#it's way past my bedtime in my defense

[daydreamdoodles]

Is it cheesy to hope everyone feels as loved and/or wanted as this

[daylighted]

dean winchester x angel!reader — kissing lessons.

or, the defenses are down, the blockades shattered, and you dont know how to kiss. or, let dean help you.

cw, 18+, MDNI! dean talks you through it for real this time. backseat sex LOL. fluffy smut? lowkey subby dean hehehe. no protection yell @ them not me.

word count: 5.6k

notes, dean gets to be his full freak self here hehehe. everyone say ur welcome since i've been being HOUNDED SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIMEMEEEEMEEEE TO POST THIS. unfortunately for all of u this is the planned conclusion to their tale </3 don't crucify me. u legally can't since i'm giving u this.

★ ˚⋆

things were... a little awkward, after you saved dean's life with a kiss. like passion drove you over the edge, a desperate need to save him and to do it any way possible, that was the only time that you managed to kiss him right.

and he didn't — well, he kind of judged you for it. just little laughs, when you'd lean in to try and kiss him and end up flushing and sinking backwards. it was cute. sure, it did mean he wasn't getting any action anytime soon, and every bedtime kiss you promised him ended up becoming a bedtime smack for him laughing at your struggle, but hey, you guys just had a different dynamic.

he still thought you were the prettiest thing to ever grace earth. just because you didn't know how to kiss properly didn't mean he was going to suddenly stop being interested. it just opened doors to getting to teach you.

sam stayed back at the motel while dean volunteered to go on a drink run. it was one of those nights; a roundabout case that the both of them knew was going to keep them up looking for the slightest detail in the research that could alter their investigation for the better. sam needed a beer, dean wanted a beer, and you wanted whiskey.

literally. girl of his dreams, he'd thought. still thinks.

plus, you love car rides. dean had not let you back behind the wheel since the last time, and you didn't seem to want to try again either, more than content to sit and look pretty in the seat next to him.

the nearest liquor tour in whatever small town you guys were camping out in for the night was a good few miles away, and so he got to play all of his cards in one fell swoop. hand on your thigh, fingers trailing up the seams of your jeans, tracing with his nail on the inside of your palm.

you were squirming. he loved when you squirmed.

his fingers are just at the inside of your thigh, long enough to have gently walked their way over like they owned the place ( he did, you didn't know it yet ) and rest easily. that is the moment you speak up, those narrowed eyes locked on his in a glare.

"stop that."

dean's eyebrows flick up. he spares a single glance toward you, the picture of innocence written into the marrow of his sinful bones. "stop what?"

"you're touching me."

he hums to himself for a moment, eyes turned toward the stoplight he'd rolled up to. "could be touching you more."

"no."

dean huffs out a laugh. "are you scared of my hands, dove?" even as he says it, his hand moves again, to the safety of your thigh. "you know they'd never hurt you."

your eyes roll furiously. you grab his wrist and practically throw his hand onto the gearstick. "your hands are not sentient beings and cannot make that choice for you."

dean's gotten really receptive to you, over these past few weeks. what your expressions meant in the rare times that you didn't voice your confusion, what your body language said, and so now he's confident that he knows what you're feeling right now. your hands are clenched tightly in your lap, purposely not touching him, fisted so tightly that they shake a little. your eyes are facing forward without budging, even though he knows that his gaze is burning into the side of your face.

the stoplight illuminates your face in a green glow. "it's a green light," you say without turning to look at him, and that pretty much confirms it for dean. you're afraid. afraid, embarrassed, and not wanting to tell him any of it. "so go."

dean's jaw clenches as he restrains a frown behind the cage of his teeth. the absolute last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you had to hide away from him, keeping every one of those thoughts locked away in your inexperienced, curious head.

the car rolls into drive again, passing the parking lot for the liquor store. he sees it out of the corner of his eye; the way your head cocks to the side, your lip between your teeth while you try to figure out what he was doing. you could ask. he wanted you to ask. whatever was eating at you was keeping all of his pretty girl's first thoughts from him.

he pulls off on the side of the road and cuts the engine, leaving the both of you in darkness except for the moonlight pouring in through the windshield.

dean nods toward the backseat. "hop on back there, sweet girl," he says with a sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the driver's seat. you don't move. he props himself in the doorway with an unmoved expression. "c'mon. it's late. don't wanna have to tell you twice."

the way your face twists up in annoyance is exactly what he wanted to see. good. anything but that weariness that had marred your features. he slips into the backseat, shuts the door behind him, before your door opens.

seconds later, you're dropping into the seat next to dean. he turns on the leather to face you better, his hand coming up to brush the hair out of your face. "you know you can talk to me, right? i act like an ass all the time, i know, but you don't have to lock yourself away."

your face goes pink at his words. that angry twitch of your nose makes an appearance, and it's all dean can do not to break into a wider grin. knowing that something so delicate could also be so wicked was an enticing thought all in itself.

"it's embarrassing."

"so what?" his lips twist as his shoulders raise in a shrug. "who's gonna judge you? me? be serious, dove."

your nose twitches again, mouth in a tight scowl. "you would definitely judge me."

"that's how i know you're feelin' all insecure up there," dean says, tapping your temple with his finger, "because you know that's not true. i know that's not true."

you growl, actually growl, and dean wants nothing more than to grab you by the hand and tug your mouth onto his. even if you don't kiss him back, he wants to kiss you. your furious frustration was a common occurrence around him, but that didn't mean it got any less attractive.

"when you touch me," you grit out through your clenched teeth, your hands fisted in your lap like you might hit him. hell, he'd have taken the punch right then, if it kept you talking. "i feel things."

dean blinks twice in quick succession. "and?" you do hit him square in the shoulder. your hands carry much more of a punch than he could have predicted. he lets out a little oof, his lips pursing with his lack of amusement. "it's a serious question!"

"i can't say." you look adamant, your frustration so pretty on your features, and dean's a bit dazed. "it's embarrassing," you repeat, and dean gets it. or, he thinks he does.

one corner of his mouth quirks again, his cheek dimpling. the hand on your face falls to your thighs again, fingers lightly dancing on the inner seam of your jeans. "here?"

your hand raises to punch him again, and he knows he's right; catches it just in time before you can bruise that spot on his shoulder. "well, i can't leave you feelin' all hot and bothered, can i?"

"i am not hot," you scoff out almost in disgust at the suggestion, and dean does laugh, then. you were so hot it was ridiculous, but alright. "but i am very bothered."

"lucky for you," dean murmurs, his hand releasing your wrist and moving to your jaw, turning your head to look at him again, "i am very good at handlin' bothered girls." he leans in, brushes his lips against yours. "angels, i should say."

dean can feel you retreating already at the slight touch of his lips, but now he knows that it's not because you don't want to kiss him, or don't want what he's offering. you're afraid of it like the feelings will bite you, nervous to feel the full extent of it. his fingers hold your jaw more firmly.

"now, i'm not gonna ask," he says, driven further by the soft sound of your breath catching, "since you're feeling a little trigger happy right now... but i think it's time my little dove has herself some kissing lessons."

to his surprise, you don't hit him again. you just stare into his eyes with such earnest honesty that it's his turn to lose his breath. you trusted him so much. he wanted to show you just how much it meant to him; let you watch as he cradled your heart in his hands.

the distance closes in a second between your mouths, the brush of his slow and languid against yours, judging your reactions. your kiss is hesitant, and then suddenly you're pressing further into him, the force of it almost bruising when you don't move your lips. he pulls back enough to look into your eyes.

dean's finger comes up to pinch your lips closed, smiling softly as he does. "don't have to try n' bite my face off, honey, i promise," he chides without any malice in his words, taking advantage of the gentle grasp he had on your lips to lean in again. he kisses you slowly again, deliberate in the way his mouth moves, so you could figure it out.

your fingers uncurl in your lap and move to his shirt, twisting the soft cotton lightly. that's when he releases your lips, his hand shifting to cup your cheek in his palm. dean's thumb traces reassuringly on your cheekbone.

when your mouth opens this time, it's less like you're trying to sink your teeth into him and more like an invitation. dean knew you were a quick learner; had from the moment he'd let you behind baby's wheel. seeing it action like this, with your hands in his shirt and your tongue swiping across his, was on another level.

his free hand reaches for your hands one at a time, his touch on your wrist light as he lifts your fingers to his hair. he has to force his mouth away from yours, has to pull away from the taste of your tongue. "i know how much you wanna yank my hair out," dean teases, letting go of your hand to let you take over, "so go ahead n' pull, baby."

you look between his eyes again with that same open look, and he's sure he's melting right there into the leather backseat. "really?"

dean laughs. "yeah, really." he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours. "matter of fact, touch anywhere you want, baby. this is all for you. so y'can get outta that head of yours."

something flashes in your eyes at that. he doesn't know what it was - the offer or the idea - that caught your attention, but he's intrigued, too. one of your hand drops from his hair to his shirt again, this time at the waist of it.

he's a little dazed, admittedly, as you untuck it from being bunched up in the waist of his jeans. it's intense to have your eyes on him while you pull his shirt up until it catches on his extended arms.

"took the first chance y'could to get me naked, huh?" dean asks, even as his voice comes out more strained than it'd been before, his jeans suddenly feeling just as tight.

you use your elbow to nudge his arms up, and he raises his hands in defense at your sudden act of authority before he lifts them. then, you've got his shirt off, tossing it behind your back. "shut up."

"there's my girl," he murmurs, hooking his finger in your belt loop and tugging you closer. maybe he was moving too fast. maybe he knew you'd adapt quickly.

and you do. he never doubted you for a second. your hand rests on his cheek, guiding him back into a kiss, more confidently than any of your kisses had been so far. your fingers tangle in his hair, and dean has to physically bite back on the groan in his throat.

he takes advantage of his hold on your jeans to start unfastening them. you're so good for him, a perfect match, because you don't even know what you're doing but your hips are lifting so he can start pulling them down.

dean breaks the kiss with a pop of your mouths, and the growl you let out goes straight to the hardening cock trapped in his jeans. he doesn't want to move so fast, but you've always been a little cruel like this, tempting him in ways that he should have been stronger to resist. there was no resistance now.

he hooks his arm under your legs to turn you in the seat, draping them across his lap. he unties your boots for you, pulling them off and setting them on the floor of the backseat. then, he's grabbing the bunched denim on your thighs and tugging until they're off. dean has more care with your clothes than you did with his. he'd always treat everything about you as gently as glass, setting them on the middle console between the front seats.

you look at him for a second, like you're trying to gauge the situation you've both found yourselves in. pulled over on the side of the road like teenagers that couldn't wait, stripping each other naked in the backseat. it'd be laughable if you didn't look so vulnerable. for the second time that night, dean realized how big the trust you had in him was, and he didn't want to do a thing to mess it up.

"lemme get this off of you, yeah?" he asks, his hands moving to the bottom of your shirt. he meets your gaze for confirmation; gets a single nod. "it means a lot, y'know," he continues on, trying to keep you out of the black hole that was your worries, as he pulls your shirt up and over your head, "that you're trusting me with this. all of it."

"don't start," you whine, your hands moving to your eyes, covering your face. dean grabs your wrists and pulls them apart, moving your arms out of the way so he could properly see you. "hey!"

dean's lips pull into a small smile. "hi."

"this is a lot," you say, and his smile softens considerably, "i don't know what to do now."

dean lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "whatever you wanna do. this is all you, baby, i'm just here to provide." he rests his large palm on your kneecap, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothingly against your skin. "we can stop. you can kiss me again, or punch me again, if that's what you want. we can get dressed again, get what we actually came for..."

"no." you blink a few times before you shake your head. "i don't want to stop, i..."

dean's not a patient man. he's used to time limits and counting his days. but in this backseat with you, he's certain time has stopped just for the both of you. he feels the world at his disposal, like every bit of time existed like pieces of sand in his palms.

when you realize he is, for once, not going to interrupt you, and not try and put thoughts in place of your feelings, you huff. "i do not know what to do from here."

dean grabs for one of your discarded hands, holding your fingers in his lap. "do you want us to be on equal ground?" he asks, nodding down at himself. you were in nothing but undergarments; he still had his jeans on. "and then we can figure it out from there?"

your smile is beautiful in its hesitance. "okay."

"okay like you want my pants off, or okay like you'd just feel better if we were both freezin' our asses off back here?" dean teases, even as he shifts a little in the cramped space to start taking off his jeans.

your huff is practically a wordless grumble in itself. "why do you want me to spell things out?"

"i want you comfortable, dove," he says, the waistband of his jeans paused at his thighs, "there's no pressure here at all. if there's pressure, then it's not fun anymore."

you think on it for a second. dean watches your expression shift with your feelings and acceptance. "you may continue."

"oh, mama's bossy now, is she?"

you grab a handful of the leg of his jeans and yank. "shut up."

"yes, ma'am."

you wad up his discarded jeans and toss them at him in a ball of denim. "shut up."

"you're so pretty when you're mad, honey," dean mumbles, using his grip on your hand to tug you forward. you stumble a little in the small space, falling into his lap. "come n' make me shut up."

your eyes are narrowed on him as you shift to make yourself comfortable. your leg tosses over his thighs, settling into his lap. his breath hitches in his throat at the feel of your heat through both of the thin undergarments on you, and from the look in your eyes, the evidence of his own arousal has made itself prominent against you, too.

you look like you might say something. you don't. your hands grab him by his face and drag him in for another kiss. he actually chokes on a noise in his throat at the suddenness, and he thinks he might love you. knows he does, but has never felt the intensity of it quite like this before.

dean's mouth opens to let you in, craving the taste of you again. your tongue meets his instantly, lapping against each other's in a languid slow dance. he's content like this. he could stop here, and go back to the motel with or without the alcohol and use this memory here of your tongue in his mouth while you sat all pretty in his lap to get himself off, and be perfectly fine.

but if there was one thing that you were full of, it was surprises. his little whiskey drinking, praise adoring, bossy angel. your fingers fall between the both of your bodies and rest on his hard on through his boxers, and dean looses a shuddering breath.

you pull away from his mouth with his saliva on your lips. dean's head falls back onto the headrest of the backseat with a groan. "you told me i could touch," you say, your innocent voice so out of place with your devilish hands.

"i did," dean says, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. "didn't expect you to go for the gold immediately, though."

your answering smile is the prettiest thing he's ever seen. the moon sits high in the sky outside of the window, glowing and whitecast down onto you.

a halo of your own making.

dean thinks he's going to die.

you raise your hips off of him for the time being, your light touch teasing and electric at once. dean grasps that hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing each of your fingertips. "here," he says quietly, his other hand going to your waist. he traces over your ribcage lightly before he closes his fingers over your side.

he pulls you closer, lets you grind against the swell in his boxers. he groans, your breath hitches with a little whine, and he's sure, then, that he'll die like this.

"you like that?" dean asks you, dipping his head to get a better look at your eyes. you look dazed, a little drunk, and dean wants to see those pretty eyes glimmer and glisten.

he lifts you up again by your thigh, just enough to slide his boxers off of him as gently as he can. the space is cramped, and it's finally starting to feel like it.

dean's done this plenty of times, but there's something about your gaze that makes him feel more vulnerable than he ever has before. he's naked underneath you; you, who has never done anything like this before, and he feels more exposed than you seem to.

it's like a game, now. when he does something, you do it, like you don't want to fall behind in this back and forth. your hips stay up, and it's more awkward for you to tug your panties off, but you manage it with a few lifts of your legs, and a kick that sends them, somehow, into the driver's seat.

you laugh. it's breathtaking.

dean helps you settle back on his thighs, and it's all he can do to not fall apart there. you're warm, you're wet enough that he feels it on his legs, and all he wants to do is make you feel even better than you do now.

"green light?" dean asks, lifting his eyes to look at you again, and not at all of the skin bared to him. he doesn't want to overwhelm you with how intense he must be staring at you, but you're mesmerizing. perfection in the form of a wingless angel sat on his lap.

you blink a couple of times before the realization settles in. "go?"

"i'm askin' you, dove," he says in answer, hand going to the back of your neck to pull you closer, to press a kiss to your forehead. "red light or green light?"

your face is so close to his, but dean can see the melted expression in your eyes. instead of answering, you press a kiss to his mouth again. he's glad you like it, now that you know how to do it. he could handle kissing you over and over, but your lips kissing him back is something he was already getting addicted to.

on his mouth, you whisper, "green light."

dean blinks, now. his teeth drag your bottom lip back lightly until it pops back into place. "yeah?"

at your nod, he sits up a little better, his arms snaking around your waist. once he's got a good grip on you, he moves the both of you so that he's sprawled beneath you in the backseat, fully extended. he doesn't fit, his legs bent a little as his back presses into the door, but it's fine. everything is fine when he has you. plus, his bent knees only draws you closer to him.

"i promise this is the last time i'm gonna do this to you," he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, lifting you off of his thighs again. "just say red light if it's too much, okay?"

"okay."

it's more gentle than he's ever been, the way he spreads your legs open a little more, the way he lines the aching length of his cock up with your waiting entrance. just the brush of the tip against the wetness of your folds could make him crumble.

dean pushes up enough to just barely rest inside of you, giving you the moment to adjust. your gasp is small, breathless. he stops instantly, his hand on your thigh loosening its grip. your face twists into a frown. "i didn't say red light," you grumble through the pout, and he's always been a sucker for that little pout, as much as he is for when you sink your teeth into the puffy lip.

his laugh is warm, free hand raising in surrender again. "sorry, baby, jus' lookin' out for you."

you start to sink down further on him yourself with nothing but his hand in guidance. your eyes are wide, your lips parted in a soundless 'o', but you don't tell him to stop, and he trusts you enough to know that you would, if you needed it. he couldn't helicopter monitor you just because he was afraid of breaking the pretty thing he'd grown so attached to.

it's a tight fit, being inside of you. he can feel every bit of your walls expanding to fit him, and he tries not to groan, tries to not get too ahead of himself, but goddamn. months of fantasizing about this, of denying himself those same fantasies out of fear of ruining the trust you were building between each other, comes nowhere near the reality of how it feels to have you in his arms.

your head drops to press against his, and dean's unable to resist the way he leans up to peck a kiss to your mouth. a quick one, light and easy, that you take as a sign to deepen. your teeth scrape his lip, your tongue explores the expanse of his mouth, and dean takes this distraction from the discomfort he knew you were feeling to push the rest of the way inside of you.

you whine on his lips, and he kisses away the little noises. "i know," dean mumbles on your mouth, "it's okay."

the red light is unspoken, but he's not about to push you, or overstep anyways. you trace shapes with your fingertips on his bare chest, worrying at your bottom lip with your teeth.

"green light," you say after a few moments, and a few more soft kisses from him in the crook of your shoulder.

dean nods, leaving a last lingering kiss on your collarbone before he shifts enough to properly start to move inside of you. the thrusts are shallow and gentle, letting you get a feel for it, letting you adjust to his size.

your forehead drops to rest on his shoulder, each little whimper twisting at his heart, even if the sounds of them were beginning to get louder and less strained.

"feelin' better?" he asks, all of the strain from your voice stolen and bottled up in his. the way that you squeeze around him has all of his rational thought fogging, and it takes a conscious effort to be gentle with you. this wasn't about dean; it was about you.

you nod once, your hair tickling at his chest. he's about to keep up the slow pace, to keep going as gently as possible, until you sit up a little straighter and start to meet each of his thrusts with a grind of your hips. dean's head knocks against the passenger window, his breath leaving his mouth in a shudder.

you must like it, too, because you let out a breathless laugh. you grab his hands and hold his fingers between yours, letting them fall to rest on his stomach. it's that game again; you doing something to keep up with what he's doing.

dean grins as he watches you, the tight expression on your face melding into something a little more wild and free. he's never seen you like this. he'd take a picture if he wasn't absolutely certain that you and him were gonna do this again.

again, he moves your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles this time, his groan reverberating through your fingers. you match him so easily, like you were made for whatever he gave to you. your increasing confidence makes him feel comfortable enough to speed up, his other arm braced on the back of the seats for stability as he rolls his hips deeper into you.

your head tips backwards with the first real moan he's ever heard out of you. your reckless abandon is utterly disarming. he sits up straighter, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist, holding you pressed against him as he buries himself inside of you.

your hands tremble as they lock onto his face, holding it to be nose to nose with him. you're panting on his mouth, and he can't stop staring at your lips, and he's so deep inside of you that he can feel the tip against your cervix, deep enough to make a rough groan slip out of his throat.

there was no need for kissing lessons. you would have figured it out on your own, dean's sure of it, with how you tilt his head back to suck his top lip between yours, tongue languid against his.

it's embarrassing how close he is to coming already. how couldn't he? he was enamored, transfixed, and getting this little taste of you was intoxicating. your fingers move from his cheeks to his jaw, clawing at his lip, tugging the bottom one down as you ride him.

he lets you. he'd let you do anything.

dean's thumb finds it's way between your legs, slipping between your slick folds to rub gentle circles into your clit. your thighs clench around his, grinding your hips down further onto his, against his hand.

his head tilts up to capture your mouth again, wanting to taste each moan that you let out, to swallow your pleasure and keep it to himself, where no one else can ever see it. each of those shuddering moans gets louder, more frantic, and he knows you're close.

