in her free time. It meant anger. you knew that. she turns to you, noticing your state and cups your face and immediately wipes your tears with her thumbs.

“Listen to me,” she says, holding the attention she already previously grabbed. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, inside and out. This has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with him. He didn’t deserve you then, and he doesn’t deserve you now.”

you nod at everything she says. you know she’s right, but the tears just wouldn’t stop flowing. it was hurtful. it was downright disrespectful.

“Girl, we can pack up all your stuff and you come stay with me,” Riri says very sweetly but very serious.

“Fuck that,” you laugh in between sniffles, with your thoughts residing in audacity. “That’s my shit. He could get out!”

“I know that’s right!” Sevyn says smacking her hand down on the bar countertop.

you all laugh. humor was how you four coped with everything. more than anything you were appalled at these series of events, but you wouldn’t let it sack your night. tonight is about Sevyn. You got yourself together, had a few more shots, and the four of you continued the night, as intended.

..

It was 1 AM and the night was over. everyone kissed and hugged goodbye and made their way out. Shuri had Sevyn over her shoulder, placing her gently in the backseat of the SUV. she was too drunk to function, but in Sevyn’s words, “The night wasn’t crunk, If I wasn’t drunk”

I laughed aloud at the thought of her saying that. we all hop in the car and Shuri being the most sober, barely even tipsy, drives everyone home. we get to Sev’s house first.

“I’m gonna stay with Sev and nurse her back to health.” Riri half chuckles, gathering all of her and Sev’s belongings.

“I am health!” Sevyn slurs, mixing up health and healthy. We all laugh.

“Yeah ok superstar.” Shuri smiles.

“Goodnight y’all,” you say warmly. “Happy Birthday again, Sev.”

“Goodnight, take it easy, okay Y/N/N?” Riri says to you. You give her a reassuring nod.

“Yeah and fuck that nigg—!” was the last thing you heard before the back door shut. You laugh uncontrollably, knowing it was Sevyn, making it clear she had your back. you wait until they get inside and Shuri drives off. for a while, it's silent, until you break it. "Thank you, Shuri." you began, sheepishly, fidgeting your fingers. "For speaking life into me, and making sure I enjoyed my night." you could see her crack a small smile. "Of course, Y/N. What kind of friend would I be not to?" she reaches out and rests her hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. the gesture makes you squirm. Pretending not to notice, Shuri asks, "Did you want to stop by anywhere before we reach your house? Something to eat? Or maybe an airbed?" "Shut up!," You burst into laughter, nudging her shoulder. She was very good with lightening moods, and she was also very funny. "Actually," you began, feeling that bold feeling you had felt earlier. "I was hoping you could take me home. to your home." you say, this time, with the full intent of sounding seductive. you reach over and rub the back of her neck, ever so gently. "Oh, uh-" you notice the 'adam's apple' portion of her neck move as she swallows, caught off guard by your sudden gesture. "Yea, definitely, that's fine with me." her kimoyo beads then started to glow a dark fuchsia. Your head tilted at the sight. That was new. You were there the millions of times that Shuri had ran tests on this feature, but you couldn't recall seeing this color before. "What does fuchsia mean, Princess?" You turn to her, genuinely interested. normally, she hated when you were formal with her. but as of these recent events, she was sort of turned on by it. she looks at you, and with a shy, stuttered tone she replies, "Arousal."

"Oh.." at a loss for words, you feel the pace of your heartbeat pick up, in both places of which a heartbeat may reside in a woman. she was aroused by you. a gentle touch alone from you made her arousal grow and the thought of that made your curiosity quickly turn into certainty. you wanted her bad, and was over pretending that you didn't.

You finally park, and the two of you head inside Shuri's apartment complex, which she had owned and had other people rent out. you went up to the top floor and trailed off into the Princess's palace. Shuri's home was so warm. Welcoming. the decor filled with blues, whites, and silvers, mimicking her lab back at her home Wakanda. The two of you enter her spacious room and immediately she begins to undress. she slips off her hoodie, exposing her toned and muscled arms elongating out of her wifebeater. her beauty was so effortless. And in that moment you could only think of those arms holding you. Or restraining you. either would suffice. "I'm gonna hop in the shower, Y/N," she begins. "You're welcome to shower here or in any of the guest bathrooms. It's up to you." "I'm gonna go in the guest room. Where are your towels?" you ask. she goes in her closet and comes out with a baby blue towel and two wash rags, one white and one blue, and hands them to you. you notice they're the same set from when you slept over last summer. "I never used them and purposely and kept it separated from all my others. I know blue's your favorite." She says, almost bashful. "How sweet, Shuri, thank you," you swoon at the gesture. that's another thing you adored about Shuri. She was so attentive. she knew everything about you & incorporated that information into thoughtful gestures like those. It seemed small but it made your day. "Anything for you, nkosazana." she says, sealing her statement with a wink. There that word went again. Princess. It was like she was taunting you. you smiled bleakly, and made your way to bathroom. the words lingered in your mind. did she mean anything?

as the hot water steams up the bathroom and falls against your skin, rinsing it of the dove body wash it was lathered with, your mind began to wander again. you began to have flash backs. when the two of you first met, your first 1 on 1 hang out, the shows she'd come see you perform in, her taking you to meet her family back in Wakanda. You felt safe in her presence. Comfortable, relaxed, inspired. Beautiful. Something you haven't felt in someone for a really long time. And it hit you. You were in love with Shuri Udaku. You weren't sure what to do with that information. It would mean two things, forcing you to face the truth; One, you were attracted to women. And two, your relationship with Jalen wasn't at all what you painted it out to be all these years. Oddly enough, you still felt bad for carrying on the way you knew you were about to. Not that bad though. after your shower, you walk back into Shuri'’s room, seeing her in her tank & a pair of boxers, at her desk, finishing up some last minute work drafts like the workaholic she was. you knock lightly and break her focus. "Hey," you say meekly, and before you know it, you're back into tears. "Hey, hey, hey, come here. " Shuri quickly pulls you into her lap. "Fuck him. I want you to fully process your emotions, but I don't wanna see two many tears shed over that waste. unless they are tears of joy, of course." she rubs the sides of your shoulders and kisses the back of them. but it wasn't even that. the truth was, you were overwhelmed. of course it hurt seeing what you saw earlier. but through all that turmoil, the only thing you could seem to think of was your feelings for Shuri. "Shuri-," you say, through a sob. "What is it my love, talk to me." Shuri's face grew with concern as she positioned you to now be face to face with her. "I think I'm in love with you," you manage to get out, eyes overflowing with tears. Shuri's reaction was mixed with shock, relief, and excitement. she had been in love with you since she meant you. It had been hell to pretend like she wasn't. she was equally allured by the content of your character as she was your pretty face and equally perfect figure. sure, she was a little jealous watching you be with someone else, but it wasn't jealousy alone. she knew Jalen wasn't shit. It just had to come up in the physical form. “Oh, Thank Bast.” Shuri says, exhaling heavily.

you playfully tap her shoulder.

“Shuri, I’m serious!” you say, almost pouting.

“I know, I know. All jokes aside, you don’t know how happy I am to hear those words from you.” she says lowly, staring into your eyes.

“Really?” you say, not knowing what to think of the situation just of yet.

“Really.” she confirms. “I’ve been in love with you since I met you, Y/F/N.”

hearing those words sent a rush all over your body. if you could be desired by anyone, especially in that way, it would be Shuri. a woman of her beauty and intelligence being enamored by you was way more than flattering. The more time passed, the more your arousal grew hungrily. "So come show me." your response sounding more lewd than intended.

you positioned your body to sit on one of her legs. you grab her face and bring it towards you, kissing her slow and passionately. you both moan into the kiss, breaking the tension that had been so heavily building over the night. a wave of bliss washes over you immediately. as you deepen the kiss, Shuri’s hands travel up your sides and lands on your ass. you slide your hands up the back of her neck and tug lightly at her head of curls. you adjust yourself, purposely separating the boundary of your wrapped towel and your lower region, and you begin to grind your clit against her thigh. you could feel the secretion sliding between your skin.

“Y/N..” Shuri leaves a light moan onto your lips, lifting up for air. "Yes?" you begin kissing down her neck, lightly sucking. "I-is this okay?" Shuri could barely get out. "We don't have to"

you stood up, still hovering over her and peeled off your towel, dropping it to the floor. you take her finger swipe it across your entrance, allowing her to feel the mess she was beginning to create. you sucked yourself off of her, keeping your gaze onto her. "Does that answer your question, Princess?" you say, in an almost sinister tone. "Fuck.." Shuri trailed off, pleasantly surprised at your behavior. without any further question, she lifts you up with one arm and walks you over to the bed, laying you down. you wanted her so bad. this would be your first time with a woman, and although you were nervous, you were ready. you could easily figure out what she liked. you seen it in your dreams a million times. Shuri began kissing you all over your face, traveling down to your neck, eventually stopping at your chest. she hovers over your right nipple, the breeze from her breath causing you to jolt. she slides her hand up your torso and cups your other breast, lightly tugging on the nipple. she slightly drops her jaw, allowing her dribble to fall and coat your puffed nipple. she cleans it up before it droops below the surface. simultaneously, she drives her knee in between your legs, just close enough for the tip of her knee and your clit to kiss. you gasp at the quick exchange, your body squirming under her touch, semi-begging for more. "Stop teasing me, Shuri, please," you breath out. "Mm, mm." she shakes her head, detaching her lips from around your areola. "I've been waiting a long time for you. I'm taking my time. " she gives some attention your other nipple before traveling down your torso. she makes sure not to leave any skin on your body unloved. she wanted the way she truly felt to translate through her actions. she tugged you by the inside of your knees, pulling you closer to the end up of the bed, and kneeled down in front of your heat. "Shuriiii," you whined out, aching for her to do something. "What is it, usana?" she says, wanting you to be vocal. she was so deeply grateful to have heard you say the things she had only dreamt. "What do you need from me?" you had absolutely no problem being vocal. all your guilt, sadness, and confusion was out the window. all you wanted now was to make her feel how she made you in your dreams. sitting up on your forearms, you lock eyes with her, "put your mouth on her, please." "Yes, my love." she breaks eye contact with you and makes eye contact with your folds. "Hey, pretty girl," she cooes over your entrance. the seductive introduction made you melt like putty. She slides her two fingers up your slit, separating your folds, and exposing your now pulsating clit. In one quick motion, she wraps her pretty, royal lips around it and gives it a french kiss. "Yesss, fuck!--" you cry out. you been yearning for this moment, and seeing it come into fruition was driving you insane. still eating, shuri hums inside you, sending the vibrations through you. she slowly slides her fingers inside and begins pumping. you could feel the love at the end of her tongue, and you feel your eyes begin to well up. you throw your head back in intense pleasure. she taps the side of your hip twice, coming up to speak. "aht, aht. keep those pretty eyes on me, gorgeous" demanding your attention, still pumping. soon as your tear-filled eyes, meet hers, she adds another finger and begins to twist. "Ahh!" you pierce out a glass crushing scream, grabbing the sheet so hard you almost pop it off its corner. "I can't--" she silences your protest, shushing loudly, "yes you can baby, hold it for me, yeah?" wanting to be good for her, you just gave a weak nod. she lowers her lips back to your super sensitive bud, now edging it with the flat of her tongue. the combination of the two movements immediately tossed your stomach into knots, signaling a releasing creeping. "Shuri, I'm going to fucking cum--" you say through exhausted breath and gritted teeth. her expectations of you holding anything would soon be met with disappointment.

"I know baby, just a little while longer," she attempts to soothe you, failing terribly. she sucks one more time, slightly tugging at it, making the popping noise at the release. she takes her thumb and uses it as replacement for where her mouth was and uses her free hand to push your knees to your chest.

your legs involuntarily began to tremble and you knew you could hold it no longer.

"Baby," you gasp out, in a warning tone.

"come on, let it out." she gives you the green light and on command, you immediately pour out onto Shuri's fingers.

"Such a good fucking girl." she praises, and you ride out your O off of her fingers. she takes them out and lowers herself to your lips, giving you her fingers for the two of you to share. "You taste so good." she exclaims, moaning to herself.

you're a whimpering, moaning mess. you've never felt such an intense feeling in all the years your were in a relationship with that man. it awakens something in you, and you're ready to do whatever to make Shuri happy.

sitting up with her towering you, you and the Princess collaborate in lifting her shirt over her head. you take time admiring her slim but toned body and her small, perky and stiff breasts.

"You are so beautiful, Shuri." You say looking up to her, so very sincerely. she was really ethereal in every way. she had an androgynous vibe to her, being equally as pretty as she was handsome.

" I am a reflection of you, mhlobo wam." she replies before lifting your chin, placing a peck onto your lips. she always knew what to say.

you slide your fingers around the brim of her shorts before pulling them down, being greeted with her black boxers, being soaked at the front.

"Oh shit," you chuckle. "It's like that?" you look up at the now flustered girl. It was funny, but cute. as quick as she could be in control was as quick as she could become coy.

"It's not my fault," she says in a pouty tone. "You're just so--"

In the midst of her talking, you slip her out her boxers, lift her leg, and rest her foot on the tall bed post that stood beside you, exposing her pretty and dripping two-toned cunt. your eyebrows raised, surprised at her flexibility.

you let out a secluded breath, loving what you saw in front of you. "So..?" you ask, tauntingly, sliding your thumb up and down her middle.

“—Sexy.” her breath stifles, and her chest began to heave up and down.

“you think i’m sexy?” you taunt even further, now dipping your thumb in every one and again, enjoying watching her squirm.

“Y-yes,” her hips disobey her attempt to keep cool and begin bucking up.

“How sweet. Let me say, thank you.” you palm her plump bottom with both hands and pull your lips closer to her sweet spot. you lick a straight path from the bottom of her opening up and to the top and make a quick circle around her clit, sealing it with a kiss.

“Ohhh my f— Y/N..” Shuri felt as if she began to float. she had the prettiest girl at her mercy, and now she had her at her own. to see her underneath her, wanting her in the same way— the thought alone was enough for her cum.

“Tell me how you like it, Princess. Teach me.” you plead, wanting nothing more than to make her feel how she just made you. your eagerness to learn her body made her all the more excited to continue.

like a magnet, you attached your lips onto her second pair, and she guides you right where she wants you.

“Right there. S-slow, please.” she almost begs.

as asked, you rolled your tongue around her bud slowly. painfully slow. you were pleased with her taste & moaned in confirmation.

“Ughh,” her breathing becoming more unsteady, “Fuck, that feels so good, nkosazana.” proud and driven by the praise you were just given, you speed up your pace, just a little. this time, making it sloppy and shaking your head in it. you raise a finger and trace it along her entrance, waiting for the confirmation that it was okay. she nods.

you strike a finger up briskly, tongue still attacking her clit.

“Yes!” she cries out, holding a tighter grip on the sides of your head. you give a few more pumps before slipping another finger, eager to send her over. pushing deeper and deeper, you notice her juices begin to trickle down your fingers.

“are you close, my love?”you chase her expressions for an answer.

“I’m so close, please don’t stop,” she whimpers out as you keep pumping. her eyes shut tight and her leg began to shake. she was a whimpering little thing. it was different from her normal, calm, masculine presenting energy. and you loved it.

you increase the pressure of your sucking and soon after you feel a rush of creamy substance floating down your tongue like a river. she sobs out as she comes down from her first O.

