#my brownies will certainly be present on the day

[vagalumeando]

Feeling tired and unwilling to do anything, but also full of desire to do something exciting 🫠

Short "vacations"

That I don't know how I'll use it. My legs hurt and I just want to rest. Soooooooooo

What exciting plans do you all have for the holidays???

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 6/?

Some light word-building, and a try at explaining a little with reader's thinking/worldview. And of course, a soulmate :3 Next chapter in about a week(+/- a day)! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 2506

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

It’s been a week since you saw either of them. 

Your soulmates. 

You don’t like them being that, you could call them something else you suppose. But calling them their names all the time is more of a mouthful, and though you gave them nicknames before you learned their names, giving them new ones seems worse than just calling them what they are. (Even as much as you hate it.)

The ache in your shoulders and upper back has settled to a near permanent thing now, only fleeting relief for the for the briefest of moments if you massage the area. 

You know why it doesn’t fade, but you don’t want to admit that to anyone, especially not Evelyn when you visit her for a check up, this time at home in her and Olivia’s apartment.

You wonder how many other people have to bring brownies to their doctor appointments as you ring Evelyn’s and Olivia’s doorbell outside the building. To be fair, not everyone else’s doctor works as a veterinarian and has a wife that would kill you if you didn’t bring them (not really, but sometimes you think Olivia is certainly capable of doing so). 

Said wife is the one who buzzes you in, and greets you in the hallway just outside their front door with an enthusiastic yell of your name, and a hug that makes you let out a small grunt of pain that you try to hide in favor of hugging her back with the arm not currently holding onto the strap of your backpack.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re a wounded man, come in, come in, Evelyn is just setting up.” Her beautiful dark and curled hair bounces as she heads to the kitchen, and you follow her after making sure the front door is closed behind you.

The kitchen table is covered in towels, towels you know are specifically for this purpose, since none of them are the cute patterns Olivia loves. You also know that underneath there’s cling wrap covering the table, for cleanliness and just in case. It hadn’t been often you had been on this kitchen table instead of the clinic table, but the procedure Evelyn has around it isn’t unknown to you. A lot more organized than what Wade’s and Logan’s had been. 

You banish the thought of them from your mind as you put your backpack down, dipping your hand inside to fish out the box of carefully wrapped brownies out, and present them to Olivia. She gasps at you, almost yanking the box out of your hand with how fast she takes it.

“Sometimes I swear it’s like you are my second soulmate.” Your stomach swoops at her words, and you make a face. She knows and disagrees with your view on soulmates, so you know it’s a friendly jab, and normally you wouldn’t have cared, but this time it hits something you don’t like.

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes at her, focusing on Evelyn instead as Olivia goes to put her treasure away. “Ready for me doc?” Seems to be the perfect time to ask that question as Evelyn puts gloves on and pats the table. 

“Up you go.” You do as asked, hoisting yourself up. You take your shirt off, balling it up, putting it under your head as you lay down, getting comfortable. “Feeling fine?” Evelyn starts to peel your bandages off, slowly and carefully.

“Yeah. They seem to be doing fine, in my non-medical opinion.” She hums, and you know she’s taking your words into consideration, but it won’t really matter much before she has had a look herself. You let your eyes stay open, watching the ceiling as you hear Olivia putter around the kitchen, and feel Evelyn poke around your wounds.

Nasty couple of things. Well, they had been. You have been surprised nothing had gotten infected, you had no idea how well Wade took care of his swords, how nasty or not they were. But well, to be fair to him, if you had gotten an infection, your makeshift bandages would have been just as likely a culprit.

“Looks like you won’t die anytime soon, but they’ll still leave some nasty scars behind.” Evelyn offers, seeming to be done with her inspection of you, as she changes gloves, and starts applying new bandages. You shrug, you figured out much. Nothing cuts that deep without leaving behind a mark.

Well, unless you are a super healing mutant. Even after you had tried multiple times. Both with a katana and a gun.

Should you even feel bad for hurting your soulmates like that when it was done when in panic but with the knowledge it would heal? And you got more permanently hurt?

And to be fair, Wade had knocked you out before you ever hurt them after realizing they were your soulmates, so it wasn’t like you hadn’t been hurt, but you shot them both. Caused them more pain.

So maybe you are all a little beyond messed up. 

Made for each other, like that soulmate shit implies.

You shake your head at that thought, dispelling it into the ether, which gets you a weird look from Evelyn as she finishes with your bandage.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I just haven’t been sleeping right.”

“Chest pain?” Her hands hover near your chest, but move away as you shake your head.

“No, shoulder and upper back, think I’ve accidentally pulled something.” She frowns.

“I thought I told you to not work out or put unnecessary strain on your body as you heal.” You know what it’s from, and it’s definitely not that.

“I haven’t been working out or lifting anything heavy, I promise. I’m just an old man.” You joke, she rolls your eyes at you as you sit up, taking the glass of water Olivia offers you.

“Let me know if it keeps up, and I’ll see if I can’t figure out what it is, and get you something for it.” She can’t know and won’t be able to get you anything, but still you nod.

“Am I allowed to put my shirt back on Doc, or do you just want to ogle me some more?” You joke, this earns you a slap on the shoulder by a now gloveless hand just after Olivia hands you a chocolate chip cookie. 

“Thought you were making pasta?” You get off the table and take a bite out of your cookie as Olivia smiles at you, and Evelyn starts cleaning up.

“I am, but good patients get rewards.” 

“What am I, five?” You joke, Olivia reaches out as if to take the cookie out of your hand, you take a step back. “I prefer your cookies over any stupid little toy.” Olivia’s smile is bright, and if you weren’t gay and she didn’t have a soulmate, she could have been your type. She turns around, planting a kiss on Evenlyn’s cheek as she passes her on her way to grab ingredients for the dinner she is going to make for you all.

You lean on the kitchen counter and munch on your cookie, mindful to stay in the background and out of the way for them both as they move around each other with ease. Evelyn cleaning up medical supplies and the makeshift sickbed, Olivia starting to cook dinner.

You don’t want to bring up your soulmates with either of them, since you know their stance on it all is opposite of yours, since they are themselves soulmates. You’ve had plenty of arguments about this both drunk and mostly sober. You think soulmates make one vulnerable and just bring misery in the end, they think it brings strength and that you should enjoy what good you can have in life.

So you know they would just tell you to go to your soulmates, and be with them. 

For the rest of your life. 

Ugh.

You’re fine on (mostly) your own, thanks.

—---

This time, when the universe decides it’s time for some light fuckery, it’s Logan. On his own. And it’s not while you are working. 

Not that it makes it any better.

You are taking it slow, the bar you find yourself in isn’t the fanciest thing, which suits you perfectly. The tables are mostly clean and the floor has seen better days, but they have several types of beer on tap and in bottles, a pool table, and even two shuffleboards. All in all, very casual, somewhere you could sit alone, or join a random group playing one of the games. If money sometimes exchanged hands, both between players and spectators, nobody gave a shit.

You had been a few times before, always enjoying yourself. You’re not even drinking this time, sticking to soda as much as you want to have a proper drink. You had just needed to get out of your apartment, and though you long to feel the burn of alcohol pass over them, you know it won’t heal any faster, so if you can just keep from drinking for a little longer, you can get back to the normal state of things quicker.

Well, as normal as they can get after the universe decided to change the core of your life. You were not one for company, at least not permanently.

Currently you are sitting at a table, watching two long bearded and bald men play pool, making snide comments back and forth. You had made a bet on the man with the scarred ear, but he is losing, pretty badly.

Oh well, 20 bucks isn’t the end of the world.

What kind of feels like it though, is when you spot Logan walking into the bar. He’s wearing normal clothes this time, just some jeans, boots, and a green flannel. He glances around the bar, you duck your head in the hope that he doesn’t see you.

You don’t hope for long though, as a very full glass of what looks like whiskey is sat down next to your soda, and the chair on the other side of the table becomes occupied.

“Logan.” Your uttering of his name in greeting is icy, your name falling from his lips are decidedly less so.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, feeling your shoulders ease up. Which annoys you so much, he’s just arrived, and he’s already making you feel better. You want to go, to leave, even as your loosening muscles reminds you that staying for a little bit will stave off side effects of your unfortunately shared bond. 

“Drinking.” He grunts, taking a sip of his glass. You roll your eyes and look at him for a few moments, head swirling with thoughts. You settle on one, just to have something to say as you stall and try to figure out how much time you need to feel more than just a little less shitty, though you can’t help but be actually curious as you ask.

“Can you even get drunk with your healing shit?” Logan frowns, and you wonder if that’s his default. You don’t ask about that though.

“With some effort.”

“Why the fuck even be in a bar then?” Your tone is still not kind, even as you  feel your shoulders ache just a little bit less, like you had just massaged over a good spot. He shrugs.

“Company I guess.” It’s your turn to frown.

“I have no interest in being company. Get away from me Logan, or I will make you go away.” You know you should stay close longer so you can also stay away longer, but you are still stubborn, not wanting the fuckery that is soulmates. 

At least if you just stay in the same room, it should help, you think. 

You hope. No need to stay close in the slightest. 

He takes you in, quickly glancing at you from top to toe.

“I -“ You don’t let him speak.

“What did I just say Logan?” He scowls at you, you glare back at him, but let him speak when he opens his mouth this time.

“I don’t like it.” Logan reluctantly admits as the scowl stays on his face. “This being the way we are going about things.” He clarifies.

“Though shit.” He tilts his head at you, scowl turning into more of a squint.

“Are you always this combative?” You feel like a street dog on high alert, barking in warning. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Look-” And when barks don’t work……

“You had your warning.” You say as you grab your knife from your left leg. You stab it into his hand, aiming for the skin between where the claws go through his hand, hitting the jackpot as red seeps around the knife and the tip of it burrows into the table. Seconds later there is warm and sharp metal pushing your chin up. You grin and waggle a finger at him.

“Nah ah, mortal, remember?” You twist the knife around once for good measure, making him grunt in pain, and then pull it out of his hand. You already know you are banned from this bar for life, but you don’t care. His claws retract, this time you realize it actually makes a sound. Huh.

“So you are always this combative.” Logan grits out between his clenched teeth, as his hand heals itself, leaving behind nothing but the blood that spilled out where you stabbed him.

“Fellas, time to go.” A bouncer suddenly stands in front of your table now, a t-shirt with security over his chest in big white letters. He’s huge, towering over both you and Logan, arms ready at his sides, eyes flicking between the two of you. You see Logan seize him up, and for a moment you wonder if he is going to fight the man, but his eyes go to you as you get off your chair.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” You put your knife away. “Again, fuck off Logan.” You show him the finger as you walk out. He’s just steps behind you, clearly no longer welcome in the bar either, but he keeps his distance as you both go out of the door. 

You have no idea where he's going, and you have no plans now, so you start walking in the direction of home.

After gaining some distance, you look over your shoulder. You don’t want to be followed. Logan is standing just outside of the bar, looking at your retreating back, but he takes a step forward as your eyes connect with his. You show him the finger again as you disappear around a corner.

You rub your forehead as you are out of sight, annoyance cursing through you. You think some of it might be his.

Fuck, you wish you could get drunk right now. Well, you could, but it wouldn’t be good for your healing. And you have no idea how bad or good your control over your bonds are when you’re drunk.

Just another thing for future you to figure out, you guess.