"dean," you whisper into his mouth, and dean wants to hear his name said like this every time from you, now. breathless, desperate, and as needy as he felt.

he thumbs more deliberately at the swollen nub, pressing a final kiss to your mouth before he works little hot kisses down your jaw, your neck. "dean, i--"

"it's okay," his voice is as rough as gravel. "that's how it's supposed to feel." he knows your head like his own, knows from the frenzied breath into his shoulder that you're going to come, and that it must be a little much, trying to live through those feelings and try to figure them out. "it's supposed to, okay? jus' let go, i've got you."

dean would always have you. he loved you too much to let go.

that thought is what breaks his resolve. his thrusts become more sloppy, harder than he should probably be with you, but he loves you, and it's ruining him to not show it, or tell you. the car is thick with hot air, the windows are foggy, his skin is sticking to the leather seats, but he loves you.

you come apart on top of him with the moonlight still bathing you in a halo's glow. your hips still, your fingers claw at his face, scratching red marks into his stubble, and you cry out a moan against his lips.

he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. his hips stutter to a stop inside of you, a gasping groan punctuating his pants into the column of your throat, his cock twitching inside of you as his cum fills you. he'd worry about that later. or maybe he wouldn't. he didn't care about anything in the world besides how much he loves you.

dean doesn't realize he's whispering it out loud until he registers that pretty laugh of yours.

your hair is stuck to your forehead, your skin glassy with sweat in the pale moonlight, and the halo of the moon still hangs above your head. you're the most divine thing he's ever seen, the closest to divinity he's ever let himself be.

"you love me?" you ask, your eyes so sweet and so warm as they watch him.

dean leans up to kiss each corner of your mouth. "where'd you get that impression?"

he can never tell when you'll be matter-of-fact or when you'll play around. he forgets sometimes all of the things he's taught you, every bad idea you've got wedged in your mind because of his influence. dean winchester never wanted to corrupt you or your innocence, but he knew he'd always end up pulling you into the dark with him. you were stuck together, after all, now that he'd embedded himself to you for saving his life.

"i had a hunch." your head tilts up pridefully, chin jutted out. the act is cute while it lasts but falls apart instantly when you start to laugh again. dean's never heard you laugh so much since you'd met. how'd he get so lucky?

the car ride back to the motel is peaceful, the frigid air conditioning blasting to try and clear the fog from the windows and cool the sweat on your skin. the entire time, dean's hand is on your thigh, and the entire time, you don't move it. the moon follows his angel out the window the entire drive, like it knows, too, that you were as divine as beings could be.

sam calls two miles from the motel. "everything okay?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice. "it's been at least an hour. i didn't think you could get lost on a beer trip in this town."

beer. liquor store. alcohol run. it all comes back to dean now that his head is a little more clear.

"oh," is all dean can say for a few seconds, gaze flickering over to you in the passenger seat. you pick at the threads on his jacket he'd given to you, head downturned to unsuccessfully hide your laugh, "got sidetracked. we'll be back in twenty or so."

it was sam's turn to be silent. his following laugh is more like a scoff than anything else. "jesus christ, dean."

"blame dove," dean cackles into the speaker, eyes fond as he glances over at you again. he makes a (definitely illegal) u-turn at the same stoplight that acted as the tipping point for the night's event back in the direction of the liquor store. "she's the one who needed taught how to kiss."

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4jackles @deanswidow @deansbite @whisperingwillowxox @bombarda-babe @whyyouegg @loverslantern @bitchykittenconnoisseur @jensenacklesantidote @keira-kaz2y5 @sthefferrete @depressionbarbie2023 @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @bleuatlas @minettacreekk @moonstruksandco @moodyquesadilla @severe-mental-illness @cevansbaby-dove @deansbeer @bluestrd @mccartneyqp @im-bili @chevroletdean @angelblqde @lyarr24 @psyches-reid @momoewn @globetrotter28 @starzify @jackleslvr @ryngzmn @aileenunfiltered @beausling @frosttbitessam @amberlthomas

[wileys-russo]

santa's biggest fan II l.williamson

part of the mila-verse and a little belated christmas fic i never finished in time santa's biggest fan II l.williamson "okay mils, time for bed bubba!" you clapped your hands together when the movie finished, the end credits rolling and your wife heaving a sigh of relief as your daughter groaned.

"another one! i'm not tired." the small blonde demanded, curling even more into leah who smiled in amusement, but that dropped the moment you gave her a hard look of warning.

"bubba if you don't go to sleep, santa won't come!" the footballer whistled with a firm nod as mila looked up to her in shock. "he only comes when everyone is sleeping." you back her up with another nod.

"okay lets all go to bed come on!" mila announced, launching herself off the lounge and sprinting off in the direction of yours and leahs room.

"mila babe, mummy and i don't go to sleep yet. remember how we talked about grown up bedtime is different to kid bedtime?" you called after her, footsteps thundering back down the hall as you were grateful you didn't still live in the tiny upstairs apartment you and leah first moved into together years before mila was even a thought.

"then why can't i stay up with you? its a special night, mummy said so! that should mean special rules." mila huffed, bottom lip jutting out into an adorable pout as she stomped her foot.

"it is already an hour past your bedtime little miss, now go on jump into bed and we'll come in and read you a special story. right?" leah chimed in, mila shaking her head and with a resoundingly stubborn no! was off and racing around the house again as you and leah shared a knowing look.

"my love i have a feeling this is going to be a long night."

and safe to say you weren't a betting woman but you were right on the money with that predication.

"is she..." you whispered to your wife as she ever so slowly tip toed back into the living room with a quick nod and you exhaled in relief. "how many stories?" you asked with a slight smile of amusement, opening your arms as the blonde sank down into them with a huff.

"the same one, over and over, seven bloody times. i might just add in the murder of that hungry hungry caterpillar the next fucking time i read it!" leah grumbled into your neck, your body vibrating beneath her with a quiet laughter.

"its not funny! god why are kids like this? first it was that awful baby shark song, then it was that awful show about fruit and friendship or whatever, now its the same awful book on repeat!" leah whined as you merely smiled, hand slipping up her hoodie to scratch your nails gently up and down her back.

"kids just like repetition baby its safe for them, they know they won't be disappointed. almost like a defender i know who has had the same pregame routine for...what is it now? ten? eleven years?" you chuckled, leahs head whipping up to scowl down at you as her taller body hovered over yours.

"that is not the same thing!" she whisper yelled defensively as your smile widened into a grin.

"is too. or should we talk about the rotation of bland beige meals you rotate? our daughter has a more adventurous palette than you, at least she can handle some seasoning and colour!" you teased, poking your tongue out in response to her offended scoff.

"i will have you know-" your hand darted up to cover her mouth with a sharp shut up at her raised tone of voice, peeking your head up to glance over your wifes shoulder, sighing in relief when mila didn't appear.

"you know my girl there is another way you could shut me up thats much more pleasant for both of us." leah smirked once you'd removed your hand, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as you tried to bite back your smile, her arms planting themselves either side of your head.

"is that mistletoe?" leah frowned looking up at the ceiling but the moment you tried to glance up her mouth connected with yours, your fingers pinching her side. "you're unbelievable." you mumbled against her lips with a slight snicker.

"unbelievably sexy? oh baby, how you flatter me." leah gasped sarcastically, once again kissing you quickly before you could reply, settling herself comfortably on top of you as your tongues fought for dominance of the kiss.

but before anyone could win there was an interruption, leah falling off of you in shock and groaning as her back met the floor with a thump.

"i'm not tired and i can't sleep!" mila repeated, stomping her foot with a scowl that was a near mirror image of your wives from where she sat on the floor muttering about her tailbone.

with a deep sigh you sat up, swinging yourself to push off the sofa and scooping up the tiny blonde, settling her on your hip. "well that's too bad mil, it is way past your bedtime!" you carried her back to her room, protests ringing out the entire time.

"story!" the girl demanded as you tucked her back into bed, sighing again and reaching for the book already sat on the bedside table, making yourself comfortable in the armchair by your daughters bed.

"in the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf..."

~

"-then he nibbled a hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out and-" "-and he was a beautiful butterfly!" your daughter finished excitedly, clapping her hands and nowhere near close to sleep as you exhaled tiredly and snapped the book shut.

"right i've read this three times now and you're a big girl right bubba? well big girls go to sleep when they're supposed to. so you and gunner-" you paused to adjust the little dinosaur plushie held tightly in your daughters grasp.

"-are going to lay here very quietly together, until you fall asleep. or else no santa! you want santa to come visit right mils?" you ran a hand through her mess of blonde hair as she nodded eagerly.

"mama!" her hand grabbed a fistful of your hoodie as you stood and ducked down to kiss her forehead. "yes baby?" you sighed with a small smile.

"cuddles till i fall asleep? pwease?" the four year old pouted, hitting you with the puppy dog eyes she knew worked like a charm on the pair of you most of the time.

"don't do that mil, you know how to do your L's properly." you warned with a look. "please! please, please, please, please-" mila begged as you sighed, seemingly more tired than she was at this rate and knowing the later she stayed up the later you and leah had to stay up to sort out her presents.

"okay! okay okay. but just for a little while, yeah?" you gave in, gently tugging her hands off you and moving to flick the big light in her room off, leaving only the small red arsenal nightlight illuminating a pathway to her door.

"bubba no-" you tried as you laid down beside her, the four year old climbing basically on top of you, her gunnasaurus plushie squished against your cheek as you exhaled, not bothered for the argument.

one hand moving to tangle in her hair your fingers moved rhythmically against her scalp, feeling her limbs ragdoll as her body became that little bit heavier, her breathing evening out against your collarbone.

you waited a few more minutes until you were sure she was properly asleep before very very carefully moving her back into bed, wincing as you struggled to detatch her arms which seemed to be locked around your neck.

though you didn't make it two steps towards the door before she awoke again, tiredly sitting up and wiping her eyes as you exhaled with a shake of your head.

"mama no! more cuddles." "no more cuddles bubba, time to go to sleep. mama will sit by the door for five minutes until you sleep again, okay?" you bargained quietly, your daughter seeming to accept that with a nod as she sank back down in bed right as you sat down on the floor.

five minutes passed though again as you tried to leave her voice rang out for you to stay and you sank back down to the floor with a frustrated sigh, gently encouraging her to lay down and try to sleep.

ten more minutes and you managed to crawl out of the room without interruption, leaving her door open ajar and returning the living room where your wife was still sat up awake, now bundled beneath a blanket.

"come here." the defender smiled knowingly, moving the blanket and adjusting to give you some room to sit between her legs, patting the sofa encouragingly.

though your ass had barely made contact before it sounded again, now both you and leah groaning quietly.

"mama! mummy! i had a bad dream!"

~

"she's down?" you asked hopefully, now sat comfortably beneath the blanket leah once was, your wife tag teaming to go and lay down with your daughter a half an hour ago, only now emerging.

"for the count." leah confirmed with a tired nod, taking a seat beside you and wiggling beneath the blanket, grabbing your legs and moving them to rest on her lap.

"shit its nearly midnight!" leah realised with a huff, tapping her phone and seeing the time as you hummed, your head resting on her shoulder. "she's a night owl like her mummy!" you teased, patting leahs chest who flicked your ear playfully.

"god i love this movie." you hummed happily, the two of you having been watching bits and pieces of the holiday as you took turns popping in and out of your daughters bedroom to try and get her to succumb to sleep so the pair of you could play santa.

and as your movie finished and there'd been no sight of mila for at least forty minutes now, you readied yourself to do just that, the presents all neatly stacked in your bedroom as leah counted quietly to make sure everything was accounted for.

"-so the bike stays here from us, and the new predator boots go out from santa." leah rolled her eyes at that making you grin, alessia having insisted her goddaughter grew up on predators boots instead of phantoms, something which had driven leah up the wall from the very moment the topic was raised, both you and your best friend adidas athletes while she was with nike.

"i'll go check she's asleep and grab the stocking off her bed, mrs claus." you winked, stealing a kiss from the grumpy blonde whose eyes rolled.

you'd grown up doing christmas a little differently from your wife, the stocking always sat on the foot of your bed rather than hung in the living room, a tradition you'd carried on through your daughter much to leahs protests it made everything ten times harder.

and tonight unfortunately, you were about to find out she was very very right.

you ever so carefully pushed open your daughters door, sticking your head in and surveying the room. "santa?" you heard a tired voice call out groggily, quickly pulling your head back and swearing under your breath, waiting by the door for a moment to see if she'd get up.

but it would seem the small blonde was at least half asleep as no footsteps sounded, and you hurried back to the bedroom where leah was nowhere to be seen, found in the living room meticulously organising the presents beneath the tree.

"we've got a problem." you sighed as she looked up with a frown and an eyebrow raised questioningly. "she's awake still? seriously? its nearly two in the morning babe this is ridiculous!" leah whispered as your eyes rolled.

"sort of, she's not quite asleep but she's not fully awake. we could wait a little while longer?" you sighed tiredly, running a hand through your hair as leah pulled a face.

"you and i both know she's not sleeping past five in the morning babe, no matter when she falls asleep, and i need sleep to deal with our families all day!" leah whined, head thumping against the wall.

"what and i don't leah? we'll just wait ten minutes and i'll check again!" you warned, your wife too tired to protest as she nodded, joining you on the lounge a few moments later.

sure enough when you popped your head in a little while later mila appeared to be sleeping, not a peep heard as you waited a few seconds to be sure, though your breath hitched as she tossed and turned suddenly.

"she's restless, i'm worried she'll wake up." you sighed as you returned to your bedroom where leah was waiting. "you're joking yeah? it'll be fine! lets just get it over and done with." the defender scoffed bluntly, trying to stand from the bed as you pushed at her chest and sent her bouncing back down.

"leah. we are not ruining the magic of christmas for our four year old daughter who loves santa." you growled tiredly, giving her a dirty look before disappearing into the en-suite, rummaging around for something.

"well we're also not being held hostage by that four year old for another hour!" your wife growled right back as she popped up in the doorway. "correct. so, time for plan b!" you stood and leahs hardened face fell seeing what you held in your hands.

"oh absolutely the fuck not. i know what you're thinking babe and thats not happening!"

only a few minutes later, it was most definitely happening despite your wives ongoing grumbles and mumbles of protest as you carefully stuck the cotton wool balls to her face.

"this is fucking ridiculous!" leah grunted unhappily, scrunching her nose up as you finished the makeshift beard, the blonde clad in a matching red arsenal tracksuit with a couple of pillows stuffed up her jumper and a white scarf tied around her waist.

"babe i look like a bloody garden gnome not santa!" leah whined as she caught sight of herself in the mirror and winced, a red arsenal beanie with a funnel under it to create somewhat of a makeshift santa hat teetering precariously on her head.

"she won't notice in the dark if she wakes up leah. you'll just crawl in, try not to wake her, get the stocking. we fill it, you crawl in and put it very carefully back, and we're off to bed!" you recounted, shoving her out of your bedroom and toward your daughters.

"go santa go!" you whispered, hand colliding with her ass encouragingly as she jumped in surprise and turned to give you a filthy look.

"oi you better watch it, elf." the blonde pointed menacingly as your eyes rolled, hiding a smile as your wife dropped to her stomach, pushing mila's door open and very carefully commando crawling inside.

you felt as though you couldn't breathe until she returned, a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing as she crawled out again a moment later dragging the stocking with her.

"don't you dare laugh." the older girl muttered, hitting you in the face with the stocking as the air of you hurried to fill it with presents quickly as possible, your breath again stopped as leah began the crawl inside to put it back.

thankfully despite a few tired mumbles and a sleepy roll over that had leah dropping flat to the floor, her mission was successful and a very sudden burst of adrenaline filled her body as she crawled out and ever so carefully pulled the door shut with a soft click.

your own bedroom door closing you squealed as a body hurtled into yours, a few loose cotton balls falling to hit you in the head as your back hit the mattress and your wife hovered over you with a cheeky grin and an all too familiar glint in her eyes.

"now i think santa deserves a little reward for all her hard hard work tonight my darling, don't you?"

[cumironi]

GENTLE LOVE : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

“loving you is the easiest thing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and comforting, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for you.

wc. 8,9k | m.list

it was almost midnight when you found yourself grumbling under your breath, cursing your two upperclassmen for dragging you into this late-night escapade. you tugged at the hem of your hello kitty pink pajamas, the fabric flapping slightly in the cool breeze that swept through the empty park. your hair, loose and free, danced in the wind as you shivered, regretting not grabbing a jacket on your way out.

the park was eerily quiet, the moonlight casting long shadows from the trees onto the pathway. as you trudged along, your slippers making soft thuds on the pavement, you finally spotted them: gojo and geto, casually lounging like it wasn’t nearing the early hours of the morning.

gojo, still dressed in his uniform, was sitting on a bench with an ice cream cone in hand, his legs stretched out in front of him as if he had all the time in the world. his bright white hair practically glowed under the dim park lights, a stark contrast to the dark surroundings. next to him, geto stood with his usual calm demeanor, already changed into his comfortable, oversized attire—a black sweatshirt and sweatpants. he had an ice cream cone of his own, and a plastic bag dangled from his wrist, likely filled with more midnight snacks they somehow thought were worth dragging you out here for.

you approached them, your face scrunched in annoyance. “you idiots do realize it's almost midnight, right?” you crossed your arms, trying to maintain your irritation despite the amusing sight of the two of them indulging in ice cream as if they were on a casual afternoon outing.

“of course we do,” gojo responded nonchalantly, licking his ice cream and ignoring your glare before gesturing to the empty space beside him, “come sit down and stop complaining already.”

geto chimed in, a sly smile playing at his lips as he took a bite from his own ice cream. “don't be such a buzzkill. you're here now, might as well enjoy the night air with us.” you had barely taken a seat on the bench when gojo's grin widened, his eyes raking over your hello kitty pink pajamas. he tried to stifle a laugh, but it quickly burst out, echoing through the quiet park. “seriously? hello kitty? aren’t you a little old for that?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he nudged you playfully with his elbow.

geto chuckled as well, eyeing your pajamas. “gotta admit it's pretty adorable, though.”

gojo leaned in closer, still grinning. “aww, look at you, all cozy in your kitty jammies,” he teased, pinching the fabric at your shoulder between his fingers, “you look like you should be tucked in bed and not out here with us.”

geto chuckled, shaking his head as he eyed your outfit with an amused smirk. “i thought you’d come out in something at least a little more... you know, grown-up,” he added, his voice calm but clearly entertained. “i mean, it’s cute, but definitely not what i expected from you.”

you glared at them both, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “well, excuse me for not having a runway-worthy wardrobe at midnight,” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. “at least i’m dressed for comfort, unlike someone who’s still in his uniform,” you added, shooting a pointed look at gojo.

gojo chuckled, patting the edge of his uniform blazer. “hey, don't hate on my style. this uniform's part of my charm.” geto leaned back against the backrest after he was taking a sit, still wearing that smirking. “more like a part of your ego,” he quipped, earning a roll of the eyes from gojo.

“oh, shut up,” gojo retorted, returning his full attention to you. “besides, you're the one who couldn't be bothered to change out of those baby pajamas.”

geto snorted at gojo’s remark, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “isn’t it past your bedtime already?” he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully as he glanced at you. you shot him a sassy look, crossing your arms and giving him a mock glare. “oh, please,” you retorted. “like you’re one to talk about bedtime. you’re the one hanging out in oversized sweatpants like a toddler, what are you? 2? at least my pajamas are cute.”

geto chuckled, shaking his head at your response. “touché,” he admitted, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. gojo snickered, watching the banter between you two with amusement. then he turned his smirk towards you, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “you know, speaking of toddlers, with those cute little jammies, you're practically begging for a bedtime story.”

he leaned in closer, his gaze lingering on the cartoon kitties printed on your pjs, “you want us to tuck you in and read you a goodnight tale?” you groaned in annoyance, rolling your eyes so hard you nearly gave yourself a headache. “oh, for the love of—stop it already,” you grumbled, standing up from the bench and making a show of sulking.

you started to walk back toward the dorm, but gojo was quick to act. He leaped up and blocked your path, a playful grin still plastered on his face. “oh no, you don’t,” he said, holding out his hand to gently stop you. “we’re not letting you escape this easily.”

geto chuckled as he didn't move an inch, watching the scene unfold with amusement. “come on, don’t be like that. we’re just having fun.” gojo's hand on your shoulder was firm, his grip gentle but preventing you from escaping. his smirk widened as he watched you pout with annoyance. “yeah, where do you think you're going? we didn't drag you out here to ditch us now.”

geto chimed in, still slouching on the bench. “you're stuck with us for a while still. so sit back down and enjoy the night. or are you just gonna sulk all night?” you groaned loudly, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “ugh, so annoying,” you muttered under your breath, stomping your feet as you turned back toward the bench.

gojo chuckled, satisfied that you were returning to the bench. he took his place beside you again, his arm casually slung over the backrest.

“see, that's a good girl,” he teased, his smirk widening, “no need to throw a tantrum.” geto rolled his eyes at his comment but still had that smirk on his face. “yeah, don't be such a drama queen,” he chimed in, enjoying the moment. gojo’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile as he held out his ice cream to you. “here, have some more,” he said, his tone a bit more soothing. “it’ll help with that attitude of yours.”

geto followed suit, handing you his ice cream with a playful grin. “yeah, we don’t want you sulking the whole night. we’re just here to have a good time,” he added, leaning back and clearly enjoying your reactions.

you took the ice cream from them, feeling a bit of the tension ease away as you accepted their offering. “alright, alright,” you said, though your annoyance had already started to melt away. ���i’ll take the ice cream. just stop with the teasing for a bit.” both of them exchanged amused glances, their grins not fading. “deal,” gojo said, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “now, let’s just enjoy the night.”

you took a bite of the ice cream, the cold sweetness helping to calm your irritation. despite their constant teasing, you found yourself smiling, realizing that, for all their antics, they really did make these late-night outings enjoyable.

gojo and geto exchanged a satisfied look as they saw your mood gradually improving. watching your expression soften with each bite of the ice cream was like a victory for them.