“Mmm.” you vocalize your satisfaction with her flavor. “thank you, princess.” you feel yourself oozing at the sight of her squirm.

“who— taught.. you.. that,” She says in between each gasp for air. you laugh at her possessive energy but flattered that your succeeded at your first attempt to please her.

gaining some of your leg strength back, you fall back on the bad, pulling Shuri on top of you and rolling over so that you were on top. you thought about this so many times and was ready to try it.

you spread her legs and lower your wet and pulsating clit to meet hers. feeling the warm & gushy sensation between you to caused you both to gasp at the same time.

“You so fucking nasty, my God.” Shuri groans aggressively, staring into your soul.

“For you. You damn right.” you bite back. you swooned at thought of being her fantasy. you were laying it all out for her, making her long term attraction worth it.

you held yourself up slightly, rocking back and forth, tribbing the nucleus of her treasure.

“That pussy feels so good on mine, fuck,” you moan, wanting to throw your head back but also not wanting to miss any reactions, for they were the navigator of your success rate.

“Shit!” her pretty brown eyes beginning to gloss over with water. she couldn’t believe how submissive she was acting, but she even more so couldn’t believe how filthy you were, especially involving her. you also couldn’t believe it either. to have never been with a woman, being with Shuri in this way felt so natural.

“Y/N please!” she cried out, grabbing your neck, pulling you forehead to forehead, the heart shaped herb necklace she gifted you now dangling in her face.

thrusting harder, you reach your hand up and massage her left breast, grazing her nipples with the edges of your nails.

the two of your bodies moved in the same patterns like a missing puzzle piece. you grabbed her by her face and kissed her passionately. uncontrollably moaning your mouth, she begins to cry, this time, letting her emotions take over her.

“I’m cumming, please, I can’t take anymore,” she reaches out to push your torso further away, but her hands are quickly pinned down over her head.

“I’m almost there baby, hold on.” You coo sweetly, noticing her begin to get overstimulated. You continue to thrust, picking up the pace to speed up your orgasm, talking Shuri through.

Shuri’s eyes began to roll back and her mouth was agape for so long from her silent cries, she started to drool.

“Shit,” you feel yourself getting ready to release. The sight of her under your control sped up the process by a whole lot. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming—fuck!” you began to whimper. By the time your juices flow out, Shuri let out a piercing screech, squirting all over you.

Shuri was now sobbing and shaking, violently. You wipe her tears and kiss all over her face, now laying beside her.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out,” you continue to kiss her and rub her to calm her down.

“I—I” she tries to vocalize something, but still hasn’t come down yet.

“Take your time, no need to rush.” you reassure her, still slightly out of breath yourself. you help her regulate her breathing and she finally makes out her sentence.

“I need to fuck you. Now.” she growled.

if she hadn’t before, the desire now was through the roof. this was the most aggressive you’d ever seen her-- also the most vulgar-- and after the damage you had just done to her, you were excited, but nervous to see how she would handle you.

her wobbly legs refraining her from being able to move as fast as she could, she hops up and limps over to her dresser draw, opening the top draw and taking out a pretty black, blue and silver strap. the design on it mimicking what would be the inside of a gadget. by it’s shiny and potent structure, you knew it was made of vibranium.

she slips the harness around her hips, tightening both ends to secure it, arms flexing in the process. effortlessly turning you on with every move.

“Come here, duchess.” she motions you over with two fingers. you immediately oblige, following her lead like a lost puppy.

she leads you over to the large mirror that resided on the wall on the other side of the bed. she swipes the slick from the middle of your entrance and uses it to lube up the tool.

“The safe word, is mango.” She began, looking at you through the mirror. “If it’s too much or it hurts, say that word, and i’ll stop immediately. Got it?”

you bite your lip nervously, and nod, doubting that you would ever be using it.

“Words, princess.” She says sternly, lifting up your chin.

“Y-yes.” you breathily respond. and just like that, you were back under her spell, ready to be used anyway she desired.

“There’s my girl.” She smirks before positioning herself behind you. something about her referring to you as her girl made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

you bent over and braced yourself on the mirror and suddenly you felt a poke at your entrance.

“You ready?” she asks. you nod way too eagerly. “I’m gonna count to 3… 1–“

before she ever got to two she slides her length up your canal and you gasp super sharply.

“Shuri!” you half moan, half growl, feeling good but snapping at her for cutting your time to prepare.

“Shh, you got it, come on,” she coaches. Shuri stroked her length in and out of you, slow and long, building up your anticipation.

“Shit!,” you spat, bitting down on your lip, adjusting to her length.

shuri had been developing this piece for a long time. she also was secretly restricting it for you, not knowing if you’d ever actually be together. but the very few times she did have other partners, she’d only use the regular silicone strap for them. only a woman of a certain poise and power was worthy of the contraption, and in this case, that woman was you. her intombi entle.

she had designed it to feel as close to skin as possible. she wanted you to feel the intimacy just as she did, being that she also designed it to allow her to feel you.

as she pumped in and out of you, your walls tightly clenched around her, almost fighting to keep her inside.

“Ugh,” Shuri grunted aloud. “Pussy so fucking tight.”

“Oh God,” you slur out. as your body was working overtime to stay cool, you feel yourself beginning to sweat profusely. your freshly done silk press now glued to your shoulders. “You feel so fucking good”

The Princess swiftly grabs your arms and folds them, locking them behind you. She holds up your perfect frame, forcing you to look at you both in the mirror.

“Look how pretty you look taking this dick, hmm?” she says lowly in your ear while speeding up her pace.

“Oh, fuck,” not having any control over what happens now, you begin to panic, the knot you now knew to be so familiar beginning to arise in your stomach.

“Say it. I wanna hear you,” she demands.

“Shuri, please,” you beg her to go easy on you, but she wasn’t having it. She gives an electrifying smack to your ass.

“Say. It.” She says through grit teeth, now with one hand full of your hair, slamming into you harder, directly on your g spot.

“I— aghhh!” you fight to get the words out. “I l-look s-so pretty taking th— this dick!”

she smiles sinisterly and quickly agrees. “Mm, yes you do.”

a question you usually scoff at arises, however, it’s a pleasure to hear the next sentence come from Shuri’s lips.

“Who’s pussy is this? Hm?” she knew exactly how to get you riled up. She so badly yearned to hear you surrender to her after watching you with someone else all this time. especially someone who didn’t deserve you.

“It’s yours, Shuri,” your words began to spill over like a fountain in sonic moans. “It’s yours, I’m yours, I belong to you!”

it was music to Shuri’s ears. you were hers. you said it, and that’s all the confirmation she needed.

“and don’t you ever fucking forget,” she spat.

hearing the royal speak so filthy and so rough was so shocking yet so enticing. her every word carried you closer and closer to your whit’s end.

still stroking, she yanks your head back and passionately kisses you, swallowing all your moans.

stomach tight, shuri’s strokes began to get sloppy, feeling your constant contract and release. she was quickly approaching her arrival.

“Shhhhuri, I’m about to—“ you began, almost snatching the words out her mouth.

“Cum. Cum with me, my pretty girl.” she gives 4 more sloppy pumps before she slides out, cumming all over herself; but not before you left a creamy, white ring all around her base. as soon as she comes out completely, you squirt out all over her lower region; something you had never done before. you squeal, in shock and excitement.

“You did such a good job, usana” Shuri pecks your lips and taps your slightly bruised ass. you beam at the praise she gives. she picks you up and carries you to the bed, gently laying you down before slipped off her harness and climbing in with you.

draping the covers over your naked bodies, you cuddle into Shuri, placing your head on her chest and she pulls you in closer. you throw your leg over her lower torso to get close as possible. you both listen to each other’s breath slowly come down to its original state. Shuri picks up and holds your hand that was previously laying on her chest, and kisses it. At peace and well satisfied, you feel yourself begin to drift off to sleep.

“not you falling asleep already,” Shuri laughs, mockingly.

usually you’d protest, but you let her rock on this one.

“I love you so much.” you mummur, gazing up at Shuri.

“I love you so much more. Thank you for trusting me with your body.” She says sincerely.

“I trust you with my life.” you say authentically as ever, overcome with feelings of euphoria.

“I trust you with mine.” she replies, almost instantly.

shuri lifts her hand, inviting you to do the handshake your friend group had made. the two added a special ending that nobody new about. the two of you share a blissful laugh at the comedic ending of it.

“Alright, my love, get some sleep.” Shuri rubs small circles on your back with one hand and rubs the leg thrown over her with the other.

“You got a boyfriend to break up with tomorrow.”

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Sunshine in the Clouds

This is an incentive request from my dear friend @laffy-taffy-creations. Congrats on finishing your class!

The house was empty, save for Hero’s slumped-over form in the kitchen. This was their third drink of the evening. Funny, they never touched a drop of the stuff before… well, before everything happened. Hero had drawn the curtains, the sunlight outside was too harsh even though it was a cloudy day. They wished it would rain. They had stopped being able to cry weeks ago. Now it was just them and the house.

The TV was on, like it had been for days on end, but Hero had long since tuned it out. Still, they refused to turn it off. If they did that, the silence would be deafening. They hated how quiet it was. They got up and chucked the empty bottle in the trash can, passing a picture of the group. They all looked so happy.

Hero blamed themselves for all of it. They were a Hero for goodness’ sake- they should’ve prevented the murder. Friend had said it wasn’t their fault, but even if that was true, they should’ve seen the signs in Friend at the very least. Why couldn’t they do anything right!? Was this their punishment for not being observant enough? What did they do wrong? Why couldn’t they-

“Breaking news, a fire at [Address] has spread across the entire apartment complex, with many tenants still trapped inside. Firefighters are on the scene. We’ll keep you updated as we learn more.”

Hero sighed. Okay. Let’s get this over with.

…

Hero handed the last child to its mother. Hero was covered in smoke and sweat, and they had a few burns from the fire. Ice covered the entire apartment building where flames had been raging just minutes beforehand.

“Great work, Hero,” the fire brigade captain said warmly.

Hero briefly nodded, then started to make their way through the crowd that had gathered.

“Hero!” a reporter shouted, “where have you been these past few weeks?”

“No comment.”

“Are you heading to the hospital after this?” another asked.

“No comment.”

“Has something happened in your personal life that-”

“I said no comment!” Hero snapped.

As they spoke, a blast of ice erupted from their hands. They crowd recoiled back from the icicles that formed around the crime-fighter. Hero shook their head and stepped over their little fortress. They left, ignoring the cameras that flashed and the buzz of the crowd.

…

Hero flopped on the bed and scrolled through their phone. The doorbell rang just minutes later. Hero grumbled, getting up and answering the door. They hadn’t even changed out of their suit. What did it matter anyway? So what if someone saw them like this?

“Wow, you, uh, you look terrible.”

“Villain,” Hero said flatly, “what do you want?”

“I saw the news,” Villain said, “I was worried about you.”

Hero’s eyes swept over Villain’s figure. In their hand was a backpack, it seemed to be stuffed to the brim.

“So, uh, can I come in?”

Hero looked away, then stepped aside so Villain could enter. Villain thanked them as Hero closed the door.

Villain saw the state of the house. If they were judging, they didn’t give any indication of that.

“Have you eaten today?” Villain asked.

Hero snorted.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one. Have you?”

Hero gestured vaguely to the empty glasses littering the table. Villain nodded, unzipping the backpack and pulling out some TV dinners, soup cans, ramen packets, and basically the easiest meals to make a la microwave.

Villain sat Hero down at the kitchen table, clearing it off and setting a bowl of soup in front of them.

“Eat.”

Hero didn’t want to, but their stomach had other plans. After growling at them, Hero acquiesced and started taking small bites. They only ate half of it before pushing it aside.

Villain looked down at the half-finished meal.

“Fair enough, we’ll work on that,” they said.

Villain took Hero by the hand and led them to the bathroom. A bath had been drawn for them.

“Take your suit off,” Villain said.

“Villain, I’m not going to-”

“I’m not going to do anything frisky,” Villain said, “but if you won’t take care of yourself then I’m going to do it for you. Suit. Off.”

…

Hero sat on the edge of their bed, wrapped in a fluffy towel. Villain came in with Hero’s pajamas, fresh from the dryer. They looked away while Hero got changed. Hero cleared their throat so Villain would know they were dressed.

“Okay. Thank you. You can… you can go now.” Hero said.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” Villain said.

“It doesn’t matter either way,” Hero replied quietly.

Villain sat down next to them.

“I know how-”

“Don’t pretend to know how I’m feeling,” Hero snapped.

Villain held up their hands.

“Alright.” They said, “but you shouldn’t have to grieve by yourself.”

So Hero didn’t grieve by themselves. Villain came by every day to help them live in a world that they didn’t feel like being in. Little by little, piece by piece, they started to inch their way back into the land of the living. The curtains had been opened, and though it was a cloudy day, the sunlight was just starting to peek through.

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@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hey so I just found your account and omg?? it's literally so amazing 😭✋

Anyways-I was just looking through a bunch of the twist monster au headcannons/stories, and I thought of a scenario that could be done!

Basically the cast reacting to gender neutral or female reader/yuu acting stuff out in their book they are reading like poses, dialogue, just genuine reactions to the text itself

ex. Throwing the book across the room and them being genuinely concerned that something happened bc reader is just staring off into space or cursing but what actually happened was either a character died/did something embarrassing/the mc and love interest finally kiss

Anyways that's all I had in mind hope you have a good day/night! <3

Omg thank you! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the content! QvQ

Ah, books. Such a wonderful creation humans made to fill us with raw, pure emotion or shattering our hearts and souls into a million tiny pieces—only for us to read it again and again! Don’t you just love those moments as a reader? UvU

Except for cliffhangers. Readers have a love/hate relationship with it, writers adore cliffhangers! ÒvÓ

So, what happens if we take a bookreader!Yuu (they/them) and throw them into Twisted Monsterland where even the history books read like a world guide/omnibus to a game or TV series? Oh, and I took a bit of inspiration from a Disney princess comic and a Bill Watterson “Calvin and Hobbes” comic for two of these scenarios. 😂

/-----------/

“Jeez, you sure you’ve got enough books, Yuu?”

“The librarian wouldn’t let me check out more than ten at a time,” Yuu replied, their backpack and arms filled with thick books. “Wish I could’ve gotten ten more at least, but this’ll do for now.”

“Are you sure you can even read all those before next semester?” Deuce asked in concern. “Those look pretty…dense.”

“Oh, I’ll be done in a week. Maybe a week and a half if we get a lot of homework.”

“Funya?! You gotta be kidding me!” Grim said. “Can humans read that fast?”

“Not everyone. Some people are slow readers, but that’s okay since they enjoy it at their own pace while I enjoy it at mine. Only problem for me is choosing which one of these I want to read first!”

/Later that night/

“Yuu? It’s time to eat!” Grim called out. Silence greeted him as he stared at Yuu, who was sitting on the couch with their face practically buried in a book. Frowning, the chimera padded over to the couch and repeated, “Yuu! I’m hungry!”

Still the human didn’t seem to respond, their shoulders hunching as they turned the page.

“Yuu? Yuu!” Huffing, Grim crossed his arms as he glared up at them. “You’ve been reading for the past three hours! How much longer are you gonna read that book?”

“What’s going on, pal?” one of the ghosts asked as the trio appeared.

Gesturing his paws at Yuu, he said, “They’ve been reading ever since we got back from the library today, and now they’re not reactin’ to me. It’s dinner time and they haven’t made any food yet!”