(Part 7)

[maxiemclaren]

hiii!! i love your writing, and do you think you could do one where american!reader and logan gang up on reader, but then logan "accidentally" reveals reader's crush on oscar? tysmmm <33

The Backfire

Pairing - Best Friend Logan x American!Reader x Crush!Oscar

Warnings - Fluff

Summary - Logan and y/n play pranks on their friend Oscar all the time, until one prank backfires and secrets get spilled…

a/n - Let’s get it. Also don’t ask questions about the half-assed pranks.

The three of you have been best friends for years, it’s no surprise really, after all you’ve been racing against each other since F4, growing up in a racing community surrounded by teens; pranks are not a rarity. From small things like changing the color of someone's shampoo to making a sponge look like a brownie and giving it to Oscar after a race win.

Fast forward to the present day where you are all in F1. You couldn’t really understand why it upset you so much when Oscar started to ignore you after played a harmless little prank on him, like you’ve been doing for years. So what does any rational person do? They go to their best friend and bombarded them with questions. Barging your way into Logan’s driver’s room, you bang on the door until he finally answers. “Yes y/n? To what do I owe the pleasure?” he says in a posh voice. “Cut the crap Logan, I need to figure something out and I need your help” you say voice teetering on edge. He moves aside and lets you in the room, where you both sit on the couch and try to figure out what’s going on.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me Logan, it’s like all of a sudden after the prank he started being dry and blunt towards me. And normally I’d just brush it off but this time it just feels different? Like my heart hurts.” You breathe out. Logan just sits there like your own personal therapist, listening to you basically confess that you have different feelings towards Oscar now. “I get like tingles when he walks by or looks at me” you state as you notice Logan starting to drift off, “LOGAN WAKE UP!” you yell. He just looks over to you and says “I know what’s wrong y/n” desperate for an answer you gesture with your hands for him to get on with it.

“You my dearest friend, have a crush on Oscar” He lightly teases. “I most certainly do-my god maybe I do, please don’t tell him!” you begged Logan. He pretended to zip his lips shut and threw you the imaginary key, like he previously just did with Oscar moments before you came in.

Oscar and Logan

“Mate I can’t even talk to her anymore, it’s like I’m scared I’ll say something stupid and she’ll want nothing to do with me. You have to promise me you won’t say anything” Oscar begged his best friend. “Oscar, would I honestly do that to you? Hell the two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for years. You have my word, lips are sealed” Logan stated simply.

The both of you were trying to figure out a way of getting Oscar to talk to you again, you decide that maybe Logan needs to pull a prank on Oscar in hopes that he will complain to you about the shared American. Which all leads up to this master prank that you two Americans were up to, something you and Logan both missed about home was the firework shows that would be on display for the Fourth of July. Since you can’t just set off fireworks because you were pretty sure that it was illegal, you decided on a glitter box. The whole idea of the box was that you would disguise it like a gift from Logan, and put it in his driver’s room and wait for him to open it after the race, then poof glitter everywhere.

In hindsight sending in Logan was probably not the best idea, seeing as the two of them were still on good terms and can get distracted and lose track of time. So here you were, waiting for Logan and hopefully Oscar in your driver’s room. You start to grow bored and decide to shut your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, something major was just shared to someone special.

Logan placed the glitter box in Oscar’s driver’s room, and attempted to sneak out but was unsuccessful. “What are you doing here?” Oscar says with his hands on his hips. Logan whipped his head around so fast he thought he had given himself whiplash. Stuttering out some lame excuse about leaving a gift for his best friend. Oscar not believing it for one second gave him two options, the first one being tell him what he was really doing here or open the box to prove that it indeed is just a gift and not a prank.

Logan knowing what would happen if he opened the box, and knowing what would potentially happen if he told the truth, he decided to do the right thing. “Ok ok I confess, y/n and I decided to pull a prank on you with a glitter box, because she wants you to talk to her and she’s sad that you are ignoring her” he manages to spill out. “There’s more to that Logan, you and I both know it, she wouldn’t just be upset if I didn’t text her because we are busy” Oscar said knowingly. “Uh, I, god, she’s going to murder me” Oscar just looked at him to continue. “She might, maybe, most definitely has a crush on you. She told me like 10 mins after you left the other day”. Oscar, too stunned to speak, just left and practically sprinted to your driver’s room. 

You wake up to someone calling your phone, and someone banging at your door? Seeing you have 10 missed calls and 7 texts from Logan, you immediately open the door thinking Logan would be standing there. Instead, you were met with a face you knew and missed all too well, “Osc- Oscar, what are you doing here?” you say shocked. “Is it true y/n? Please tell me what Logan said is true’’ he panted out because he ran all the way from McLaren to Williams. “What’s true? What are you on about?” you say seriously confused. “That you like me too, and like more than just a friend. Because let me tell you, it’s been killing me for years to not be able to say anything to you about it” Oscar pleaded. Torn between what you feel from wanting to strangle your fellow American, to wanting to just kiss Oscar, you decide to grab Oscar’s hands and hold them while you tell him the truth “Yes, it’s true Oscar”. Happy with the confession he picks you up in a hug and says “Well I guess I need to take this pretty girl out on a date hm?” You blush at the compliment. “I suppose so Piastri” you giggle. “About damn time, you two,” says Logan from behind Oscar. You shoot daggers at him and then he backs off, “So tomorrow at 7pm?” Oscar asks you, to which you nod “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you say and then peck his cheek.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Stuffy

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.4k

Summary: Little Nat loses something important to her

A/N: First in a series of little nat stories inspired by ideas from @rianncreates

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, cuteness 

When Natalya was born, she was surrounded by her family. You and Wanda were with her, and after a few minutes in private the rest of your family had joined you two. They’d all been excited to meet their new niece, and the tired, yet happy parents carefully handed her off for one-on-one time with her aunts and uncles. They’d all bought gifts for her, and you watched happily as Wanda accepted them on Little Nat’s behalf once you were all back at your house the next day. You were still exhausted, but seeing your friends with such unfamiliar excitement was like adrenaline to you. You smile widely as Pietro presents his sister with a gift that he’d certainly had for some time. It was the only way he’d could have gotten it personalized like this.

“See, sestra? Isn’t it great?”

In a very on brand decision, Pietro had gotten his niece a onesie that said ‘My favorite Maximoff’ and beneath it is an outline of Pietro’s profile. You found it hilarious and luckily your wife was too tired to be anything but amused by it. She claimed that Natalya would never wear it, but only an hour later once she’d fallen asleep, Pietro is changing Natalya.

Bucky and Steve brought her a ridiculously soft blanket and matching pillow that you immediately want to steal from her. Instead, you let them wrap Natalya in the blanket and put her pillow on the shelf of her nursery until she’s old enough to have it in her crib.

Lastly, Yelena and Nat got your daughter a large green sea turtle toy that was almost larger than she was. It was Yelena’s idea of a gag gift since Natalya wouldn’t be able to play with this for a while, but you loved it. Turtles were one of your favorite animals, and you definitely already have Yertle the Turtle on the bookshelf in the nursery. You hug all of your friends with a grateful smile before Wanda does the same. You know that Natalya is going to treasure all of these gifts when she’s older and better able to associate them with her family.

You should have guessed which one she’d like the most.

When she was old enough to have things in her crib, you’d put the pillow, blanket and stuffed turtle with her. She’d cuddle up at night under the blanket with her turtle clutched in her arms. You found it adorable and took many, many pictures of your daughter sleeping soundly with her gifts. You sent pictures to your friends more often than not to show them how cute your daughter was.

As soon as she was able, she’d drag the huge turtle around with her everywhere she went. The first time one of the dogs grabbed it she’d cried so loudly Wanda dropped the entire pan of brownies she’d baked. She’d had to rush back and clean them up once she confirmed that Natalya wasn’t hurt, but she watched her daughter try and steal her toy back for a few seconds before you helped her out.

The dogs weren’t the only ones she didn’t want touching her toy. If you or Wanda grabbed it for her, Natalya would start to whimper and tear up. It was a little concerning how possessive she was of it, but luckily she got better as she got older.

When Natalya was nearly 2 years old, she was still bringing her turtle, who she’d dubbed Winston, to every meal. He sat in her lap as she ate and she sometimes pretended to feed him from her plate. You found it adorable until one day when Little Nat was eating ice cream, and she dunked Winston’s head in it. You’d had to clean him and you’d feared that she would be upset, but luckily, she was too preoccupied eating her ice cream to care. You smile at the sight of her humming happily and you nearly curse as you drop the turtle in the sink when you turn the water on too high.

“Oh snap!”

When Wanda wakes up from her nap, she finds you and Natalya sitting in the living room on the couch together. You’re both asleep as a Disney movie plays, and Nat is snuggled up into your side as she holds her turtle Winston under one arm. She has her thumb in her mouth and Wanda is quick to take a picture and send it to Natasha and Yelena. They’re very glad, even if a little surprised that Nat loves her turtle so much.

One Sunday morning, you and Wanda are trying to spend an extra few minutes in bed before starting your day, but the sound of crying down the hall makes you race to your daughter’s room.

“Natalya? What’s wrong?”

Wanda’s right on your heels as you push the door open and hurry into your daughter’s bedroom. You find her sitting on her bed with toys and most of her comforter thrown on the ground as she looks around tearfully. Wanda frowns at the mess but she doesn’t get to comment on it before Nat’s trying to speak through loud sobs.

“Winston!”

You look around in confusion before you realize that the turtle is nowhere in sight. Wanda’s already starting to search through all of the toys on the floor to make sure they’re not missing anything. She looks under the bed and you focus on Little Nat as you try to get her to calm down a little.

You sit down carefully before you hold out your arms to wave the brunette toward you. She doesn’t hesitate to crawl into your lap, and you hold her close with a smile as you run your fingers through her hair.

“It’s okay, Little Nat we’ll find him. Do you remember when you last had him?”

After Wanda’s given up looking for him in here, she sits down next to you to listen to Natalya’s answer. Rogue has wandered into the room at this point and he was sniffing around as Natalya rubbed at her eyes.

“I-in bed.”

You frown slightly but figure that she means right before falling asleep. You’re sure of this because you had been tucking Winston and Nat in for over a year.

“He was here when you went to sleep?”

Natalya nods against your chest before you look to Wanda with a frown.  You’re not sure where he could have gone, but you let Nat sit on the bed watching nervously as you and Wanda search her entire room. You look back toward her after about ten minutes of searching only to see that Rogue is now sitting on her bed.

“Rogue, no. Down.”

He whines before doing as he’s told and heading for the door to try his luck elsewhere. Surprisingly Natalya jumps up and runs after him with a distressed cry that makes Wanda stick her head out of the closet. Her hair’s a mess and she’s getting frustrated by their failure to find a rather large toy.

“Wogue!”

You follow after her quickly before she can head for the stairs, and Wanda finishes straightening up the mess you both had left before continuing the search.

“Natalya, wait.”

Nat had grabbed Rogue’s tail to stop him in his tracks, and the shepherd had just turned around to lick her when you stepped out of the room. You reach down to pick up your daughter as you consider where her turtle could be. Did she take it to the bathroom last night right before going to bed? You turn around to check and you’re disappointed when you confirm your suspicions. You bounce the sniffling brunette as you head downstairs and try to formulate a plan.

“We’ll keep looking for Winston, but do you want some breakfast first? Maybe some cereal?”