“see, we knew the sweet stuff would mellow you out,” gojo commented, a smug smile playing at his lips. geto chuckled, nodding, “yeah, nothing like some ice cream to chase away the grumpy mood.” he leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. “we've still got some snacks left, though. want something else?”

you took another bite of the ice cream, feeling your mood continue to improve. with a contented sigh, you looked at geto and shook your head. “i’m okay for now,” you said, offering them a small smile. “i’ll take the snacks later.”

as you continued eating your ice cream, you felt geto’s fingers gently run through the back of your hair, combing through it with a tender touch. the sensation was soothing, and you couldn’t help but notice how often they found little ways to be physically close to you, even if it was just a gentle touch.

you glanced at geto, his eyes soft as he focused on the simple gesture. you had come to realize over the past months that this was their way of staying connected—always finding subtle ways to show affection without overstepping any boundaries.

gojo saw the tender moment between you and geto, his hand in your hair, and he felt a pang of jealousy. he knew geto had always been more openly affectionate, but he didn't want to be left out.

without a word, he scooted closer to you on the bench, his thigh touching yours. he leaned in, invading your personal space, and feigned a shiver. “god, it's cold tonight,” he commented, his voice taking on a mocking tone, “you think i could share some of your warmth, princess? it's freezing.”

“you guys really are touch-starved, huh?” you commented with a soft chuckle, your tone light but acknowledging the need you’d noticed. geto smiled, his fingers continuing their gentle movement. “just a bit,” he admitted, looking content. “it’s nice to be close to you. we don’t get to do this often enough.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through you. “well, as long as it’s not too overwhelming, i guess i can handle it,” you said, leaning into his touch and letting yourself relax a bit more.

gojo let out a mock gasp of offense, his smirk not fading. “did you just call us touch-starved?” he feigned a pout, raising an eyebrow, “we're not that desperate, are we?”

despite his protests, he was secretly enjoying the fact that you were acknowledging their fondness for physical touch. he leaned even closer to you, his body pressing against yours, “oh come on, admit it. you love the attention.”

you raised an eyebrow, giving gojo a sarcastic look. “love the attention? from constantly getting surrounded by a couple of giant babies? not really,” you replied, your tone dripping with mock exasperation.

gojo feigned a look of shock, clutching a hand to his chest. “oh, wounded,” he dramatically exclaimed, a smirk still on his face. “we're not babies! we're just, you know, physically affectionate.”

geto chuckled at the exchange, his hand continuing its gentle stroking through your hair, “yeah, we can't help it if we crave your company. you're like our walking, talking stress reliever.” you tilted your head slightly, a playful grin spreading across your face as you looked at geto. “so, am i doing a good job as your walking, talking stress reliever?” you asked, your tone light and teasing.

geto’s eyes met yours with a soft, appreciative smile. “oh, absolutely,” he said, his hand continuing its gentle movement through your hair. “you’re perfect at it. couldn’t ask for a better stress reliever.” gojo rolled his eyes dramatically at geto's response. “oh, come on,” he interjected, a playful pout on his lips. “don't hog all the credit. i'm a pretty fantastic stress reliever too, you know.”

he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer to him and away from geto. “can't have you getting too attached to just one of us.” you let out an exaggerated groan and rolled your eyes. “oh, please, don’t get all cringe-worthy now,” you said, wrinkling your nose as gojo pulled you closer.

you nudged him playfully, still shaking your head. “if you guys are going to use me as your personal stress reliever, you should start sending me some money for my services,” you added with a teasing grin. gojo laughed at your response, his arm still around your shoulder. “oh, so now you want monetary compensation for being our stress relief toy? how much do you want?”

geto, not wanting to be left out, chimed in, “yeah, name your price. we're willing to pay top dollar for your services.” you squinted at them, giving them a bemused look. “why do you guys talk like i’m some kind of hooker?” you asked, your tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

gojo's smirk widened, “who said anything about hookers? we're just talking about your value as a stress reliever.”

geto chimed in, his tone playful, “yeah, you're priceless, you know. we'd pay a fortune to keep you around.” you gave them a disgusted look, shaking your head. “i swear, everything that comes out of your mouths sometimes sounds so inappropriate,” you said, your tone exasperated but with a hint of amusement. gojo chuckled at your disapproving look. “hey, blame it on our naturally filthy minds. it's just who we are.”

geto grinned, his hand finally leaving your hair, “yeah, you know you love it. deep down, you probably find it entertaining.” you rolled your eyes, reaching over to smack the back of their heads. “assholes,” you muttered, your tone more playful than serious.

after spending some time at the park, you thought the night was coming to a peaceful close, but gojo and geto had other plans. they’d decided, on a whim, to drag you out for a midnight hike up a nearby hill—while you were still in your pajamas.

you trudged up the path, feeling the chilly night air against your skin, your pajamas doing little to keep you warm. “this is my life now,” you complained dramatically, “i’ve climbed this hill, and now i’ll die upon it!”

gojo, leading the way, glanced back with an amused smirk. “shut up, we’ve only been hiking for five minutes,” he shot back, clearly entertained by your theatrics.

“yeah, quit your whining,” geto added from behind, his soft chuckle barely audible over the sound of your footsteps. “it’s not even that far, and you’re doing great.”

you shot a look back at geto, feeling a mix of frustration and disbelief. “seriously, though? dragging me out here in the middle of the night when i’m in pajamas? you two are insufferable.”

gojo turned around, walking backward with a grin. “come on, it’ll be worth it. the view from the top is amazing. just a little bit more.” with a dramatic sigh, you kept trudging along, determined not to let them have the satisfaction of seeing you give up. “fine, fine. but i’m holding you both responsible for my inevitable suffering.”

geto’s laughter echoed in the cool night air as he followed closely behind you. “deal. just keep going, and you’ll see it was worth it.” the night stretched on as you climbed higher, and despite your grumbling, there was a sense of quiet camaraderie in the air. it was the kind of absurd adventure that you’d look back on with a smile—though for now, the thought of your warm bed seemed like the true peak of the night.

gojo continued to lead the way, his pace steady and his spirits high. each step up the hill seemed to fuel his energy. “come on, princess, don't complain so much. you're still in your adorable hello kitty pajamas.”

geto was right behind you, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to your dramatic behavior, “yeah, just a little bit further. you can do it. we promise it'll be worth it.” you felt their hands tighten around yours, and you glanced at them with a sarcastic smile. “oh, wonderful, i’m being supported by the world’s most enthusiastic hill-climbers,” you said, your tone dripping with mock enthusiasm. “just what i needed.”

gojo’s grin widened, clearly pleased with your reaction. “see? we’re not so bad. we just want to make sure you’re okay.” geto chuckled at your sarcastic remark, “yeah, we're just being helpful guides on your little midnight adventure. think of us as your personal sherpas.”

gojo chimed in, his tone was light and playful, “and hey, you gotta admit, we're pretty great company. who else would drag you out on a hill climb like this?” you rolled your eyes, giving them an annoyed look. “personal sherpas, huh? more like personal tormentors,” you said, shaking your head. “and yeah, i guess I’d be hard-pressed to find anyone else crazy enough to drag me out in pajamas for a midnight hike.”

gojo chuckled at your exasperated expression. “hey, we prefer the term 'enthusiastic adventure planners' as for the pajamas, well, we think they're just adding to the hiking experience.” geto chimed in with a cheeky smile, “yeah, you look adorable in your hello kitty jammies, even if they're not exactly hiking-appropriate.”

once the three of you reached the top of the hill, you looked out at the city lights spread before you. with your hands on your hips, you turned to look at gojo and geto, who were both smiling at the view with evident satisfaction.

you couldn’t help but frown as you took in the sight. with a dramatic sigh, you smacked both of their chests. “the view is shit,” you complained, shaking your head. “i climbed all the way up here for this?” gojo let out an exaggerated gasp, pretending to be wounded by your complaint. “hey, we worked hard to drag your whining ass up here.”

geto chuckled, looking amused at your response. “yeah, and you’re supposed to appreciate the view, not just complain about it.” you rolled your eyes dramatically, crossing your arms. “oh, yeah, appreciate the view,” you said sarcastically. “the city lights are just so dull. and let’s not forget, it’s freezing up here.”

you shivered slightly, adding with a mock shiver, “i’m practically turning into an ice sculpture. so, thanks for that, too.” gojo chuckled at your constant complaints. “man, you really are a master of complaining, aren't you? the view isn't dull, it's just not exciting enough for your high standards."

geto chimed in, still amused by your dramatic responses. “yeah, and it's not even that cold. grow some thicker skin, princess.” you turned to geto with a raised eyebrow. “oh, yeah? how about you be a gentleman and give me your sweatshirt, then?” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

geto chuckled at your demand, raising an eyebrow as well. “oh, so now you're using your feminine wiles to try and get your way, huh?” gojo chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying the exchange, “yeah, playing the damsel in distress, all shivering and cute.”

you grumbled, clearly annoyed by their teasing. “useless,” you muttered under your breath as you sat down on the grass, your feet aching from the climb. gojo and geto exchanged amused glances, watching as you took a seat without saying anything more.

gojo chuckled, his eyes watching you closely as you sat down. “oh, look, the complaining princess has finally decided to take a break.” geto smirked, looking down at you as you sat on the grass, “yeah, those cute little feet got tired, huh?” you pouted, giving them both a look of exaggerated exasperation. “it hurts,” you admitted, rubbing your feet slightly, “and it’s not exactly comfortable up here, you know.”

gojo kneeled down beside you, pretending to be sympathetic, “oh, poor princess, your dainty feet can't handle a little bit of cold grass.” geto chuckled, sitting down next to you as well. “yeah, this isn't exactly the luxury penthouse you're used to, huh?”

you continued to pout, rubbing your ankle with a slight wince, refusing to respond to their teasing. gojo and geto exchanged a look, their playful expressions softening as they watched you, the usual mischief in their eyes replaced by something more gentle.

“alright, alright,” gojo finally said, letting out a small laugh. “we’re sorry, princess. didn’t mean to push you too hard.” geto sighed, a hint of a smile on his lips as he shrugged off his sweatshirt. “here,” he said, draping it over your shoulders. “was planning to give it to you anyway, just had to get my teasing in first.”

you glanced up at him, your pout easing slightly as you pulled the sweatshirt closer around you. it was warm, and you could smell geto’s familiar scent, which made you feel a little better. “thanks,” you mumbled, still sulking a bit but grateful nonetheless. “see?” gojo grinned, leaning in closer. “we’re not completely useless, right?”

geto nudged your side gently. “and we’ll make it up to you. promise.” you let out a small, reluctant laugh, their warmth and light-heartedness slowly melting away your annoyance. “so annoying,” you murmur with a small smile on your face.

gojo chuckled at your grumbled response, his smile growing wider. “yeah, we're pretty damn annoying, but you love us for it.” geto watched you as you pulled his sweatshirt tighter around you, a soft expression on his face. he reached over and gently ruffled your hair. “see? being annoying has its perks, doesn't it?” gojo leaned in closer, his expression mischievous, “yeah, our annoyingness comes with a side of pretty damn good rewards, princess.”

as you sat there, wrapped in geto's sweatshirt and surrounded by their annoying but loveable presence, the three of you settled into a comfortable silence. the city lights continued to glimmer in the distance, and the cool night air carried a hint of chill.

gojo and geto sat on either side of you, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. they watched you intently, waiting to see if your sulky demeanor would give way entirely. you let out a small sigh, deciding to just give in to the moment. without a word, you shifted and lay back on the grass, eyes fixed on the sky above. the cool blades tickled your skin through geto’s sweatshirt, but it was oddly comforting.

the city lights below seemed less dull from this angle, mingling with the stars in a quiet, understated way. it wasn’t exactly the grand view you expected, but maybe that was okay. gojo glanced down at you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “getting comfy?” he teased lightly, though there was a warmth in his voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

geto followed suit, stretching out beside you on the grass, his arm brushing against yours, “see? not so bad when you relax a little, huh?” you didn’t bother responding, just stared up at the sky, feeling their presence beside you. maybe they were annoying, but moments like this made it worth it. without looking at them, you let the silence speak for itself, a faint hint of a smile playing on your lips.

gojo and geto exchanged a glance, their teasing expressions replaced with ones of fond amusement. they knew they had broken through your initial annoyance, and now they were just enjoying this quiet moment with you.

lying on either side of you, they followed your gaze upward, looking at the stars shining above. the city lights in the distance provided a soft, ambient glow, adding to the peaceful atmosphere. after a moment, gojo chuckled softly, reaching out to playfully poke your side, “you're quiet. that either means you're still annoyed, or you're actually enjoying this.”

you felt geto's arm gently lift your head, and you didn’t resist as he slipped it under, letting it serve as a makeshift pillow. it was warm and oddly comforting, his familiar scent wrapping around you like a blanket.

you turned your head slightly to glance at gojo, still pouting a little but softened by the quiet peace of the moment. “i mean, it's not the worst,” you admitted, your voice carrying a playful hint of reluctance, “i guess this is... kinda nice.”

gojo grinned, his finger still poking at your side, “i knew you'd come around. you just needed some convincing.” geto chuckled softly, his arm shifting a bit to make sure you were comfortable. “and some decent company,” he added, his voice low and calm. you let out a small huff, but the corner of your lips betrayed you with the slightest upturn. “yeah, yeah. just don't get used to it, you two.”

but even as you said it, you settled more comfortably into geto’s arm, the three of you lying there in the quiet night, enjoying the simple, unexpected pleasure of each other's presence. gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he observed your softening expression. “oh, princess, you can deny it all you want, but we know you’re enjoying this deep down. we just have that effect on you, don’t we?”

geto chimed in, his voice carrying an amused tone. “yeah, and the way you’re snuggling into my arm isn’t exactly subtle, either. it's cute when you act all tough but then can’t resist the charm of your two favorite jerks.” you let out a quiet scoff, rolling your eyes at their relentless teasing. as much as you wanted to keep up the act, you couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in your chest at their words. their playful banter, the way they made it a point to draw a smile out of you, it was all annoyingly endearing.

you shifted slightly, making yourself more comfortable against geto’s arm, but you didn’t bother giving them a response. instead, you just gazed up at the sky, letting the sounds of their laughter and the cool breeze fill the silence.

it was one of those rare moments where words weren’t needed. surrounded by the soft glow of city lights and the comforting presence of your two favorite idiots, you found yourself genuinely content, even if you’d never admit it out loud. your scoff lingered in the air, a small sign of your silent surrender to their antics, and in return, they both smiled, satisfied with the quiet victory.

gojo and geto exchanged a knowing smirk, silently pleased with your reaction. they knew they had won this little battle of wills, and the look on your face said it all.

lying there under the starry sky, gojo reached over and gently ruffled your hair. “look at you, all cozy and relaxed. we think you secretly love this little adventure, princess.” geto chuckled softly, his hand idly rubbing small circles on your arm. “yeah, we knew you'd come around and admit that spending time with us isn't so bad after all.”

you glanced between them, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite your best efforts to keep it hidden. their warmth, their teasing, and even their relentless persistence—everything about this moment felt oddly comforting.

“maybe,” you mumbled softly, not quite ready to give them the satisfaction of a full admission, but just enough to let them know that you didn’t entirely hate it. gojo’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening. “we’ll take that ‘maybe’ as a win,” he declared, his tone triumphant.

geto nodded, his gentle touch still lingering on your arm. “yeah, that’s basically a ‘yes’ in your language,” he teased, his voice low and fond. you rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t argue further, allowing yourself to just soak in the peace of the moment. maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind this little midnight adventure after all.

gojo chuckled, clearly satisfied with your reluctant admission. “see? we knew you couldn’t resist our irresistible charm. you’re secretly a big ol’ softie.” geto’s smile widened at gojo’s words, his hand continuing its soothing circles on your arm. “yeah, deep down, you wouldn’t trade this for anything. admit it.” the two of them looked down at you, their expressions filled with a mix of amusement and affection as they waited for your response.

the quiet of the night settled around the three of you, the cool grass beneath you and the stars above painting a serene backdrop. your eyes stayed fixed on the vast sky, the scattered constellations offering a calm distraction from the earlier banter.

gojo’s finger brushed against yours, a soft and tentative touch, like he was testing the waters, unsure if you’d pull away or let him linger. but you didn’t move, didn’t say a word—just let the gentle contact continue, finding an unexpected comfort in the subtle connection.

geto’s arm under your head provided a steady warmth, his presence equally calming. though neither of them spoke, their proximity and the quiet sounds of their breathing beside you felt like a silent reassurance—an unspoken promise that, despite the teasing and the occasional annoyances, they were right where they wanted to be: by your side.

for once, you didn’t feel the need to complain or roll your eyes. instead, you allowed yourself to simply exist in the moment, the cool breeze, the faint rustle of leaves, and the distant hum of city lights below making everything feel strangely perfect. maybe, you thought, this wasn’t such a bad place to be after all.

gojo and geto continued their subtle touches, silently enjoying the peaceful moment. they could sense that you were relaxed and content, and for once, they didn’t press you to say anything.

gojo's finger gently traced a lazy pattern on the back of your hand, his touch barely perceptible. geto's arm underneath your head held you close, his presence steady and comforting. the night deepened as the three of you lay there under the vast sky, the silence stretching on as if the world had slowed down, just for this moment.

after a while, gojo finally broke the silence, his voice soft and thoughtful, “you know, i never thought I'd say this, but this isn’t too bad.“

geto hummed in agreement, his arm adjusting slightly under your head. “yeah, usually our little adventures involve more chaos and less quiet relaxation.” gojo chuckled quietly, his finger still tracing small circles on your hand. “yeah, usually we’re the ones causing the trouble, not lying in the grass like some peace-loving hippies.”

geto chuckled as well, joining in on the playful banter. “yeah, and you’re usually the one complaining the loudest, princess.”

gojo smirked, lifting his free hand and lightly pinching your cheek. “yeah, but we’ve already established that deep down, you secretly love our annoying antics. that’s why you keep hanging out with us.” you huffed, rolling your eyes at their relentless teasing. “please, let’s not pretend i have a choice here. you two are the ones who keep forcing me to hang out. if i ever tried to bail, you’d just terrorize me until i gave in—or worse, have suguru’s rainbow dragon hunt me down.”

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening. “damn right we’d keep terrorizing you. if we couldn’t win you over with our charm, we’d just resort to pestering you till you said yes.” geto chimed in, a sly smile creeping across his face, “and you know we’d do it too. we don’t give up that easily.” a pause hung in the air as both of them eyed you expectantly, waiting for your response. they knew they had a point, but they also knew you weren't likely to admit that you secretly enjoyed their company.

you sighed, rolling your eyes as their smug expressions continued to linger. “shut up, both of you,” you mumbled, trying to stifle a smile. “can we just enjoy a quiet moment for once without you two yapping your asses off?”

gojo chuckled, but he respected your request, leaning back and looking up at the sky. “alright, alright. we'll give the princess some peace and quiet.”

geto nodded, still grinning but now in silence, his hand gently squeezing yours in acknowledgment. the three of you settled back into a comfortable quiet, the sounds of the city below fading away as you all focused on the stillness of the night, the stars above, and the quiet but undeniable warmth of being together.

as the quiet settled around you once again, a thought occurred to geto. he glanced over at you, his voice quiet but curious. “hey, y/n,” he began. gojo glanced over as well, his eyes fixed on you, anticipating the question. you hummed softly as the answer. geto continued, his tone thoughtful. “have you ever made a wish on a shooting star?”

you stayed silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the vast expanse of the sky above, tracing the faint outlines of distant stars. the night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional distant hum of the city below. after a brief pause, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. “yeah,” you finally answered, still gazing upwards, “i have.”

gojo perked up, a look of mild surprise on his face. “really?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. geto raised an eyebrow, turning to look at you with a hint of intrigue in his eyes. “huh, i didn't take you for the superstitious type.” you shrugged slightly, still looking up at the sky, “i didn't, but i was pretty desperate at the time.”

gojo and geto exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with curiosity. they knew that you weren't one to casually make wishes on shooting stars. “yeah?” gojo prompted, his voice a mix of interest and concern, “what was so desperate that you needed to make a wish on a shooting star?”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your lip as you weighed your options. after a long pause, you sighed and looked back up at the sky. “it’s… something i want the most,” you finally said, your voice quiet but honest, “something i didn’t think i could get any other way.”

gojo and geto grew quiet, their expressions turning thoughtful. they could sense the seriousness in your tone and knew that this wasn't a light-hearted request. there was a moment of silence as the two of them exchanged a glance, a silent question passing between them. finally, gojo spoke up again.