Before anyone could even think of what to say, a loud, shrill squeal filled the dorm.

“Eeeeeee!!!” Yuu squealed, a huge grin on their face as they flopped to the side and kicked their legs like a nervous rabbit while holding the book against their chest. “Omg it happened, it happened!!”

“Mrah!? What?! What happened?!” Grim yelled, wings flared out defensively while his fur bristled. “Why are you yelling!”

“My new OTP!! They finally kissed!!” Yuu said, their eyes wide as they rocked from side to side. “They kissed!! Yes!! Yesyesyesyesyessssss!!!”

“OTP? What’s an OTP??” one of the other ghosts asked.

“It’s what we like to call the ‘one true pairing’ in a story,” Yuu explained, a positively giddy expression on their face with eyes shining brighter than the stars as they struck a dramatic pose. “It’s two characters who vibe with each other on a level that you just can’t help but want them to be together—and the author brought these two together!! Yeeeeeeeee, I’m so happy!!”

“And loud,” Grim grumbled, paws clamped over his ears. “Why are you standing like that?”

“It’s how the main character professed their love for the other!”

“…are all humans as weird as you?”

“Trust me, there are people out there that are way crazier in their excitement than I am right now.”

“Really?!”

“Oh yeah. Don’t even get me started on the fanfics people write.”

“Fan…fics?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child…”

/Two days later/

“Heeeey, lil’ Shrimpy~!”

“Mm…”

“Eh…? Hey, Shrimp…why are you ignorin’ us? It’s not very nice.”

“Now, now, Floyd. One mustn’t interrupt a reader when they’re indulging in such a riveting story.”

“Shh,” Yuu muttered, their brow furrowed as they hunched closer to the book. “I’m at the best part!”

Floyd frowned as he laid his head on his arms, the basilisk slumping against the table. “Man, this is lame,” he said. “You promised to come play basketball with me today!”

“Once I finish this part, we can go do whatever you want, okay, Floyd?”

Jade hummed in amusement as he said, “A rather daring proposition you just offered, Yuu.”

“We have to do a buncha reading for class anyway,” Floyd said with a bored expression. “And Crabby and Mackerel said you finished two other books already, so what’s the point of thi-”

“AAAAIIIIIEEEEE!!?!?” Yuu shrieked, leaping out of their chair as Jade and Floyd recoiled in shock. Before the twins could react, Yuu had ducked back into their chair and pressed the book even closer to their face than before.

“…lemmie see that,” Floyd said, leaning over the table to grab it.

“No, no! It’s fine, go do something else!” Yuu said all too quickly, sinking even lower and turning away from Floyd’s reaching claws. “I think I heard Riddle in the hallway.”

“Lemmie see it!”

“No! You can’t read it!” Yuu cried out, bolting away from the table holding the book tight to their chest.

“Get back here, Shrimpy!”

“Noooo!!”

“Oh my,” Jade uttered, eyes wide for a moment before he chuckled. “Perhaps I should look into this book when they’ve finished it.”

/The next day/

“Oh no…oooh noooooo, I hate this so much!”

“Then why are you reading it?” Jamil asked, the naga curled around them. “If you don’t like it, just take it back to the library.”

“I can’t! It’s soooooo good!” Yuu said, practically throwing themselves backwards onto Jamil’s snake half with the book pressed against their face.

“Eh? But wait, you just said you hated it,” Kalim said in confusion.

“I hate it, but I love it so much,” Yuu told them with a whine, their head now touching the floor on the other side of Jamil’s snake body yet still draped over him like a cat. “This book will ruin your heart and shatter your soul into a million pieces!...you should read it too!”

“Given how dramatic you’re being, it might not be wise,” Jamil said with a sigh.

“Read it!”

“It’s okay, Yuu. We can read together! It’ll be more fun that way!”

“Kalim, no. You still need to study for the next potions exam.”

“Augh, I need someone to talk about this story with so we can lament in solidarity!”

“…have you been taking lessons from Rook lately?”

/Three days later/

“Um…is Yuu okay? They’re looking a little…tense.”

It had been several days since Yuu borrowed a stack of books, and already they had gone through nearly half of their hoard. Between classes and on breaks or after finishing tests, it wasn’t hard for students to notice the lone human with their nose between the pages of one book after the other. Even the researchers had taken note of Yuu’s behavior in between tests, making note of their expressions and how their body changes with each scene depicting their emotions. It was noteworthy how they reacted when a character in the story did something “cringeworthy and stupid” (as Yuu would explain when asked), it looked as though the human had swallowed a lemon.

At the moment they were sitting in Heartslabyul, yet another book in their arms as they sat on one side of the lounge. Cater had taken progression snapshots of Yuu’s body slowly curling into itself, eyes steadily growing wider and wider to the point it looked as though they’d bolt away in panic.

“They’re fine,” Grim told Trey as he munched on a snack. “They’ve been like this since they got all those books. That’s the pose they had last time when their Ohteevee smooched or somethin’.”

“Oh, you mean ‘OTP’, Grimmy,” Cater corrected with a smile. “That’s so cute! Our human has an OTP already~!”

“I’ve heard of hitting the books, but this is ridiculous,” Ace commented with a sigh. “They’ve been reading so long that I forgot what half their face looks li-”

“GRAAAAH!!!!”

SLAM! Fwump!!

“Gyah!?” the boys yelped, everyone staring at Yuu as they sat on the couch with a dark scowl.

“Yo, what the heck? Why’d you throw the book like that?” Ace asked, pointing at the large tome on the other side of the couch now.

“Um…Yuu?” Deuce began when they didn’t respond. “Are…you okay?”

“……I’m mad,” came the response, Yuu’s expression growing more annoyed as they stared off into space.

“About what?” Riddle asked in surprise.

Yuu’s gaze turned to the discarded book, their expression as though they had been betrayed by a trusted friend as they said, “Because my favorite character died, and I refuse to read how the book ends when there’s literally two freaking pages left! That’s not enough space to bring them back in a satisfying way!!”

“Y…you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Ace grumbled with a sigh. “That big of a reaction just because a fictional character was killed off?”

“You weren’t there to see the struggles they went through! I saw them change from an annoying bully into a fully developed and vulnerable character who wanted to take charge of their life—and the author killed them off!” Jumping to their feet, Yuu marched towards Ace and Deuce’s room where they’d left their stuff and said, “Where’s my notebook? I need to fix this!”

“What are you gonna do?” Grim called out.

“Write a fanfic, because my scrunkly deserves to be happy!”

“Huh? Scrunkly??”

/Final day/

“Oh, Great Seven…what happened in your book this time?” Vil asked with a sigh.

Yuu sniffled as they tried to dry their tears, though it was difficult as more continued to flow down their cheeks. “I…I just finished my last book,” they said, their voice cracking a little with emotion as Grim pat their arm reassuringly.

“All ten books in a week?” Vil said in surprise. “That’s…impressive. Even so, why are you so upset? Was the story that horrible?”

“No…it…it…it was too good!” Yuu cried out, clutching the book so tight that their knuckles turned white as the tears flowed freely now.

“Ah…such pure, raw human emotion,” Rook crooned. “To express it so freely without fear…beaute!”

“Was the book really that good?” Epel asked.

“Yes!” Yuu wailed. “Now that it’s over, I…I don’t know what to do with myself now…”

Peering at the title, Vil gave a thoughtful hum and said, “Oh, that story. I hear there is supposed to be a spin-off book series. The first one should have released just the other day.”

“Really?!”

“Mrrr…now you’ve done it,” Grim grumbled with a sigh. “Here we go again.”

[briannysey]

Forsaken Week Day 2: Aginor

            Another long low wail shook the complex. Dr. Chuain scribbled another note on the paper before him just as a timid knock came from the door.

            Exasperated the biologist called, “Enter.”

            The assistant was young, not even a legal adult by reckoning of many of the fallen nations. The boy shuffled across the room.

Dr. Chuain said, “What is it? I’m mid-observation.”

            The boy stammered, “There’s been a logistical problem Dr. Chuain. One of the trucks with uh- subjects for more experiments was taken by one of the fades and its cohort. The fade has not answered calls to report since.”

            “Myrrdraal,” Chuain corrected. “Use the appropriate designations or I’ll find an assistant who can.”

            “Yes, Mast – Yes, Doctor.”

            Dr. Chuain chewed on his lip in frustration. The trollocs had carefully constructed dietary regimens. They did not need to eat more! But stomach neuropathy was a common condition in the broods, and even members of the Chosen would have difficulty convincing a trolloc that it was not hungry when it set its eyes on fresh meat.

            Dr. Chuain said, “There’s a flaw in the design.”

            The boy asked, “Pardon?”

            Chuain said, “The broods that I’ve offered up to the Great Lord. There’s a flaw in their design.”

            “Of course not Doctor! Your work is perfect! I read about it in Biology Today while still in secondary school. Now that the Hall’s not getting in the way of research, you’ve been able to do such great things!”

            Chuain said, “You misunderstand. The flaw is not in the creature itself. It is in the ecosystem. The broods are like unmanaged rabbits. Leave them untended or without proper predators above them, rabbits will eat until there are not enough primary producers in the system, and the whole web collapses.”

            Again the long low wail came, shaking the floors and walls. The assistant fell to the ground clutching his ears. Interesting, perhaps Dr. Chuain was protected by his connection to the Great Lord. He scribbled another note on the paper. His pen’s tip fractured spilling over the sheet, and Dr. Chuain leapt to his feet cursing.

            Chuain said, “Boy! Did I not say to requisition another typer?”

            Moaning from the floor, the boy half rosed as he said, “I’m so sorry Doctor, but there are none to be had. Most of the engineers in Mar Ruois who weren’t loyal to the Great Lord were executed as examples to the other. The others were needed for the war effort, and also – “

            “And also Mesaana still resents that I was the advisor who tossed her application seventy years ago. I understand. Still, having to rely on paper…”

            So much was being lost in the war. Would there still be subjects for Chuain’s experiments after they won? Would there be appropriate equipment even? Chuain felt a worm of anger wriggle in his shoulder blades.

            He said to his assistant, “Summon the myrrdraal that misappropriated my research materials. I have a task for it.”

            A short while later and the Myrrdraal was stepping out of an alcove that Dr. Chuain left unlit for quick access. The myrrdraal passed a large wall mounted lens Dr. Chuain used for experiments, and the creature’s form was reflected in the lens, dark and cloudy. The myrrdraal went to its knees in genuflection, and its cloak spread out liquid and strange, defying the folding of fabric that the laws of physics would normally ask of cloth.

            It’s voice quiet and strong, “You summoned me, Father?”

            “Yes. I hear you were mishandling research materials?”

            A hint of dryness and unease entered the myrrdraal’s voice. Most wouldn’t notice, but Dr. Chuain had spent a great deal of time and energy testing the abilities of his accidental creations, and their limitations.

            It said, “I am deeply sorry. My fist was rebellious from hunger. I was tasked with keeping them in line.”

            Dr. Chuain tsked, saying, “And you were overwhelmed by the feedback of their hunger. Do you understand the problem? If your brood takes more rations thant they’re allotted, the other broods will clamor for more, and then your one indiscretion precipitates a whole system collapse.” The myrrdraal tried to protest but Chuain continued, “You have shown iniatitve. A vital element. Your brood shall test one of my newer experiments.”

            Another wail from deep below, and the myrrdraal’s repugnant white lips wrinkled in distaste. Dr. Chuain smiled.

            He said to the creature, “What you’re hearing was supposed to be a new food supply for the broods. However, there have been some complications. Your brood is hungry. If they can overcome the experiment’s mutations, then they shall eat first, and you shall be rewarded for your contributions to science.”

            The myrddraal smiled in a semblance of relief. It bowed and thanked Dr. Chuain. Chuain ordered the creature to assemble his brood in the testing chambers at the bottom of the complex.

            A little less than an hour later and Dr. Chuain stood at the observation deck with a clipboard and pen in hand. He was accompanied by hook nosed man dressed in a coat of dark silk.

            “What is the purpose of this, Aginor? I should be overseeing exercises in field movements.”

            Dr. Chuain frowned at the use of the public’s annoying cognomen for him. But he powered through.

            “A war needs warriors, does it not? Then look.”

            Below a great chrysalis was bulging outward in slow groans. The armed and armored trollocs nervously surrounded it, their pikes held far forward.

            Barid asked, “What is that thing?”

            Dr. Chuain smiled, “It’s soon to be the mature stage of a jumara.”

            Barid’s eyes widened slightly, and Chuain felt a thrill of satisfaction run up his spine. Barid was hard to shake, but Chuain’s work could not be denied. Soon great spiny tendrils were breaking out of the chitinous chrysalis, seeking, seeking, seeking. Chuain began quickly scrawling notes.

            The trollocs bellowed in fear, anger, and hunger, then charged the awaking beast. A splatter of gore rose to paint much of the viewing window red. Chuain hummed in joy as he wove air to clear the viscera from his view. Before long the trollocs were turning, searching for a place to flee. But the creature was fully free from its chrysalis, and like the trollocs it knew one sensation above all others: hunger.

            The disobedient myrrdraal below turned to find a shadow and flee. Chuain wrapped it in more flows of air and contemptuously flicked the myrddraal towards the matured jumara’s mouth. A chorus of screams rose from the trollocs who had still been alive. Where the flows of air had touched the jumara its rust red chitin had brightened. Curious, perhaps there was increased blood flow to the location? But for the One Power to cause such a change and so quickly? More tests were needed. But for now-

            Dr. Chuain turned to Demandred smiling triumphantly, “As you can imagine, this creature could be quite useful to – “

            Chuain’s assistant screamed in horror as a tentacle ripped through the glass, spraying the room with shards. The boy was dragged screaming into the chamber below. Berid swore, and began weaving blasts of fire towards the creature.

            Dr Chuain snapped “No!” more for concern over his experiment than fear for his assistant.

            As the threads of fire touched the creature, it brightened again, and the places where the power had touched erupted with more spines and tentacles. Dr. Chuain began laughing in awe.

            Demandred shouted, “Are you mad?” before he wove and skimmed Dr. Chuain and himself to flat ground outside the complex.

            A beautifully spiked tendril was following closely behind, and began glowing with vibrant crimson luminescence as it touched the gateway. The gateway itself seemed to twist somehow, as if the threads were being drank by the exoskeleton of the jumara. They closed in quickly and the gateway shut, dropping the glowing red tentacle on the ground next to Demandred and the Dr.

            Demandred swore and drew his sword, chopping the thing into smaller pieces that began to wither and die. Deep below a great shrieking bellow of pain and hunger was rising and the complex above Demandred and Chuain began to shake. Dr. Chuain’s eyes opened in awe at the strength of his new creation, and he continued to laugh as Demandred dragged him away.

            In moments the whole complex was crashing down. Chuain heard the screaming of trollocs and friends of the dark inside as they went with the building. What strength! Demandred grabbed Chuain by the lapels of his labcoat and shook it.

            “What is wrong with you?”

            Chuain continued to chuckle as he said, “All data is good data.”

[icysinner]

hometown hero — chapter two. | models and superstars.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: onyankopon finally lives that dream of playing professional basketball, but through the glitz and glamour, he’s still in love with the girl from his hometown.