Usually, Natalya would begin to bounce in excitement and sometimes even clap at the suggestion of food. Especially her favorite snack food. This time she just pouts before shaking her head and turning her face so she’s hidden in your hair.

“Not hungry.”

You and Wanda both realize this is a bad sign and you turn to your wife with a frown. What were you going to do?

In the end you continue to look around the house for Natalya’s turtle while Wanda cooks breakfast and gets the coffee started. She also feeds the dogs and lets them out before you return twenty minutes later from the den with a crying toddler.

“I’m going to keep looking, Wands. Little Nat, stay here with Mama and eat, okay?”

Natalya wants to argue, but she’s getting hungrier and the smell of her favorite is weakening her resolve. She lets you set her down in a chair at the table, the pillow beneath her lifting her up enough to reach the plate that Wanda sets in front of her. She sits down with a cup of coffee before handing you one that is mostly milk. You shoot her an appreciative smile before kissing the top of your daughter’s head with a sigh.

“I’ll find him, Nat. I promise.”

Two hours later you’ve looked everywhere possible for Winston, but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s not on the third floor in Fletcher’s corner of stolen toys, and he’s not in any of the guest rooms, your room, Nat’s or any of the bathrooms. You even ventured downstairs into the basement, and when you emerged twenty minutes later you were sweaty and covered in spiderwebs.

“I have no idea where he is, Wands.”

You practically fall onto the couch beside Wanda as you sigh in defeat. This is bad and you realize that short of finding another identical toy, Natalya isn’t going to be happy. Wanda frowns as she turns to see that you look exhausted and stressed. You had hoped that she’d just left it somewhere obvious, maybe on the couch, or that it had fallen under the kitchen table, but no such luck. You groan quietly as you close your eyes at the feeling of Wanda’s patting your leg with a reassuring look that you completely miss.

“It will turn up, Y/n.”

You don’t argue despite feeling like you’re never going to see Winston again because you’re too tired. You’re glad that Natalya is taking a nap because you don’t know how you’re going to break this news to her. You hear the low murmurs from the television, and the sound of a dog snoring nearby. You sigh as you lean against your wife and try to relax for a minute or two.

“I hope so.”

You stifle a yawn and resist the urge to snuggle closer to Wanda out of fear of disturbing the brunette at her other side. You’re almost asleep when you hear a dog shake suddenly and you jump before opening your bleary eyes with a frown. Boone is standing up and stretching as he looks around the room. When his gaze lands on you he comes over to say hello and you just smile before holding out your hand.

“Hey buddy. How was your nap?”

He just yawns before pawing at your leg with big, sad eyes. He obviously wants to get up on the couch, but there’s no blanket nearby and you’re not about to get up. You shake your head and he just whines before you scratch his head.

“No, Boone. You can’t get up here. You know what you can do though? Find Mr. Winston for your sister.”

Boone just huffs before he heads back to where his brother is still napping. You think he’s just going to lie down and pout, but instead he goes to the back door and starts to whine again. You check your watch and see that it’s not time to go out yet, but the fact that Rogue seems interested by the prospect of a walk, you have a feeling you’ll be getting up sooner than you wanted.

“Ugh.”

“I can walk them, detka.”

You turn to Wanda before shaking your head when you notice that Natalya is still curled into your wife’s side. Any movement from her will likely wake her up, and despite it needing to happen at some point, you wanted to let your daughter sleep while you figured out what to tell her.

“It’s okay, I’ll make it fast.”

Wanda just smiles and accepts a quick kiss before you let the dogs outside. You follow them and hurry to sit down on the stairs with a heavy sigh. You’re exhausted and it’s barely noon. You stifle a yawn as you look over to see Rogue is sniffing his favorite tree, but Boone is nowhere in sight. You frown before looking around for him only to come up empty.

“Boone? Where’d you go, bud?”

You stand up and start to walk around the side of the house to search for him, but you spot a familiar tail sticking out from under the deck. You frown slightly before you stop in your tracks and put your hands on your hips.

“Boone! What are you doing under there? Come on-.”

You trail off as Boone emerges from underneath the depths of the deck with a familiar green toy in his mouth. Your mouth is hanging open in shock, and you stare at your dog as he just wags his tail and brings Winston to you. He’s a little dirty, but you can’t even think about that right now. Your main concern is why Boone had taken Winston and put him under the deck of all places. You’re still speechless as Boone pushes the toy into your stomach with a grumble. You don’t take it immediately because you’re trying to push down your annoyance at having searched the entire house for this toy that your dog had taken and hidden for some reason.

“Oh my god!”

Wanda’s surprised to hear you shout while you’re outside, and she’s considering going to check on you when the dogs appear at the door. They hurry inside, but she’s more focused on you and your disgruntled expression.

“What…?”

You cut Wanda off as you hold up the stuffed animal that you’ve been searching for all morning. She shoots the dogs an incredulous look before you step inside and shut the door behind you slowly. You open your mouth to speak, but you glance to Natalya and change your mind last minute.

“I don’t even...”

Little Nat Adventures

[igglemouse]

The sun cast its golden hue over my new town of Oasis Springs as it brought in the hopes of a new day. The simoleons from yesterday a reminder of my success and also what might be possible for me here.

But while I considered my last food sale a financial success it was certainly a failure socially. My mystery guy did not stop by which had me wondering if perhaps I had failed my first impression. Maybe that's not it? Perhaps the waffles left a lingering ill taste on his lips and he's decided my little offerings are just not enough?

Or...maybe he's taken?

I chomp down on my waffle with that thought bouncing through my head. That was far more likely, wasn't it? He was very handsome and I could tell he was brimming with confidence, the odds of a man like that being single? Very very low.

Later in the day, after a shower and some cleaning, my phone rings and it is someone I've met through my food stand but it's not the person I hope. It's Daniella, the girl I met yesterday who came by a little too late for a plate.

After introductions she tells me that she wishes to be my guide for the city. Hinting and teasing at private parties that she can drag me into and perhaps I'm far too eager to tell her I'm down for it because the mysterious tone she takes on after that kind of worries me.

Honestly, I was just being nice. A girl needs friends, doesn't she?

I head outside and set up. Calling out the usual. Waffles, tortillas, brownies, three dishes that were becoming an early staple of mines.

If only the air wasn't different. Less hurried, less eager, and less people. Perhaps it was too dry and just a little too hot but the result? Ninety-six simoleons.

The weight of my daily gains was both light and heavy. I didn't quite reach my goal but I was thankful for every simoleon made. It was a reminder that success would not be achieved in a straight line and that there would be ups and downs along the way.

The sizzle of my pan brings me solace and a promise of a future to come. The simoleons will be there. I'll work hard, I'll learn a new recipe every day, I'll get better and better to where my skills cannot be declined.

I am a student of flavor and my latest design, simple sliders, are sure to help me have my best day. After all, they are small, easy to plate, and even easier to eat. Perfect dish for a food stall, someone can drop their simoleons off on the table and take one to go. If only they are good.

I take a bite, letting the flavors dance around in my mouth. When it comes to any sandwich it's about creating the perfect mix of meat, bread, veggies, and condiments and I think I've hit the spot. It's a small confirmation of my work but not the final one. That test will come with my customers, of course.

The day stretched on with the promise of little which was expected. I figured I would sit down and find something to eat. Maybe even go to a bookstore and pick up recipe books? Something like that, have a quiet night in and prepare for tomorrow.

The ping of my phone presented another idea. The gym. With the curious man whose been lingering on my mind. When he asks I tell him maybe but we all know my curiosity and quite frankly my desire to see him again will not allow me to decline this invitation.

I'm just surprised he was able to find my number?

When I arrived at the gym I wondered how I had ever missed it. It stood large and looming over the busy street, the other businesses clearly benefitting from the crowd that it drew.

Once inside I met our mystery guy and he wasted little time leading me upstairs, claiming that a session would begin soon and he did not have time to waste.

The session? Yoga.

Fortunately, the class was small. Two others, including him, and he of course took a mat behind me. I laughed inwardly but a man will be a man I suppose? If he's going to admire the female form then I suppose I'd rather it be mines than the girl next to him at least.

Either way, the session starts and reluctantly and clumsily I follow the instructor. She starts with easier poses of course. Breathing exercises, she called them, which were more about relaxing and finding your mental center.

Eventually she would move on to more difficult ones. Stretching out legs and balancing on one foot. Nothing impossible for a beginner but I do think we both looked like fools trying to keep up.

We end on the flat of our backs, eyes closed, and letting our muscles find their natural states. Yoga is a lot harder than it looks but I admit it does feel very rewarding? Perhaps it is something I could get into? Especially if our mystery man is into it...

When I first step foot in this gym my first thought was how chilly it was inside. I almost wondered if I should have brought a coat! Now, I'm thankful for it, the cool air was far more welcome after our little workout and I was thankful that it kept my brow from glistening with any sweat as Pascal (that's his name by the way, so no longer a mystery guy to me) pulled me over for a conversation. A 'get to know each other' conversation, by the way, and thankfully in Selvadoradian so that saves him having to hear my terrible accent.

"So why this?" I ask. "Why yoga?"

"Orders of the captain," he says casually, as if I'm supposed to know what that means. Is he a sailor or... "He says it helps with the flexibility, prevents injuries, and helps with mental focus. All important on the field."

The field? I was still confused until I thought on it a moment longer. He's talking about a sport.

"I kick a ball for a living," he assists, that confident tone of his pulling me in closer.

So this is who I sat across from, Pascal Alcocer, a name that in itself seemed to carry a significance to it. At least to him. To me it was but another name. I think he liked that, he liked that I was ignorant of who he was. Perhaps it's why he's interested in me.

"You've never heard of me? Truly?" he seems sincerely confused. I just stare at him and shake my head. Revealing that I'm really no big fan of sports ball. Oh, don't get me wrong, fútbol as it is called back home is massive but it simply never pulled me in. It's just a bunch of people kicking a ball around in the end.

"I'm sorry," suddenly I feel ignorant. Here is this great athlete, presumably, setting out time to get to know me because he feels like I should already know him. "I just don't watch-"

"No! Please! Frida, is it?" I nod and bite down on my lip, my name seemed to slip so naturally from his lips. "It's refreshing, actually."

I am sure it is. If he's a big time athlete I can imagine he has women buzzing around him daily. Throwing themselves at him, begging for a moment of his attention and wanting a lot more. The more I think about it, the more I dislike it. Dating a man like this would be stressful, wouldn't it?

As I think about it he tells me more about himself. He's a young player with a lot of promise, a 'midfielder', he tells me. That word is filled with pride. I have no idea what it means but I can tell just by how he says it that its a special role on the team, perhaps like that of a sous chef? Either way, he says he plays for Oasis FC which again has little meaning to me beyond the fact that he plays for a professional team but he assures me he's not the big deal some make him out to be.

"I still have lots to prove. I don't quite have that big contract yet but everyone thinks it's a matter of time," he leans back as he says this, realizing that he's spent most of the time talking.

"Sounds like a lot of pressure," I say finally.

He gives me a stern nod and waves away that thought entirely. "I'd rather have the expectations to be great than be regarded as a failure...so, what about you?"

"Oh," where do I go from there? "I just opened up a stall and hope to see where it goes?" Watcher that sounds so lame in comparison. "I just enjoy cooking I guess and-"

"You are adorable, do you know that?"