“what was it that you wished for?” he asked softly, his voice gentle. you shifted slightly in geto's embrace, feeling his warmth against you as you took a breath. “gentle love,” you admitted softly, the words hanging in the air. there was a brief silence as you all absorbed the weight of your confession.

a quiet laugh escaped your lips, breaking the stillness. “it’s silly, i know,” you muttered, your tone light but a bit self-conscious. “sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, huh?” there was another brief moment of silence as the two of them processed your words. they glanced at each other again, sensing the vulnerability behind your confession.

then, gojo chuckled softly, breaking the silence. “no, it’s not ridiculous,” he reassured, his voice gentle and sincere. geto spoke up as well, his hand gently squeezing yours, “yeah, don’t worry, princess. it’s not silly at all.”

a few moments passed before gojo spoke up again, his voice a little quieter, “can i ask you something?” geto remained silent, his eyes fixed on you, waiting to see where this was going.

again, you softly hummed.

gojo shifted a bit, his eyes locked on yours, “what does ‘gentle love’ mean to you?” geto watched you closely, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. you smiled softly, your eyes drifting to the stars above. “i want gentle love,” you murmured, your voice filled with quiet longing. “that kind of love where he rubs my cheek with his thumb, where he kisses me over and over until we're laughing.”

you continued, your gaze distant as you pictured the tender moments in your mind. “where he uses his fingers to make circles on my hand, kisses my shoulder when i’m looking away, tucks my hair behind my ears, and kisses my forehead.”

a wistful sigh escaped your lips. “long hugs, rubbing my back when i lay on his chest… where he treats me like i'm delicate.” you paused, feeling the weight of your own words, before a small smile tugged at your lips, almost as if you were lost in a sweet daydream.

gojo and geto listened intently, their expressions soft as you described your yearning for gentle love. they could hear the earnest desire in your voice, the way your words painted a picture of quiet, tender affection.

there was a moment of silence as they took in your description, before gojo broke it. “that all sounds really nice,” he offered, his voice gentle. geto hummed in agreement, his eyes still fixed on you. “yeah, it does,” he said quietly, his hand giving yours a slight squeeze.bgojo shifted again, watching you closely. “have you... ever received that kind of love before?” he asked, his voice soft but curious. geto stayed silent, knowing that gojo's question might touch a nerve.

you glanced at gojo, your eyebrows raised slightly in surprise at his question. a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you shook your head gently. “no,” you admitted, your voice carrying a tinge of vulnerability. “that’s why i’m desperate.”

your words hung in the cool night air, the soft glow of the city lights in the distance reflecting the quiet longing in your heart. you felt gojo and geto's gazes on you, their expressions a mix of empathy and something unspoken, but you just kept your eyes on the sky, the stars above feeling like the only witness to your wish.

the three of you fell into a brief silence again as your words settled in. gojo and geto exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting to show a mix of understanding and concern.

gojo was the first to speak up, his voice a bit softer than usual. “but why does it have to be a shooting star? why not just...” he trailed off, not quite sure how to finish his thought. geto picked up where he left off, his voice equally soft. “yeah, why not just find someone who can give you that gentle love?”

you gently nudged gojo's chest, a soft smile tugging at your lips as he lay beside you. “i told you i was desperate,” you said, a light chuckle following your words. “when you want something that badly, you'll do anything— even something as silly as wishing on a shooting star.”

turning your head slightly, you meet geto's eyes, your smile fading into something more contemplative. “it’s not that easy,” you admitted, your voice a bit quieter. “finding someone who truly understands that kind of love… it feels impossible sometimes.” you let out a small sigh, your gaze drifting back up to the sky.

gojo and geto didn’t have a response to that. they could feel the weight of your hopeless feeling, the resignation that crept into your voice.

geto's grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly, a silent reassurance that he was listening. gojo, meanwhile, found himself unable to find anything to say that would ease the heaviness in the air. after a few moments of silence, gojo finally spoke up, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of disbelief. “how could it be impossible? you're not that difficult to love.”

your heart quickened at gojo’s words, a flicker of warmth spreading through the ache you’d long carried. for as long as you could remember, you’d believed you were harder to love—your parents’ dismissiveness and constant comparisons to your siblings only cemented that belief. but hearing gojo say that, even in his casual tone, felt like a balm to your wounded heart.

you turned your head slightly, catching gojo’s gaze. his eyes were sincere, a quiet intensity in them that told you he meant every word. something shifted in your chest, a mix of hope and disbelief, and for a moment, you found yourself struggling to find the right response. all you could manage was a small, genuine smile, the weight of your unspoken fears still hanging between you but just a little lighter now. “thanks,” you finally whispered, the simple word carrying all the gratitude and vulnerability you couldn’t quite voice.

gojo smiled back, his eyes meeting yours. he could tell that his words had touched a chord in you, and despite the lighthearted tone of his comment, he meant it. geto, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, stayed quietly beside you, his arm still wrapped around you, his presence a gentle reassurance.

gojo's expression softened as he continued to look at you, his voice warm. “you really have no idea how lovable you are, do you?” gojo leaned closer, propping himself up on his elbow. his eyes never left yours, the sincerity in them more intense than before. he gently pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “loving you is the easiest thing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and comforting, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for you.

when he pulled back, his expression was filled with a mix of affection and gentle confidence. “as your upperclassman, i can guarantee it—loving you is as easy as a snap of the fingers.” he snapped his fingers playfully, a warm smile spreading across his face, the kind that reached his eyes and made you feel seen and cherished in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

geto watched from beside you, a smile playing on his lips as he observed the tenderness in gojo’s actions. he had seen gojo in many moods—arrogant, playful, and careless—but this version of him, the one who was gentle and sincere, was reserved for rare moments like these.

as gojo pulled back from his affectionate gesture, geto spoke up softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement, but also a genuine fondness. “he’s right, you know,” he added, glancing at you. “loving you might just be the easiest thing people can do.”

you smiled, the warmth from their words seeping into your chest, filling it with a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed. “aww, thank you, guys,” you said, your tone playful but laced with sincerity. “aren't you the sweetest when you're not being annoying and acting like assholes?”

gojo chuckled at your light-hearted response, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated annoyance. “i'm always sweet,” he protested, feigning offense. “you're just too dense to see it most of the time.”

geto chuckled as well, his arm tightening around you very slightly. “oh, please,” he chimed in, his smirk playful, “you're nothing more than a loud-mouthed annoyance most days, and we all know it.”

as gojo let out an exaggerated gasp of outrage and opened his mouth to protest, you chuckle. “oh c’mon, don’t deny it,” you teased. “we all know you’re a pain in the ass more than you're a sweetheart.” gojo looked like he was about to argue, but then he huffed and crossed his arms, a small pout on his face. “you're both so mean to me,” he muttered, clearly not taking the banter too seriously.

geto chuckled warmly at gojo's mock sulk, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. he couldn't help but join in on picking on his friend. “well, we wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so full of yourself all the time,” he pointed out, his smirk widening. gojo huffed in faux indignation, his pout deepening. “i am not full of myself. i'm just confident. there's a difference, you know?”

you chimed in again, your smile widening as gojo continued to pout. “yeah, that’s what happens when you act like a big brat all the time. you reap what you sow,” you agreed with geto's.

gojo's pout turned into a full-on frown at your words, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. “hey, i do not act like a brat,” he protested, his voice edging on a whine.

geto, sensing an opportunity to tease him further, couldn't resist chiming in again. “oh, but you do,” he teased, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “you act like a spoiled little kid who's always demanding attention.” gojo's frown deepened as geto continued to dig into his ego. “i do not demand attention,” he argued, his voice rising slightly.

geto chuckled, not taking gojo's protests seriously. “oh, yes, you do. you're like a needy little puppy, always wanting to be noticed and fussed over.” you chuckled softly, shaking your head at their banter. watching them bicker like this was like witnessing a comedy routine unfold right before your eyes. “you guys are ridiculous,” you mumbled, amusement dancing in your voice.

leaning back on the grass, you glanced up at the sky again, still smiling. it was moments like these—lighthearted, carefree, and full of laughter—that made you cherish their presence even more. “but, honestly, i wouldn’t have it any other way,” you added, your voice soft but sincere, appreciating the warmth they brought to your life, even through their antics.

geto and gojo paused in their banter for a moment, their eyes shifting to you as you leaned back against the grass, looking up at the stars. gojo’s expression softened, his pout replaced by a small smile. he caught your eye for a second, his gaze warm and genuine.

geto's smile mirrored gojo's, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “yeah, same here,” he echoed your sentiment, his voice carrying a hint of affection that was as sincere as yours.

they fell into a brief silence as they all soaked in the peaceful surroundings. the laughter and light-hearted banter from moments ago had given way to a comfortable quiet, the only sounds being the distant sounds of the city and the gentle rustling of the grass. after a few moments, gojo spoke up again, his voice softer now. “you know, i really mean it,” he said, his eyes fixed on the night sky.

you glanced over at gojo, a flicker of confusion crossing your face. his sudden shift in tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you wondered what he was getting at. “mean what?” you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity as you tried to piece together what he was referring to.

the sincerity in his expression was unusual, and it made you slightly uneasy, unsure of where the conversation was headed. you turned your attention fully to him, your brow furrowing slightly as you waited for him to elaborate.

gojo's gaze shifted from the stars to you. he could sense the confusion and curiosity in your eyes, and it made his heart clench slightly. it was unusual for him to be this serious, and he knew you must be wondering what was on his mind.

he paused for a moment, his normally lighthearted gaze now filled with a sincerity that made it all the more impactful. “i meant what i said earlier,” he clarified, his voice low but genuine, “about loving you being the easiest thing.”

your breath caught at his words, the sincerity in his tone making your heart flutter. it was rare for gojo to be this earnest, and it threw you off balance, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to. for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond—his words were so simple, yet they carried a weight that settled deeply in your chest.

you glanced away, focusing on the stars again, a small, shy smile tugging at your lips. “you’re really something, satoru,” you mumbled softly, your voice betraying a mix of disbelief and gratitude. “i’m not used to hearing stuff like that.”

you glanced back at him briefly, catching the warm, reassuring look in his eyes, and felt your walls soften just a little more, “but… thank you. that means a lot.” gojo's heart warmed at your genuine reaction to his words. he could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the way his sincere comments had thrown you off guard. it was a new side of you that he hadn't seen before.

he smiled back, his eyes soft, watching as you looked away and back at the stars. as you thanked him and admitted you weren't used to hearing those words, he reached over and gently tugged on a strand of your hair, playful yet affectionate.

“you deserve to hear it more often,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of a promise. geto had been quietly listening, allowing gojo his moment with you. he observed the tender exchange, the way your guard was slowly lowering with each sincere word. he could see the impact of gojo’s words on you, the way your cheeks flushed slightly and your eyes shone with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

he smiled softly, his hand still on your shoulder, a silent witness to the intimate conversation unfolding between the two of you. gojo watched as geto remained silent, his presence a steady, comforting presence behind you. gojo could practically feel geto's eyes on the two of you. he knew geto was observing, listening to the conversation unfold.

he turned his attention back to you, his gaze soft and affectionate. he was enjoying this moment, this rare opportunity to be open and vulnerable without his usual pretense.

“you really should get used to hearing it,” he repeated, his voice low and sincere. “everyone should be telling you how lovable you are all the time.” as gojo spoke again, his voice dripping with sincerity, geto could see your expression soften further. you were visibly affected by his words, struggling to process the compliments and vulnerability he was expressing.

he took a moment to observe you, the way your walls were slowly crumbling under gojo’s gentle yet firm persistence. it was a sight to behold, seeing someone so used to closing themselves off slowly opening up due to another’s affection.

you let out a soft sigh, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you—gratitude, vulnerability, and a touch of disbelief. pushing yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at the landscape stretched out before you, the city lights twinkling in the distance against the inky night sky.

with a small, almost wistful smile, you murmured, “eh, the view isn’t so bad,” your tone light but carrying an undercurrent of meaning. gojo propped himself up next to you, his eyes following your gaze to the cityscape in the distance. he chuckled lightly at your comment, understanding the double meaning behind your words.

“told ya,” he teased, a playful grin on his face. he could see the vulnerable expression you tried to hide beneath your light tone, and it made his heart clench slightly. geto, still laying behind you, noticed the exchange and smiled, his hand still gently rubbing your shoulder, a silent show of reassurance.

you glanced at the sky one more time before sighing softly, feeling the weight of the moment lingering between the three of you. shifting slightly, you gave them a small smile, trying to mask the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

“we should probably get going,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled. “it's already so late.”

you started to push yourself up, brushing off the bits of grass clinging to your clothes. the quiet warmth of their company was something you’d savor, but you weren’t quite ready to linger in this vulnerability for much longer. as you stood, you glanced down at them, catching the way gojo’s playful grin softened and how geto’s reassuring smile never wavered. despite the lateness, you knew they’d both follow you anywhere, no questions asked.

as you started to stand up, gojo and geto exchanged a quick, knowing glance. they could sense your need to break the moment, to reestablish some distance after the vulnerability that had been revealed.

gojo pushed himself up after you, his grin now more gentle than playful. “yeah, let’s head back,” he agreed, his voice soft yet understanding. geto got up as well, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a second longer before he dropped it, the reassuring smile still on his face. “we still have class tomorrow,” he reminded playfully.

geto's eyes caught sight of his sweatshirt hanging loosely over your shoulders, and his expression softened even more. with a gentle shake of his head, he stepped closer, his hands already moving to adjust it. “you should wear this properly,” he murmured, his tone filled with that familiar mix of fondness and care. “don't want you catching a cold, do we?”

he carefully slipped the sleeves over your arms, his touch gentle but firm as he pulled it snug around you. he took an extra moment to make sure it fit comfortably, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulders. “there,” he said with a satisfied nod, his smile growing as he looked at you. “better, right?”

the gesture was small but filled with the kind of quiet affection that spoke louder than words, leaving no doubt in your mind that, even in the simplest actions, geto's care for you ran deep. as geto tugged the sleeves of the sweatshirt into place and adjusted it around you, gojo watched the exchange quietly, his gaze flicking between you both.

he couldn't help but notice the tenderness in geto’s touch, the way he took the time to ensure the hoodie fit perfectly around you. the gesture was subtle, a silent expression of care and connection.

he could see the effect it had on you, the way you subtly relaxed under geto’s touch, a small smile tugging at your lips. gojo couldn’t help but feel a pang of something he couldn’t quite identify.

as you turned to face the descent, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, the thought of trekking down the hill already wearing you out. “ugh, i can’t believe we have to walk all the way down,” you groaned, rubbing your face with your hands in mock despair.

gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, catching up beside you. “come on, it’s not that bad,” he teased, but the glimmer in his eyes suggested he found your frustration endearing.

geto, ever the considerate one, stepped closer and gently squeezed your shoulder. “if you’re really that tired, we can take it slow,” he offered, his voice warm and patient. “or, you know, we could always carry you,” he added with a playful smirk, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease you just a bit.

your exaggerated sigh and whine about the walk were met with gojo’s amused chuckle, his eyes sparkling with playful understanding.

“you’re so dramatic,” he teased, his tone light, “as if a little walk is too much for you.”

geto’s gentle offer to take it slow or carry you was made with a sincere concern for your tiredness, and he tacked on the playful comment, clearly enjoying himself. his smirk hinted at his mischievousness, but you knew he was only half-joking.

you turned to them with a dramatic huff, hands on your hips as you eyed them both expectantly. “alright, so which one of you is going to be a gentleman and carry me down?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, demanding.

gojo and geto exchanged a quick glance, both of them trying and failing to conceal the grins that were pulling at the corners of their lips. they knew you were being playful, putting on a dramatic display to get your way, and they both knew they’d willingly play along.

gojo stepped closer, putting on an air of mock-exasperation. “oh, you and your demands,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful fondness. “don’t you know princesses should be carried on their prince’s strong arms?”

geto chuckled at gojo’s playfully exaggerated response, watching the two of you banter. he couldn’t help but join in, his eyes glittering with mirth. “that’s true,” he agreed, his grin widening. “princesses shouldn’t have to walk on such lovely little legs when they have princes to carry them.”

he took a step closer, his own eagerness to play along evident, his voice laced with a hint of anticipation. “so i guess that means neither of us can resist the call of chivalry, huh?” you straightened up, placing a hand on your hip and lifting your chin like a royal decree was about to be made. “alright, peasant,” you declared, putting on your best princess voice from centuries past, “carry me on your back, and make haste!”

with a dramatic flourish, you patted geto's back as if commanding him into service, a playful glint in your eyes as you stifled a laugh. gojo and geto both burst into quiet laughter at your haughty princess command, clearly amused by your overdramatic attempt at regal authority.

geto, playing along with theatrical flair, quickly dipped into a low, exaggerated bow, his hand over his heart. “as you wish, my delightful little princess,” he responded, his tone dripping with mock subservience. without warning, he quickly stepped in front of you, grabbing your legs and effortlessly hoisting you up onto his back, holding you securely with strong, steady hands.

as the three of you began your descent down the hill, the cool night air was refreshing against your skin. the path was well-trodden and easy to navigate, flanked by the soft, undulating grass of the field below. the grass field stretched out like a sea of green, dotted occasionally with wildflowers that added splashes of color to the landscape.

the distant city lights twinkled like stars on the horizon, creating a warm, ambient glow that contrasted with the dark, expansive sky above. the serene, peaceful atmosphere was broken only by the soft rustling of the grass and the occasional chirp of nocturnal insects.

as you made your way down, the gentle slope of the hill provided a smooth, relaxed descent. the night was clear, with the moon casting a soft, silvery light over the surroundings, making the walk both picturesque and tranquil. the cool breeze carried with it a sense of calm, adding to the overall peacefulness of the moment.

the atmosphere around the three of you was a picture-perfect moment of tranquility as you made your way down the hill, the landscape bathed in the silvery light of the moon.

gojo strode along beside you and geto, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his gaze occasionally drifting from the landscape to you, seated comfortably on geto’s back. his eyes were soft, his lips curled into a subtle smile. geto, meanwhile, was enjoying the feeling of you on his back, your warmth and weight a comfortable presence as he navigated the downward slope.

as you reached the bottom of the hill, you gave geto a playful squeeze, your voice light but with a hint of genuine reluctance. “you know, now that i’m all comfy on your back, i’m not so sure i want to walk to the dorm anymore,” you said with a teasing tone.

as you squeezed geto playfully, your words filled with both lightheartedness and genuine reluctance, he let out a low laugh, his back rumbling faintly beneath you. he kept his grip on your legs steady, his hands warm against your skin.

“oh, so you’re going to be a spoiled princess and demand to be carried the rest of the way?” he teased, his voice filled with playfulness and amusement, “it’s not that far, princess. you could at least walk the last bit.”

you shook your head with a playful smile, resting your cheek comfortably against geto's back. “nope,” you murmured softly, your voice muffled but clear. "i’m perfectly comfy here. i think i’ll just enjoy the ride until we get to the dorm."

geto chuckled at your stubborn refusal, continuing to carry you despite the lighthearted bickering. you were warm and cozy, pressed against his back, and he couldn’t deny that there was a certain charm to the current situation.

“oh, so you’re just going to hog my back the whole way,” he teased, a note of playfulness in his tone. “and what if i get tired of hauling your spoiled princess butt the rest of the way?” you chuckled softly, snuggling closer against his back. “oh, you won’t get tired,” you teased back. “with all those muscles of yours, it’d be pretty shameful if you couldn't carry a little weight. i’m just making sure you get to show off those muscles of yours.”

a small grin tugged at the corner of geto's lips at your teasing. he chuckled as he felt you snuggle closer against his back, your words stirring a competitive spark in him.

“oh, so that’s what you’re doing,” he responded, his tone dripping with mock-indignation. “what a spoiled little princess.” he adjusted his grip on your legs, hoisting you up slightly to ensure a more secure hold.

as the three of you continued walking, the light banter between you and geto carried on. he chuckled at your response, his heart feeling a slight flutter at your casual affection.

gojo, walking beside you both, listened to the soft back-and-forth banter. he could see the playfulness and affection between you and geto, and despite the mild sting of something unfamiliar in his chest, he couldn’t help being glad to see geto’s guard drop so easily and naturally around you.

he chuckled under his breath, his eyes flickering between the two of you. “you’re both incorrigible,” he teased, shaking his head. “suguru's going to end up with a sore back by the time we get to the dorm.” you raised your eyebrows playfully at gojo, giving him a smirk. “well, i didn’t see you volunteering to carry me,” you replied, your tone light, “so, you don’t really get a say in this. suguru’s the one who’s earning all the glory right now.”

as the banter continued, gojo’s eyes flickered to geto, his expression tinged with affectionate mockery. he knew geto was enjoying every second of this, playing the role of your personal chariot without complaint.

he felt another pang in his chest as he watched you cling to geto, a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite name swirling in his gut. he tried to ignore it, focusing instead on keeping the lighthearted banter going.

the three of you walked through the empty streets, the world wrapped in the stillness of three in the morning. the city’s usual hum was replaced by the soft glow of streetlights, casting gentle shadows that danced around your feet. laughter drifted between you, light and unburdened, as if the night itself had been holding its breath just to witness this moment of pure, unguarded joy.

you rested comfortably on geto’s back, your arms loosely wrapped around his neck. his steps were steady, each one a silent promise of support, and you could feel the warmth of his quiet laughter vibrate through your own chest. beside you, gojo walked with a carefree ease, his presence as bright and effervescent as the stars that dotted the night sky above. every now and then, he’d throw a playful nudge at geto or toss a teasing remark your way, drawing out your sleepy giggles that lingered in the cool night air.

the moon watched over you, a silent guardian of your little trio, its silvery light bathing the world in a soft, dreamlike glow. the cool breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of grass and the faint promise of morning, yet the three of you lingered in this serene slice of time, as if the dawn could wait just a little longer.

beneath your light-hearted banter, there was an unspoken understanding between gojo and geto—a quiet vow that settled in their hearts as they looked at you nestled so comfortably on geto’s back. they saw the softness in your eyes, the vulnerability you often tried to hide behind sarcasm and dramatics, and they knew. they knew that more than anything, you deserved the kind of love that was steady, gentle, and unwavering. a love that would cradle your heart through every midnight adventure, every shared laugh, and every silent moment where words were unnecessary.

you didn’t notice the fleeting exchange of glances between them, the silent promise etched in their eyes. but as you finally approached your dorm, the walls of your tiredness gave way to a sense of peace. you were surrounded by a warmth that went beyond the physical, a warmth that felt like home in the company of the two who had somehow become your everything.

and as they watched you start to drift off, your head resting lightly against geto’s shoulder, they made a vow—to be the ones who’d always carry you when you were too tired to walk, to share in your laughter and chase away your fears, and to love you in the way you deserved: gently, endlessly, and with all the quiet strength they could muster. it was a promise woven into the fabric of the night, delicate and unbreakable, as eternal as the stars above.

[megankoumori]

In defense of a "Wicked Stepmother":

Sarah's Stepmother in "Labyrinth", named Irene in tie-in media, only gets about a minute of screen time before Sarah rushes off to her room in a soaked snit. Fanfic writers usually turn her into an evil bitch and even the manga sequel, "Return to Labyrinth", has her cold and abusive to Toby, her biological child. But here's the thing...

I think Sarah's mother gets a bum rap.

Dressing nicely for an evening out and having mild conflict with a teenager does not a Lady Tremaine make. And as someone who actually lived with a narcissistic, manipulative, emotionally abusive stepfather, I can tell you that Irene doesn't even come close to wicked step parent territory.