𝐍𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: word count, 885. these chapters just get longer and longer jfc

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ᥫ᭡ 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 ᥫ᭡ 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀

tags: @maliagurl @iheartamora @iiilovemilfs @hayilaawashere @starcore111 @hoohoohope @traqstarlo @chickenalfredo1312

onyankopon was home two days early, much to your, though kept secret, excitement. you weren’t always sure why he spent so much time at home, he played for a team all the way across the country and always made sure to come home. he had a house in both states, show off. although playing for a team far from his hometown he seemed to come back way more often than anyone that moved away. he urged you to move out of this place, because he thinks you can really make something of yourself outside of the small town you grew up in, but home is home, and you’d be fake trying to pretend you wanted to leave the only place you’d ever known.

“so, how’s the pro basketball life treating you? any models and superstars in those dms?” you asked onyankopon, walking towards the door of your restaurant before it was time to open. “they was in the dms before the nba.” onyankopon replied, a smug smile across his face, similar to the one on your face. “yeah, yeah, okay.” your sarcastic tone was topped off with an eye roll, making him laugh. “probably got a new girl sitting courtside every week, if i’m apart of the roster at least let me be the favorite.” you half joked, putting the key into the door, bright letter signs not yet lit spelling ‘high society’ above it.

“there is no roster, and if anything, you should be on the receiving end of that joke.” onyankopon said as he walked in, eyes widening at the decorations and scenery. “this is nice as hell, y/n.” he added as you turned all the overhead lights on. “thank you, i still have a couple tweaks to make though. need these counters smoothed over again.” you replied, running your nails over the marble on the bar. “how long it take you to get this place done?” he asked, sitting in one of the stools. “a year and some change.. the only thing i really had to wait on was the liquor license.” you shrugged, walking around the place, taking looks at everything.

“do you work in here? or you just run it?” onyankopon asked, touching the centerpieces, much to your dismay. “okay, don’t touch that, and no. i’m the ceo, don’t really need to.” you said, a small laugh coming out at onyankopon slowly moving his hand away. “you wanna franchise this shit? you know — make it like a chain?” onyankopon had so many questions, he’d only been gone for seven months and you were in a completely different stage of life. it made him proud, but also a little weary, he couldn’t help but feel like you were gonna take off into the future without him.

“maybe.. it’s not necessarily a big plan though.” you shrugged, looking around at the restaurant again, almost like it was your child, your own creation. “well, whatever you do, i’m proud of you. i know this was a big deal for you.” his reassurance made you happy, though involuntary. although you’d been hearing praises for your business since it opened, it coming from him made all the difference. “you know, violet and tylae are not happy with you.” you said with a smile, “why? what i do now?” onyankopon asked, squinting his eyes a bit. “because you haven’t came to see them yet, and you’ve been here for a day.”

“well, tylae has an entire business to run, and violet is a professional stalker who knows what’s going on with me at all times.” onyankopon defended, maybe exaggerating a little. “listen, take that up with them.” you threw your hands up in innocence, making him laugh. “i think they’re just jealous i came to see you first.” onyankopon said, causing you to laugh. “whatever. i’mma check their lo’ and see where they’re at, i’ll call em here.” you said, opening life360 to check your friend’s locations.

⎯⎯⎯⎯

“i cannot believe we had to wait for y/n to say something before you came to see us!” violet exclaimed, walking into the now unlocked doors of high society, currently closed off to the general public because onyankopon was here, though your employees were doing business as usual. “my apologies, vi. it will never happen again.” onyankopon said in a teasing tone, making all three of you smile. “yeah, four arnold palmers, thank you, natalie.” you said to your (favorite) waitress as she wrote it down.

“so, i need to know more about these courtside seats, ony.” tylae said with a smile, causing violet to interject, “oh, oh! is hange gonna be there?” she asked, twirling her straw in her cup. “god, vi, you’re obsessed.” you said, a laugh coming from yourself and tylae. this was an inside joke onyankopon wasn’t aware of, violet having a crush on his manager. “now i’m left out of the jokes?” onyankopon said in a joking voice. “no, no — violet has a crush on your manager.” tylae said, causing violet’s pale face to turn red almost immediately. “you could have told me that, she is a lesbian, you know. i can put you on!” he said with a smile, nudging violet, who’s face was currently in her hands. “oh my god.” she said, through her hands so it was muffled.

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas -chapter 11

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

Series warnings: angst (like a lot), mentions of infidelity, language, family drama, pregnancy, sexual situations.

Author’s Note: I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings.

January 8th (Six days post accident)

The pain meds they give people in the hospital following surgery pack a wallop, especially when given through an IV. They make me have crazy dreams, turn my attention span paper thin, and have the added bonus of turning my brain/mouth filter virtually non-existent.

I’m trying to pay attention to the conversation that Chris is trying to have with me. I really am. To be fair, he knew when he got here an hour ago that I had just gotten another dose. 

“What about this one?”

 Chris turns the iPad towards me so I can see yet another picture and resume’ of a home health nurse. It was an idea that he was originally against, but both Lisa and Andi, my main nurse, had both suggested that maybe having someone come in for a few hours a day a couple times a week would be a good thing. As much as he wants to do everything he possibly can for you, he also knows he’s only one person. After not hearing a response, and thinking maybe I had dozed off into a narcotic induced nap, he looks up to see me using my good hand to fiddle with the end of the braid that the nurse had put my hair into earlier after the shower that I’d finally been allowed to have after days of bed baths. 

Showers used to be glorious things. Water turned up to near scalding levels, music playing loud with me singing loudly (and badly) along, and nice shampoo and shower gel that smells amazing. This was not that. This was an entire process that took nearly an hour, starting with my casted leg and equally casted arm being wrapped in waterproof plastic and ending with me in tears because washing long hair takes two functional hands, and I only had one. There’s zero dignity in having another person give you a shower when you’re a grown woman who’s been showering and bathing by herself for many years now without issue. The nurse had been amazingly sweet and sympathetic and helped me with whatever I couldn’t do on my own (which was a lot), but the whole experience just left me feeling useless and depressed. 

 A soft touch to my hand brings me back to the present. 

“Where’d you go?” he asks softly. 

”My hair smells weird.” 

He leans forward a bit so he can get a whiff of my hair. “It smells okay to me.” 

“It’s not the same. It’s weird, clinical hospital shampoo. It doesn’t smell good like mine.” I lament. “I couldn’t even wash my own hair today. It’s too long, and I couldn’t do it with one hand. I can’t even-”

My voice starts to waver and I look down at my arm that’s laying useless in a sling across my chest. Even my fingers are so swollen and bruised that I couldn’t even put my rings on if I tried. My ring finger, which hasn’t been naked since Chris slipped my engagement ring on it some four and a half years ago, feels very bare and just wrong. Everything about the accident and my injuries keeps hitting me in different ways. 

I look over at Chris and then down at the iPad that he’s still holding. “Hire whoever you want. I honestly don’t care, and it’s not like I have any choice in the matter.”

He sighs softly, knowing that this conversation was never going to go over well. He knows that I know that I’m going to need as much help as I can get when I finally get released to go home, but he also knows that being as stubborn and self sufficient as I am, my worst nightmare is having someone have to help me do something as simple as get out of fucking bed. 

“This is the one thing that’s happened lately that you do get to choose. I want to get someone that you’re going to like and be comfortable with. I can’t imagine what this is like for you right now, and I’m just trying to make life as easy as it can get when you’re home.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to like someone from a goddamn resume’. As long as they can do the job without fucking me up more than I already am, great.” My back is starting to ache because of the position that I’m laying in, and when I go to slide further up the bed, I’m rewarded with a searing pain in my stomach from the movement pulling at my still healing splenectomy incisions. 

“Fuck, honey-”

I fall back on the pillows, irritated as hell and over this damn conversation, and the words fly out of my mouth before I can even think about stopping them. 

“Just pick someone! Maybe you’ll get lucky and you’ll get another girl who’s going to fall for the irresistible Chris Evans charm, who has no moral compass and no compunction about sleeping with married men. Then you can throw a shot into her too.”

I watch as his face falls, his hand pulling back from where it’s been resting on my arm and a lump the size of a golf ball forms in my throat. I didn’t mean to say that. I might as well just be wearing a name tag that says Hi, I’m: Here To Make Things Worse. I cover my mouth with my hand and glance up towards the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away before they can fully form. 

“I’m…..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….” I start, but the words don’t want to come out. 

“It’s okay.” he tries to assure me. 

“No, it’s not.” I look down at the fluffy blue blanket that Chris brought me from home and I play with the slightly frayed edge, ashamed and unable to look at the broken look on his face. “This is a bad idea.” 

He pops a shoulder. “Could always hire a male nurse.” he says, raising his eyebrow. 

I let out a small snort, knowing he said it to try and lighten the mood, but all I can feel right now is trepidation at the thought of coming home with Chris to recover and him taking the brunt of all of my frustrations and emotional eruptions. 

He turns the iPad off and puts it on the side table and I watch as he stands up and grabs his jacket off the back of the chair, and my eyes widen.

“Don’t leave. Please, I-” I sputter out, trying to push down my panic. 

“I’m not. I’m just going to run down and get a coffee and check in with Shanna and see how Dodger’s doing. Are you getting hungry? You want me to grab you something?” 

I squint, trying to remember the dinner options on the meal sheet they give me every day and which one I might have picked. 

“Uhhhhh….no. I’ll be okay. They should be bringing whatever I picked out soon anyway. I’ll live.” 

“Okay. Text me if you change your mind. I’ll be back. No more than half an hour, I promise.” he says, resting his palm on the top of my head gently. 

When Chris gets back twenty or so minutes later, I’m honestly sort of surprised he came back instead of just going home and getting away from my emotional, broken ass for a while. And even more surprised that his mom is with him, since I didn’t know she was planning on coming by today. 

When they walk in, I’m sitting in one of the chairs in the room with my leg propped up, poking at a dish of red jello with a spoon. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” Chris asks, surprised. 

“I had to pee after you left, and being in bed was making my back hurt, so I asked if they could just park me here for a while. There’s not a ton of options when all you can really do is sit, so…I’ll be ready to get back in bed in a while.” 

Lisa starts towards me and I push the wheeled table away from me slightly so she can bend down and give me a hug, which I return with a strength that takes her by surprise a little bit. Knowing how hard the last few days (hell, weeks for that matter) have been and the fact that your mom isn’t around, she just had a feeling today that you could probably use a big dose of love that only a mama can provide, which is why she decided to pop by and surprise both you and Chris. 

She tilts my cheek to the side gently as she examines my face. “Your bruises are looking better.” 

“Mmm. Still hurts. Airbags will save your life, but you’re going to feel like you went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson after they go off in your face.”

“So, Chris and I were talking downstairs, and I had an idea.” I swallow my mouthful of jello and look towards Chris, really hoping that he didn’t tell her about what I said. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly and the anxiety in my gut loosens up a bit. 

“What would you think about me coming to stay with you guys for a bit when you got home?” 

“Chris, tell me you didn’t ask your mom to come home with us to be my babysitter.” I groan. Lisa snorts slightly. “He didn’t ask. I’m offering. I know you’re not crazy about someone you don’t know being in your house and….” she searches for the right words “helping you. And it wouldn’t be for too long; just until you guys get yourselves situated at home and get into a routine with things. It’s just to make the transition a little smoother.” she assures me. 

I look over at Chris and he shrugs, gesturing to me. “This is your call.” 

I sigh, looking over at my mother in law, who I adore more than anyone in the world. “I’m not great to be around lately. I’m still not convinced that coming home after this is the right thing to do, and I’m afraid it’s really just going to make things worse. I don’t want you both to have to deal with my psychotic mood swings.”

“Sweetheart, if your mood was completely stable after everything that’s happened, I’d be terrified. You’re hurt, and you can’t do the things that everyone else takes for granted without help, and everyone knows how frustrating that is. I know you’re angry and sad and frustrated. And that’s okay. We’re-” she gestures between herself and her eldest son “made of tough stuff. Well, I’m tougher than him. We all know he’s a big baby who cries at the drop of a Hallmark movie.” I sputter out a laugh while wiping my eyes. 

“We all love you, and we’re all here for you no matter what.”

January 17th (Fifteen days post accident)

“They would release you on the coldest day of the year.” Chris says as he makes a final sweep around the hospital room that I’ve called home for the last two weeks. 

I huff out a small laugh. “Let’s just get the hell out of here before they come back here and tell me that they’ve decided to keep me for another week.”

“They should be back any minute with your discharge papers, and then we’ll go. The doc said he was going to call in your prescriptions to Walgreens, so hopefully they’ll be ready by the time we get there. Or I can get you home and settled in and run back out and grab them.” 

“We can wait for them. It’s too cold to be running back and forth.”

I look down at my “going home” outfit and can’t help but feel completely ridiculous. A pair of pink flannel pajama pants with penguins on them (they’re the only thing besides sweats that I can get up over the cast on my leg), a long sleeved white shirt, and one of Chris’ hoodies that’s zipped up over my sling, leaving just my good arm in the sleeve. They removed the stitches from my arm yesterday, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at it. The compression bandage that I’ve been instructed to wear all the time (with the exception of showers) is a lot more comfortable than the layers of wrapping my arm was encased in, but still annoying. And it itches like the devil. My right foot is encased in fluffy socks and a shoe, and my left leg is of course still in a cast, a sock pulled down over my exposed toes so they don’t freeze off when I go outside. 

My eyes go to the small black wheelchair that’s coming home with me and I squeeze my eyes shut. Because I’ve been instructed not to use my damaged arm for ANYTHING more strenuous than moving it gently to maneuver a shirt on and off, I can’t use crutches. 

Chris finishes packing up my backpack, and stops when he sees me staring vacantly at the wheelchair. He frowns, and walks over slowly, sitting on his heels in front of me. 

“Hey.” he murmurs softly, snapping me out of my reverie. 

“Hmm?”

“This isn’t going to be forever. They said the cast is going to come off hopefully in a couple of weeks, and then they’re going to put you in a walking boot. At least then you’ll be able to get up and move around. I know, I know how much you hate this. I do. But it is not forever.”

“I know.” I hate how small my voice is. “I hate how I have to think about every move I make. I can’t reach for anything because I can’t use my arm. I have to be careful when I stretch or it hurts my stomach. I have to cough or sneeze as soft as I can or else my ribs hurt. It’s just….I feel like a prisoner in my own body right now.” 

“But you’re going to get the chance to get stronger and recover.” I look up at him and our eyes meet, and I know we’re both thinking about the fact that the driver of the car that hit me died four days ago from his injuries sustained in the crash, and how that could have been me instead. 

When the nurse comes in with my discharge papers and the litany of aftercare instructions, Chris takes them and heads downstairs with my stuff so he can bring the car around to the front entrance. The nurse helps me put my coat and hat on before helping me maneuver myself into the wheelchair and we head down to the first floor. 

“You excited you’re finally out of here?” she asks me with a smile. 

“And nervous. It was kind of comforting knowing that even though I was stuck in here, if anything went wrong, I was in the right place.”

I see Chris pull up at the curb, and the nurse wheels me outside, and I gasp at the biting cold. It’s the first time I’ve felt fresh air on my skin since the day of the accident, and although it’s beyond freezing, it still feels amazing to breathe it in. It isn’t until I get situated in the passenger seat and we’re ready to drive home that the panic sets in. 

“The last time I was in a car I almost died.”

Chris takes his hands off the steering wheel and reaches over to hold my right hand. 

“I know.”