Well that has me chewing on my lip again and has my face feeling a little warm.

"I-I like you too..."

I find the comfort of a bar soon after, too restless to head home and needing a drink to think on the night I've had with Pascal. First impression? I was impressed.

Sure, the man was so full of confidence that it was bordering on cockiness but I have a feeling that it takes pure arrogance to become a professional athlete.

It was also very clear that was into me. After all, he sought out my number and invited me to a gym and made sure he had a good look of me. Should that make me happy or should I worry that he's a teeny bit pervy?

I don't know. The good thing about a drink is that it allows me to not overthink any of what happened and look forward to seeing him again which, according to him, will be sometime tomorrow...

Episode List - Next

The wonderful public gym lot is by @streneesims

[sharpsuite]

❛ we can order pizza, watch a movie, whatever you want. ❜ / idk man normal world cuishiya and game designer normal world niragi . . i have a vision .

↳ I COULD DO WITH SOME SOFTER PROMPTS PLEASE🙏

Something about this situation feels UNREAL to him. Like a dream that could easily be shattered and broken the way a reflection on the still surface of water can be disturbed. Chishiya still can't quite wrap his head around the situation despite how many hours he's spent thinking about it after work or on his breaks. ( Not that he intends to ADMIT THAT to Niragi - both from pride and a feeling he'd never live it down.) It's certainly not unpleasant, but it borders on absurdity in the context of Chishiya's life. Because Chishiya is....Chishiya. Despite how intelligent and attractive he is, he doesn't DO things like this and everyone knows it. He never has, and he thought he never would. That had been the plan at least. And yet here he is.

" WHATEVER I want? " Chishiya tilts his head with a conniving little gleam in his eyes like a cat about to get into trouble. It's late and he draws in a deep breath of the slightly chilly night air as he looks at the man beside him. " I'm just kidding. " He adds after a heartbeat with a hint of a SMILE before Niragi can regret his choice of words. Maybe. Chishiya's not entirely sure Niragi wouldn't try to come up with some clever way to see to what Chishiya might say just to show off. He likes that about the man though ; likes that the other can challenge him in ways no one else ever has.

His shift is finally over, and Chishiya reaches up to tug his ponytail down, letting his blonde strands fall free. " Your idea sounds perfect. I like the sound of pizza and a movie. " It feels like an easy way to coax himself into relaxing considering he has the next few days off. Normally he'd just....do nothing. Go home, eat maybe, and then sleep until he woke up eventually. RINSE AND REPEAT. It makes something in his chest ache the way Niragi seems to want to do something to help him unwind - he'd much prefer a night in with movies and pizza and desserts than going out to hit the town. " Can we get dessert too? The pizza place has that brownie cookie combo that's so good. I promise to share. " His calm expression falters at the corners of his lips where he's trying to suppress the small grin. He can already feel his mouth watering at the idea.

Chishiya's rather surprised to find how much he really wants this idea Niragi's presented. He's not used to it: TO WANTING.

" Ah. " His head tilts back a little more to look at Niragi. " I meant to ask you on my break but it got cut short. You were working on that bug you recently found in the game today, right? " Chishiya didn't particularly understand any of Niragi's tech speak after the basics, but he had REMEMBERED that Niragi mentioned over text. Besides, sometimes he just liked listening to the other chatter away. It was better than the loneliness he'd always known." How did that go? " / @crue11

[sugcrxspice]

( dina's trailer, may 20th, early evening ) @othcrside, nadine

"Okay! I brought a ton of blankets, some caramel corn, a few bags of chips, and a batch of homemade, double fudge brownies. And you can't forget the birthday candles for your birthday wish, of course," Ava rambled, producing the waxy numbers "2" and "7" from a side compartment in one of her two tote bags and presenting them to the birthday girl proudly. "Not to brag, but my nieces have nothing but praise for my brownies, so I'm pretty sure you're gonna love them too," Ava boasted with a wide smile as she plopped down on Nadine's couch with her bags in tow, brown eyes sweeping across the biker's trailer, trying to take in all of the minute details of her space and commit them to memory, eager to learn more about Dina through her home.

It was certainly a first for the hairdresser in more ways than one: being invited over for a comfy night in by the object of her affections, purely for her company and with no underlying ulterior motives or expectations. Dina wasn't trying to keep her hidden either, like a dirty little secret, but sincerely wished for a casual evening in to celebrate her birthday with the blonde, and Ava was more than happy to oblige. As much as she reveled in a rowdy night out, she welcomed the change of pace with her newfound budding relationship. Surely, something so personal and intimate meant good things for the pair, right?

"Birthday girl gets to pick the movie sooo... what do you feel like watching?" Ava questioned with a sing-songy lilt to her voice, head tilting towards the brunette as she settled into her spot on the couch. "It's your day, after all. I'm just along for the ride!"

[rekas-bitches]

This is the only thing I'm planning on saying on the topic on here, but in hindsight it's so depressing funny that during the DSMP days and not long after, I was getting quite annoyed with some of the people on the DSMP basically ignoring Tubbo in favour of Tommy, not paying attention to what direction he wanted to take the lore in, what character he was building, the things he was doing, etc., and just hijacking the story every time it suited them. Then once the DSMP ended, I still felt like that was often the case, one specific person literally only ever joining the call if Philza or Tommy was already in there as well, only to then act best friends with Tubbo while belittling him, and the other basically never talking to him, ever (despite talking positively about Tubbo for brownie points)

It drove me INSANE. It was one of the first things that tipped me off that they really weren't close friends behind the screens, because you don't treat friends that way.

And now it turns out that those specific people ignoring him was a good thing, because they both turned out to be incredibly manipulative assholes who used their mentoring role on Tommy to treat him like shit, and Tubbo's just like "Well, those assholes didn't affect me much because we never talked behind the scenes, and they certainly never initiated conversations" and it's just like...

Yeah, but they still treated you like shit, you're allowed to be upset about that. One of them still infantilizes you when you give him every benefit of the doubt you can, and treats you like you can't form an opinion without Tommy (once again), and the other would literally join call with you on stream while you were talking about something you were passionate on, and then twist your words, make you look like a bad or uninformed person that just doesn't care about the people around you, while simultaneously building himself up.

You confided in one of them (because they were the discord server admin) that other adults had shared pornographic drawings while you were in VC, and it made you uncomfortable, and years later that guy airs that fact despite you wanting to not bring that up. I'd be fucking pissed off.

And of course, I don't know Tubbo, I don't know how he treats these things behind the screen, I don't know how or even if he's dealt with it, and it's none of my business.

But that doesn't mean I'm not judging anyone who was there and let it happen.

The entire DSMP was a shithole, and honestly, a lot of the adults who were in it from the start were complicit in how this all went down, because how are you a content creator in a server with multiple underage boys and do you let these dynamics happen? How come these underage boys were the main ones getting criticized for every single slightly off-the-mark thing they did while we let the adults on the server get away with so much more. How come those underage boys were the only ones addressing problems like the misogyny on the server?

The only reason we as fans didn't/couldn't call out seemingly weird behaviour that we saw on stream was that we had to assume it was getting resolved behind the screen and we had no direct lines to them to ask. All the adults on that server had the direct lines, they knew what was going on, they were present. Yet none of them thought to check in on each other?

I want to continue enjoying Tubbo's content and just move on from all of these issues, but then I watch as streamers like badboyhalo, and captain puffy, who were present for all these issues are still thick as thieves with Dream and I just seethe. Because between the racism, sexism, ableism, and horrible treatment of minors on a server he claimed responsibility for, does it really matter if the grooming allegations are also true? How far does it all have to go until they say "enough"?

I seriously hope that SMP's as a whole learn to be better about internal communication, but that's honestly too high of a bar. However, when it comes to minors on SMP's that are majority 20+, we need to be a lot more critical in the future. Just having one Philza-type who tries to protect the minors is not enough, every single fucking adult in spaces that allow minors needs to be careful with their actions. That's just the reality of non-18+ spaces.

I am only a few months older than Tubbo, and like he expressed himself in his stream, a lot of things that seemed okay when we were 17 don't seem as acceptable anymore. Looking back on it, I wasn't "parasocial" enough, I should've called out the weird stuff when I saw it because clearly nobody else was doing it.

[patchodraws]

how it feels to be at a bus stop at 9:30pm

I read an article today and it shook me to my core.

I’d like to preface this all by noting that my experience as a trans woman isn’t a universal experience. If I’m being honest, actually, I recognize that I’ve been pretty privileged in my trans experience.

I live in a family where 90% of the people I interact with regularly know that I’m trans and refer to me by the correct name and pronouns; the last 10% are people who live far enough away or are too old to be told. I have two bold sisters who’ve defended not just trans people but me personally from transphobia on multiple occasions. I’ve been slowly coming out to my closest friends since high school, each of which has greeted me with nothing but pure support and love through to this day. I have a job where I’m seen and treated as a woman, just as I was the day I came out at university a few years ago.

I’m very average height (5’5.5, to be exact), I’m thin, I have very feminine proportions and features, and I dress in very feminine styles most days. If you were to see me on the street, there’s a good chance you’d assume I was cis; I’ve been mistaken for a cis woman online several times, too, on platforms where I openly and unfearingly declare my trans identity.

I know that this is not the average trans experience, and I know that I am very fortunate and very privileged. There have been many times where I’ve simply not identified as trans; not out of some internalized disgust for trans people, and not out of some disdain for the trans community or trans ideology, which I am strongly in favour of, but mostly just because there are days where I genuinely forget that I’m not a cis woman because of the way I’m treated regularly.

Of course, there are times where I remember that I am transgender, and some of those times are moments where someone might look at me the wrong way, or a stranger might be taken aback at the sound of my voice. In those moments, alarm bells will go off in my head. Oh no, I’ll think to myself, scanning the area for the nearest safe exit, they know. Very rarely does it go beyond spooks, however, and for that I am very privileged.

Those are things that, earlier in my transition, I may have simply ignored to continue living my life, or even confronted the way my sisters do when they spot it. Back then, my privilege taught me to be bold. My fortune shaped my courage.

Now, I’m not so bold.

Mid-way through my transition a few years ago, when I was presenting femme most days and had already begun hormone treatments, I was waiting for the bus. I had to leave a colleague’s recital early, knowing the area I was in could be dangerous later at night, but few people - myself included - would really think to count 9:30 as later at night, especially not at a bus stop in front of a crowded dessert bar.

I ended up being confronted by a young man who thought my appearance was the knee-slapper of the century, and I remember how much he laughed, how much he gawked, how bold I wanted to be. He told me I’d never last in prison like this, and I wanted to roll my eyes at the idea of me even possibly ending up in prison. Then he turned serious, and demanded I give him my headphones. I did what my privilege and fortune taught me and refused. He stepped towards me and asked again.

I changed my tune very quickly.

I remember feeling like my breath had been pushed out of my lungs. I remember my vision ramping up to 1080p, 60fps HD. I remember my hands shaking and my head spinning and I remember giving him my headphones, nearly giving him my iPod in the process with how quickly I handed them over.

The interaction ended with a fist bump and an affirmation that I was a man now.

That night stripped all of my courage from me for years. I ran into the dessert bar and asked if I could wait in there for my friend to pick me up, and felt so guilty for my fear that I ended up buying a brownie that I never even ate. My friend picked me up - she’s certainly one of the toughest people I know, and every day I feel so indebted to her for what surely felt like saving my life - and I kept that experience close to the chest for years out of fear of my mother’s “I told you so” speech.