Backstory first. It's never spoken of in the film, but clues in Sarah's room tell us that her real mother is a stage actress who abandoned her and her father for another actor. Sarah idolizes her mother and tries to emulate her with play acting. Sarah's father met and married Irene sometime after Linda ran off, and Sarah, who thinks her mom walks on water, resents the hell out of Irene for taking her place. A place that Linda abandoned for another man.

She couldn't help it. He looked like David Bowie.

Let's look at her first alledged transgression. She won't let Merlin into the house. Instead she orders him into the garage. Heartless, we assume because we all love dogs and only the most soulless of monsters don't. But slow down. She didn't leave him out in the rain. She put him in the garage. Furthermore, Merlin is an Old English Sheepdog. Is he a nice dog? Sure, but he's also a breed that's notorious for being high maintenance and hard to keep clean and right now he's soaking wet and filthy. Irene isn't being cruel, she's trying to keep him from ruining the carpet.

So now Sarah and Irene are in the house about to have their confrontation. "Sarah, you're an hour late..."

Sarah lost track of time. Sarah is the one who screwed up. Irene has every right to be frustrated. For all we know, she and Robert were supposed to see a movie or meet someone and Sarah's tardiness wrecks their plans. Note, please, that while she is frustrated, she's not even yelling. My mom would have screamed bloody murder and then held it over my head for weeks.

"Your father and I go out very rarely..."

"You go out every single weekend!"

There is no way to confirm who is right on this. I will say Sarah is the one prone to hysterics and exaggeration, so it's not looking good for her.

"And I ask you to babysit only if it won't interfere with your plans."

I ask. Irene asks. She doesn't demand, and she doesn't expect Sarah to give up her previous plans.

"Well how would you know what my plans are? You don't even ask me anymore!"

Sarah, you were LARPing in a park by yourself. Furthermore, with the storm you would have gone home anyway.

"Well I assume you would tell me if you had a date. I'd like it if you had a date. You should have dates at your age."

Irene doesn't want Sarah to be a Cinderella stuck at home every night. She wants her to go out and have a social life. This is literally the opposite of the bedtime story Sarah tells Toby later.

Also, "I'd assume you tell me..." Irene might not be wording it in the best way here, but she wants Sarah to communicate with her. She wants them to have a relationship.

Then Robert enters the scene. "Sarah, you're home. We were worried about you."

WE were worried. As in both he and Irene. You think that's the reason she was waiting on the porch? Because their sixteen year old daughter is an hour past when she said she'd be home and now it's raining and getting dark?

It's not like she'd ever talk to a stranger.

Sarah runs up the stairs in a snit, not even acknowledging her father and leaving Irene dismayed. "She treats me like a wicked stepmother in a fairy story no matter what I say." Her voice isn't angry, it's hurt. She's making an effort to reach Sarah, but nothings working. She can't break through the tantrums and the anger and the hero worship of Linda.

Sarah is a fantasy junkie. It's all over her room. Her books are all fairy tales. Her dog and her teddy bear are named after figures from Arthurian legend. But she's wrapped herself in a different kind of fantasy, a toxic one. One where Irene, well meaning and kind, is one of the evil stepmothers from her fairytale books, while Linda is good and virtuous like one of the dead moms at the beginning. Except Linda isn't dead. She's shtupping a costar.

Part of Sarah's coming of age and maturity is rejecting Jareth, the stand in for her mother's lover and therefore finally rejecting following her mother's selfish path. We see her finally let go of Linda by putting her picture and clippings in the drawer. Hopefully, the next morning, after she picks the confetti out of her hair, she'll finally be able to start over with Irene.

[slytherinshua]

NIGHTS WITH YOU

genre. fluff. warnings. food (ramen). pairing. soobin x fem!reader. wc. 700. request. requested by @blue-jisungs (my baby) for #25: "are those my clothes" and #34: "where's my goodnight kiss?" a/n. i've been writing just so much sleepy fluff either sleepy morning fluff or sleepy bedtime fluff im not complaining cause its always so soft but yeah :(

Soobin stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hair with a towel. His eyes immediately scoured around the room for you, and when he didn’t find you anywhere, a frown etched on his face. Since he had been at practice all day, you forced him to take a shower before delivering any hugs or kisses, despite how much he begged for them. It was a reasonable request, of course. He was sweaty and stinky— of course you’d rather kiss a clean Soobin. But your boyfriend hadn’t seen you all day and simply needed to be as close to you as possible for the rest of the night. 

He located you quickly, following the smell of spicy noodles to the kitchen. His eyes softened as he saw your figure, wearing one of his black t-shirts.  He pouted, coming up behind you to hold you in a back hug. 

“Are those my clothes?” He asked softly, a giddy smile growing on his face as soon as you laughed.

“You left your drawer open. They were practically asking for me to take them. Plus, they’re more comfortable than my pyjamas.” You said simply, stirring the sauce packet into the pot of ramen noodles you were preparing. 

Although Soobin’s shirts were much too big for you to wear daily, they made for the perfect oversized sleeping garment. As they were designed to fit your 6 foot man both height wise and broad back wise, they practically swallowed your figure. But you loved it, especially the way the shirts smelled exactly like your boyfriend. Soobin didn’t mind. How could he when you looked so cute in his clothes?

“We already share everything anyway. Including that ramen—?“

“No! You’re not getting any!” You shoved your boyfriend off of your back, defensively shielding the ramen pot from his prying hands. He frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to find a way through, but each reach he took got expertly blocked by your chopsticks.

“That is not one bite. That’s like, 6 at least!” You slouched back onto Soobin’s chest, keeping up your pretend grumpiness after you had finally agreed to give him just one bite. Truthfully, you had prepared the ramen more for him than you in the first place. You just wanted to see him eat well after practice. But it was always fun to tease him. Admitting that you carefully prepared them for your boyfriend would make you look unbelievably whipped. Which you were, but you weren’t about to admit it out in the open.

“Here, open up.” Soobin said, holding the chopsticks up for you, feeding you the bite of ramen carefully. Maybe he was just as equally whipped. You whipped your frown off your face and snuggled closer to your boyfriend, enveloped by his fresh scent and warm skin. 

“I can’t believe Beomgyu got to see you more this week than me. It’s not fair.” You sighed, thinking back to the past couple of days. Even when Soobin didn't have a schedule, he’d busied himself in the company building with Beomgyu, playing games or writing lyrics. 

You had nothing against the younger member, you were as close to him as you were any of Soobin’s friends. But nothing hit you quite as hard as the loneliness you felt when Soobin was away from you. It felt nice to be back in his arms, knowing that there was nothing left for that day that would prevent you from falling asleep and waking up next to him. 

“Where’s my goodnight kiss?” Soobin asked once you were back in his arms after doing the dishes. 

“Right here.” You smiled, cupping his cheeks to bring his face down to your lips. As always, Soobin’s lips tasted heavenly. And, just like always, Soobin was the clingier of you two. He chased your lips every time you pulled away, causing you both to giggle. Countless soft pecks were placed around your face until his head hit the pillow and he gathered you up in his arms, close enough to hear his relaxed breath and steady heart beat. The rhythm lulled you to sleep, head resting against his chest and your back blanketed by his arms.

↳ txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @minholing,,

@wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @heavenfilm,,

@sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,,

@nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss

[grimmsbride]

❛Stuck to the screen, your words repeating. ❜ ⸺ Kamo Choso

【⠀♱⠀】 SYNOPSIS. after a long night of gaming, choso helps you fall asleep with his.. soothing voice.

【⠀♱⠀】 WARNINGS. ooc choso | soft dom! choso | phone [more like voice chat] sex | not public sex but there was the threat of reader’s friends joining since it’s a public vc | porn no plot | reader & choso are gamers | mutual pining | mutual masterubation | overuse of pet names | choso is a tease | choso uses “mama” idc idc, it fits him [TO ME] | etc. if i forgot something let me know.

【⠀♱⠀】 AUTHOR’S NOTE. it’s the way i’m thinking about other things except piv sex, which is very exciting cause the shit got repetitive on my other acc. PLEASE EXCUSE ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES.

People that claimed gaming was a perfect past time were either naive or just plain stupid. How could one find the competitive, and nerve wracking hobby peaceful? There was always something going wrong. Whether having an awful teammate,a a bad day, or even— something as silly as bad luck.

Personally you didn’t love video games. You had no plans of getting shouted at by grown men over a digital creation, which stats didn’t affect you in real life. But.. as your friends usually did, they lured you into gaming.

Quickly too, giving you tips and tricks to assure you didn’t drag the rest of them down. And as much as you hated to admit it, you actually enjoyed it. Clicking with the rest of your friends, especially a man around your age named Kamo Choso.

During group meet ups you and him spoke pleasantly on just about everything. Life, his siblings, shared music interest.. you two clicked deeper then you have with anyone else.

An innocent connection you felt were developing into feelings..

Manicured fingers slammed into the keyboard rested on the desk, whilst soft swears escaped your lips. You blinked at the bright screen, sighing heavily the moment defeat in bold red letters flashed across it.

“This is our fifth loss in a row..” You moaned in annoyance, leaning back in your chair; adjusting the black headset you wore carefully. A soft chuckle came from the other line, taking you away from your annoyed thoughts.

“You suck when you’re tired..”

“I’m not tired, Choso.” You countered quickly, rolling your eyes the moment another chuckle came from the man. You breathed softly, clicking off the game screen and switching over to discord. Your eyes traced the computer for a moment.

Choso and you were the only ones currently awake or rather currently in the voice chat, and have been for the past hour and thirty-minutes. You hadn’t meant to play this long, however you sometimes got carried away.

You heard shuffling on the other side of the headset, causing you to gently grab your mic. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Are you?” Choso asked in a soft hum.

Your lips twisted in uncertainty, thinking over your options. The two of you could play another round and risk losing for the sixth time— or maybe try another game.. and still lose. Either one didn’t seem like good choices, but, you didn’t want to get off the chat with Choso; just yet.

So, with a soft hum you shook your head before replying with a quick “No,” when you realized he couldn’t see.

The man gave a curt sound, one that was surely of confusion. “Then.. do you want to go another round?”

“No..” You sighed, rising from your chair to waltz over to your bed. You landed upon the cushiony mattress harshly, rolling onto your back and laying in a starfish position. “You should read me a bedtime story or something.”

“I thought you weren’t tired?”

You could practically hear the smirk in his words, causing your lips to twitch— attempting to force down a smile. You rolled to your side, closing your eyes. “I’m not,” You said defensively, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position on the bed. “—but I do need to go to sleep, and you have a soothing voice.”

For a moment you couldn’t hear a thing, only your own breathing— making you worry the voice chat had lagged out. But as quickly as those thoughts came they left even quicker, given the man was replying with a simple;

“Yeah?”

You smiled slowly, smoothing your cheek into the soft pillow. “Yeah..”

Choso paused for a moment before uttering, “Hm.. I’m sure you just have a voice kink.”

Your eyes opened wide at his statement, eyebrows pinched close as a warmth spread across you. Did.. did he just read you like a book? Was the single thought in your mind, causing you to slowly sit up to think it over.

And yet, he didn’t give you that moment, interjecting before you could even think to reply; “What, did I hit it right on the mark? I was only joking..”

You’ve talked to Choso many times to know when he was joking or not— plus you weren’t an idiot, he was being dead serious.

So, you slowly cleared your throat, scooting back to rest against your headboard. “No, what even makes you think that?” You questioned, lying straight through your teeth. You bit back a grin the moment you heard an airy chuckle, ignoring how such a sound caused shivers to dance down your spine.

“It’s obvious. Every single time I talk to you, you have this same look in your eyes.” He hummed into your ear, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “Always listening, far too intently.. Eyes focused completely on my voice rather then my words. No wonder you always say huh, whenever we speak.”

Read after read— Choso wasn’t giving you air to breathe with these completely correct accusations. It wasn’t enough you were physically attracted to the man, no; you had to be head over heels for his voice too.

You opened your mouth to speak, only for Choso to cut in;

“Deny it, and I won’t help you fall asleep tonight..”

Your eyebrows rose, teeth biting the inside of your cheek as you fiddled with your pajamas. “What, you’re gonna read me a story after all?”

“Nah, I was thinking of something else,” His breath was airy, and you swore you could hear the rustling of fabric.

Such a thought caused the heat to pool down to your belly, thighs pushing together as excitement began to sprout. “..Thinking of what?”

Instead of answering you the man gave a soft, “Lie on your back.”

That same heat swept over you, almost daring to question him again but deciding against it. Instead, you were quickly sliding to you lay on your back; hand spreading across the sliver of stomach exposed from your rising shirt.

“I’m.. on my back.” You spoke, nibbling on lip your as your fingers absentmindly traced patterns upon your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut, head rolling back onto the pillow as anticipation welled in your stomach.

“Take your pants off,” Choso spoke again, before quickly adding, “—just your pants.”

You didn’t know whether to continue to be excited or annoyed he was dragging the obvious out— yet, you obeyed, again. Your thumbs hooked onto the elastic of your bottoms, tugging them down your body and kicking them to the edge of your bed. You laid there half-bare, waiting so impatiently for his next request.

“Now.. touch yourself.”

Your eyebrows pinched close for a moment, adjusting your position as your legs rose. “Won’t I need to take my panties off?” You asked playfully, fingers sliding under the fabric for a moment before his curt response caused your hand to retract;

“I never said to take them off. I only said to touch yourself.”

You hissed softly, fiddling with the waistband of your undergarments for a split second. You could just push them down now.. there was no way he could tell, right? It was only voice chat.

But, for some stupid reason.. You decided to listen, hand slithering between your legs to slowly stroke your covered folds through the thin fabric. The motions continued as the pleasure set in, your legs widening and soft breaths escaping.

From the other side you could hear Choso’s breathing become shallow with even more rustling following. You could just imagine it; him on his back, hair a mess from laying down and the headset, whilst his strong hand was slowly stroking himself through his boxers.

You wondered if he was leaking already; how there might be a wet spot slowly forming, darkening the fabric. Such a thought had your thighs clenching, finger delicately finding your bud below your panties.

The action caused your head to tilt back, lips parting as an audible gasp escaped.

“Oh, you sound so pretty, princess. So, so pretty..”

You whined softly at his words, feeling far more aroused despite the covered pleasure. Your other hand rose to slink under your shirt, grabbing ahold of your breast to roll your thumb on your slowly erecting nipple. The pleasure was increasing by now, yet still not enough— causing your frustration to build.

“Choso, please..”

“What, what’s wrong?” His voice was taunting and low, clearly aware of what you were practically begging for. “Don’t tell me you wanna take your panties off already?.. So impatient, sweetheart.”

Choso’s words were going straight to your pussy, wetting up the lacey fabric even more. Your hips rose to meet your hand, “Choso, fuck.. Just please, I need to take them off.”

He thought it over for far too long, even humming just to irritate you further. Though, you also heard more rustling and his bed.

Fuck.. how you wished you could see what was happening right now.

“Take ‘em off.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, practically shoving off the garment as if they had personally offended you. You then wasted no time in spreading your legs wide, hand falling between them to slowly separate your damp folds. There, your middle finger reached out; swiping across your swelling bud for a split moment— before beginning small, tight circles on it.

With nothing left to restraint you, your sounds were more vocal now — airy and sweet— driving right into Choso’s awaiting ears. This caused the man to breathe heavily right into the mic, followed by the sounds of wetness.

A flush of warmth escaped as the pleasure continued, moans waning as your combined actions dawned on you suddenly. Here you were, having voice chat sex with a friend, in a chat where just about anyone else could join— at any time. Sure, it was currently three in the morning but the threat still loomed over your head.

It seemed the man had sensed your nervousness given his sudden; “It’s only us on here, mama.. use that pretty voice, let me hear you while you fuck yourself.”

Just from his voice and the vulgarity you were keening, back arching as a finger slowly pushed into your awaiting entrance. The moment you adjusted you were curling the digit, moaning out as your stomach stirred with pleasure.

Choso was praising you at this point, “That’s it, good girl.. Keep playing with yourself,” He spoke, breath rushed with soft groans interrupting. His hand was tight around his throbbing length, thumb swiping at the slit and smoothing his pre-cum across his dick. “Bet your pretending your fingers are mine, huh?” A soft chuckle escaped him— “Or maybe my tongue?.. Or maybe even my dick?”

You swore at his words, a second finger pushing in as your thumb began to rub harsh circles on your clit. “Ch—Choso, fuck..!” You pinched your nipple between your fingers, legs threatening to close as your throat nearly became raw from your voice.

You were close, pussy throbbing around your fingers as arousal leaked down them. Your pace quickened, soft sounds surrounding the room and serving as background noise to the sweetest moans escaping your wet lips.

If only you could see Choso; his eyes rolling back, hips rising into his hand and pretending it was you. His groans were deep, bordering on whimpers each time his hand slipped up to his sensitive tip. He was close too, hissing as his eyelids fluttered shut.

“Come with me, mama.. wanna hear you, fu-fuck.. lemme hear you.” Choso spoke on shaky breath, tensing as his orgasm drew.

You whimpered into the mic, eyebrows pinched close as your fingers never stopped it’s thrusts. Far too quickly you were creaming, staining your skin with your essence which trickled down your taint to your soft blankets. During this you heard a sharp gasp, warmth covering your body and enjoying the soft sounds that followed.

You simply laid there, heavy breathing coinciding with Choso’s own. Your fingers slowly withdrew from between your legs, slick smoothing across your thighs.

“You sleepy now?”

You bit your cheek, “No. No I’m not.”

“Good, I’m coming over in te— five minutes.” Choso spoke rather quickly, before the familiar sound of the voice chat ending entered your ears.

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[ddejavvu]

can we get a darry Curtis × daughter reader (toddler) who refuses to go to sleep unless Darry is there? Darry gets home kinda late that night, past her bedtime obviously, and he finds that the gang had trouble trying to get her to sleep 😭 even her favorite uncle soda couldn't get her to sleep but as soon as Darry gets there she runs up to him with her pacifier and blanket and immediately cuddles up to him and falls asleep immediately

"Your eyes are closing." Two-Bit prods unceremoniously at your eyelids, which are indeed closing against your will, "Just go to sleep, kid."

"No." You have the stubborn will of your father, and you won't rest until he's back to tuck you into bed. After all, he's the strongest of everyone in the house, how are you supposed to trust that anyone else will be able to do it right?

"Come on, sweetpea." Soda groans, "Darry's gonna whoop us if you're still up past midnight. And I've got work tomorrow." He laments, "Don't you care about my sleep?"

"No!" You insist, itching to tuck your blanket beside your face and snooze against it- but if you lose now, you'll never win again. Your dad always tells you to never give up just because doing something you want to do might be difficult, and you're intent on making him proud tonight. Even if it means Steve begins trying to smother you with one of the couch cushions.

"Just give her a sip of this shit," Dallas offers up a bottle of something that's no longer beer, "That'll knock her out."

"Then Darry'll knock you out." Ponyboy promises, pulling you out from beneath the pillow Steve is shoving into your face, "Come on, kid, can't you just go to sleep? You're tired, we all know you are. You're usually asleep three hours before now. Your dad wanted us to put you to bed."

"I want him to put me to bed." You insist, tiny face scrunching into a glower, "He always puts me to bed."

"That's cause he always gets off before dinner," Soda argues, "But he had to stay late tonight, okay? It just happens, but you still need to go to bed."

"No."

"Yes." Soda's really risking his title of favorite uncle now, perhaps passing it over to Johnny who stands by as a last resort with a comfy spot on the couch and a warm jacket to wrap around you, "Go to bed."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes!" Soda's voice is chorused with Ponyboy's, Two-Bit's, and Steve's now, and Steve briefly thinks of wrestling you into a horizontal position and holding your eyes shut until you drop off.

"NO!" You stand up, using all of your remaining energy to shout back at your uncles. The backing track to your argument is the sound of the front door clicking open, newly locked since your birth. Your dad lumbers through the door, eyes blowing wide as he hears your shouting.

Before any of the boys can explain themselves you rocket towards Darry's legs, running into them and tucking your face against his knees.

"Dad," You whine, "I missed you."

"Mhm. 'Missed you too, bug," He bends down, dropping his back and picking you up in one swift motion, "But I thought you were gonna be sleepin' when I got home."

He casts a suspicious glance at his brothers and their friends, but all of them jump to their own defense.

"She wouldn't go to bed!" Soda insists.

Two-Bit agrees, "Damn near had to knock her out with a mallet."

"I voted to give her a drink," Dallas grins wryly at Darry as you lean your head against his broad shoulder, "You're raisin' one hell of a fighter, Darrel. Never seen someone win an argument against Steve."

"She didn't win." Steve grumbles, "If Pony hadn't moved the couch cushion she would'a been real quiet real soon."

Darry peers down at you to see what you have to say for yourself, but you're mercifully sleeping, pacifier bobbing gently in your mouth as your eyelashes rest mere millimeters against your flushed cheeks. You're limp in his arms now, and there's a round of scoffs from the men who'd nearly torn their well-greased hair out to try and get you to rest.

"It ain't hard." Darry smirks, relishing in the way that you melt in his arms while his family stews around him, "Just try harder next time, maybe sing a lullaby or something."

"Sing a lullaby?" Soda hisses, looking murderous, "I sang a whole damn musical for her."

"You must have been pitchy." Darry shrugs, gently jostling your head on his shoulder, and starting off towards your bedroom with a poorly concealed, haughty grin, "She always drops off perfectly for me."

[idrawweirdstuffnominors]

Can you do Josh headcanons of being a dad to a boy that’s really into horror?

(A mini pete

Josh Levy as a Dad to a Horror-Loving Son: Headcanons

He tries to hide his discomfort—but he’s so weirded out.

The first time his son says, “I like the monster more than the people,” Josh nearly chokes on his cereal. He stammers something like, “That’s… deeply concerning, but okay! We all have… tastes!”

He desperately tries to redirect the interest—at first.