“You drive like an insane person.” 

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, he snorts, because he knows the amount of speeding tickets he’s accumulated since he started driving is ridiculous. But he also knows that since the accident, he’s been almost hyper aware of his speed and everything going on around him, when he usually just goes on autopilot when he’s driving, like anyone else who drives every day. 

“I promise I won’t drive like an insane person with you in the car.” 

“Don’t drive like an insane person ever. You can’t control the way other idiots drive, but you can control how you do. I need you around.”

Those words make hope bloom in his chest. 

“I promise.”

When we get home, relief washes over me. As promised, Chris drove very carefully and obeyed the speed limit, but I was still a nervous wreck the whole 25 minute drive. Plus, being scrunched in the roomy, but limited space of the passenger seat isn’t very comfortable with my injuries. One the car is parked inside the garage and Chris has my door open, he realizes that he didn’t really think this part through very well. 

The furniture inside has been arranged and re-arranged about a dozen times in different configurations to accommodate the wheelchair in the house. He purchased a shower chair for me to make showers easier, he got cast wraps to keep the cast on my leg dry, he set up a perfect little nest with pillows and blankets on our sectional so I’d be comfortable, with remotes and chargers and books, and even a little cooler within reach. 

I notice the look on his face that he gets when he’s confused about something or trying to find a solution to a problem, and turn to him. 

“You’re trying to figure out how you’re going to get me in the house, aren’t you?”

The sheepish, yet slightly guilty look on his face tells me I’m right. “I have guys coming on Monday to put in a temporary ramp over the stairs in front. But I didn’t think about today.”

There’s two steps to get from the garage into the house, and the wheelchair isn’t going to make it up them. 

“You’re going to have to carry me in the house.”

“I was thinking that, but I don’t want to hurt you. You’re still really sore.” he says, gesturing to his chest and stomach. 

“I’m pretty sure everything I do for a while is going to be somewhat painful, but I think this is our only option. Why don’t you grab the wheelchair and bring it in, put Dodger in the bedroom until we get inside so he doesn’t knock me down when he sees me, and then come back out and grab me?”

He exhales slowly. “Okay. I’ll be right back. Just…..” he trails off, gesturing vaguely at me. 

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” 

When Chris comes back out, he comes around to the passenger side and opens the door for me. I turn in the seat, angling myself as much as I can to make it easier for him to grab me and carry me inside. I’m slightly nervous about how much this is going to hurt, but I’m determined to not let it show. 

“You ready?” 

I take a deep breath and nod. He stoops down and slides his left arm around my back, while his right arm loops under my legs and he lifts me gently, my good arm going around his neck. He’s carried me like this about a million times in the years that we’ve been together, but for some reason, all I can think about is how he carried me (both of us slightly tipsy)  like this up to our hotel room after our wedding reception, and me laughing and telling him not to drop me or else I’d get our marriage annulled. I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory. 

I open them back up when I feel Chris setting me down on the end of the sofa and helping me get comfortable. 

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks nervously. 

“I’m okay. Can you just grab a couple pillows so I can put my leg up though?” 

He hits the button on the side of the couch for the foot rest to come up and slides a couple throw pillows under my leg. 

“Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?” 

“I”m okay for right now. Can you go get Dodger though? I missed him like crazy.”

He smiles and goes to the bedroom to let the dog out, and a second later, I hear the sound of his nails clicking rapidly on the hardwood. 

“Hi, baby!” I exclaim, holding my arm out. 

“Dodge, be gentle, okay? Careful.” Chris warns. 

Dodger jumps up on the couch next to me and immediately snuggles into my side. Luckily enough, he’s on my good side so I can give him pets and belly rubs. 

“Mom’s going to be over in a few hours. She said she wanted to give us a little bit of time to get settled in and such. I’m gonna go and unpack our stuff and start some laundry. You have the remotes and your phone and charger nearby….if you need anything, just yell. Or tell Dodger to come get me.” 

“I will. I think I’m going to try and take a nap though, honestly. The trip home kind of took it out of me.”

“Okay.” He grabs a blanket from the back of the sofa and drapes it over me, dropping a kiss to my head before he leaves to go get started on unpacking our stuff. As he walks away, he stops to look back at me again, thinking to himself how it seems like it’s been a lifetime since the last time the both of us were in this house together, even though it’s only been about three weeks. As much as he wanted you back home, he never in a million years thought this would be how it happened. 

January 25th (23 days post accident)

“God, that feels nice.” I moan at the feeling of Chris’ fingers in my hair, massaging the shampoo in. 

“Why do you think I always beg you to wash my hair?” he says, smirking. I catch his use of the present tense, and try and think about how long it’s been since the last shower we took together before the accident. I’m damn near positive it was way different than the ones that have happened since I’ve been home, and probably ended in orgasms all around. 

“This is infinitely better than the showers in the hospital. The nurse who always used to do mine had long ass nails. I’m pretty sure one of them is still embedded in my brain somewhere.” 

He laughs as he rinses my hair with the detachable shower head. After working conditioner through my hair and helping me scrub myself down and even shaving my right leg and under my arms for me, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist before grabbing another one to dry me off. I’m sitting on the toilet lid in my underwear while Chris smooths lotion on me, letting me do what I can reach with my good arm when I say his name softly. 

“Thank you.” I watch his eyebrow quirk up in confusion. 

“What for?”

“This. The- everything. When we got married, I bet you never imagined you’d have to help me shower and put on clean underwear and take me to go pee.”

He looks down as he continues to rub the lotion into my leg. “No, but I don’t think anyone goes in ever thinking about the worst case scenario where those things would ever come up. But that’s part of the deal, right? For better or worse? That covers everything; not just the good stuff. You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job.” 

“You could have just let my mom have her way and let them take me home.” I point out. 

He scoffs and shakes his head. 

“Absolutely not. For one thing, you and your mom would have ended up killing each other. And for another…..your head is giving you enough grief as it is right now, and being around her would have just made it worse. I couldn’t do that to you.” 

I see Chris reach for my shirt and groan, knowing how much it hurts my arm to put a damn shirt on. 

“How bad does it look?”

“Your arm?” 

I nod slightly and he sighs. “It’s still really raw and red. It’s going to fade, but it’s going to take some time. The doctor recommended some stuff that’s supposed to help with scars. Make them less visible over time.” 

“Can I see it?” I ask. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. I shrug a bit. 

He picks me up off the toilet seat and walks us in front of the bathroom mirror and turns so I can see my arm. I suck in a shuddering breath and close my eyes. It’s ugly. A roughly five inch or so vertical incision straight down my upper arm, red and raw and glaringly obvious. Even when it’s fully healed, it’s going to be ugly. 

“If you want, I can always talk to Josh. We can see if he can draw something up so you can cover it up once it’s fully healed.”

I nod as tears leak out of my eyes. Chris tilts my chin up. “It’s just a scar. It doesn’t define you and it’s not the end of the world. It doesn’t make you any less beautiful.” He pivots so my ass is sat on the bathroom vanity and once I’m settled, he pulls the shirt over my head, being gentle with  my arm, and then helps me into a clean pair of pajama pants. 

“You know, we’re actually getting kind of good at this.” he says as he carries me out of the bathroom and sets me down in our bed. 

“I hate that that’s something to brag about.” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “Although, I guess after doing the same thing day after day for a couple weeks, it’s to be expected. You don’t look quite as terrified now as you did the first time we did this.” 

February 2nd (one month post accident)

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner….I was in a pretty serious car accident a month ago and things have been a little hectic since then. I haven’t been cleared by my doctor to fly yet, so there’s no way we can make it out there. Mmmmhmmm. Yeah, the reservation is under Kelly Evans.” 

Chris walks into the kitchen and starts making himself a cup of coffee while I’m on hold with the resort to cancel the Valentines Day reservations I had made back in November. I had a solid plan that I had cooked up with Meghan and his team so he wouldn’t have anything scheduled for the three days I had booked at Post Ranch Inn, but then between finding out about the affair and the accident, my carefully made plan got blown straight to hell, leaving me feeling a little (lot) angry. 

“Okay. Thank you again for all your help. I’m sorry again for the late notice.” 

I end the call and toss my cell phone onto the island, irritation bubbling up inside me. 

“Who was that?” 

“Canceling the reservation I made for us for Valentines Day at Post Ranch Inn. I made it before I found out about you fucking someone else. That kind of took the romance out of it a little bit. Well, that and the fact that my body’s still mostly useless.” 

My newly (as of two days ago) uncasted leg starts itching to high hell under the walking boot and compression sock I have on, and I start the process of unstrapping the boot one handed so I can enjoy scratching my leg to my heart’s content. I wish I could have gotten a picture of Chris and the doctor’s faces when my cast was finally cut off and a fork, two pens, and a plastic ruler came tumbling out of it, all lost in my attempt to wedge something down there to scratch the itch. 

He sighs lightly and turns so his back is to the counter, giving me what I’ve coined his “kicked puppy look.” Most of the time, I feel guilty for whatever I said to make that look appear, but today I’m just too agitated to care. 

“Don’t give me that look. You do it every single time I mention the fact that you had sex with someone else. You know what you did. You don’t get to make that face and look like I just told you that Disneyland is closing down forever.”

He walks over to where I’m sitting with a sigh, and reaches to help me with the straps on my boot. “Can we not fight? Please? I know that there’s an ocean of stuff we have to work through, and I know none of this is easy…I just don’t want to fight with you.” 

“Just stop. I can do it myself. You know, just because I still need you to help with most of my basic human functions doesn’t mean that I necessarily like being around you all the time. You’re my husband and for some God forsaken reason, even though you did what you did, I still love you, despite me calling you a cheating shitbag in my head at least once a day. So, just leave me alone for a little while, okay? I was really excited about having this trip happen, and it all got blown to hell in a really magnificent fashion, so let me just sit here and be pissed off and sad about it.” 

He holds his hands up and backs away. “Okay. I can do that. Just, we have your doctor’s appointment at 2, so let me know when you need me to come help you get ready.” I look up at him and nod, spinning my phone on the table. He starts to walk away, but then turns back towards me. 

“You know, when the accident happened and you were out of surgery, I kind of went into crisis mode. I called my team and canceled everything, because I knew that you were going to need someone to be there for you and help take care of you until you were stronger. And I know that you have a million people that are in our lives that would drop everything and do that for you, because you’re amazing and everyone loves you so much. The parade of people that have come and gone through here since you’ve been home is proof of that. I kind of just took charge, because I didn’t know what else to do….and I don’t think I took the time to stop and ask myself if you even wanted it to be me, given everything that happened.”

“Chris….I did. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable having anyone else do it.” 

He nods. “I know that it’s hard for you to be around me sometimes. I know that you’re still angry, and hurt and upset and you have every right to be. I know we’re a mess, but once things settle down a little bit, we’ll get in to go see that therapist that Carly told me about, and we’ll start working through it. That is, if you still want to.”

“I do.”

A few hours later, we’re sitting in the waiting room of my gynecologist’s office, and Chris is just staring around the room at the posters on the wall, and occasionally glancing at the couple of pregnant women that are in the waiting room with us. 

“Why did you need to see her?” he asks softly. 

“I’m overdue for my annual exam, and since all I do lately is go to the doctor, I figured I should probably just get it out of the way.” It’s a half truth. Well, ⅓ truth. If the doctor was right about my hcG levels when I was in the hospital, I’m about six weeks pregnant, and it’s probably time to get official confirmation in black and white. And if I am, Chris deserves to be there to hear it. But first, he needs to get something done himself. 

The nurse comes by and hands us both a clipboard with paperwork on it, and Chris’ eyebrows raise. “Why do I get paperwork?”

The nurse clears her throat nervously and taps a section on the paperwork. STD test, with the works. She walks away to let us fill out the papers, and his eyes shoot to mine. 

“Really? I told you, I used a condom.” he whispers. 

“I don’t care. I need to see it for myself, for my own peace of mind.”

He’s called back first, and with a nervous swallow and a look back at me, he follows the nurse. I’m called back shortly after, and after blood work, urine test, and the internal exam, Chris is allowed back into the exam room to wait with me while the results come back. 

“You want to grab something to eat after this? You didn’t have much for breakfast earlier.” he asks. 

“Uh, yeah, I-” I’m interrupted by a knock on the door followed by Dr. Hartman coming back in. By the look on her face, I just know. 

“Congratulations, you guys are pregnant.”

Chris is lucky that there’s a chair right behind him, or he would have been in a world of pain. When I see him basically collapse into the chair, I get worried. 

“Mr. Evans, are you okay?” Dr. Hartman asks, reaching for his wrist to check his pulse. His face is a look of pure shock, like he can’t begin to comprehend what he just heard. 

“Chris?” I ask, my own emotions threatening to spill out despite knowing this was coming. I instantly feel bad for not giving him a heads up that this was a very real chance. His eyes find mine and we just stare at each other. 

“I’m okay. I just- it’s- are you sure?” he asks, his voice unsteady. The doctor steps away, seemingly convinced that a movie star isn’t going to drop dead of shock in one of her exam rooms. “The tests are extremely accurate, but I’m going to go ahead and do a transvaginal ultrasound so we can take a look. If you’re far enough along, we should be able to hear the heartbeat.” 

Since I’m still in the gown and haven’t gotten dressed yet, I lay back on the table and assume the position again as she pulls the ultrasound machine towards her. Chris gets up on unsteady legs and stands next to me, still looking shell shocked. 

“Okay, this is going to be a little uncomfortable. Just take a nice deep breath.” she warns. I do as she says, but I still make a face when the probe is inserted. Chris is torn between watching my face and wanting to see what’s happening on the screen. Me, I’m too afraid to look anywhere but his face. For as much trepidation as I’m feeling over this pregnancy, I’m overcome with the sudden fear that she’s going to find the baby and there’s not going to be a heartbeat, just like last time, and I honestly don’t know if I can go through that twice.

“There it is.” I hear from next to me. I watch as his eyes move from mine to the screen, seeing the tiny blob in the middle of my uterus with the little flicker in the middle. A heartbeat. I still can’t bring myself to look though. Dr. Hartman, who was the one who told me that I had miscarried and performed my D&C, senses my fear, and quietly hits a button on the machine. The sound is almost overwhelming as it fills the room. I have a crazy thought that it almost sounds like clothes in the washer as it’s agitating. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. My eyes snap to the screen, and I immediately bring my hand to my mouth and burst into tears. 

“From the size, it looks like you’re about six or seven weeks. Which is going to put the due date at about….” she stops to put some numbers into the computer. September 23rd, give or take.”

After printing off some pictures and leaving the room to let me get cleaned up and get dressed, we leave the office feeling a million different emotions. We’re both quiet on the drive home, both lost in thought. How many times have we wished for this? How many negative pregnancy tests have we seen and tossed angrily into the trash, tears threatening to spill. How many times did we say “It’s okay. It’ll happen. I know it.” only for it to happen during the worst period in our marriage? 

When we get home, I slowly waddle into the house, still enjoying the feeling of being able to (somewhat) walk instead of being chained to that damn wheelchair. I make my way to the back door to let Dodger out, passing Lisa, who’s watching both Chris and I with a curious, careful gaze. 

I feel him behind me as I turn on the tap, filling a glass with water and downing it almost all in one gulp. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly. He can see my hand trembling slightly as I hold the glass, and he knows he has to tread lightly. 

“In general? Or about the fact that we found out I’m pregnant in the middle of our personal shit storm?” 