Privilege taught me I could wear short skirts and dresses and get away with it. That I could look and feel the way I wanted to and be okay. After that encounter, I spent a month dressing down in public, even with people who I felt safe around. I spent a year not going into any part of town that was considered even remotely sketchy. I spent up until now (and probably tomorrow, too) jumping at shadows and being extra aware of anyone who might be able to clock me.

I used to be bold in the face of transphobia, and at a certain point this last year I found my bravery again. I found it in the support of my family, in the safety of my friends, in the ridiculing of transphobia in internet spaces. But right now, as I write this, I don’t feel bold.

A lot has happened in the past few weeks to frighten me. 

I’ve seen comedians naively parrot transphobic talking points, misrepresent us in jokes and rely on stereotypes and outrage for profit. I’ve seen the responses to criticisms against those comedians shut down, trans people laughed at or threatened or ignored because god forbid anyone criticize comedy that harms minority groups.

I’ve seen a world-renowned publishing corporation, from a country where trans rights are quickly and horrifyingly being siphoned by gender critics and trans exclusionists led by one of the most successful writers of our time, publish a vehemently anti-trans article meant to frame our identity against another minority, one that’s held up as more agreeable because of their disdain and hatred for transgender people. 

This article made me quietly terrified for half a week that, somehow, my relationship with my lesbian partner was immoral, that I was a bad person who had somehow coerced them into this relationship. They’ve told me time and time again that they love me not in spite of my identity but along with it. They’re also non-binary. Their relationship with gender is as much a mess as, and in many ways more than, mine. That didn’t stop me from being terrified of myself for a few days.

The latest thing I’ve seen came from Lily Cade, one of the women interviewed for the previously mentioned article, calling for the execution of trans women. Wanting every single one of us lynched. She even mentioned a few names, just to be entirely clear on how serious she was.

Reading that, the first thing that came into my head - and the thing that paralyzed me for a minute before I could even continue to read the article - was the thought that that was me. And she wanted me dead.

I’d spent the better half of the year laughing at transphobes. Most of us have, to be fair. But I can’t laugh anymore, not when I’ve seen just how much hatred they have for us, how much their views poison mainstream thought against innocent people, how much these views are defended and allowed to aerate on streaming services and all criticism of these views is shut down.

Privilege taught me to be bold. Fortune gave me courage.

Right now, I’m back to being at that bus stop, light-headed and fearing for my life.

I’m terrified.

God knows how other trans women around the world, who don’t have my privilege or fortune, feel about all of this.

[big-ass-magnet]

....Do you ever think about How Gristol Malik in his Nick persona was apperantly liked by pretty much everyone at the Motherlobe and how people constantly stress how good he was at sorting mail? Because I think about that way too much, because on one hand he probably loathed every second of being nice to those people but on the other hand I can't help but imagine canon divergence where he actually manages to pull his head outta his ass for five minutes and realizes he has a pretty good deal going on here so he just becomes a spoiled rich boy who also works the mailroom at psychonauts headquarters and goes Bowling with his co-workers on the weekends and the entire plot of the second game doesn't happen because of that. I don't know just the idea of the "Evil genius master plan " he set up just fizzling out anticlimaticaly is deeply funny to me. (Also inspired by me being awkward and thinking "God I would break my own neck to have co-workers who think that highly of me")

Nick putting off his plan until next week because Thursday is the potluck and there's a contest for best dessert and he found a recipe for double fudge brownies that will for SURE prove him the superior baker, lifting him to his rightful place above these peasants

Nick putting off his plan for a month because oh my GOD it's the holiday season and everyone gets their personal packages sent to work and if he mails his body to himself now it'll almost certainly get lost under twenty five million boxes of presents and he'll have to waste so much time digging it out

Nick putting off his plan for another month because someone let slip that the office is planning a surprise birthday part for him and well, he's not going to let all that hard work go to waste--er, that is, he's not going to pass up a chance to be the center of attention and get presents and free cake

We've all noticed that his plan really falls apart towards the end (step three: wake up Maligula; step four: ???; step five: be ruler of Grulovia). Maybe one day he sets down and actually tries to plot out step four, and realizes that god, taking over a whole country is really hard. And sorting mail isn't that hard. And he can afford plenty of caviar on his current salary.

He's not giving up on his plan! He's definitely going to be Gzar! He's just...not actively pursuing that career path right now. That's all.

[sweetestpopcorn]

Do you think daemon could've grown to love a child he had with rhea royce?

Hi there 😊

Oh wow. WOW! Tough question 😂 you are not cutting me any slack! Oh dear how to tackle this.

So, we are told multiple times in Fire and Blood that Daemon wanted a son, that by the time he was in his mid-thirties he was growing kind of restless about it so he married Laena and by the time he was pushing forty he was just like "I'm a have a son even if it kills Laenor!"

Laenor:

Kidding! Pretty sure it was Throne first, son second, so let me rephrase this:

Daemon: I am GOING to have the Throne and a son. So RIP Laenor!

We also see that when he was in his mid-twenties (about 24) and Mysaria got pregnant he did seem interested in the child, going as far as giving it a dragon egg, something that was reserved for Targaryen princelings. We also see that the death of his child was something that struck Daemon deeply, that he never quite forgave Viserys for. I find that passage in the books almost chilling and certainly ominous of everything that was to come. 

“When word reached Prince Daemon he spoke no syllable of grief, but his heart hardened against the king, his brother. Thereafter he spoke of King Viserys only with disdain, and began to brood day and night on the sucession.” So, we do see that children meant something to Daemon. That he liked the idea of them, and wanted a son. This desire also increased as he grew older. 

Fair enough, much importance was placed on a man's legacy, and for all intents and purposes in the asoiaf world that meant little without children, and it would definitely meant nothing to someone like Daemon who was so set on leaving his mark upon the world.

Nevertheless, although the importance he places on a son is well established, what I do ask myself is: Was this always there, or did it progressively grew stronger and stronger because the window of opportunity was closing on him and he had already failed multiple times? Was this very important because likely this was not a possibility with Rhea Royce? Was all of the above?

We don’t know. A lot of times we only think about something or desire it when we don’t have it, or when we are struggling to get it.

We also don’t know what kind of father Daemon was because nothing is said on Fire and Blood. We do know his children turned out very well, but as I mention in here, how much was him and how much as Rhaenyra remains a matter of debate.

To murk the waters even further, the three women he impregnated (i.e., Mysaria, Laena, and Rhaenyra) were all women he was fond of, and who had several points on his “brownie-point” system of affection. Rhea he didn’t like (yes I know understatement of the year). But to this I can also point out, would he disliked her less if they had a child together? If at least in this one thing she could win a few points with him? 

This is very hard to answer, even because, Daemon would still be very young - and as we see in the books - quite immature if Rhea had gotten pregnant after they married (friendly reminder that they married when Daemon was 16). 

I am going to say that if Daemon had become a father at an early age and Rhea had given him a son that this would make their marriage more civil to a degree. Still, I don’t think he would have been a present father. I think he would still spend most of his time away from the Vale, and still complain about Rhea. I do think he would be fond of the child and maybe have more of an interest as the boy grew, I could see him wanting his son with him and away from the Vale. Especially to bring him to court and show him around since he would have a son, and Viserys didn’t. 

So the answer is... likely yes, but how much is debatable in my opinion. 

I don’t know how well I did, Anon. This was very hard!

All the best to you :3

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Pt. 48: Comfort(?)

Tws in the tags

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Puppy sits up straight and lets her gaze flicker through the room. At least, the part of the room she can see without moving her head.

Master told her to sit still, but stay present. Stay grounded. Listen. Puppy finds it’s easiest to stay present when she looks around, even just looking back and forth.

Master brushes Puppy’s hair. “You’re not still upset about Bunny, are you? You were good. You did exactly what I wanted. And I would’ve caught him slipping up eventually anyway. You were a good puppet that obeyed your master. It’s not your fault. You were very good.”

Jane begins to braid a section of Puppy’s hair. “I’m very happy with you. You’re such a good Puppy. I know it’s been a rough few months, but you handled it very well. And now you’ve learned to be obedient no matter what. It was worth it, wasn’t it?”

Realizing that Master expects an answer, Puppy nods.

“Exactly. And it will be worth it when Bunny learns his lesson too.”

Master finishes her braid and starts braiding another section.

“It’s really been a rough few months. That bastard threatened to kill you, and then you got sick, and then I had to punish you…”

Puppy knows Master didn’t have to punish her. She did it because she wanted to.

“But things are okay now. We should do something nice, once Bunny’s punishment is over. Make brownies or something. What do you think?”

Puppy gives Master a thumbs up.

“Yeah, let’s do something nice. Oh! Bunny’s one year anniversary is coming up. Can you believe that? He’s almost been with us a whole year. Maybe I’ll wait until then to do something nice. We can make some treats and I’ll get you guys a new movie. We can make a pillow fort. Something fun. Something to celebrate. He’s gotten so good, hasn’t he? Not that he was ever very rebellious.”

Master starts to braid a third section of Puppy’s hair.

“I’ve been thinking about taking you guys to an amusement park or something. I don’t think any of you would try anything stupid. Maybe if one of you picks something like that as a reward.”

Puppy certainly won’t. It’s better to ask for entertainment that will last longer than a day.

“Hmm… I’ll need you to help me, later. Another money thing that I need an adult to do, since they won’t agree to do the trade online.”

Master doesn’t really need money. She can grab anything she wants pretty easily, and if she did need money there are easier ways to get it than the various illegal dealings she’s involved in. She just thinks it’s fun.

“Are you glad there’s three of you, now? Or do you miss when it was just you and me?”

This is not the kind of question Puppy can answer without permission. Master doesn’t seem to mind. She’s asked this question several times, never seeming to desire an answer.

She starts to braid the three braids together.

“Things will be nice for a while, I think. I have so many games and punishments planned, but they won’t be as effective if I go straight into them. You need to have something to compare it to or it will all blend together, and that’s not what I want.”

Master starts unbraiding Puppy’s hair.

“My sweet Puppy. My favorite. Look at you. Look at what I’ve made you into. My pet, my doll, my puppet.”

Master is in a good mood, and Puppy should feel overjoyed. This is all she’s wanted for months, for Master to be happy with her. But instead of feeling safe and happy like she should, Puppy feels hollow.

Being touched by Master doesn’t feel as good anymore, either. She’d much rather have Bunny give her a hug or play with her hair. There’s never a threat behind his touches.

“Hey, stay with me. What were you thinking about? Speak.”

Puppy swallows. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be happy again.”

Master laughs. “That’s understandable. You were just tortured for months. Is me taking care of you not all you hoped it would be?”

“…The whole time, I just wanted you to be happy with me again.”

“You hyped it up too much. Of course your torturer brushing your hair after hurting you so badly wouldn’t make you happy. That doesn’t mean you’ll never be happy again. It doesn’t mean you’ll never enjoy me doing your hair again, either.”

Puppy feels like she understands where Master is coming from most of the time, but now she’s confused. Is Master… trying to comfort her? Usually, the comforts Master gives are meant to reinforce that Puppy belongs to her.

Puppy would expect Master to say that it’s okay if she’s never happy again because she doesn’t need to be happy to be a good pet. But Master’s voice no longer carries any of that sickly sweet condescension. She sounds earnest. Sincere.