“Hey buddy, instead of watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, how about we explore sci-fi horror? Like Alien! It’s scary, but there’s space!” His son just goes, “Okay. But only if we watch Hereditary after.” Josh turns pale.

Eventually, he caves and leans into it—but with heavy supervision.

“You can watch Poltergeist, but if you repeat one creepy line at bedtime, I’m calling a priest.” He ends up sitting through half the movies with a pillow over his face while his son is laser-focused and totally unfazed.

He 100% buys him horror merch and pretends he understands it.

“You wanted... the guy with the pins in his head? Sure, that’s not horrifying at all. Do you want the plushie or the mug?”

He accidentally bonds harder than expected.

They start watching horror classics together, and suddenly Josh finds himself getting into it. He’s overanalyzing symbolism and camera angles and ranting about practical effects like it’s his passion now.

He becomes the most defensive parent on Earth.

If another parent judges his son for being into spooky stuff? Josh goes on a long, mildly aggressive monologue:

“Maybe if your kid had a creative outlet, he wouldn’t be biting other kids during recess, Linda. Let mine paint his little zombie apocalypse in peace.”

He draws a HARD LINE at anything too gory.

“You’re not watching Saw until you’re, like, 25. I don’t care if you say it has ‘good traps.’ You can trap your imagination. That’s what you can do.”

Halloween becomes their Super Bowl.

Josh lets his kid go nuts with decorations—fake guts on the porch, sound-activated screams, the whole works. He acts annoyed, but he always wears a dumb themed costume like “sexy Dracula cape dad.”

They do horror movie marathons with “Dad-safe” zones.

The living room gets split into “Kid Zone” and “Josh’s Coward Corner,” complete with snacks, commentary, and a plushie Josh throws at the screen when jump scares happen.

He starts bragging to people about his “creepy little horror genius.”

“My son made a stop-motion zombie movie in third grade. Did your kid do that, or does he still just eat paste?”

He supports him, even if he’s not totally sure what’s going on.

Whether it’s helping build a haunted house in the garage or cheering at a school talent show where his son performs a dramatic reading of The Raven, Josh always shows up—nervous, confused, and wildly proud.

Absolutely! Josh Levy raising a horror-loving son? That’s a perfect mix of neurotic theater kid meets little weirdo energy. Here are some headcanons that show the chaos, heart, and slightly unhinged love:

He was not prepared.

Josh expected to raise a mini Trekkie or a comic book snob—not a six-year-old asking if they can “watch the one where the girl’s head turns all the way around.” He starts with “classic horror” like he’s teaching a film class.

“Okay, kid—if you must enjoy terrifying media, you’re gonna do it right. Black and white. Practical effects. No jumpscares-for-likes garbage.” They watch Creature from the Black Lagoon together. Josh pretends it’s boring, but secretly? He’s loving this little bonding thing.

He goes way too hard on Halloween.

Once he realizes this horror thing isn’t a phase, he leans in way too much. Their house becomes the house on the block. Fog machines. Props. An animatronic witch that made the neighbor’s toddler cry. Josh is proud.

He absolutely gets peer-pressured into horror cosplay.

His son: “You have to be Frankenstein. I’ll be the mad scientist.”

Josh: “Why can’t I be the scientist?”

Son: “Because you’re taller and have bolts in your neck emotionally.”

He has to learn to balance boundaries and weirdness.

Like when his son brings fake intestines to school or draws “a haunted daycare full of ghosts who can’t escape naptime.” Josh is like, “Okay, cool creative expression—but let’s maybe not show that one to your teacher yet.”

He starts writing horror parody bedtime stories.

Like Freddy Krueger But He Works at Trader Joe’s, or Jason Voorhees Goes to Therapy. His son howls with laughter. It becomes their thing.

He lowkey starts loving horror through his kid.

He still covers his eyes sometimes, still over-analyzes everything (“There’s no way that chainsaw would rev underwater”), but watching his son light up during a zombie makeup tutorial? That’s everything.

He gets protective about how his son enjoys horror.

He makes sure it never becomes mean-spirited. “Scary is fine. Cruel isn’t.” He teaches him to root for the Final Girls, to appreciate atmosphere over gore, and to never be that guy online.

And he’s so proud of how weird and specific his son is.

Even if he has to say things like,

“No, you cannot bring fake blood to show-and-tell again,”

or

“Yes, I do think your drawing of a vampire accountant is technically accurate.”

He’s still the dad in the theater aisle, whispering movie trivia and sneaking snacks, just as in love with this strange, spooky kid as he was the day he first held him.

[swamp-chicken]

PACIFIC RIM AU PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ

I originally started writing this for hermicraft big bang like ... two years ago? and i was going to emotionally blackmail danya into doing the art. but then I kind of lost all interest in writing. still, I have a solid 1/6 of this fic written! i should pick it up again someday

an excerpt below.. ignore my notes to myself

Etho, the Etho, was a legend. Never mind that he was Bdubs’ inspiration to start piloting in the first place. The man had revolutionized the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, starting in the early years when he was an engineer working on the first generation of jaegers. And then, not satisfied with helping create one of the most advanced machines in the world, humanity’s only hope, Etho chose to step inside the jaeger he had helped design and became one of the first pilots. He had been the only scientist brave enough to step into the jaeger himself.

**with pause and beef???***He did it with full knowledge of the risk it entailed. Back then, piloting was even more dangerous than it was now. It wasn’t just the kaiju you had to worry about. Those days were pre-fission, pre-drift. There were the unshielded nuclear reactors, leaking radiation into the cockpit. There was the incredible neural load placed on the pilot as he maneuvered the jaeger solo. But still, Etho soldiered on.

And he kicked ass. 

For years, he was the hero of the world. You could run up to any civilian in the street and they would know who Etho was, as well as at least three random facts about him— what his favorite color was, favorite band— you name it. He was famous famous. His image was plastered on every PPDC commercial, he was sitting at every PPDC press conference. But the reason people really went crazy over him was how humble he seemed, like the perfect selfless hero. He sat quiet in the press conferences, he smiled and waved when it was needed. He started wearing a mask at some point, and whether it was out of shyness or germophobia no one every knew. But no one cared, it just added to the mystique. 

And Bdubs, well, Bdubs wasn’t different than anyone else, really. But his interest in Etho was maybe a bit stronger than his peers. He watched every fight, every press conference, every commercial. He typed out furious defenses of him in online forums, and stealthily saved photos of him to his hard drive.** more here

Etho granted only one private interview the entire time he was a pilot. It was an intimate half-hour, tastefully lit. Bdubs had stayed up past his bedtime to watch the interview live. He hung on Etho’s every word, memorized the nervous way he shifted in his seat, how he stumbled through his answers. And then the interviewer had asked it— The Question. “Why do you do what you do?”

Etho’s answer changed Bdubs’ life. He had shrugged, tentatively glanced at someone behind the camera. “Um,” he hummed, maybe trying to buy time. “I guess… I just like fighting aliens, I guess.”

Bdubs signed up for the PPDC the next day. 

For Bdubs, Etho was the inspiration. He inspired Bdubs to quit the latest of his dead-end jobs, inspired him to move across the country—towards the danger, instead of away—against the urging of his family, his friends, and his own common sense. He inspired Bdubs to enroll in the PPDC, to persevere through the rigorous and often discouraging training process. And it all worked out. After a rough start, Bdubs’ high drift compatibility scores starting rolling in and he was fast-tracked towards becoming a pilot. 

But during Bdubs’ training, things started changing. The jaeger, once unstoppable machines of destruction, were faltering. The kaiju were emerging bigger and more ferocious, fill of poison and spines and slavering for destruction. The jaegers started falling.

He still remembers where he was the day it happened. It was late November, close to 1 AM and the pilot trainees were clustered around Scar’s phone. Somehow he had managed to smuggle one in despite there being an explicit ban on outside tech. A new kaiju had appeared— a mark 3, the biggest one yet, and Team Canada had been sent to dispatch it. The footage was blurred with rain, the pacific rocked with an early winter storm.

Peering over his comrade’s shoulder, squinting at the tiny screen, Bdubs could barely make out the kaiju and jaeger battling. The kaiju stood almost twice the height of the jaeger. The video was shaky. The film helicopter must be miles away, using a telescoping lens.

The jaeger threw a punch that the kaiju, snakelike, easily avoided. Then the kaiju belched and bright acid exploded from its mouth, drenching the jaeger’s left side. 

“Oooooh!” the trainees chorused, and Bdubs felt a pit in his stomach.

“Look,” Grian pointed out. “I think their arm is disabled.” And it was. The jaeger’s left arm hung limply. The acid must have eaten through the muscle cables.

“They’ll be alright,” Bdubs said, but he couldn’t keep the nervousness out of his voice. “Etho only needs one arm anyway.”

“Such an Etho stan,” Grian mocked. They all had discovered his obsession early, and ruthlessly teased him about it. “I don’t know, dude. This doesn’t look good.”

The jaeger struck out again, this time with a nearly-executed kick. It made sold contact with the kaiju’s leg, bringing it down. Then, in a move so smooth it looked choreographed, the jaeger brought its right arm down on the kaiju’s head, smashing the creature below the waves.

“See?” Bdubs crowed, looking around the room triumphantly. “A broken arm can’t stop him.”

But no one looked up. “Bdubs…” Scar said. 

Bdubs glanced back at the screen.

The kaiju had some kind of tail. It was prehensile, it was clawed. And it was tearing away at the jaeger cockpit.

Bdubs leaned forward. On the tiny phone screen, it was impossible to see details past the rain lashing the camera. Suddenly, the footage seared white, and then, darkness. The entire room held its breath.

Gradually, the footage resolved. Nothing was visible absent the helicopter spotlight, panning across the uneasy waves.

The video cut, and the tinny voice of the newscaster filtered through the static in Bdubs’ ears: “…no life signs from… could mean they have been removed from the pons… not necessarily deceased…”

The room was dead silent. Then: “Shit,” Grian whispered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

For Bdubs, there were no words. 

Later, he would learn that Beef and Pause had been ripped from the cockpit by the kaiju, killed while still tethered to Etho through the drift. And that Etho, controlling the jaeger on his own, had still somehow managed to bring the kaiju down, jamming the jaeger’s plasma pulser down the kaiju’s throat and discharging until he there was nothing left. 

The found the jaeger collapsed on a remote stretch of coast on Vancouver island. 

And then… nothing. No news from the PPDC, no media appearances from Etho. There were tons of rumors, of course. The solo drift had fried his brain. The radiation had finally caught up to him. The emotional and physical pain of his partners dying in the drift were enough to cause a psychotic break. But regardless of the reason, Etho was never heard from again. 

It was a year later that Bdubs got his pilots license. When he first entered the drift, it was in a very different world than the one Etho had fought in. The kaiju were bigger and meaner. The jaeger tech always seemed to lag a step behind. And the humans were losing.

But now he was back. And he wanted to drift with Bdubs. 

Cleo cocked her head at him. “Do you want to maybe come with me to command?”

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Calling all enjoyers of the OrangeJuiceVerse and teenage shenanigans!

That’s right, it’s time for another episode of Bedtime Stories With PCE, and this one is SO self indulgent like I know that’s the purpose of this series, just self indulgent orange flavored bonus content, but this one, mannnnn.

Essentially (PCE stfu about OJV Kyle’s bad knee), I was thinking about how i really didn’t let my annoying ass get into the gang as 15 year olds very much post A Fall In The Springtime. So I wanted to explore that dynamic a little more, featuring stupid fights, getting scolded by your parents, Kyle being an angry little fucker, and the way one person in a friend group getting sick means everyone’s getting the plague lmao. Set a couple days after AFITS, here’s

•Fuck It, We Ball•

Stan sighed as he approached the bus stop, Cartman and Kyle already engrossed in whatever they were arguing about now. And so it begins.

He planted himself at Kenny’s side, kicking at the slush that had refrozen with the temperature dropping again over the last few days. Damn March and its unpredictability. “Dude, how do they have the energy for this at seven in the morning?”

“Oh, you know how these two get when they’re bored,” Kenny said nonchalantly. “Probably why Ky suggested takin’ the bus today.”

That made sense. While Stan and the others had taken to making their own ways to school being sophomores, carpooling and the like for the most part, occasionally they’d all load up on the bus for nostalgia’s sake on days nobody had to stay late for extracurriculars. Kyle had been leading the charge in that the past couple weeks, bored being out of basketball and irritable while his knee healed. It honestly wasn’t surprising that he’d find excitement in the childhood routine of debating Cartman, and Cartman just liked to rile Kyle up in general, not that it was hard these days. Stan had laughed his ass off just the other day at his boyfriend’s claim that he was “drowning in ennui”. Dramatic, but warranted.

“IT WAS STUPID WHEN WE WERE NINE, AND IT’S MORE RIDICULOUS NOW!” Stan’s attention was drawn to his boyfriend’s shrill screeching. “BEING GINGER IS NOT LIKE BEING A VAMPIRE!”

Cartman was grinning in a very self satisfied way. “You burn in the sun, you’re creepy, you suck souls…”

“YOU’RE SO GODDAMN STUPID!!!”

Kyle, directly ensnared in their friend’s trap, moved to swing at him with a crutch, but overshot and was slipping forward, slamming into the ground with a loud “FUCK!”

Stan, Kenny, and even Cartman froze, eyes wide and speechless because Kyle was already hurt; slipping on the ice like that had no doubt made it worse. Kyle curled into the fetal position, clutching his bad knee and cursing up a storm. Stan ran to him in an instant.

“Dude, shit, okay, okay. Fuck, did you hit it?”

“What the HELL do you think,” Kyle hissed, writhing a little in the snow. He’d only recently been able to bend his knee semi-normally again, only with support, and here he was holding it to his chest in a way that definitely couldn’t be comfortable.

“S-Stan, I… GOD, FUCK YOU CARTMAN!!!”

That back and forth was always a good indicator of Kyle’s level of aggravation. He was extremely quick when he was upset enough. Less aggressive on his own, Stan jumped to his partner’s defense without hesitation.

“Why the shit would you work him up like that, huh?!?” Stan demanded, taking their obnoxious friend by the collar of his coat. He gave him a shake, not enough to actually hurt, but Cartman still whined like a pitiful little creature. “He can’t fight anyone yet! He can’t even stand!”

Kyle dragged himself a little down the ice. “I can buttfucking stand! Dramaticfuckass-“

He crumpled under the weight of his own body. Stan caught his neck before his head could whack the ice. “Dude!”

“I’m going to obliterate you,” Kyle warned.

Stan wanted to roll his eyes, but didn’t dare. Instead, he gently scooped Kyle into his arms, relieved when he felt wiry arms latch instinctually around his neck. He turned to the other two as he rose. “Grab his shit.”

Thankfully, Kyle’s house was the closest to the bus stop, and under the rapid pounding of his own heart, Stan could hear Kyle’s pissed off mumbling and sporadic whimpers of pain.

“I’m trying to be careful, dude,” he promised. “I know it’s still hurting.”

“Yeah, because some FAT ASSHOLE made me FALL!” Kyle seethed in Cartman’s direction.

“Ay! You’re the one who was trying to hit me, JewBot!”

Stan spun around to shoot Cartman a glare. “You started it and you know it, fuckknob. Give the backpack to Kenny and fuck off to school if you’re gonna keep causing problems.”

Cartman snorted. “I would, but Kahl’s bitch mom is going to pitch a fit and I happen to find that shit funny, obviously.”

“DON’T CALL MY MOM A BITCH!”

Ohhhh boy. It was definitely too early for all this. Kenny bounded up to the porch, using Kyle’s crutches to knock on the front door. “Guys, tone it down,��� he advised before turning the knob. Nobody really locked their doors around here, and they all knew it.

“Yo, Mrs B!” Kenny announced their presence as the boys filed into the foyer.

Only Kyle’s mom would be home around this time, Stan knew. Ike usually rode to his early college high school program with their dad, since it was closer to Gerald’s firm. Sheila tended to fill her days with community meetings and clubs and volunteer work, but she usually stuck around the house until the rest of the family was safely at school and work, ruling the group chat with an iron fist. A veritable lioness when it came to her boys, that one.

Which was why her alarmed gasp upon seeing her eldest son glowering in Stan’s arms wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

“Kyle! Boys! What on earth happened?!”

“He slipped on the ice,” Stan explained, gingerly easing him down onto the couch. “Bashed his knee pretty good.”

Sheila let out a “WHAT?!?”, and Kyle groaned, clearly already done with his mother. “Ma, please don’t freak out. I just need to put it up a few hours or whatever, it’s fine.”

She planted her hands on her hips and stared each of the boys down like only a mother could. Cartman actually cowered a little, avoiding eye contact.

“And just how did you fall, huh, bubbeh?” She demanded of her son. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

Stan hated having to do damage control, but Sheila trusted him, so he was probably the best bet at the guys avoiding too much trouble. “He and Cartman were just arguing. You know how carried away they can get.”

“Don’t look at me, Mrs Broflovski,” Cartman said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Kahl tried to whack me! It’s not my fault his little bird bones gave out.”

“SHUT UP CARTMAN!”

“Kyle!” Sheila scolded. “Inside voices! And how many times do I have to tell you boys not to roughhouse when it’s slippery outside?”

All four of them mumbled varying apologies, even though he and Kenny hadn’t been involved. Kyle’s mom kept raving.

“And here I was about to head out the door! Oy, I’ll have to tell the book club ladies I won’t make it to brunch, and goodness! The PTA meeting will need to be rescheduled, and I suppose I’ll have to put out a grocery order for delivery and miss the deals I’d get going myself-“

“Ma,” Kyle interrupted, even more overwhelmed than he had been. “You don’t need to change your plans or anything. I know you have a full day.”

“You can’t just stay home alone! What if you’ve hurt your knee worse?!”

Stan could tell his boyfriend wanted to roll his eyes. “It really isn’t a big deal, okay? And I’m not alone. The guys can help me if I need anything.”

Kenny had already taken to removing Kyle’s hat for him and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Yeah, we got ‘im, scout’s honor.”

“The hippie would probably stay anyway,” Cartman pointed out. He had migrated to the kitchen and was rifling through the freezer, hopefully for an ice pack and not to raid the snacks.

Well, as much as Cartman was a dick, he wasn’t wrong. Stan had no intention of leaving Kyle’s side.

Kyle’s mom pursed her lips and checked her watch. Stan could practically see her internal conflict: would she deviate from her carefully curated schedule to stay home and smother her son, or would she let four teenage boys skip school and hang out in her living room? He turned on his best “charming and trustworthy” face; he usually had good luck with adults.

Sheila sighed, and Stan felt disproportionately victorious. The woman was even more expressive than Kyle was. Clearly, the gang was about to get a day off class with no grown up supervision. Yes!

“Fine,” she relented. “But only because I’m already running late. I’ll see if I can get all four of you an excused absence.”

That definitely wasn’t going to be an issue. Principal Charles would just love the idea of them practicing “wholesome male friendship and emotional support” and all that. If that wasn’t the conclusion the principal came to on his own, Cartman was a master manipulator and could talk himself, and the rest of them by extension, out of trouble.

Sheila grabbed her purse and bent down to kiss her son’s forehead, leaving a lipstick mark. “You’re a little warm, Kyle, do you feel-“

“Ma, I was wearing a hat,” Kyle groaned. “Please give the worrying a rest.”

“Fine, fine,” she clucked, shaking her head. “You boys just behave, do you hear me? And Stanley, you call me if I need to come home.”

“Yes ma’am.”

When the door shut behind her, Kyle groaned yet again, dramatically throwing his arms over his eyes. “I swear to God, she’s gonna be fussing over me like I’m a kid until the end of time.”

“Totally weak,” Cartman agreed.

“She just gets concerned about you,” Kenny reminded him. “I mean, it’s not like she doesn’t have a reason.”

Stan almost expected Kyle to fly into a rage at that, but he just sighed. “Can’t wait to be done with the goddamn crutches so she can chill the fuck out.”

Yeah, Sheila Broflovski ever chilling the fuck out was probably about as likely as Randy sobering up. Not gonna happen. And Kyle had gotten more than just the hair, nose, and height from his mother; he’d also gotten her temper, so Stan chose to let him believe she’d let up once he could walk.

“Ha! That’ll be the day,” Cartman laughed as he turned away from the freezer, ice pack in one hand and a popsicle in the other.

Stan caught the pack easily when it was tossed his way, ignoring their resident troublemaker in favor of getting his super best boyfriend’s leg elevated better. “This okay, baby?”

“Yeah, it-“ Kyle cut off with a wince. “Doesn’t hurt as bad as it did at first.”

“Still hurts, though?”

“I mean, it never really stopped hurting,” Kyle said with a shrug. “Not all the way.”

Stan had done his research after his partner first messed up his leg. What the basketball coach guessed was a sprain turned out to be a hyperextended knee and partial meniscus tear, straining the outside ligament and everything. Not an injury that required surgery, since Kyle was young and relatively healthy, but he wasn’t supposed to put any weight on it at all for a full month, was supposed to be taking anti inflammatories and painkillers. Kyle tried to downplay it, sick of being out of commission, but Stan maintained that it caused him more trouble than he admitted.

Kenny hopped up from where he’d been perched on the arm of the couch. “Where’s your drugs? I gotcha.”

“I don’t need-“

“Nightstand,” Stan interrupted. Kyle wasn’t about to weasel his way out of medication. Kenny bounded up the stairs as Kyle angrily unzipped his coat and threw it in the general direction of the jacket hooks.

“Dude, I don’t want the fucking painkillers.”

Cartman snorted from his position on the floor, where he’d claimed control of the remote and was looking for trashy reality tv. “You’ve been on crutches for weeks and you still can’t walk, you dumb bitch. Take the goddamn pills if you hurt. That’s like, common sense.”

“You wouldn’t know common sense if it bit you in the fat ass.”

As much as Stan hated to agree with Cartman, he did have a point. “Kyle, please don’t be difficult about this. We’re just trying to help.”