“Both.” I drop my head. Truth be told, I’m exhausted. My arm is killing me, the nerve pain making burning pins and needles radiate over my whole arm. My leg is aching from being on it for an extended amount of time. 

I’ve been trying to roll it over and around in my head for weeks. What to do if I really did have the shittiest luck in the world, and I did end up actually pregnant in this situation. I keep coming back to the bad joke that my brother made the night I found out about Chris about me not having to deal with all of this while I was pregnant. 

“I don’t know if I can do this.” My voice is soft, but he hears it like I’m screaming it. “I don’t know if I can have this baby. I don’t know if my body can handle it, and I don’t know if I can handle it emotionally.” 

The words punch through him like a hit from a prize fighter. He knows exactly when it happened; the night that you had come over to get a dress from your closet and we had ended up defling quite a few surfaces in the house. There’s a good chance that our baby was conceived on the dining room table. 

“Are you talking about-” he can’t even bring himself to say the words. He KNOWS this the worst timing for this to happen. He KNOWS that no matter what, it’s your choice. But the thought of not having this baby with you almost brings him to his knees. 

My breath hitches. “Chris, look at us. Take a good look at me, at my body. I’m broken. I’m still recovering. I’d have to be monitored more closely to make sure that everything is okay. Because we don’t know if it will be.” The thought of finally getting everything I wanted with my husband and then not having it makes my chest hurt. 

“I’ve wanted kids with you since the moment you told me you loved me for the first time, and that I was it for you. I knew that you were going to be the father of my kids one day. But now, with everything, I don’t know if that’s the case anymore.” 

The tears are burning my eyes, and I can feel the sobs starting to build in my throat, and I know if I don’t get out of this room right now, I’m going to lose it. I’m pretty sure that Lisa heard at least part of our conversation, and I can’t talk about it anymore without losing my mind. I set my glass in the sink and silently make my way upstairs, thinking that two of the worst conversations I’ve had in my life have taken place in the kitchen that I loved. Now I can barely stand to be in it. 

[retaurd]

So sorry if this is an annoying or repetitive question, but I’m in a similar family situation and I was curious if you experience maternal feelings toward your brother? Or if the knowledge that he is your brother and not your son is enough to stave this off? I’ve read accounts from surrogates where they develop a maternal attachment during pregnancy that makes the handoff of the baby really difficult. Was it easier since you’re not really being separated from your brother after birth? Again I’m sorry if this is something you’re tired of explaining, one of your posts about it floated across my dash and scrolling your blog for a while I haven’t seen any posts about it that could answer my questions without directly asking. Have a good one

hi! happy to answer, especially if it helps you in some way

to clarify, just in case: what i did isnt considered a surrogacy, but a gestational carry, because my own eggs were not used in any way. surrogacy, from my understanding now (because i had no idea there was a difference or that surrogacy entailed horrors when i started this ~1.5yr ago) is when a woman gives her own genetic material in the creation of the child, carries it, then the child is removed from her and raised by someone else. what i did was have a lil test tube guy, a week old fetus basically, implanted into me, a fetus that belongs(ed? he ain't a fetus no more) to my parents. all i did was help my mom out with gestating him. basically.

anyway to answer you: i've had a heavy hand in raising all of my siblings since i was about 12 years old so i think i have a weird relationship with maternalist feelings but i'll do my best to answer as clearly as i can because for me those waters are a bit muddied. for me the most clearly maternal i felt was immediately post-birth and i will explain. the entire time i was pregnant i was fine, i had a wonderful peaceful easy pregnancy (im pretty sure comparably, aside from a couple gallbladder attacks) without much stress or anxiety mostly, but the minute i saw him, and specifically saw other people, medical professionals, touching him, i got extremely emotional like rapturously overjoyed and then also extremely anxious. they had to take him a few times for a few tests, some examinations, a bath, et c., and i remember getting overwhelmingly anxious and upset that he was apart from me and that they could possibly hurt him because a lot of them are dumb as fuck but that's a separate grievance for another time

im lucky in that i have him half of the time, im with him during the night and early day and my mom is very very freely giving with him and i am as much involved as she and my dad are, just like with my other siblings. the first night i was home he was with my mom and i couldn't sleep just weepy and wondering what he was doing. literally. wondering what a newborn was doing lol. but after a few days for me this wore off as my hormones settled and my anxiety and worry relaxed about him getting hurt, that was a constant fear for the first like 4 or 5 days for me. sleeping helped my body and mind return to normalcy, i had a c-section so i am still recovering from that and my physical inability at the time also had something to do with my fears i think, i had this sense of inadequacy that i would fail him and being physically vulnerable didn't help

overall now, im fine i think. ask me again in a couple months though, who knows about then. i definitely get all the time with him i want or need. my mom from the beginning has been discussing the possible difficulty with me and i think ive organized things mentally well enough. i never thought of him as anything but my brother so i think that helped as well, i think if i wouldve basically poisoned myself into considering him to be my child it would've made things a million times harder as well as that being biologically untrue.

my parents trusted me to do this extremely important thing for them because i volunteered several times over the course of years and have worked to prove my responsibility to them. so it really felt like an act of love for me, i love them, i love my other siblings, i love the baby, i love everyone. all i wanted was to give more. and from the beginning my parents told me this isn't just their baby, it's 'our' baby, as in my whole family. thinking about it that way helped me too.

i hope this helped. i was very scared at some points and very nervous or fearful but nothing was ever as bad as i thought and i was never presented with anything i couldnt handle. please if you need or want to, come off anon and talk to me. im here for you if you need it, even if it is still anonymous but we are able to talk privately and i can do whatever i can to help, i'd be more than happy to. thank you for coming to me, i hope with all my heart that you're okay and your family too

[paperanddice]

Linnorms are a more primeval type of dragon, found in the ancient corners of the world where they've been slowly driven back by modern dragons and civilization. They are ancient creatures, even the weakest among them being a massive individual threat, but their numbers have dwindled over the centuries. Crag linnorms are among the weakest of their kind, but still measure well over 60 feet from nose to tail, and the magma they breath clings and continues to burn in an exceptionally painful manner. The ancient gods that blessed the linnorms in ages past leave a powerful curse upon the one who kills a crag linnorm, causing fires to scorch the killer far more effectively.

I released 5e stats for a crag linnorm years ago, after using it in one of my games. In the years since I've certainly improved my design a little, so this is an update with a few wording improvements, some formatting, and also reducing its damage and defenses slightly to put it more in line with the expected numbers for its level. I also made it a legendary creature, as the initial creation just completely forgot about that design feature.

Originally from the Pathfinder Bestiary. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

5th Edition

Crag Linnorm Gargantuan dragon, chaotic evil Armor Class 18 (natural armor) Hit Points 214 (13d20 + 78) Speed 30 ft., fly 50 ft., swim 30 ft. Str 25 (+7) Dex 6 (-2) Con 22 (+6) Int 5 (-3) Wis 18 (+4) Cha 21 (+5) Skills Perception +9 Damage Immunities fire, poison Damage Resistances cold, bludgeoning, piercing and slashing from non magical attacks not made with cold-iron weapons Condition Immunities charmed, frightened, grappled, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned, prone, restrained, unconscious Senses truesight 120 ft., passive Perception 19 Languages Deep Speech, Draconic, Primordial Challenge 15 (13000 XP) Death Curse. The creature that kills the linnorm must make a DC 18 Charisma saving throw or be affected by a curse of fire. The cursed target loses any resistance or immunity to fire, and gains vulnerability to fire. The curse lasts until removed by the remove curse spell or other magic. If a creature attempts to remove the curse with a spell besides wish, the caster must succeed on a DC 16 ability check using its spellcasting ability score. On a failure, the spell fails. Legendary Resistance (3/Day). If the linnorm fails a saving throw, it can choose to succeed instead. Regeneration. The linnorm regains 15 hit points at the start of its turn. If the linnorm takes damage from a weapon made of cold-iron, this trait doesn't function at the start of the linnorm's next turn. Actions Multiattack. The linnorm makes three attacks: one with its Bite and two with its Claws. Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: +12 to hit, reach 15 ft., one target. Hit: 18 (2d10+7) piercing damage and the target must make a DC 19 Constitution saving throw, taking 7 (2d6) fire and 7 (2d6) poison damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. Claw. Melee Weapon Attack: +12 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target. Hit: 13 (1d12+7) slashing damage. Tail. Melee Weapon Attack: +12 to hit, reach 15 ft., one target. Hit: 14 (2d6+7) bludgeoning damage and the target is grappled (escape DC 15). Until the grapple ends, the target is restrained, and the linnorm can't use its tail on another creature. Constrict. One target the dragon is grappling must succeed on a DC 20 Constitution saving throw, taking 23 (4d8+7) bludgeoning damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful save. Breath Weapon (Recharge 5-6). The linnorm exhales magma in a 120-foot line that is 5 feet wide. Each creature in that line must make a DC 19 Dexterity saving throw, taking 42 (12d6) fire damage on a failed saving throw, or half as much damage on a successful one. At the start of the linnorm's next turn, any creature that took damage from the breath weapon must repeat the saving throw, taking 14 (4d6) fire damage on a failed save from magma stuck to its body. A creature that takes an action to scrape magma off of its body doesn't need to repeat the save. Legendary Actions The crag linnorm can take 3 legendary actions, choosing from the options below. Only one legendary action can be used at a time and only at the end of another creature's turn. The crag linnorm regains spent legendary actions at the start of its turn. Move. The linnorm moves up to half its speed without provoking opportunity attacks. Tail Attack. The linnorm makes a Tail attack. Constrict (Costs 2 Actions). The linnorm uses Constrict.

13th Age

Linnorms consider themselves above the modern dragons, even the Icons. The fact that crag linnorms can't handle most huge dragons in a direct fight doesn't matter, they predate these usurpers and so are the true actual dragons. This pride and confrontational manner means that few can be found even on the fringes of the Dragon Empire. No Icon supports linnorms, leaving them alone to try and carry on their ancient pride.

Crag Linnorm  Huge 9th level wrecker [dragon]  Initiative: +14 Toxic Bite +14 vs. AC - 75 damage. Natural Even Hit: The target also takes 10 ongoing fire and 10 ongoing poison damage (save ends both). Miss: 45 damage. Claw Swipe +14 vs. AC - 25 damage. Quick Use: 2/round, each requiring a quick action. Tail Lash +14 vs. AC - 20 damage. Natural Even Hit: The target is also grabbed. The linnorm must release a grabbed enemy to make tail attacks against other enemies. Limited Use: 1/round, as an interrupt action when a nearby enemy moves to engage or disengage from the linnorm. Constrict +18 vs. PD (one grabbed enemy; includes +4 grab bonus) - 50 damage. Limited Use: 1/round, as a quick action. C: Magma Breath +14 vs. PD (1d4+2 nearby or far away enemies in a rough line) - 55 fire damage. Natural 14+: The target is hampered and takes 25 ongoing fire damage (save ends both). The target can spend a standard action on its turn to gain a +5 bonus to these saves (non-cumulative). Natural 18+: The saves against this effect become hard (16+). Limited Use: 1/battle; recharges the first time the linnorm is staggered. If this attack isn’t expended the first time the linnorm becomes staggered it can instead use magma breath as an interrupt action immediately, but it is then expended for the rest of the battle. Death Curse: If the linnorm is killed, its killer loses any resistance to fire and gains vulnerability to fire. Ending this requires the direct assistance of an Icon or a major quest. Escalator. Flight. Freedom of Movement: The linnorm is immune to being stuck or hampered. Swimmer. True Sight: The linnorm can see through illusions and invisibility. Resist Fire and Poison 16+. AC 25 PD 21 MD 20 HP 550

[anglaland]

fragile, handle with care

Fandom: bnha (my hero academia)

Relationship: Rei & Shouto post-

War

Rating: Gen

Additional tags: fem!Todoroki, mother-daughter complexes and healing, hopeful ending

Summary (AO3 link in reblog):

“I never knew,” Shouto says.

“Natsuo was young, too,” Rei says. “I’m sorry. I should have tried harder.”

“I made it harder,” Shouto says very quietly.

Shouto returns to her new home, and old skeletons follow. Nothing burns outwardly in this household, but guilt and grief alike simmer (and chocolate melts over a flame of their own creation).

“I’m home,” Shouto calls out softly, stepping past the threshold to the apartment.

Rei appears in the small hallway, dressed in a braided gray sweater and the long wool socks Fuyumi had knitted for her while she had been hospitalized. There’s a small smile on her lips with a matching upward curve of her eyes. “Welcome back,” she says dutifully. “How was school?”

“It was good,” Shouto automatically replies, carefully arranging her shoes and hanging her coat. The monitor across the wall from her reads 10C.

She had picked up dressing for the temperature she couldn’t feel from her mom…probably. The Todoroki estate didn’t have central heating either, and Shouto can remember having a gray sweater as well…

…almost. Almost remember, like so many memories, half there with the context fully out of grasp. Maybe the sweater was Rei’s. She thinks there may have been two of them and Mommy, you’re silly, you’re trying to wear mine! and she knows from the psychology class they took last semester that children only really start to dress independently from age 5, so someone had to have been dressing her, had to have put up with Shouto’s clumsy attempts to fit her arms through long sleeves and show her how buttons work.

Shouto didn’t need sweaters after that happened. She had two weeks worth of training clothes, and the outfits for the occasional public appearance with her father that would appear in her room with the tags still attached and disappear the next day (and she had left those tags on one time, once she had understood the concept of wealth and privilege and just how much 3those zeroes meant when she was much, much older, and Endeavor had burned the ends of her hair in anger as they sat shoulder to shoulder at the round table, and she can remember the familiar sensation of his flames against the back of her neck where his hand had rested, the horrible acrid smoke that always came with it accompanied by the unfortunately familiar burnt sulfur as Shouto stayed still, so still, because no one could know—)

Her mother’s hand cups her face. Shouto can’t feel the cold, and neither can her mother, twin sides of the same coin (but wouldn’t that mean being different, a different front and back, cursed to mirror each other but never see each other —)

The touch is warm, nonetheless. Shouto closes her eyes briefly and reminds herself it’s alright to take comfort in the action. You don’t need to deserve affection, her therapist had said. He hadn’t quite seemed to understand that Shouto had to earn it, had to, because she was the reason it had been lost.

But comfort. She could let herself feel the comfort. Her mother had said as much in the hospital after the War, when Shouto had opened her eyes and immediately met Rei’s gaze from where she was sitting in the visitor’s chair next to her. Her mother had wiped the tears dripping down her face with bandaged hands as Shouto had said I’m sorry and I’m so glad and everyone else, are they—? everyone was okay when I left, are they still—? and her mother had said Oh Shouto, My Shouto, had sat on the bed and cradled her face in two hands, and because Shouto was weak and selfish she had leaned forward and dropped her head on her Mom’s shoulder (and that could have been so bad, what was she thinking? How could she prioritize herself when her mother had continuously risked her life and stepped out of her comfort zone since Shouto had started meeting her?) but Rei hadn’t pushed her away, had murmured soft somethings as she stroked the back of Shouto’s head and Shouto cried harder.

It has been okay, since then. Her mother did it a lot, hand just as soft, just as warm, and sometimes Shouto can feel the tears in the back of her eyes wanting to fall again, just for the chance that her mother might embrace her seeing them (thinking only of herself again), but that self-rebuking reminder only worsens the self-pity.