“Trust me.” Master says. “No feeling lasts forever. Nothing is permanent. I know. I know better than anyone.”

Oh, that makes more sense. Master was just talking about herself. Any comfort it provided was incidental.

“No feeling lasts forever? I wouldn’t expect you to say something like that, Master. If no feeling lasts forever, then why are you so terrified of boredom?”

“I’m not afraid. No more talking from you, alright? Quit talking like my therapist.”

This gets a small smile from Puppy. Master’s “therapist” is some poor psychologist that Master visits at random to talk about herself to. Puppy shouldn’t find it funny, but she does.

Though if questions like that remind Master of them, maybe they’re actually trying to help, despite having as little control over the situation as everyone else. That would be nice. Ineffective, but nice.

Master brushes Puppy’s hair into position for a high ponytail and wraps a hair tie around it. She redoes the ponytail over and over again until she’s satisfied. It’s tight enough to hurt, but most updos are.

“Should I do it up into a bun? Or are you ready to be done?” She pauses. “Ha, that rhymed!”

Puppy can’t answer that question.

“I think I’ll put into a bun. Then you can go do the rest of your chores. You’ve really fallen behind, huh? Things get pretty gross when you don’t clean them for more than 52 days. And that’s your fault, because I wouldn’t have had to punish you if you were good.”

Puppy nods. At least if Master is doing her hair, she’s giving Bunny a break.

~~

You would not consider what’s happening right now to be a break.

You’re tied to a table, blindfolded with heavy headphones over your ears. Your nose is plugged, and your restraints are tight enough that you have trouble feeling your fingers and toes.

You don’t know how long it’s been. It can’t have been too long, you haven’t been given any water or food, and you know Jane won’t let you die. Still, you can’t escape the thought that she’s just going to leave you like this and never come back.

You can’t escape any thoughts. You never understood, before, why Kit said sensory deprivation was the worst, but you can see it now. Your mind replays the horrors you’ve gone through over and over, and while part of you is convinced that she’s never coming back, another part is sure she’s right there, holding a knife above your body just high enough that you can’t sense it.

Why would she strap you to a table if she wasn’t going to do anything? She must be just waiting, knowing how much worse the anticipation makes it.

You won’t know when it’s coming. That’s what’s the scariest. You can’t prepare and you can’t relax, you can only wait as your mind produces more and more horrifying options for what her plan is. You know that’s exactly what she wants, but you can’t stop.

The anticipation is awful. You just want her to get it over with, even if it hurts. You want to go upstairs and eat human food and hug your friends, and that will come faster if she just hurts you now. You just want it to be over.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @ghostsinthecloset @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 

Your head just about exploded when she said that. 

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?” 

“That his girlfriend died last year.” 

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 

“There’s nothing I need from you.” 

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea. 

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

*

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

-

-

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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[fanmoose12]

Hi fanmoose! Got a prompt for you, if you're interested: Levi seeing the 104th and the vets preparing gifts for Hange's birthday, but he's wondering what to give them so he goes above and beyond... all the Scouts are taken by surprise.

Thanks, and good luck!

i changed a couple of things..... hope you still enjoy it! thanks for the prompt <3

Jean got a notebook. Armin made a new quill, using a feather from the owl he and Mikasa caught. Connie brought from his home village a whole basket of peers Hange loved so much. Sasha was responsible for baking a cake.

Nifa made her favorite brownies. Mike decided to gift Hange a new jacket, Nanaba bought a new pair of shoes, Erwin got her a new pair of glasses and a microscope she was whining about for so long. Moblit drew a fucking portrait of her.

Even Eren, as obtuse as he was, prepared a present for Hange.

“My mom was very good at sewing,” he shared with Levi, in the middle of his training, “she didn’t teach me how to do it,” at that, his voice lost some of its edge, tints of sadness appearing, “but Mikasa knows how to sew and she promised to help me with it!”

Levi could only arch an eyebrow. “And how is that related to a gift for Hange?”

Eren leaned closer with a hand next to his mouth, looking so serious, like he was going to tell the biggest secret in the world. “I’m going to sew a plushie for Squad Leader.”

“A plushie? A fucking toy with your titan’s face?”

There was a beat of silence. Then… “Damn it.” Eren took head in his hands, tugging at his hair with alarming desperation. “Damn it! I should have sewed the plushie of my Titan! Hange-san loves it!”

Yeah, as much as it annoyed Levi, there was certainly no way he could deny that.

“So… what did you sew instead?”

Peaking beneath his fingers, Eren mumbled. “A plushie of me holding a heart that says ‘I love you, Hange’.”

Fuck… as dense as Eren was, Levi had to admit… the gift was not bad at all. Especially for Eren. Especially comparing to his gift, which consisted of…

Nothing.

Just two days were left before Hange’s birthday, and he still no idea what to give her. Hange was probably expecting a present from him. Or, maybe, she was not. She was nice like that – always giving without asking for something in return. Hange was also kind, she thought he was her friend, and even more than that. Best friend, she once told him. And Levi had to admit. He felt it too. Hange was his friend. The first one he made in Survey Corps. The closest one he had.

Some friend he was, apparently. Not even preparing a gift for her.

Sensibly, he knew that he was making a problem out of nothing. He could give Hange something simple – a shampoo she obviously didn’t possess; a book she would probably like and squeal in his ear about; a new shirt or a bottle of good wine.

Hange would probably enjoy these kinds of gift. They were certainly useful. But were they meaningful? Would Hange remember them, ten years from now?

He wanted her to. Hange was his friend, perhaps, even something more. He wanted only the best for her. That’s why picking up a gift was such a problem.

With only two days left, Levi was getting desperate. He was thinking about seeking out help, but just before he gathered the strength…

The help came to him themselves.

“Good day, Levi,” with a good-natured smile, Erwin invaded his office, Mike and Nanaba trailing after him. “Are you busy?”

Levi pointedly looked at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. “Yes,” he drew, “All thanks to you, Erwin.”

“Well, you can take a break,” Erwin waved his hand dismissively, and took a seat on the opposite end of Levi’s desk. Nanaba and Mike occupied the sofa. “We came to discuss something very important,” the smile was gone, as Erwin clenched his jaw and knitted his eyebrows in a hard line. Looking at that expression, Levi felt his stomach sinking. What was this all about? If it was about their upcoming expedition, then where was… “A little birdie shared with us,” Erwin interrupted his heavy thoughts, “That you still have no present for Hange.”

What? Levi gawked at his guests, switching his confused gaze from one to the other.

“And what is the name of that birdie?” He would find that birdie and give them a piece of his mind, for sure. Who dared get poke his nose into his personal matters?

“Please, Levi,” Mike joined the conversation, “You couldn’t get more obvious. I can smell your desperation from miles away.”

Levi’s annoyance rose. Birdies, smelling desperation. Could they talk like normal people?

Seeing his increasing frustration, Nanaba decided to come to rescue. She smiled, tucking a lock of her hair behind an ear. “I overheard your conversation with Eren. You looked a bit distressed, honestly I thought you were going to kick his ass again… And since I doubt Hange is enamored with Eren in that way, I concluded that you…”

“Are angry not because the boy is a titan and spends too much time with Hange, but because he already has a gift prepared, when you do not.” Erwin finished.

Well… the conclusion was sound, at least. But that didn’t mean that Levi felt any less annoyed.

“So?” he raised an eyebrow, staring judgingly at his intruders. “What do you want from me?”

“We want to help, of course,” the smile was back at Erwin’s lips. “And we have some ideas.”

“Such as?”

Nanaba bounced from her seat, crossing the room to bang her palms against the surface of Levi’s desk. He jumped slightly, certainly not expecting it.

“You know what Hange really likes?”

“Books?” Levi tried. “Science? Titans? Books about titan’s science?”

“No, dummy,” Nanaba shook her head, “Hange likes you.”

It took him a long moment to comprehend. Even then, the only thing Levi could get out of his mouth was a very faint, “Eh?”

“We all know how much Hans makes you happy.” Mike said.

They did? How so?

“You spend a lot of time with Hange,” Erwin noted, answering his unasked question.

“And you allow her to do things that you deny everyone else,” Nanaba continued.

“And when she is with you, that constipated expression disappears from your face.” Mike finished.

He… didn’t have a constipated expression. And while Hange did make his days more pleasant and his survival that easier and more enjoyable… Levi was sure that no one knew about it, but him.

“Listen, we all know that you like Hange, and we’re telling you that Hange likes you. That’s why…” Erwin lifted his chin, his smile becoming nearly devilish. Were they still talking about a simple birthday gift? “I made a reservation in a restaurant in Sina. Take Hange there, eat good food, drink some wine, have a good night… Make Hange happy.”

Their suggestion was certainly better than Levi’s nothing. However…

“What you’re offering seems a lot like fraternization. Isn’t that illegal?” he narrowed his eyes at Erwin, skepticism oozing from him. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Perish the thought!” not swayed by Levi’s scary expression, Erwin chuckled. “You’re correct, technically, two officers are not allowed to enter romantic relationship, but I think it’s a little too late for that.” Huh? Just how Levi was meant to interpret that? “Besides… think about humanity, Levi! If you and Hange were to conceive a child…” the expression on Erwin’s face was so dreamy, Levi felt chills at the base of his spine. “A child born from the union of humanity’s strongest and smartest… It could very well save our world!”

Levi stared at his Commander, at loss of words. Saying ‘you’re fucked up in the head, Erwin’ seemed a little too rude even for him, considering that Erwin was his superior officer. Still… he was fucked up in the head.

“Don’t listen to him,” Nanaba spoke, attracting Levi’s attention. “But think about our offer. An evening like that will really make Hange happy. You want that, don’t you?”

Did he want to make Hange happy? More than anything…

“Do it for Hange,” Nanaba urged.

“Do it for love,” Mike added.

“Do it for humanity!” Erwin passionately concluded.

Fucked up in the head, Levi thought. All of them were. Himself, included. But what was he going to lose? Besides, their offer was better than anything he could have come up with.

“Alright,” he surrendered, a sigh escaping him. “I’ll do it.”

Nanaba cheered. Mike nodded at him with a smile. Erwin looked like he was about to cry. Then, to Levi’s horror, he saluted.

“Get out of my office now,” he shooed them away, lowering his gaze back to the papers. “I need to work.”

“Just another quick thing,” Nanaba patted his shoulder with a cheerful smile. “Walk Hange to the door of her room after the dinner. And make sure that you return after nine o’clock.”

Ah. So they had an ulterior motive. Of course. Levi shouldn’t be surprised.

“You’re planning something for Hange, I take it?”

“A little party,” Mike confessed. “We’ll deal with food and drinks, but you’re in charge of getting Hange there in time.”

Levi didn’t remember agreeing to be in charge of Hange, but… he didn’t like the idea of anyone else doing it in his stead.

“Nine o’clock, four-eyes’ room, I got it. Now get out of my office.”

Nanaba, Erwin and Mike didn’t need to be told twice.

___

After finding a solution to his main dilemma, Levi was now met with another, no less important and challenging than the previous one.

Erwin and the others got him a reservation at the restaurant. But... now he needed to invite Hange there.

His first attempt, executed not long after Erwin, Nanaba and Mike left his office, failed spectacularly, despite his expectations. He naively thought that a simple note, carried to Hange via Moblit, would suffice. But, perhaps, the note didn’t reach its destination. Or Hange forgot to read it. Or she somehow misinterpreted the sentence ‘do you want to dine together?’. Or the fault laid in the absence of Levi’s signature.