Kyle scowled and crossed his arms. “You can help by getting off my case. I swear, you guys are as bad as my mother.”

“No can do, firefox,” Kenny re entered the living room, holding the orange vial of painkillers aloft. “Consider us on your case like white on rice. This bottle should not still be this full.”

“Let me see that.” Stan confirmed that it was pretty obvious that Kyle had been slacking on the meds. “Dude, c’mon. Have you not been taking these?”

“I took them “as directed” or whatever the first week,” Kyle protested. “I don’t like how they make me all foggy and tired!”

Stan fought the urge to groan. “Baby, you’re literally in pain. Your leg’s gonna hurt if you don’t treat the symptoms.” He didn’t add that the fact that Kyle had been hurting and doing nothing about it had definitely played in to his irritability. He knelt down and took Kyle’s hand. “Will you just take one? For me? Your pain is my pain.”

Cartman mimed throwing up. “Jesus Christ, you fucking simp! What is this, a shitty fanfiction?!”

“SHUT UP, CARTMAN,” Kyle snapped. Then his eyes met Stan’s, and his anger dissipated some. “Damnit, Staniel. Don’t give me the face! You look like a sad puppy and- ugh, fucking fine, but if anyone draws dicks on my face while I’m taking a damn high ass nap, I’m kicking the ass of everyone in this room.”

A threat not to be taken lightly, even with Kyle’s current physical limitations. Small, injured, about to nod off from the pill he’d swallowed while he was talking, but vicious.

“No dicks, promise,” Kenny said with a hand over his heart.

“Yeah, we all know the only dick you want on your face is Stan’s-“ Cartman was cut off by a throw pillow flung in his direction. “Fine! Geez, I won’t fuck with you.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Stan offered.

Cartman rolled his eyes and went back to flipping through daytime television. “I hate your gay ass, I’m so seriously.”

———

There was only so much Real Housewives the boys could take before it got old. And Stan really didn’t give a shit what the Kardashians were up to. Even Cartman had gotten restless after a few hours, corralling Kenny out the back door to throw chunks of ice against the fence.

Kyle was still sleeping through all of it, though his sleep looked far from peaceful. Kyle didn’t usually sleep well in general, and lying in an uncomfortable position on the couch with his face tight even in sleep, he looked to be struggling. Nightmares, probably, made even weirder than normal by the drugs making him sleep harder than he usually did.

Stan didn’t have the heart to wake him up, instead just in his lookout post on the floor next to the couch. He switched the channel to National Geographic and turned the sound off, letting his head fall back next to his boyfriend’s.

He couldn’t have been asleep long, before being jolted awake by a thump and a muttered “god damnit”.

Adjusting to the dim light of the living room, Stan landed on Kyle, who had apparently walked into the doorframe in his post nap confusion. He was immediately up and darting his way.

“Dude, you’re supposed to be using your crutches! Where’re you going?”

Kyle grumbled and rubbed at his leg. “I’m running the Boston Marathon, what does it look like? I’m on a piss quest, Stanathan.”

Stan swung an arm around him for support, helping him hobble down the hall. “For fucks sake, Ky, you’re gonna hurt yourself walking around like this.”

“Didn’t think about it,” Kyle argued. “I told you the pills make me all groggy.”

They stopped at the bathroom. “Can you make it?”

Kyle hopped through and shut the door. “I’m not helpless.”

Stan leaned against the wall, trying not to laugh at the frustrated look he’d flashed. “You have a good nap, at least?”

“Had a dream I was in a wheat field.”

“A wheat field?”

“Yeah.” He heard the toilet flush and the faucet start up. “We were trying to invade a kingdom of giants with a marching band. And then I was in my car and all the tires exploded. Pedro Pascal was there.”

Steadying his boyfriend on his way back into the hall, Stan chuckled. “The Mandolorian slashed your tires?”

“Apparently.”

Heat was radiating from Kyle like a furnace. Not that he didn’t usually run warm, especially when he slept, but even Sheila had noticed earlier. Stan helped him down onto the couch and rested the back of his hand on Kyle’s face, checking for fever.

“Dude, do you feel okay? You look kinda pale, and you’re hot.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Jesus, not you too. I’m fine. I can’t be sick on top of everything else, you just worry too much.”

That wasn’t how it worked, but okay. Kenny and Cartman came barging in the kitchen door, shaking ice from their shoes in a haphazard way that a certain matriarch wouldn’t appreciate.

“I need some fucking hot chocolate!” Cartman declared, Kenny letting out a muffled agreement through his scarf before unwinding it.

“Guys,” Stan started, “have you been sick at all the past week? Like, fever, dizziness, anything?”

Kenny shrugged. “I had the sniffles a couple days ago, that’s it.”

“I don’t get sick,” Cartman insisted. “My immune system is superior. Oh, lame, you guys! Is Kahl infected with some disease now too? I mean, more than just his default.”

Kyle moaned dramatically. “Please cut it out. I’m tired, assholes.”

Stan ignored him, at least until he had a chance to check for certain. “Ken, will you get the thermometer? Under the kitchen sink. I think I might’ve given you guys that cold I had over the weekend.”

“You got over that in like, two days,” Kyle pointed out.

“That was me. This is you. And if you’ll recall, I almost cracked my head open in your bedroom,” Stan reminded him.

“Because you’re a dick who tried to ignore it.”

“And what are you doing right now?”

Kyle opened his mouth to make some remark, and Kenny took the opportunity to shove the thermometer under his tongue. Kyle glared but didn’t yank it out, probably hoping to prove them all wrong.

“Ha!” Cartman was at least a little amused reading the screen. “Of course you’re sick. What, can’t handle a little seasonal bug like the rest of us?”

Moving to lunge off the couch, Kyle swung, not missing this time, but falling to the floor nonetheless. Cartman wailed like he’d just been stabbed.

“Did- did you guys see that?! Kahl totally got me in the eye! Oh, god, I’m blind! I’m suing your crippled ass!”

“Knock it off, Fatboy, you’re fine,” Kenny said tiredly. “Kyley, I think we should get you up to bed and call your mom.”

Stan was inclined to agree, not just because Kyle was definitely running a temperature now, but also because he’d just fallen for the second time in the span of a few hours, and there was no way even Kyle could deny how much that had to hurt. He scooted the coffee table out of the way to help him up.

“Okay, use the good side, I’ve got you.”

Kyle had gotten pretty graceful at using the pistol squat method to get up without putting weight on his bad knee over the past few weeks. He’d always been deceptively strong, even like now when he was sick and drawn, and Stan was just kind of there just in case he faltered.

“Don’t call my mom,” he pleaded. “It’s just a little fever. I can probably sleep it off.”

Well, considering his ridiculous stubbornness, Kyle could probably argue that illness going around right out of his body. “You can try, dude, but Sheila’s gonna be pissed I didn’t tell her.”

“I’ll handle it,” Kyle mumbled, accepting his crutches and letting Kenny and Stan accompany him to the stairs. “Will you guys stay?”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Even Cartman?”

“Pshh, like I wanna stick around for the jew to get pissed off and try to kill me again.”

The guys knew Cartman well enough to know that was just his way of saying he didn’t want to be the reason Kyle got carried away and hurt himself, but they didn’t point that out.

“Then fuck off, fatass. Go manipulate the FBI or whatever you get up to,” Kyle said with another eyeroll.

Cartman snorted. “Eh, it’s still pretty early. Maybe I’ll start a cult or something.” He grinned mischievously. “See you assholes.”

Kenny flipped on the hall light. “I wonder what it is that he actually does in his spare time.”

“Something stupid or illegal.” Kyle groaned as he was helped into bed. “Or both.”

That sounded about right. Stan settled under the blankets next to him, Kenny having procured the cold meds still in the drawer from Stan having been sick. Stan read the pack carefully before handing Kyle a few capsules. “Here, dude. It’s the daytime shit. No acetaminophen or any of the crap that’ll fuck with your other drugs.”

“Thanks.”

Kyles massive “Ass Pro Shops” tumbler, a Kenny McCormick creation that was forever stationed on Kyle’s nightstand with its blue silicone straw, washed down the medicine before Kyle lied back with a sigh. He was clearly still in pain, and now feverish to top it off. “Have I mentioned yet that I’m really fucking annoyed?”

Kenny snorted, casually shooting the mini basketball into the hoop mounted on the closet door. “Darlin’, you’ve made that pretty clear.”

Stan wrapped him up in his arms, carefully, like his boyfriend might attack like a wounded animal. And here we see an injured fox, in his burrow, directly after fighting off the raccoon. He has allowed the continued company of the bear and the opossum, who continue to aid in his recovery. The rabbit often accompanies this ragtag group, though she would likely be unwilling to leave school, fearing both the agitated fox’s anger and a potential to be grounded.

Laughing at his mental nature documentary comparison was probably not in his best interest, lest Kyle assume he was being made fun of, so Stan just kissed his boyfriend’s flushed cheek. “You gonna be able to fall asleep again?”

Kyle snuggled closer. “Mm, if you keep holding me like this.”

Stan knew both he and Kenny would have to leave his side eventually. Kenny had basketball practice and Stan had off season football conditioning. He could get out of classes today, sure, but coach wasn’t about to ease up on him, not with Stan set to play first string in the fall. If South Park had one thing (other than cattle) to be proud of, it was high school sports.

Still, he’d savor this moment, getting to take care of him with Kenny for backup, and he’d probably cave and stay if Kyle asked.

———

The alarm clock on the nightstand flashed that it was almost three when Sheila poked her head in to whisper (or her version of it, at least), “boys!”

Uncharacteristically, Stan was the first to wake, followed by Kenny, who had curled up at the foot of the bed like a pet, while Kyle only moaned and rolled over.

“Yes ma’am?” Stan mumbled, rubbing his eyes and disoriented from their nap.

The matriarch planted her hands on her hips, one auburn brow arched in concern. “Is everything alright? Eric already left?”

“Mhm. A while ago. He went because he was making Ky mad again and they were trying to fight and we all didn’t want him to hurt himself more. It was Cartman’s decision.” Stan didn’t know why he was defending the dickhole who liked to mess with his favorite person. Maybe because Cartman had recently shown a few redeeming qualities, plus Stan felt bad in general about giving the guys his cold. “Kyle, he didn’t want us to call you, but he’s running a bit of a fever. Or, he was a few hours ago. We got some medicine in him, so hopefully it’s down.”

“WHAT WHAT WHAT?!”

Kyle sat up quickly, squeaking a little in his confusion. “Ma, what’s going on? Why are you freaking out?”

She rushed over, immediately all over her son. “Oh, I knew it! I knew you were warm this morning! Call it a motha’s intuition, but I knew you’d caught what’s going around that school of yours!”

“He’s okay, Mrs. B,” Kenny cut in. “Stanny and I both got over it quick, and Cartman definitely had it but didn’t even complain, and you know how he is.”

Sheila sighed, hands still on the face of an absolutely peeved Kyle. “Oh, I suppose. I just, I worry! About all of you! And my poor baby is already hurt, I can’t imagine how miserable it must be-“

“Ma, please. I’m okay. Just let me go back to sleep.”

Turning to the other two, who had gotten up and were standing attentively like seven year olds in trouble, she offered a motherly smile. “Why don’t the two of you go down and make yourselves a snack?” She suggested. “You have to leave for your sports soon, right? Can’t go on an empty stomach!”

Kenny opened his mouth to protest, but Stan knew how Sheila’s mind operated. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, especially while she had already blustered into full caretaking mode at the mention of her child under the weather. She’d do that for all five of them, yeah, but as much as Kyle would kick his ass if he said it, Kyle had always been more prone to physical problems than the rest.

“Will do. Ken, sandwiches real quick and we head to the school?”

“Works for me, brother. Thank you, Mrs B.”

Sheila smiled tensely, trying to force feed Kyle the lukewarm water at his bedside. Stan reached around her to squeeze his hand. “Okay, dude?”

“I’m okay. Little plague and a fucked up leg can’t take me out.”

“Kyle, language!”

Stan had to laugh. “We left the thermometer downstairs,” he offered. “If you want to check again. We’ll be outa here in a sec.” He kissed the back of Kyle’s hand, noticing how glassy his eyes were, all the brighter in their fever flush. “Can I come check on you after?” He was asking both Kyle and his mother.

They answered in unison, which made Kenny laugh. “Aight, loverboy, let’s feed us so we don’t die during suicides.”

The irony wasn’t lost on either of them when they made it down the stairs into the kitchen. “Dude, I really hate the idea of leaving him alone.”

Kenny retrieved sandwich supplies eagerly from the fridge and cabinets. They all knew where everything was kept in each other’s houses.

“He’s not alone. Got his mama, and you know she’s leaping at the chance. Where do ya think Ky gets it?”

True. Both Kyle and Sheila shared that overbearing motherly quality. They thrived on caring for people.

Problem was, Kyle was a godawful patient, and Stan liked to coddle him in spite of the protests.

“Make me a pb&j, will you?” He asked Kenny. “I’m gonna heat up some soup for Ky. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, if he did have that.”

“He’s gonna get annoyed,” Kenny pointed out.

That was true, but still. “Dude, my boyfriend is hurt, sick, stubborn as fuck, and diabetic. I’m not letting his levels get messed up.”

Kenny laughed. “Just marry him already. You’d make a great overprotective husband.”

“Sick, man, we’re kids!”

“That has nothing to do with what I just said. I’m talkin’ future shit.”

Stan dumped a can of chicken noodle into the pot he’s grabbed. “You deadass said “already”. We’re sixteen and fifteen.”

“You’re still gonna be a good husband one day.” Kenny was building sandwiches, didn’t look up. “We call him a mom, but you’re absolutely the type of dad to be waiting on the porch with a shotgun if your daughter brings home a date. Not that your pacifistic ass would use it.”

That was true, guns were not his favorite. “Ken, knock it off.” He checked on the time. “Hey, drink some water. We should head out as soon as we eat.”

Canned soup was easy and quick enough to heat up, and Stan had it poured into a bowl with a few crackers on the side by the time Kenny had gotten sandwiches and drinks set up on the bar. “Gonna take this up to Ky, be right back.”

“Leaning into that knight in shining armor complex pretty hard today, huh?”

Stan flipped him off over his shoulder.

In Kyle’s room, Shiela was humming at a low volume, fussing with the covers and the washcloth she’d laid on his forehead. Kyle saw him first.

“Dudeeee,” he complained. “Tell Ma I’m okay and she doesn’t need to smother me.”

Laughing and setting the soup on the table, Stan leaned over to run his fingers through Kyle’s hair. “Sorry, but I’m on her side, dude.” He gave Sheila a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I just, he was already getting pretty good rest and I didn’t want to rile him up-“

“Oh, believe me,” she said pointedly. “I know he’d have only worked himself up.”

“I’m right here!”

“See what I mean?” Sheila put on her all business face. “Bubbeh, Stanley and Kenny have to leave soon for practice.”

Kyle looked positively betrayed. “Dude, you’re actually leaving me?”

“You need more rest, baby. I can maybe come back and visit after conditioning?” Yeah, right. More than likely, his mom would veto any more company until Kyle was over the fever. “You need to eat and keep taking it easy.”

“Yes, sir,” Kyle grumbled sarcastically.

Stan suppressed another laugh and kissed the back of his hand again before turning to Sheila. “We’ll be out the door in a few minutes. I’ll ask before coming after.”

She nodded. “I think that would be best. Thank you for helping out today, Stan.”

“Definitely, dude.” Then he froze. He called his own mother dude, but he had never called Kyle’s mom that. Thankfully, she smiled fondly.

“You boys just put your dishes in the sink when you’re done. Have a good practice.”

Stan grinned and kissed Kyle again before heading back down. Kenny was halfway through his sandwich when he plopped down and snorted.

“Man, I totally just called Ky’s mother “dude”,” he commented.

Kenny giggled. “Only you, brother. Gotta tell ya, I think this basketball team thing? This is probably a one time deal.”

“You’re not planning to play next year?”

“It’s just, well, it was only fun with Kyle, and he’s out for a hot minute. Plus I could be spending my free time workin’. Lot to think about, ya know? And it’s not like you and football. I just wanted to try it out.”

Stan understood. He’d cycled through plenty of hobbies himself. “Why not just go ahead and quit?”

Kenny shook his head. “Season’s almost over, anyway. Gotta finish it out. So, for now…” he saluted with his sandwich. “Fuck it. We ball.”

[demigod-shenanigans]

Force of Nature

As previously announced, have a little part 2/Piper POV aftermath for the Pipeyna fic I posted yesterday! There are still some mentions of grief, but overall this is way more light-hearted than the first part, hence why I split it. I liked the thought of a more light-hearted “epilogue” and being able to have Leo tease Piper a little, so here you go!

———

Chapter 2

Okay. There was a gorgeous girl asleep in Piper’s bed. A gorgeous girl who had told Piper she was lucky to have her on her side, and grateful to have met her. Piper was going to be so normal about this.

If Piper had had any lingering doubts about her sexuality, they’d been vaporized somewhere between Reyna lovingly rambling about appropriate pegasus care and getting to spend ages running her hands through Reyna’s hair. RIP heterosexuality. It would not be missed.

Reyna had been a hurricane of emotions when Scipio had died. Piper wasn’t sure if the others had felt it, but for her it had been impossible to ignore—the way the grief had rolled off Reyna in waves, dragging up Piper’s own feelings of grief from when her grandfather had passed away. Even with the limited time she’d spent around Reyna up until that point, it hadn’t been hard to guess that Reyna wouldn’t want anyone watching, so Piper had run interference, making sure she could have her moment of grief in as much peace as was possible under the circumstances. 

But she also hadn’t wanted Reyna to be alone with that grief. It had been too much to carry for one person—that much had been obvious from the way it had spilled over to Piper. 

She hadn’t been sure if Reyna would trust her enough to let her help. But Reyna had, and suddenly they’d been sitting in Piper’s room, on her bed. All the grief Reyna’s hurricane emotions had brought back for Piper had also brought back the memories of how her and her dad had dealt with that grief. Of that night camping out under the stars, her dad telling her stories about his father until it was way past Piper’s bedtime.

Piper had been able to give Reyna that. A space to feel everything she needed to. A space to remember.

And, well, if Piper got to know her better and just managed to fall even more in love with her in the process… that was for future Piper to worry about.

Current Piper had been perfectly content listening to Reyna tell stories about Scipio and Camp Jupiter in that soft, fond voice. She could have kept listening to her forever. 

That was unfortunately completely unreasonable. They did sort of have a world to save.

Besides, Reyna had obviously been exhausted, and Piper couldn’t exactly pull a Penelope, doing and undoing Reyna’s braid repeatedly for the next ten years just because she wanted her to keep talking. She’d already done it a few more times than she probably should have.

In Piper’s defense, talking about Scipio had obviously helped Reyna, so it hadn’t purely been selfish. She had felt the way Reyna’s churning emotions had started to settle, until all that was left beneath the grief was just love. That had been too big for Reyna to contain by herself, too—her entire soul had lit up in the process.

Getting to see that side of Reyna—a side that Reyna clearly didn’t show to many people—made Piper giddy with joy. She wasn’t sure she’d survive the day she figured out how to properly make her laugh. She might simply have a terrible gay heart attack and drop dead on the spot.

“Piper’s in loveeeee,” Leo sing-songed the second she stepped into his room/glorified workshop that had a bed in it by pure coincidence. “How’s princess charming?”

Piper blushed furiously. “Shut up. It’s not like that.”

“It so is. You are literally carrying around her armor.”

“Yeah, well, her armor needs fixing, and I thought I have a capable, if very annoying, son of Hephaestus for a best friend, so.” Piper shrugged, placing the dented armor down on her friend’s work table.

“You put me on armor duty?” Leo whined. “Piper! I’m gonna be bored out of my mind! You know I hate doing basic repair stuff.”

“Unfortunately, you’re the only one here who’s capable of doing basic repair stuff, so. Consider it payback for teasing me.” Piper immediately realized her mistake when Leo’s entire face lit up. “Don’t even think about it. That goes for past teasing only.”

“Sorry, Beauty Queen. No take-backs.” He beamed at her. “I’ve decided I get to tease the hell out of you for the rest of the day now. Which you totally deserve, by the way.”

“I don’t-”

“I can’t believe you dumped Jason because you’re in love with his ex.” Leo shook his head. “The poor guy is sensitive! He’s never gonna recover!”

“I’m not- they never-” Piper sputtered, giving Leo an exasperated look. “And for the record, Jason dumped me.”

“Hang on, really?” Leo looked genuinely surprised, but he quickly fixed his expression back into a teasing smile. “Was it because you wouldn’t shut up about Reyna?”

“It wasn’t about Reyna!” Piper groaned. “Okay, I thought him breaking up with me was about Reyna at first, but that was because I thought Jason was in love with her,” she amended. 

Leo raised an eyebrow at her. “Projecting much?” 

“Shut up.” Piper felt like if her face got any redder, her head might explode, cartoon-character style. 

“It’s not my fault that these jokes basically write themselves.”

“Sure, sure, kick a queer girl struggling with compulsory heterosexuality while she’s down, why don’t you,” she scoffed, but it was without any real heat. 

Honestly, this was partially Piper’s own fault. She wasn’t sure why she kept giving Leo more ammo to tease her with. That should have been the opposite of what she wanted. 

But, well… she was in a good mood. And she’d meant what she’d said to Reyna. Leo was her best friend. And in the midst of everything else that had been going on, she hadn’t spent nearly as much time with him as she probably should have. She’d missed joking around with him like this—even if most of the jokes were at her expense today.

She’d properly get him back eventually. For now, she settled on gently poking him in the ribs in vengeance.

“Hey! Ow! Don't try to silence me, I’m just saying it like it is,” Leo complained, but he was laughing. “Besides, which part of you is down right now, exactly? You just spent, like, an hour with the girl you have a crush on, and as much as you’re grumbling at me, you haven’t been able to stop grinning since you got here. That's as up as it gets.”