Shouto steps back, and Rei’s hand drops into the space between them. “The new classes have been good. Everyone is doing well.” She pulls a small container from her crossbody bag. “Izuku really liked it. His mom made something too…she insisted, even though I said she didn’t have to. She says if you share your recipe, she’ll share hers, but I think she’s teasing.”

“I’m glad he liked it,” Rei says, stepping further inside. Shouto follows her past the kitchen to sit at the western table they had bought, shiny hardwood muting her steps. “I’ll call Inko tomorrow…hold on, I’m just going to write it down…”

She goes into the kitchen, and Shouto sits herself at the table. The dorms have something similar, with how many of them there are, and although she’s gotten used to it, it still feels different. But everything about this apartment is different. It’s meant to be different. It’s good to be different, even if Shouto is a reminder of anything but different.

Her mother returns with food. “Mom,” Shouto frowns, sliding off the chair. “I could have helped you.”

“You’ve worked hard, Shou-tan,” her mom says, setting the food in front of her and gently pushing Shouto back into the chair. “Rest. I’ll bring the rest out.”

Shouto sits back down.

Soft shuffling sounds echo from the kitchen, so distant from the lively clanging of the dorm kitchens. It’s cold soba that sits unassuming on the plate in front of her. It always is, the first day she returns to this house. Home?

She takes a bite of the plain noodles. Bakugou had yanked her bowl back the first time she had done that in the dorms, had scowled as Shouto frowned at her empty chopsticks and said don’t look at me with those sad fucking eyes, at least wait for the damn sauce, left Shouto with her legs hanging until he had come back with the second bowl.

You didn’t have to do that, Shouto had said even as she dipped her noodles into the (incredibly rich) broth. It was still really good.

Only you would eat soba plain, Bakugou had rolled his eyes. Shouto had chewed her noodles and thought about waking up at 2 am in horrible pain and dizzying hunger, sneaking into the kitchen to eat leftover soba plain and cold on the wooden floor. Is that bad?

It’s wrong, he had scoffed, and had given her both the soba and the sauce at the same time every time after. Because he had made it for her after too, still, even with her impropriety, because the store bought noodles were offensive, or he couldn’t trust her in the kitchen, or he was sick of her eating her bland protein dinners, but not because he liked making it for her (as he reminded her every time).

Shouto can’t— she can’t remember eating soba with her mother, not really. Fuyumi had said she enjoyed it and so she had made it for Shouto. And Shouto did enjoy it, and didn’t know how to even talk with her sister then, so she had eaten the soba every time.

The taste in her mouth now is incredibly familiar, settling in her stomach with painful nostalgia. She doesn’t cook, so she can’t place what exactly about it is different from the one Fuyumi makes, why this one leaves her heart aching as she looks towards the kitchen for her mother.

On cue, Rei returns with the accompanying broth. She smiles seeing Shouto. “You used to love eating it plain as a child too,” she says, setting the dish besides Shouto and settling in the seat across from her.

“I did?” Shouto says, surprised.

Rei laughs. “The sauce was too bitter for you, I think. And you liked to copy me when I chilled it. One time, you had frozen the entire thing solid, before melting it to show off to me, and then started crying when the noodles were soggy in water. I dried it out on the stove, and you burned them to ash the next time you tried to do the same.” Rei settles her head into her palm, and Shouto can see the fondness in her gaze as she stares off at the table. She takes another bite to bury the abrupt yearning in her gut.

“You loved doing little tricks like that all the time, even if most of the time you broke whatever you had with you,” Rei continues.

I started young, Shouto thinks, and says “…I don’t remember.”

Rei fixes her gaze on Shouto and it’s still there — the fondness, the - the love, and now it’s Shouto who can’t maintain eye contact. “I’m not surprised. You were barely two years old at the time.”

Two years old. So much of the happiness in her life had been consumed by then, before five. She had sucked out her mom’s happiness in the following year before it had all culminated in that day.

Shouto tries to remember — god, she tries, but is she remembering the memory or creating it as she thinks about it? It was a version of her that made her mom smile and not cower in fright, happy and not terrified, and Shouto would become that version for her mom, if she could remember.

“I don’t remember,” she says quietly, again.

Rei stands from the table suddenly, already turning, and so she misses the childish flinch from Shouto at the sudden movement. Shouto hates it, the obvious tell of what her life had been like in every inch of herself. She had never been like that a year ago, before the War ended. While everyone else reveled in the comfort of the new peace, healing with their families, Shouto got worse. Got obvious, and she couldn’t even heal her family to make it worth it.

Rei returns with a photo album in her hands. “There’s pictures,” she says, settling next to Shouto’s left (and Shouto breathes very, very carefully). “I think it’s in this one…”

“Where’d you get that?” She manages to say in a somewhat even tone, and decides against saying I don’t remember for the third time and inviting pity from the person whose life she ruined. The front of the album dates it to two years after she would have been born

Rei smiles next to her. Looks into Shouto’s eyes, and Shouto drops her gaze to her chopsticks, before remembering that she could be looking at the album instead. “I made it a few years ago,” her mother says conversationally. “My therapist at the time thought it would be a good way to reframe my memories. Fuyumi brought me the pictures.”

Shouto does remember a small, sleek, silver camera. Fuyumi always brought it out on her birthday or whenever she dressed Shouto for one of Endeavor’s hero events. She would say smile! as she clicked the photo, with Shouto standing awkwardly in a dress or sitting on a table behind shortcake. Shouto never did know what she did with any of the pictures. At one point, Fuyumi had started taking pictures of Shouto’s injuries before she patched them, sniffling it’s not fair to you, Shouto-chan, and it had given Shouto such, such, hope those months, fantasies of — of something happening lulling her to sleep at night, until nothing happened, and Fuyumi stopped, and Shouto gradually started tending to her injuries alone.

(She never knew what happened to those pictures either.)

Rei starts to flip past the first few pages quickly, but Shouto catches the edge of one of the pages with her index finger. A younger Natsuo proudly holds up a game controller while Touya sits next to him, brow furrowed in focus at whatever game plays on the screen behind the camera.

Shouto stares mesmerized at the picture. She’d only ever seen Touya in his schoolboy uniform picture that graced his altar and then every news channel for the past seven months. He looked even younger in the photo, closer to the hazy look in her memories.

He was in a loose blue flannel shirt here. Shouto owned one just like that. The couch they sit on still sits in the Main House collecting dust. Even the picture frames behind it were the same, without the addition of two more Fuyumi had put up after Natsuo had graduated high school and after Shouto had graduated junior high. Fuyumi was probably just out of frame of this picture, too.

The domesticity was everything Shouto ever wanted. Everything she ruined. Even now, she can barely patch it up for her family properly.

Her finger hovers over Natsuo in the picture. “Natsu-nii’s controller isn’t turned on,” she says abruptly. And it isn’t — there’s no triangle of white light on the back of his like there is on Touya’s. Kirishima had shown her how they worked when they had first moved into the dorms. These new gen controllers they released are so different, he had said. Shouto realizes now that it was to make her feel better about not knowing how it worked. He hadn’t even said it any differently. He still didn’t treat her differently.

Her mom laughs. “Touya used to do that all the time when Natsu insisted on playing too. I don’t think Natsu ever realized.”

Shouto takes her phone out. “Do you think he ever did?”

“You’re going to send him a picture?”

“It’s a very sibling thing to do,” Shouto says, and taps the camera.

You sent an image.

Mom says you never realized.

Natsu-nii

realized what

holy shit is that a baby touyu-nii

did fuyumi gives this to you???

You

It’s a baby you, too.

She gave some pictures to Mom. There’s a photo album.

Look at the controller.

Natsu-nii

damn i was kinda ugly as a kid

touya looks exactly the same lmfao im showing this to him

ofc fuyumi just has these, was she even sentient at this age

WAIT

WTF

You

Why wouldn’t she be sentient?

Natsu-nii

WTF

WTF???

that

that bastard

are you serious

what do you MEAN i never realized

this was a TREND?????

You

To be fair, you were six.

Natsu-nii

I THOUGJT I WAS SO GOOD AT IT TOO

THIS WHOLE TIME

this is the worst betrayal.

You

If you tell Touya-nii that, he’s going to laugh at you.

Natsu-nii

HES BEEN LAUGHING AT ME THIS WHOEL TIME THAT FUCKER IM GOING THERE TMRW I S2G

“I’m glad you two are close now,” Rei says, covering her smile with her hand.

“Natsu-nii did most of the work.”

Her mom shakes her head. “Don’t discredit yourself. He said you reached out first.”

“Fuyumi was the one who made it all happen in the first place,” Shouto shrugs. She traces a younger Fuyumi beaming at the camera. Her smile reaches her eyes here, crinkling the edges. “She never gives herself any credit.”

“No,” her mom agrees softly. “She doesn’t. But it’s not limited, Shou-tan. You can have it too.”

“Do you tell her that too?”

“I tell all my children.”

Not all, Shouto corrects mentally.

“Oh, you two were so cute,” Rei sighs. She angles the album towards Shouto. “It’s not the one I was thinking of, but it’s close enough.”

She’s waving a frozen peach at the camera. A block of ice encases both the fruit and her younger self’s fingers. Touya is sitting on the table next to her, hunched over, apparently melting another peach that Shouto had frozen.

“We’re together,” Shouto says, surprised. “I thought…”

“Not always,” Rei says distantly, flipping through the album again. Rei, Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo, even her, sometimes, alone more often than not but there. “I used to…in the year or two before…” She takes a deep breath, composing herself. Shouto waits. “Sometimes I’d bring you over to Touya and them…I don’t know if it made it worse. But it made you all so happy. But when you got older…you got more tutors. It was harder.”

“I never knew,” Shouto says.

“Natsuo was young, too,” Rei says. “I’m sorry. I should have tried harder.”

“I made it harder,” Shouto says very quietly, because she doesn’t want her mom to hear and relapse with Shouto’s self-pity, or hear and agree —

—but she still said it aloud because maybe she wanted Rei to hear and tell her otherwise.

Regardless, Rei is quiet for whatever reason.

The little soba she had eaten settles to the bottom of her stomach like a stone. Her appetite has vanished. This is new too, since the War, since she moved into the new house, the ache of hunger being replaced by a different, unnamed ache, and suddenly she can’t take any more — more food from her family, more sympathy, more pity, more of everything she so desperately wished for growing up.

They’ve reached the end of the album. Shouto doesn’t think Rei was looking at it very much towards the end either.

“You’re not hungry?” Rei asks, gesturing to the bowl of soba.

“I’m full,” Shouto lies.

Rei frowns, but doesn’t push her. Maybe she believes Shouto. Why wouldn’t she? It’s not like they know each other very well anymore. Beyond talking about school, and her friends, and about Natsuo and Fuyumi, and about what Rei had done for the day, they didn’t talk about much else. Every topic was carefully safe, and they were quick to veer away from anything more.

And that was probably for the best. The last time she relied on her mom for her emotional well-being, her mother buckled under the stress.

(But she thinks of Inko wrapping Izuku in the tightest hug and sobbing in relief, of Mitsuki swatting Katsuki’s head and the two of them yelling at each other, but so obviously happy, and the carefully maintained distance between Shouto and her mom —

— and is it wrong to want?)

She fiddles with a hangnail. She was the cause. She should be the change.

What do daughters even talk about with their mothers?

“I went shopping with Yaomomo and Ashido the other day,” she tries. “We tried on dresses and I bought one they said looked good on me.” She pulls up the picture Ashido sent in the class group chat, of Shouto in a pale yellow sundress that went to her knees (it wasn’t summer, and Shouto wasn’t really sure why Ashido had snapped the pic, but it made her friends happy, so she didn’t mind).

Rei takes the phone in her hand. “You look beautiful, Shouto,” she smiles. “Will you send it to me?”

“Of course,” she says a little too quickly.

Her mom hands the phone back. “I haven’t worn a dress like that for a while,” she says. “I used to love putting makeup on my friends before we went out shopping.”

Shouto can’t read the look she sends her. “I don’t wear much makeup.” She resists the urge to touch her scar. “It…feels heavy.”

“Oh,” Rei says. “Well — that’s okay. It’s been a while. I probably don’t remember much of how to do it. And styles change so fast these days.”

Shouto doesn’t know the first thing about fashion styles. “Yeah,” she agrees lamely.

The conversation settles. Shouto tries to rack her brain for other girly topics, and she wishes she had Uraraka or Hagakure with her. A girl that knew how to be a girl not — whatever Shouto is.

They’ve tried with her, of course. Putting makeup on her (but avoiding her scar without a word, and what was the point of dressing up a broken doll?), shopping, of course, painting her nails, watching romcom movies—

Well. There was a thought. She could, certainly.

“Valentine’s Day is this week,” she says hesitantly.

“Is it?” Rei looks towards the calendar hanging on the wall. “You’re right. Time’s passed by so quickly.”

They stare at each other.

“Is there someone you like?” Rei asks softly.

“…yes.” The hangnail is a little longer. Endeavor would have ripped it off if he saw her fiddling with it. “He’s in my class. You know him. Bakugou Katsuki.”

Rei’s eyebrows furrow, before recognition sparks in her eyes. “The boy who visited you in the hospital…the one who told me not to let you do anything stupid, and that you did-“

“That’s him,” Shouto interrupts, trying to stave off the inevitable.

“– ‘pretty good out there, for a half and half bastard like yourself’.”

The tip of her cheeks feel warm. “He – he doesn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Rei says. Shouto thinks this might be the widest she’s seen her mom smile today. “The way he looked at you. You two were familiar with each other.”

“We’re classmates.”

“But maybe Valentines?”

She’s not quite sure how she feels so hot suddenly, considering that she was created for thermal equilibrium. She sits her cheek in her right hand and tries to covertly cool herself off. “Not yet.”

“But you’re planning it.”

“I don’t know,” Shouto admits.

Her mom looks at her with knowing eyes, which grips her heart in equally painful ways. “What’s making you hesitate?”

Shouto thinks of waking early and drinking her pre-workout shake and watching him come back from an even earlier morning run, slanted red eyes and some remark or the other as he started breakfast and she watched him until she couldn’t delay any longer. The look he gave her when she started making his shake along with hers, and the ever so slight, ever so present smirk that appeared every day afterwards. Facing off against each other in afternoon training and the adrenaline of knowing she could be more heavy-handed with her quirk, seeing the explosions pop in his hands and the same feral look on his face because he could do the same. Stopping at the convenience store after remedial classes and him picking out strawberry milk every time, in addition to groceries for the class, the remark between them forever unsaid. And — comfort, of not having to try, not having to worry about her poor social skills, not masking, just — her.

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” she confesses.

Rei’s hand curls by her side. Shouto thinks of Inko grasping Izuku’s face between two hands, wiping away tears with her thumbs. She resists the urge to trace her scar.

“It will change,” her mom agrees softly.

“Oh,” Shouto says. She’s not sure if she should have told Fuyumi instead and gotten false optimism instead.

“But friendships always change, Shouto. Yours already has, even if it’s been slow enough that you haven’t noticed.” Rei twists a ring around her finger. “I can’t tell you what to do…I married Enji young. But whatever decision you make, it will be the right one.”

“You trust me too much,” Shouto says, trying for levity (except she’s awful at that, and it comes out a little too honest).