Nevertheless, he needed to do better.

His next attempt was slightly more successful. At least, he got some kind of reaction. Still not reaction he had needed. Apparently, there were ways that one could misunderstand the simple phrase ‘hey, four-eyes, want to eat with me?’. Levi had expected a very enthusiastic ‘yes’. Instead he received ‘I’ll see you at the dinner’ and a door to his face.

Evidently, he had to do not only better, but also be a little clearer about his intentions.

After lots of pondering, Levi decided that nothing could be clearer than throwing a shiny new black jacket from Mike at Hange and barking, “Get dressed, Hange. We’re going out.”

That got him an intrigued ‘oooh’ and a promise to be ready in five minutes.

Levi smirked to himself. Finally, his plan had worked. Finally, he got through that brilliant and extremely dense head.

___

At first, the dinner was, for the lack of better word,extremely awkward.

Erwin failed to mention just how fancy the restaurant would be. Turned out, it was fancy. Very fancy. Fancier than anything Levi had seen in his life. Even Hange, despite not being a street rat from Underground, was feeling a little off.

“Everyone is staring at us,” she whispered to him, leaning over the table to do so.

Hange was right. Everyone was gawking at them. Perhaps, the reason for it was their clothes. Both of them were dressed in their best suits. Still, their best didn’t even begin to reach the best of the gathered crowd. Perhaps, other guests were weirded out by Hange’s loud cheer at the sight of meat in the menu.

Or, perhaps, their reputation preceded them, and everyone in here knew about humanity’s strongest soldier and crazy titan scientist, two of Erwin Smith’s loyal devils.

Whatever the case was, Levi didn’t like the obvious staring. They came here to eat and have a good time, not be observed like clowns in the circus.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back to her. He really was. It was Erwin’s mistake, but it was Hange’s birthday and it was his fault for not checking the restaurant beforehand. He was a scout, for fuck’s sake. It was his job.

“Don’t even start,” Hange huffed, waving her hand dismissively. “Not the first time I receive that sort of treatment. Probably not the last one as well.”

Hange paused, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “And if they want to look at us so much, let’s give them something to stare at.”

Levi’s lips twitched up. “And what do you suggest?”

“Let’s order the priciest meals they have, eat them like animals they think we are, and then run away and let Erwin deal with that.”

There were many reasons why Levi loved Hange. This was one of them.

___

True to Hange’s plan, they were at their worst behavior. They used spoons instead of forks, they drank straight from the bottle, Hange ate the dessert with her hands, smearing cake all over her mouth, cheeks, palms and shirt. Barely keeping himself from laughing out loud, Levi wiped it all with his cravat, as Hange cooed at his chivalry.

Two hours later, their stomachs were full, the crowd was scandalized, their hearts were merry and their eyes were shining with unbridled mischief.

“I think we’ve succeeded at making the worst impression possible,” Hange spoke, following it with a loud laughter. Several guest scoffed at the volume. Levi showed all of them his scariest scowl. The rich fuckers returned their attention to their plates in record time.

“It’s time we make our exit,” he agreed.

He looked at Hange more closely, thinking if he should take the risk. She had been touching him freely throughout the whole evening. She pressed their calves together under the table, she ran a hand through his arm, she let him touch her face and tilt her chin. She didn’t seem opposed to the idea, so… Levi took a deep sighed, searching for every bit of courage inside of him. Once all of it was gathered, he took Hange by the hand, helping her to stand up.

To his surprise and huge relief, she didn’t shake his hand off. On the contrary, she squeezed his palm and interlaced their fingers.

Hand in hand, they started towards walking out of the restaurant. On his way there, Levi discreetly pushed a plate of soup at some wealthy lady, staining her light creamy dress and receiving a indignant cry and a joyous giggle from Hange.

After that, they had to speed up a little. It was Hange’s birthday. Levi didn’t want to spend it in the prison cell.

Once they were outside and some distance away from the restaurant, Hange stopped.

“Shit, Levi! Had you seen her face? She was—”

She didn’t finish. Hange leaned against the wall and threw her head back, laughing without abandon. She doubled over, hugging her stomach, her mirth not ceasing. Finding her mood strangely infectious, Levi couldn’t help but chuckle too.

Still snickering to herself, Hange looked up to meet his gaze. Her whole body was shaking from the laughter, and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Disheveled, red-faced and laughing, she was the most beautiful sight Levi had ever seen. The moonlight and faint stars only accentuated her beauty.

Levi was lost in watching her.

Subconsciously, in a mindless attempt to get a better look at the wonder that was Hange Zoe, he leaned in.

Hange leaned in too, her hand finding place at his shoulder. She moved that hand slightly, closer to his neck. Her fingers ghosted around his hairline, making him shiver.

He was looking in her eyes. Hange was looking at his lips.

The world around the two of them faded, the sounds of a street at night, the singing from the nearby pub disappearing to the background.

Levi didn’t know, had failed to register who moved first. But a moment later, his hand was on her waist, and Hange buried her fingers in his hair. And then, they were kissing – sloppily, desperately, without skill but with lots of passion.

Levi felt like he was struck by lightning. Nothing he had ever done before felt even remotely as good as kissing Hange did.

As the kiss progressed, becoming deeper, Levi found himself pressed against the wall.

Hange was everywhere – her tongue was in his mouth, her palms on his cheeks, her knee was rising, resting against his crotch. It was almost too much. And yet, not enough.

“Hange, Hange,” with some difficulty, he separated himself from her hot mouth and soft lips. “Hange, if someone sees us—”

“Oh, right,” still pressed dangerously close to him, she giggled. “Erwin would have a heart attack if we get jailed for making out on the streets. He’d deem us a disappointment to humanity.”

“Back to barracks then?”

Hange licked her lips and winked. Levi felt another strong surge of desire. “We can continue there.”

After that kind of promise, Levi hurried to find where they left their horses. He all but raced there, and jumped on his loyal stallion, grasping the reins a little too tightly.

Hange followed his suit. “Who arrives at the barracks first, gets to be on top?” she challenged.

Without waiting for his reply, she started off. Cursing, Levi struggled to keep up.

That day, he learned one essential lesson. Riding a horse with a raging boner was a fucking torture.

___

Hange was the first one to reach the stumbles. Dismounting her horse, she ran up to Levi, pulling him off the saddle and instantly connecting their lips. Levi would have liked to complain, but… who was he kidding?

Without another word, he brought Hange closer, putting his hand on her hip.

Just as the first one, the second kiss was amazing, enough to knock his breath out and make his knees buckle underneath him.

“If that’s my birthday gift,” Hange murmured, panting after they broke apart. “Then it’s the best one I ever had.”

And here Levi thought that there was nothing more enjoyable than kissing Hange. But as he saw her gentle smile, the adoring expression in her twinkling eyes, he was ready to melt in her arms.

However, he wouldn’t be himself if he passed an opportunity to use a sarcastic quip. “Is it better than Erwin’s microscope? Than Eren’s plushie?”

Hange put a finger to her chin, looking up with a thoughtful expression. “The microscope is really good, and that plushie is so adorable…” Levi’s good spirits vanished, as something ugly found its place inside his chest. Before it could manifest in a scowl, Hange caught his lips with hers once again.

“But nothing is better than you, shorty,” she confessed as they separated.

Hange likes you, Nanaba had said. She wasn’t wrong, it seemed.

“Your room or mine?” he asked, already tugging off Hange’s jacket.

“Mine. I was the one to win, after all,” she smirked, rapidly turning away and starting to run. Levi had no choice but to chase her.

___

He caught up with her near the entrance. Ceasing the moment, he wrapped arms around her waist, pressing her to him. Hange’s giggle turned into a moan. Levi delighted in that.

Exchanging messy kisses, they tumbled through the front door. Unable to break away from each other, they clumsily walked through the barracks, tripping and stumbling. And, despite the growing desire, they didn’t hurry as well. They stopped near the stairwell, so Hange could put a hickey on a spot above his collarbone. They paused at the middle of the hallway, so Levi could grind against her. Hange pressed him against the wall to whisper, “Fuck, Levi, this feels so good.”

When they reached the bedroom, Levi was ready to cheer. It was the longest walk through the barracks he had ever had. Was Hange’s room always that far away from the entrance?

With her hands shaking, she searched through her pockets for a key. She found it after a long minute that Levi spent kissing her neck. Once she fished it out, she put the key in the keyhole, and decided to celebrate that grand achievement with another breathtaking kiss.

Getting a little too eager, Levi pushed Hange forward. That was his mistake.

Apparently, the door to her room wasn’t closed. And, apparently,the room also wasn’t empty.

Unfortunately, Levi realized that and remembered the second part of Erwin’s plan a second too late. After he had heard the loud and cheerful ‘Happy birthday, Hange!’

With his arms still around Hange, he froze. Everyone else in the room froze too. The awkward silence settled over.

Levi’s thought frantically moved around his head, jumping from one corner to another. What should he do? Apologize? Let Hange go? Tell all of them to fuck off so he and Hange could finish what they had started?

However, he didn’t get to decide what to do with the unexpected audience. Hange chose for him.

“Guys!” she clasped her hands joyfully, her smile brighter than all the candles that stood around the room combined. “That’s so sweet! Thank you!”

She pulled away from Levi, sprinting to get to her friends. She gave a tight hug to Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Nifa, Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Sasha, Jean, Connie… Levi thought the string of people who wanted Hange’s attention would never end.

After hugs, came cake, and after cake was wine. He felt ignored, he felt utterly forgotten. He contemplated if he should go back to his room. He wanted Hange to kiss him again.

But instead he was sulking in the corner, munching on a cake Sasha had prepared. At least, the cake was good. But his frustration left a bitter taste in his mouth.

As his plate was emptied, Levi thought once again about leaving. But in that exact moment, seemingly out of nowhere, Hange appeared by his side.

“Planning to ditch the party early?” she wiggled her eyebrows, staring at him with unmasked mischief.

“It’s your birthday, not mine, four-eyes.”

“Exactly!” Hange threw an arm over his shoulders. “You’re my guest of honor!”

Ignoring the awakening of butterflies in his stomach and chalking them up to the effects of Sasha’s cake, Levi grunted, “Meaning?”

“Meaning I want you to stay!”

Levi rolled his eyes. He couldn’t really say no to Hange today, right? Although, he had troubles saying no to her any other day as well…

“And thank you for spending the whole evening with me,” Hange punctuated her gratitude with a kiss to his cheek. The butterflies were now flying freely, making Levi dizzy. It was hard to deny their origin anymore, with the trigger standing so close to him. “It was the best birthday I ever had.”

Well, that was all the gratitude Levi needed.

Before she left his side to receive more birthday wishes from their friends, Hange put her mouth above his ear, lowering her voice to a whisper, “Stay until the end, shorty. I’m not finished with you.”

She bounced off before he could give an answer. Perhaps, it was fairly obvious to her.

After all, how he could refuse Hange on the day of her birthday? How could he say no to receiving more of her attentions, and kisses?

With a satisfied hum, Levi settled against the wall, aiming his glare at all the guests. He couldn’t wait until all of them would leave. He couldn’t wait to have Hange all to himself.