“You’re the worst.”

”You love me.” Leo grinned at her. “Where did you leave Reyna, anyway?”

“She’s asleep. She’s had a rough couple of days.”

“Yeah, mood.” Leo’s eyes went wide. “Hang on, where is she sleeping?”

“My room.” Piper shrugged. “I don’t really feel like sleeping right now, anyway, so-”

Leo whistled. “Holy shit, Pipes. You and Jason have been broken up for, what, a week, and you’ve already got a girl sleeping in your bed? You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Not like that!” Piper shrieked, cheeks flaming. “She's dealing with a lot! We just talked and I offered her my bed so she could take a nap. Gods.”

“Was that before or after you took her armor off?”

“That’s it. I’m unfriending you. Jason is my best friend now.” Piper grabbed one of the pillows off of Leo’s bed—a bed that was so filled with tools and random projects that she had serious doubts he'd ever slept there—and whacked him in the head with it. 

“Ow! Hey! I'm unarmed! No fair!” Leo complained, ducking under her second attack before diving for the bed. “Also, Jason is my best friend.”

“Not anymore, he isn’t.” Piper hit him with the pillow again. “And being poorly prepared for a pillow fight sounds like a you problem.“

“Armed now!” Leo announced, grabbing the second pillow off the bed and whacking her in retaliation. “I seriously can’t believe you’ve got the girl of your dreams sleeping in your room, and somehow you’re here, tormenting me.”

“I’m not going to watch her sleep like a total creep. Also, I promised her I’d get her armor fixed, so tormenting the local blacksmith makes perfect sense in that context.” 

“Pro tip: a pillow fight is not how you motivate the local blacksmith to get shit done,” Leo shot back, meeting her pillow with his.

“Past experience tells me you don’t get shit done unless you’re almost out of time, and since Reyna will probably be asleep for a few hours, I don’t think you would have gotten much done right now anyway.”

“Fuck off,” Leo laughed, giving her another a face-full of pillow. “You know, pillow-related violence notwithstanding, I’m actually really glad.”

“About what?”

“You and Jason breaking up.” Leo winced, lowering his pillow. “Sorry, that sounds kind of horrible. I was worried things would be weird when you told me, but… you both seem happy.”

“We are.” Piper smiled. “If you ignore the doomsday prophecies and looming end of the world, things are great.” She bit her lip. “But speaking of… how is Jason holding up?”

“He was pretty wrecked when we got back, so he’s probably asleep now. In his own bed, because unlike you, he’s got zero game, and we’re also a little short on eligible bachelorettes who aren’t his exes.” 

Leo lightly elbowed Piper. 

Considering the reason Jason had broken up with Piper had been his distinct disinterest in bachelorettes specifically, she doubted that particularly bothered him, but that wasn’t her conversation to have.

“Hardy har har.” Piper rolled her eyes at Leo, but she didn’t feel much like joking around anymore. “He didn’t take seeing Reyna like that very well, did he? I haven’t talked to him since we got back, but he seemed really shaken up.”

Leo shook his head. “He hated that he had no idea how to comfort her, and that she probably didn’t even want him to.” He sighed. “Classic Superman. He really struggles with being unable to help people he cares about.”

“Reyna’s hurting, too. They clearly miss each other a lot. I wish I knew how to help them.” Piper wrung her hands. “If we don’t all croak on this quest, I want to find a way to fix this.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. I don’t like seeing Jason unhappy any more than you do, but I sort of started a civil war by destroying Reyna’s home. I don’t think adding me into the equation is going to help anything.” Leo lifted his hands. “Besides, I’m garbage at this whole friendship thing.”

“You’re my friend. That has to count for something.” Piper took one of his hands, bringing it back down and squeezing it gently. “Please? For Jason?”

“You know me too well. Screw you.” Leo sighed. “Fine. If none of us croak on this mission, I’m going to help you with your stupid friendship meddling. And when it inevitably backfires on you, I’m going to be right by your side to say ‘I told you so’” 

Piper nudged him gently. “Love you, too.”

———

Some notes:

-I did warn you guys that this one was a bit more goofy, tone-wise. I love these two morons and I love them being friends so obviously I couldn’t resist adding this bit, and it also gave me a chance to add some of Piper’s thoughts and feelings about what happened between her and Reyna.

-My personal favorite bit is probably that Piper considered to just keep redoing Reyna’s braid because she wanted her to keep talking.

-Also, when Leo comes up with the whole physician’s cure idea, he absolutely thinks he’s going to be able to argue technicality on this and get out of Piper’s stupid friendship meddling that way (because he did die, he just came back to life right after). Piper does not let him, LOL. No get out of jail free card for traumatizing your friends, sorry buddy <3

Once again, thank you so much for reading! Comments immensely appreciated!

[lvrsturniolo]

Empty Promises ⟡M.S.

warnings: angst(resolved), bd!matt, arguing, and I think that’s it!!

i don’t know who owns bd!matt but if anyone does let me know so i can give creds!!

creds to @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers💓

The clock ticked past midnight, its minutes pass and your anger grows stronger You sat on the couch, arms crossed tightly against your chest, eyes fixed on the front door. The lights were dim, Harper’s tiny shoes sat neatly by the door, and the faint scent of baby shampoo still lingered in the air from her bedtime routine.

He was late again.

You sighed, your patience running thin. The third time this week, and it was always the same excuse: “Filming ran long. Sorry, I lost track of time.” It wasn’t just the hours—it was the way you felt invisible, like you and Harper came second to everything else.

The door creaked open, and there he was—Matt, his hoodie half-zipped, hair disheveled, and his face immediately softening when he saw you sitting there. “I know I’m late,” he started, holding up a hand as if to ward off the storm.

“You don’t say,” you cut in, your voice icy. “Do you even know what time it is, Matt?”

He looked at the clock and winced. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? Chris and Nick—”

“Chris and Nick,” you interrupted, standing up. “It’s always Chris and Nick. Do you ever stop and think about Harper? Or me? Or the fact that you missed dinner again?”

His shoulders slumped, but his voice turned defensive. “It’s my job. I can’t just walk out in the middle of filming! This is how I provide for us.”

“Providing isn’t just about money,” you shot back, your voice trembling now. “It’s about being here, Matt. It’s about showing up. Do you even know how many times Harper asked for you tonight? How many times I had to make up excuses because her daddy was too busy?”

That hit him. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his eyes darted away. But instead of apologizing, he dug in. “You act like I don’t care- like I’m out there having fun while you’re stuck here. Do you know how much pressure I’m under?”

“Pressure?” you echoed, incredulous. “What about me, Matt? I’m here all day, every day, raising our daughter while you’re out with your brothers. When do I get a break? When do I get you?”

His silence was deafening, and it only made your anger bubble hotter. Finally, you shook your head, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this, Matt. I can’t keep waiting for you to put us first.”

“Wait—what are you saying?” he asked, panic flashing across his face as you walked toward Harper’s room.

You emerged a minute later, Harper still groggy but clutching her favorite stuffed bunny. Her dirty blonde hair framed her sleepy face, and when she saw Matt, her big blue eyes-the same as his- looked up to him before she reached for him with a small, “Daddy?”

But you held her close, your heart breaking even as you stood firm. “We’re staying at my mom’s tonight,” you said quietly, avoiding his eyes.

Matt stepped forward, his voice desperate now. “Wait—don’t go. Let’s talk about this.”

“I’ve tried talking,” you said, your voice heavy with exhaustion. “You never listen.”

And with that, you walked out the door, leaving Matt standing there in intense silence.

The drive to your mom’s house was quiet except for Harper’s soft breaths as she drifted back to sleep in the backseat. Your chest ached, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on you. You didn’t want to leave, but you didn’t know how to make him understand.

Matt spent the night replaying the argument in his mind. Every word you said cut deep because you were right. He’d been so caught up in work, in keeping the channel alive, that he hadn’t realized how much he was letting his family slip through his fingers.

By morning, he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his keys and drove to your mom’s house, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly they ached.

When you opened the door, you looked surprised to see him, but there was also hurt in your eyes. “What are you doing here, Matt?”

“I messed up,” he said simply, his voice raw. “I should’ve been there for you, for Harper. I got so caught up in everything else that I forgot what’s most important. And that’s you two.”

You folded your arms, skeptical but listening. “Do you mean that, or is this just because I walked out?”

“I mean it,” he said, stepping closer. “I hate that it took you leaving to make me see it, but I do. I want to fix this. I don’t want to lose you.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and it broke something in you. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the regret etched across his face.“Matt…” you started, your voice softening.

“I’ll do better,” he promised, reaching for your hand. “I’ll set boundaries with work. I’ll make more time for you and Harper. Just please—don’t give up on me.”

You stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding. “I don’t want to give up on us. But you need to follow through, Matt. No more empty promises.”

“I will,” he said, his voice steady.

You stepped aside, letting him in, and Harper toddled out of the living room, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Daddy!”

Matt scooped her up, holding her close as she giggled. He looked at you over her shoulder, his eyes filled with determination. It wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in a long time, you felt hope.

Mel Speaks~ this is lowk choppy as hell but this is my first time writing angst so fuck it we ball😋

(also this isn’t proofread so I’m sorry if there are any errors!!)

[gonksinlove]

I have once again stayed up way way past my bedtime to play through Boat Drinks. but in my defense:

[5blondeboytoy5]

About our past... Whitney x Reader

WC: 1452 CW: mentions of sexual assault, abuse forgiveness.

In which you and Whitney talk about your high school years...

The night is quiet. You finish up tucking your youngest into bed as you head to the kitchen to make lunches for tomorrow. The front door opens, and Whitney comes in, still in scrubs from the neurosurgery round he had today. He’s so close to finishing his residency, and you couldn’t be more proud.

Whitney is a far cry from the boy you met over fifteen years ago. If you had asked yourself at freshly eighteen who you thought Whitney was going to turn into, the top of his class in med school, future neurosurgeon, father of your children, and husband would not be it.

“G’evenin’ babe,” he mumbles, coming up behind you and kissing your head, “missed you today.” His arms snake around you, pulling you into a hug from behind. 

“You always miss me,” you giggle, setting down the sandwich knife and hugging his arms.

“Talking like you don’t count down the seconds until I get home,” Whitney teases, flicking your nose before letting go, “lemme go get clean, it’s been a day.” He leaves you with one last kiss on your cheek before hitting the shower.

You finish up your families’ lunches, Whitney still on your mind. Again, you never thought with what a delinquent he was in high school that he would ever get this far. Even more personally, you would’ve never imagined that the man who is singing bedtime songs to your kids and has your wedding photo as his lockscreen is the same man that flashed a busy street with you, made you use the boys’ toilets so you could never escape him, or made you suck him off in detention.

Or, more maliciously, pimped you out, threw your bag into the ocean for you to get raped by sailors, shoved pens in a kid’s ass just for looking at you, and wouldn’t refer to you as anything but slut. In his defense, everyone back home was doing similar things, but it’s much more personal when you remember the trauma that your own husband inflicted on you. Not to mention how smitten you were with him, and how much you did just go along with his antics just for his attention. Does that make his actions okay?

You and him seldom discuss it. Of course, you’ve both said you’re thankful to not be raising your babies back home, that you feel so much safer where you are now, that Whitney feels like this town is a much better influence on him, but you’re not sure he’s ever actually said he’s sorry for all the things he’s done to you. Of course, you did decide to marry him, start a family, a brand new life with him, and it’s not like his behavior hasn’t turned around completely, but some days you can’t help but remember who he used to be.

Walking into the bedroom, you get undressed and put on a tank top to sleep. On your skin is another display of Whitney’s dominance, the phrase Property of Whitney tattooed on your shoulder. You remember the day he dragged you to get it - the way the needle burned into your skin, how he laughed when you whined in pain, how he fucked your throat so hard after you couldn’t talk for three days. This is one of the more pleasant memories from that time, mostly because you were so enamored by him that you didn’t mind his name forever on your skin. Thank god you married him, or else it would’ve aged poorly.

The bathroom door opens, and out pops Whitney in gray sweats, drying off his hair in a towel. He sits down on the bed next to you, twirling your hair in his fingers and making small talk about your days. You must seem particularly out of it, as Whit backs away and gives you a puzzled look.

“Somethin’ the matter?” He asks, “you look down.”

You shrug. This is a conversation that's been over fifteen years in the making, do you bring it up now or just let bygones be bygones?

“I can help, promise. Anything for my girl.”

Your breath hitches. You don’t want to talk about it, making it seem like you’re holding onto the past. However, you can’t ignore you and Whitney’s shared history, even when it’s been so long. 

“Do you ever think about who we used to be?”

Whitney blinks. “Uh, sometimes. Why?” 

“I was just thinkin’ about back home today. All the things that happened in high school.” God, you don’t want to come out and tell him he was an abusive monster back then, but if he won’t own up to it on his own you might have to!

“Oh, yeah. That town is all kinds of fucked up. We went through a lot. I’m glad we’re here and safe now, especially for the kids’ sake.” He replies.

We? You think. I was the one that was assaulted on the daily, sometimes at your hand! You take a deep breath.

“Whit, I went through a lot because of you sometimes. Don’t act like you were such a victim too.”

Whitney looks angry for a second, and for that split second the old Whitney was back. The look on his face fades as he takes a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

“I don’t have an excuse or defense for that,” he mumbles, looking ashamed. “I guess I thought you liked it, thought it was okay. You said yes to everything I asked, so I guess I thought that was a yes to everything. You were so submissive, I didn’t see you as a human when we first met. Especially with the reputation you had, I just… didn’t make good choices.” You’re silent, not sure even what to say. Whitney grows uncomfortable, and keeps running his mouth.

“Nobody in that town was nice, remember Leighton? How cruel and perverted she was? I considered her my first for the longest time, until I realized if you don’t want it, it doesn’t count. I was a product of my environment at the time and did a lot of fucked up things. I’m glad you’re so forgiving, and saw something in me, and we’re all good now.” He leans in for a hug, clearly growing uncomfortable with the conversation. You don’t hug back.

“Whitney,” you fight back tears in your eyes, “how can I forgive you when you haven’t even said you’re sorry? When this is the only conversation we’ve had about this in all the years we’ve been together? God, I love you, and you’re a changed man, but I feel like we can’t act like the past never happened. It’s been the elephant in the room for our whole marriage.” Tears fall down your cheeks at this point. Whitney reaches up and wipes them away.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It wasn’t right, I was a stupid shitheaded kid back then. I’m sorry. I love you too.” He leans in for a hug again, enveloping you in his arms as you cry softly. You pull away, wiping your eyes.

“I know you were. Trust me, I remember.”

“What can I do to make it better?”

You stop. What can he do? You don’t want to leave him, or send him back to prison, but going forward like it’s all okay like you have been isn’t going to be okay either.

“Can we just acknowledge it more? Not pretend like it never happened?”

Whitney pauses. Obviously, he doesn’t always want to be reminded of what a terrible person he was as a teenager and young adult, and he’s right, part of it was the environment you and him grew up in. If you are raised in a town where rape and assault go unpunished, and sexual abuse is incredibly normalized, how could he have known how wrong it really was? He’s a victim too - Leighton was incredibly abusive, not to mention whoever else hurt him too.

“Yeah. We can. Of course. I owe you everything.” He envelops you in a hug again, the touchy bastard.It isn’t all okay, to act as if he never abused you is an impossible feat, and you’ve carried this burden for the longest time. But you know the kind of man he is now, and how much of an influence that city really had over him, not to mention his friends, and the adults in his life and the behavior they modeled. It’s a miracle he turned out how he did, and it’s a miracle you’re semi-well adjusted. You’re glad you have this Whitney, and not the Whitney you felt that you had to constantly appease. You hope he’s glad to have you too.

[p0orbaby]

Can you make a little one shot of that night? When he shows up looking for squish? And maybe y/n being awake and being confused because she doesn’t even remember him?

Dad?

a/n: a full version of this. I also hate the ending so there’s that

warnings: a man, a shit one at that, mentions of family abandonment? arguing, shouting, aggressiveness, a scared child :(

word count: 1.2k

-

No one normally rang the doorbell this late.

The setting sun had bruised the sky pink and purple. All was quiet bar the soft voice of Wanda coming from your room as she read you a bedtime story.

Meanwhile Natasha was finishing up washing the dishes from dinner when the chime sounded unexpectedly through the house.

She frowned slightly as she dried her hands on a dish towel, wondering who could be calling by. And why they thought it would be appropriate to do it at this time of day.

There was no real reason for her to be worried about who the late night visitor might be. Only authorized personnel were allowed up to the level their apartment was on. Tony’s orders for living away from the compound. So she didn’t bat an eyelid about opening the door. Well, that was until she didn’t recognise who was on the other side. A rarity even for her.

“Can I help you?” She asks, closing the door slightly while she assesses the person in front of her. Her eyes raking up and down his figure, trying to mentally calculate the man’s intentions.

“Where’s Wanda?” The man says back. Gruff, irritated and obviously void of basic manners.

“I’m sorry but, who’re you?”

Then, as if on queue, the gentle padding of Wanda’s feet was heard from behind Natasha. “Babe, who is it?” She asks curiously, coming up to place a hand on the small of her back, trying and failing to look past Natasha at the person on the other side of the door

“Someone asking for you, I don't-“ Natasha responds, not turning to face Wanda. Her instincts telling her this man wasn’t to be trusted and he eyes on him at all times.

“Wanda!” The man bellows, slamming his hand against the enforced metal of the door, stopping it from being shut in his face. “You can’t keep her from me forever”

Against her back, Natasha felt Wanda stiffen. A few educated guesses and it didn’t take long for her to figure out who was shouting at her girlfriend from the hallway.

“Hey!” Natasha hissed aggressively. Her walls immediately rising, along with her heart rate as she clenched her fists at her side instinctively. “You’re not welcome here, so you better leave. Now”

He just stared back at her, eyes wild as if he was stunned that she even had the guts to speak to him that way.

“Nat, I’ve got this”

Wanda’s voice was quiet. Exhausted. Natasha knew from small snippets of information Wanda had told her that this fight is something that may never have an end.

Natasha turned to face Wanda, giving her a small nod with pinched brows of concern. Shifting far enough away she gave her girlfriend space, but close enough she could intervene if she had to.

Wanda took a shaky breath and stepped just past the threshold of the apartment.

-

“You can’t just turn up here” Wanda instructs, quiet and frustrated.

“She’s my kid too, Wanda. Where is she? I want to see her”

“She’s asleep” Wanda’s replies, her voice tinged with anger and hurt. “You can’t just show up whenever you feel like it. Especially after everything you’ve done”

“I have a right to see my child” he retorts, his tone defensive. He has his hackles raised. “You can’t keep her away from me forever”

“I never wanted to keep her from you!” Wanda tries, but fails to keep her composure. “But you left us! You disappeared. If you didn’t care about her then, what makes you think I’ll believe a word that comes out of your mouth now?”

The man's face contours with frustration. “I had my reasons, Wanda. You don’t understand what i've had to go through”

“I’m not arguing with you about this again. You knew what I did, who I was before you decided to get me pregnant” she argues.

The words hung in the air, charged with years of unresolved emotions. Wanda's hands trembled slightly at her asides as she struggled to contain the flood of memories and hurt that had now been resurfaced.

But the man's anger seemed to eclipse reason. He paced in front of the door, his frustration palpable. Spreading itself like a fungus into the cracks of her being. "You don't know what it's been like for me," he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. “To have a kid I’m not allowed to see!”

Wanda's voice wavered, her eyes lighting with fire. "And you don't know what it's been like for us. For me!" she shot back, her tone harsh and very unlike Wanda it made Natasha concerned. “I let you know where we lived. Where we went, every time we left the country, I told you. But you threw it all back in my face when you never showed up. So don’t you dare say I kept you away”

Unbeknownst to the adults, in the midst of this emotional whirlwind, you were perched behind a wall, hidden slightly from the entrance of the house, your small body barely noticeable. Confusion knitted your brow, the heated exchange both frightening and intriguing to your young ears. You didn’t recognise all the voices. But that wasn’t the problem. You were scared that you could hear your mom shouting.

“Mommy?” You said, quiet. Concerned. But loud enough to get everyone’s attention.

Heads turned towards you. Natasha glanced in your direction, her keen eyes locking onto your own. Then a voice pulled her gaze away from you.

“Y/N” it said, loud and unfamiliar. Like a barking dog in a park or the honk of a horn in the street. “Hey baby, it’s daddy!”

The man’s words resonated within you, and a mixture of emotions swirled through the air around you. Confusion warred with a flicker of excitement, and you stepped out from your hiding place, your heart beating with both curiosity and fear.

“Mom” you repeated, your gaze fixed on the man before you. His frame blocked slightly by the legs of your parents. Even so, he crouched down to reach your eye level, offering a smile that held a hint of desperation. It scared you. Looking into the unfamiliar eyes of a stranger.

He called out to you again, but you didn’t move. Hiding your face behind the stuffed animal clutched in your hands. The man growled with impatience, standing to his full height again. His frustration showed no signs of abating. His gaze then shifted to Wanda again. “You’ve turned my kid against me” he cried. “You’ve been spouting lies to make my own child hate me!”

Natasha’s protective instincts kicked in again. She stepped forward, positioning herself between Wanda and the man, giving her girlfriend the chance to comfort you and remove you from the firing line. Her voice was firm, her eyes unwavering when she instructed him to go. “You’ve said your piece. You need to leave now”

The man’s annoyance escalated, his anger radiating like a storm. He took a step forward, and Natasha straightened further. Though she was small, she was mighty, and the man retreated slightly at her rage

“I said, you need to leave,” she repeated. Words hard and direct as she clenched her jaw to steady her emotions.

It looked as though he was going to say something, but he didn’t. After a long beat of silence he turned and punched a hole into the drywall of the complex corridor. Cursed at the pain. Then stormed towards the stairwell at the other end of the hallway.