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because —” Because I don’t. Because anytime anyone has put their trust in me, I failed. Because I failed you. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Rei laughs, and the air shifts with the sound, and Shouto’s head snaps up, mouth parted. “Who does, Shou-tan?”

There’s a wonderful expression on Rei’s face, and Shouto wonders. “Did…did you ever —?”

“No. I wasn’t interested in any of the boys I went to school with. But one of my best friends was head over heels for a new boy or girl every few months, and we’d make chocolate for her to give her new crush.”

“Bakugou tried to teach me how to,” Shouto says, if teaching included strict directions for Shouto on how to use her fire (“it’s good practice for quirk control,” Bakugou had grumbled, shoving two bowls into her hands). “…I burned it.”

Rei laughs again, and Shouto wishes for a moment she could bottle it up for herself, before dismissing the selfish thought. “It takes some practice.” She glances towards the kitchen, then back towards Shouto. “…I can help you make some, if you’d like.”

“Now?” Shouto says dumbly before she can stop herself. “No, I mean,” she says hastily before the open expression on Rei’s face can slide off, “Yes. I’d love to. Thank you.”

Making chocolate turned out, in fact, to be melting chocolate. That would explain. Well. That she wasn’t supposed to let the chocolate harden because that happened after.

She tells her mom as much, hoping (selfishly) for another laugh. She’s rewarded easily, and Shouto’s whole chest lights up in warmth. “Wouldn’t you just leave it as is, if you wanted hard chocolate?”

“I thought the heat changed it somehow,” Shouto admits, opening up packets of dark chocolate Rei had gotten from the hospital staff after being discharged. “Isn’t that what cooking is?”

Rei is chopping nuts beside her, intermittently checking on the stand mixer next to her with different ingredients. “The heat does change it; it melts it. But it remains the same, just in a different form.”

Shouto gathers the chocolate in her hands, keeping it cool with her right hand, and brings it over to her mom. “We need a sauce pan and bowl, don’t we?”

The nuts are shuffled unceremoniously into a small bowl, and another round of chopping starts. “Ah,” Rei says, not looking at her. “Bakugou-kun probably used the double boiler method. We’ll just be using the saucepan. It’s…better, for this.”

Shouto nods, and turns the dial on the stove. It’s electric, the surface heating up without a lick of flame. Her mom had shown her what to do beforehand, but promised support if Shouto needed it. She drops the chocolate in slowly, and then begins to stir.

“It was nice of the hospital staff to give you gifts,” Shouto says, not taking her eyes off the stove.

“It was, wasn’t it?” She can hear the smile in her mom’s voice. “They gave me the baking pans as well, and the mixer…it was very kind. I told them a long time ago that I wanted to open a bakery when I was younger, and they let me practice in the communal kitchen, sometimes.”

Shouto stops stirring abruptly, and the chocolate begins to stick to the sides of the pan before she remembers to restart. “You wanted to open a bakery?”

”After word got around that I was making Ayase’s — my friend, the one with the many love lives — making Ayase’s chocolate, many of my classmates wanted some too.” Rei says, nonchalantly, as if this wasn’t the first time Shouto had heard of her mother’s dreams. “I ended up with a small catering business. The money helped my family…”

The scent of the dark chocolate is too bitter all of a sudden, and Shouto feels her throat constrict. The tiniest of fractals cover the countertop. “But you had to stop.”

“Well, of course.”

“Because you got married. And had kids.”

Rei meets Shouto’s gaze. “I wanted that.”

“But you wanted a bakery more. And you couldn’t because–” because Touya told me that you only got married because the Himuras needed money and Endeavor was probably far richer than whatever actually made you happy “because you had to have us. Had to take care of us.”

“Shouto,” Rei says, steady. “Whatever Touya told you…isn’t true. It was my decision. And it’s not as if I stopped completely. I still baked all of your birthday cakes, didn’t I? You used to help me–”

– and whatever she says after is lost in white noise because Shouto remembers that her mother did have to stop completely, remembers tugging on her mom’s shirt to ask about it and Rei brushing the bangs out of her face and saying Not today, and she had asked Natsuo about it, peeking across a paper door in the middle of the night, and Touya had told her venomously (and why can she only remember the painful memories of him?) that Mom can’t make them because she’s too busy with you.

“You had to stop because of me.” Shouto croaks. “I did make everything harder.”

And Rei hears this time, undeniably, but Shouto’s thoughts keep running, running, running, and she had known, of course she had know that she ruined her mother’s life, stole ten years from her, but — this, knowing that her mom had dreams, a goal, and Shouto took everything from her—

Rei stills, pausing the mixer. “Shouto, you were a child. A baby. You couldn’t have made it harder.”

“But I did,” Shouto says, and thinks she could understand the well Touya drew his hysteria from, feels it crawling up her throat. “I got more tutors. I took you away from everyone. I took the old man’s attention from Touya. And you both —” Her hand hovers over the saucepan. “You both suffered from it. From me.”

Rei is looking at her with wide eyes, and Shouto’s mouth goes dry. Had she triggered a memory? Reminded her of something it took a decade of therapy to process? “Sorry—” she starts to say.

“Shouto,” Rei interrupts, clasping cold hands over her own, over the unevenly melted chocolate Shouto is ruining. “That wasn’t your fault.”

She pulls her hands out of her mom’s grasp, and avoids eye contact, avoids seeing if there’s pain in her gaze — from her rejection, from reminiscing, from trying to comfort the source of your trauma. “It happened because of me,” Shouto explains. “If I hadn’t been born — you could…you could all — be different. Be happy.”

“Shou-” her mom tries to say, but Shouto leans away.

“And I know that,” Shouto insists, swallowing past the pain in the back of her throat. She has to say this, it’s important to say — she can’t have anyone blaming themself for her mistakes. “I know. And that’s why — that’s why I’m trying to be better.” Trying to be the hero of the family, like her mother so calmly said she was back then (and Rei had said she was surprised Shouto called her mom, as if it wasn’t Shouto that should be thankful to have the chance to do so). “To save everyone from what I caused. I have to,” she finishes quietly.

Silence. There isn’t even a clock in this house to fill the house with oppressive ticking sound. And silence — silence was the absence of an answer. An affirmation of what she said. It was her junior high P.E. teacher seeing bruises across her flank when she changed and saying nothing. It was the letter she picked off her door when Izuku had left, written words because all of their spoken words had talked around it. It was the echoing downpour as she stood outside U.A. with her father and Hawks, and he had promised to do this together and he didn’t, not until Shouto had said something.

And — maybe that’s why the words tumble out of her now. “And I will. I promise I will, and I’m trying, and I know it’s not good enough to make up for any of it, and maybe in the next life everyone can be happy without me, a real family —”

Her mother hugs her.

Her mother hugs her.

Pulls her in, one hand against the back of her neck, the other wrapped around her waist, and Shouto’s chin is propped up by Rei’s shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, just holds Shouto, and even with the silence Shouto’s head is the loudest it’s ever been, and even with her mother’s quirk it’s the warmest she’s ever felt.

When Rei pulls back, there are tears spilling from her eyes. And all the emotional build-up, years of it after being trained and trained and trained to not cry — Shouto sees her mother’s tears and suddenly, she’s crying too.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, and tries to pull away. Rei holds her firm.

“No, baby,” her mother says, smoothing over the unruly red split of her hair. “It’s not your fault. None of it ever was.”

“But because I was born—”

Rei cups her left cheek and Shouto falls silent, heavy, hot tears fall down her cheeks. “You didn’t ask to be born. You didn’t ask for your quirk, or the way you look — and I don’t deserve your apologies, not when those are from me.”

“That’s not true!” Shouto interrupts.

“Why not? I chose to have you—”

“But you didn’t!”

“I did,” Rei says firmly, wiping the tears from Shouto’s eyes, her fingers brushing over her scarred eyelid. “And in every universe, in every life, I would choose to have you again. There’s is no life where I am happy without you, Shouto.”

“That’s…”

Rei brings Shouto to the floor, and pulls her into her embrace again. “And I must be one of the happiest ones in this universe, because my Shouto suffered through my choices and still chooses to be kind and smile for me.”

Shouto cries harder.

“Never think that any of this is your fault. Shouto, you’re the best thing that happened to this family.”

She clings to her mom as she sobs, and she’s so selfish for taking comfort when she had ruined Rei’s life, even if — even if her mother says — “How c-can you say that, after everything I’ve done? A-after everything I’ve taken from you?

Rei presses a soft kiss on the left side of her forehead. “You’ve only given me hope, Shou-tan. You saved this family. Never think otherwise, never ever think otherwise.”

Being held like this, against her mother, fists clenched in Rei’s shirt, small circles being rubbed into her back while another hand strokes her hair, feels so familiar that the tears can’t stop, keep flowing as ugly sobs rack Shouto’s frame.

Shouto cries until her breaths become hiccuping gasps, and when she lifts her head and sees the dried tear tracks on her mother’s face, a new wave of hysteria rolls over her and she buries her face in her mom’s neck again as fresh sobs shake her.

Her head is pounding when Shouto finally lets go of her mother’s blouse, sniffing wetly. Her eyes burn, feeling heavy.

Her mother is still there.

(still here)

Fresh tears prick at the corners of Shouto’s eyes, trickling out the side, heavy but not as burning. “Shou-tan,” her mother says tenderly, running her thumb over Shouto’s fingernails.

“I - I don’t—”

“Shh,” Rei soothes. “You’ve been so strong already. We let you think this for so long. I’ve been gone for so long. But,” she gently grasps Shouto’s chin and tilts it upwards, “I’ll never let you go without hearing this again.”

“Mom,” Shouto sniffles.

Rei doesn’t whisper her next words. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

Shouto starts crying in earnest again, and Rei holds her throughout.

“The chocolate,” Shouto mumbles nasally some time later. She can’t tell the time; the warm white fluorescent lighting feeling as bright as noon sunlight to her. But the stove is off, and there’s no smell of burning, of heat to choke them both with.

Rei laughs softly, and Shouto’s been selfish already, and it’s been okay, so — she listens and warms without guilt. Rei brings a glass of water to Shouto’s hands, lightly prompting her to drink, and then to finish the glass. The headache abates slightly.

“We can try again later.”

”It’s ruined,” Shouto says. And indeed, the chocolate is clumped together, hard and decidedly not smooth and even.

“It’s just seized,” Rei consoles.

Shouto blinks slowly. Her eyes are starting to feel heavy with the urge to sleep. “But…chocolate…doesn’t have a brain?

Her mother’s lip twitches in poorly suppressed mirth. “It just means it’s become lumpy like this. We could fix it, if we wanted to.”

Ruined chocolate should just be called lumpy then, Shouto thinks (or not ruined?) “And if we don’t want to fix it? If we can’t?”

Rei stands and opens a cabinet on the distant side of the kitchen. When she comes back (and Shouto only barely doubted that she would come back) her arms are full of the other gifts and well-wishes from her hospital. Her mom picks one of the cards at random and gestures towards the date. Six years ago, from a woman who had written that she was sad to leave and that she would miss Rei. “Chocolate doesn’t spoil easily,” she says, smiling softly. “We can try again…there’s always tomorrow. We’ll still be here.”

— and Shouto returns the smile.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

Day 9: Creation Prompt - "Stay with me"

whumpee: peter sutherland

fandom: the night agent

hi here's another night agent fic! sorry it's a bit short but i was Employed for longer than expected today and consequently cut down on this a bit. i am still kinda pleased w it though, hope you enjoy! also note that this is set pretty soon after the events of the show.

She’s curled up on the couch, idly flipping through a magazine, when she gets the call. She doesn’t recognize the number, but she knows the area code. 202. Washington, DC. 

Peter?

It’s a little soon for him to be calling, she thinks. She’s no expert, but she’d been expecting him to be in his super-secret undisclosed location for a month, maybe. Three weeks at the least. A week and a half just seems too short for him to already be back in the country. 

She picks up anyway. The call could be a myriad of other things, and if that thing turns out to be bad, well, better to know now. Anyway, it’d take even the most determined hacker well over two days of continuous work to find her location from this phone. She’s safe, relatively speaking. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Rose Larkin?” She doesn’t know the voice. It sounds female, professional. 

“Who is this?”

“This is Dr. Grosse from Sibley Memorial Hospital in Washington, DC.”

Fuck. This…can’t possibly be good. 

“Yes?”

“I’m calling because you’re listed as the emergency contact for Peter Sutherland. He was brought into our hospital earlier today and is currently in surgery.”

Her heart is pounding. A thousand questions run through her mind - how bad is it, what is it, when had he made her his emergency contact - and she can’t figure out which to ask first. 

“Is he…”

“He’s in surgery. I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that at the moment.”

“Okay…okay, thanks.”

Rose hangs up. 

An hour later she’s on a flight across the country, fervently hoping that she’s not too late. 

--

She arrives in DC to good news - the doctor had called her back while she’d been in the air, and had left a message informing her that Peter is out of surgery and doing well, as of - she checks the voicemail’s timestamp - an hour ago. 

She calls back immediately, already in the backseat of a cab, needing to have the words spoken to her in real time. Never mind that she won’t really believe them until she actually sees him. 

She bursts through the hospital doors like a whirlwind and makes a beeline for the front desk. 

“I’m here to see Peter Sutherland,” she says, slapping her drivers’ license onto the faux marble surface. 

She illegibly signs the visitors’ log, illegibly prints her name on the paper nametag, and is led to the room by the same doctor she’d spoken to on the phone, who says that Peter is still fine but sleeping. 

The doctor leaves her at the door to his room - private, which is unexpected but nice - and she takes a moment to look at him through the small glass window. 

She hadn’t known how much she’d miss him, this man she’d known for less than a week, until that first night when she’d been in California and he’d been god-knows-where, and since then there has been this ache inside of her, up until this very moment, when she sees his face. 

There’s a bandage on his cheek and his arm is in a cast, held in a sling suspended away from his body. He’s too still, too small. The ache returns, in a slightly different shape. 

She opens the door. 

She knows what she’s expecting - for him to wake up, snap those eyes open like the highly-trained government operative he is. So when absolutely nothing happens, she’s worried. 

She approaches him cautiously, like a wounded animal. She doesn’t quite know why. And then she just looks at him. 

His face is littered with small scratches and bruises and the skin is unnaturally pale. The only other visible bit of skin is his hand, sticking out from the cast covering his lower arm. One of the nails is broken and the knuckles are bruised to hell. 

Someone did this to him, she knows, with sickening certainty. Anger flares up in her chest. He’d been gone for less than two weeks and this had happened? 

She wants to find the person responsible and make them pay. She wants to march herself down to the FBI headquarters and demand an explanation. She wants to hold onto Peter and never let him go. 

She can’t do any of it. But what she can do is find a chair and sit with him until he wakes up and stay with him after he does. 

She turns to leave the room and almost jumps out of her skin when a finger gently brushes against her wrist. 

“Stay with me?”

She whirls back around and finds herself looking into the sleepy but very much awake eyes of Peter Sutherland. There’s a lot written there that she can’t parse. But she recognizes the vulnerability, the fear. 

She wants to make that disappear, but she doesn’t know how. She wants to hug him, but settles for very gently taking hold of his hand. 

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

He grins up at her, soft, open, unguarded, and that awful feeling in her chest subsides. “You promise?”

She links their pinkies together and does her best to match his smile. “I might go find myself a chair first. And then I promise.”

thanks for reading! i did have plans to make this a bit longer but it was simply not in the cards this evening lol. hope you enjoyed anyway!