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (1/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic!)

word count: 3,172

warnings: a few curse words, bucky being cute, steve being awkward but also a great friend

authors note: hello! this is my first ever post on this account and the first chapter to a new series! im not sure how many chapters this is going to be as i got inspiration to write it a few days ago but im hoping to keep up with it. also, once TFATWS ends, i intend to do a series based on that as well! anywho, i hope you enjoy this and please leave feedback/lmk what i can do to improve! thank u :)

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes laid across from you on your bed, eyes softly glancing over your features as your hand grazed over his cheek and jawline. You chuckled to yourself, “looking a bit scruffy, Buck.”

He hummed, eyes now fluttering closed at your touch, “thought you liked it, doll.”

With a quick kiss to his lips, you nodded, “oh I do, don’t worry – no reason not to, really.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh before he ran a hand over your cheek, “I gotta get goin’ soon, doll. ‘Uniforms at Becca’s.”

With a sigh, you rolled onto your back and stretched, “she’s a saint, you know, washing and steaming your uniform for you.”

Bucky nodded in agreement with you, “that I do know, honeybee. I’ll meet you at Stevie’s, yeah?”

As you got out of your shared bed, you looked back at Bucky, “of course! Gotta see you off before you go put your life on the line, no big deal.” Bucky quickly dropped the conversation immediately after, understanding how you're feeling.

You weren’t mad at Bucky for joining the army – you couldn’t be, it wasn’t his fault. He was drafted and you knew that if he could stay, he would; and you knew you were being slightly immature about him leaving. You just wanted more time with him. So many people you knew had received letters that their loved ones hadn’t come back, that they had died in battle. It wasn’t fair, but when was life perfectly balanced?

By the time you got changed and got yourself cleaned up, Bucky was straightening out his shirt before he turned towards you, eyes hesitant. You walked to him, buttoning up his final buttons before you ran your hands over his shirt, “I’ll see you soon, Buck, okay?”

Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, “I know, honeybee. Try to keep Steve out of trouble for the time being, okay?”

You laughed, “I’ll certainly try my best – now get outta here!” With a smack to his ass, Bucky gave you one last kiss before he headed out the door to see his sister, Rebecca. You had asked her to iron Bucky’s uniform before he got sent off to war, wanting him to look his best – but you were sure he would look handsome in anything.

Looking in the mirror, you straightened out your favorite belted Peter Pan collar dress, fit with a pair of white heels; only the best for your Buck. You had begged him multiple times to let you register to become a nurse, in the slight chance of being close to him, but he always responded with the same answer: “I want to make sure I have someone to come home to, doll.”

You’d never tell him, but your heart warmed every time he said that.

Doing one more look-over, you smiled to yourself, grabbing your purse as you headed out the door. Steve’s apartment was only a few blocks away from your own, and honestly, you wanted to spend more time with him before Bucky left. The two were inseparable, and you knew Steve was going to struggle with Bucky being gone – that, and the unknowing if he’ll come back.

With sharp and prideful steps, you made your way across the street, saying hello to familiar faces and grabbing a newspaper from Grover, a vendor along the streets of Brooklyn. He stopped you before you headed off, “heard your boy’s goin’ off to war, y/n. How ya doin’?”

With a soft chuckle, you glanced down at the newspapers in your hands – one for you, Steve, and Bucky while he was on the train. You looked back at Grover, “I could be better, if I’m being honest. But I know he’s doing a good thing, so my silly feelings shouldn’t hold him back, Grove.”

Grover grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “you and your selflessness, just like ya ma. I’m telling yous, y/n, that boy loves you to the moon and back. Ain’t nothing he wouldn’t do for ya; if you asked him to stay, he’d go and fake his death to make sure you two go runnin’ off into the sunset together.”

With a laugh, you pushed the tears back, “and I love him too, Grove – but I can’t ask him to just not go. That just isn’t how it is, you know?”

Grover nodded, “yeah, kid, I know. . .Now get lost, I got customers to deliver these too.”

You glanced down at the stack of newspapers, “I’m headed over to Steve’s, anyone near his you gotta drop them off to?”

The vendor let out a hum and rested his head in his palm, “hmm, I think just Richie and Betty Davis right next to Rogers’ place. They get two, you good carryin’ an extra bundle?”

You gave Grover a look as he held up his hands, “just as fierce as ya mama, too – and being Barnes’ girl, probably the wrong question to ask.”

With a laugh, you held out your stack of papers, “pile them on, Gro. I’ll see you later, alright?” The vendor nodded and shoo’ed you away as you continued your journey to Steve’s apartment. Once you arrived, you left two newspapers on his neighbor’s doorstep, knocking once as you crossed back over to Steve’s.

As the Davis’ door opened, you knocked on Steve’s, already hearing rustling inside. Betty was at her door, “y/n? That you, sweetheart?”

With a turn, you greeted Mrs. Davis with a smile, “hi Mrs. Davis, how are you? How are the kids?”

The woman smiled back, “’mm, they’re good – always askin’ when the next batch of those delicious brownies are coming!”

You laughed and noticed Steve had opened the door, small statute waiting until you were done talking with Betty, “I’ll drop them by the next time I get to bakin’, Mrs. Davis. I’ll see you!” You waved to her, as did Steve, as he stepped aside to let you in.

Steve looked at the newspapers, then back at you, “you look great, y/n. . . Looks like I’ll be tellin’ Buck to shut his mouth when he sees you.”

You chuckled, “’cus he’ll catch flies or the obscenities he’ll be sayin’?”

Steve let out a laugh, “both, definitely both.”

Now that you both were in the safehouse of his apartment, you finally got a good look at your little army-hopper. He spotted a new black eye and a small cut on his cheek, yet he still looked as if he could go again if he wanted to. You nodded towards him, “where’d you get into a scuffle at this time?”

He shifted his feet until he let out a sigh, “behind a theatre. They were showin’ commercials for the army and some guy just started saying stuff.”

With a bite of your cheek, you sat down on one of his chairs, “so you had to fight him?”

“Just gotta be one of the good guys in the neighborhood, y/n.”

“I know, Stevie.”

An hour had passed and, in the meantime, you and Steve enjoyed some tea and tried to complete your own crossword puzzles. A small conversation had taken place between the two of you, talking about plans once Bucky was off fighting the war. You had talked about Steve moving in with you, but he was always so stubborn, wanting to prove that he could live on his own. You never thought that he couldn’t, but it could be a money saver.

One more glance at the clock, you figured it would be almost time for Bucky to show up. And, just like that, a knock was heard from the door and you smiled, getting up to answer it as Steve stayed back, grumbling at the pieces of paper in his hands. Opening the door, you saw your James Buchanan Barnes standing tall and proud in his new uniform.

Bucky whistled, glancing over your outfit as you did the same to him, “you look gorgeous, honeybee – even though I told you to not dress up.”

He stepped inside the apartment as you crossed your arms, “I mean, Steve agrees that this is kind of a big deal, so I think a nice dress will suffice.”

Steve and Bucky clasped hands and Bucky nudged his shoulder, “thought you were supposed to be a good influence on my girl, Steve.”

The smaller man shrugged, “kind of is a big deal.”

Bucky shuffled his feet, “yeah, well, I don’t want it to be. Let’s just go to the future and then see me off, alright?” The three of you stood in silence, light tension hanging in the air. With a sigh, you grabbed your purse, “well, off we go! C’mon now, boys.”

Bucky, you, and Steve headed to New York World’s Fair, hooked arms leading towards Howard Stark’s Expo. With bright lights, fireworks, and amazing technology surrounding you, your eyes failed to see Bucky staring at you with so much adoration. He never wanted to leave you – he’d stay if he could – but he had been drafted. All he wanted to do was stay in Brooklyn with you and Steve, and just never leave your arms. Hell, really, wherever you went, he went.

But that wasn’t the case in this scenario.

With a hand on your waist, Bucky looked up at Stark’s presentation of his repulsor technology with a flying car, head shaking in disbelief. While his car may have only hovered for a few seconds, the idea of not even needing to touch the ground to drive absolutely boggled your mind. During the presentation, Steve glanced up at you two and silently snuck off, hoping you didn’t notice his absence for too long. But he knew you and how observant and protective you were.

However, once you glanced around after a few minutes and found Steve in front of an army poster within the United States Armed Services Recruitment center. Squeezing Bucky’s hand, you slightly pulled him towards where Steve was, trying his best to fit his head within the frame.

With a slight push of his shoulder, Bucky nodded his head towards the Expo, “come on, we’re goin’ dancing – and hopefully find yourself a girl.”

Steve shook his head, “you – uh – you go ahead, I’ll catch up later.” He looked around, trying to divert the conversation between him and his best friend.

“Steve,” you started, “please? Just this one night?”

Bucky held your hand as he looked back at Steve, “you’re really gonna do this again?”

“I just – guys, it’s a fair, I’ll try my luck,” he started, looking between you both.

Beside you, you felt Bucky grow agitated, “that’s who, Steve from Ohio?”

“Bucky,” you said, squeezing his hand once more, “let him try one more, okay? We can go dancing and Steve will catch up later. If he doesn’t, I’ll hang his head on my wall like a prize.”

The boys let out a chuckle as Steve continued, “one last time, alright? I promise I’ll come later on – Mac’s, right?”

You nodded your head as Bucky sighed beside you, “don’t think you got to prove anything, Steve.” A small pause came over the three of you as Bucky continued, “don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

You started to walk back with Bucky, letting go of his hand as he continued his conversation with Steve as he let out a small laugh, “how can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” You held up a finger at Steve, “you better mean that about himself, Rogers.”

Steve held up his hands, “yes ma’am! And Bucky –“

Bucky turned around once more to his best friend, “don’t win the war until I get there.” With a mock salute, Bucky dragged you back towards the Expo as you waved back at Steve, making sure he’d meet you at the bar before your boyfriend was shipped off.

With a sigh, Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he kissed your head, “that punk is gonna get himself in all loads of trouble, honeybee.”

You held his hand that was around your shoulder, “I’ll keep Stevie in his place. Seriously, Buck, try not to worry about him.”

“I just,” Bucky gripped your hand, “I don’t wanna come back to nothing, you know? Steve’s my best friend and if he somehow gets himself killed here or in the war, I don’t know what I’d do.”

You pulled Bucky to a stop, putting your hands on his cheeks, “James, look at me, please.” With soft eyes, Bucky looked into yours, “I promise you, Steve is going to be okay – he won’t do anything stupid, at least without me. We’re going to be okay, and you will, too. . .’cus if you aren’t, I may go and kill Hitler myself.”

Bucky chuckled, “I don’t doubt that for a minute, sweetheart. I love you, you know that, right?”

You leaned up, kissing Bucky softly before pulling back, hands tight on your waist, “I love you too. Now C’mon, I wanna go to Mac’s and celebrate my newfound freedom.”

Bucky groaned and pulled you even closer, “maybe I should tell Steve to keep an eye on you.”

With a mock salute of your own, you giggled at your boyfriend, “aye, sir, my new mission is to protect Steven Grant Rogers from being an idiot!”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, “toughest job in this whole war, honeybee.”

As the night continued on, Steve actually showed up to Mac’s and had a new look in his eyes.

‘Hmm,’ you thought to yourself, ‘looks like I gotta ask him about something later.’

Steve, you, and Bucky didn’t drink, but instead enjoyed each other’s company before Buck was shipped off; this really only included Bucky and Steve making fun of each other and you keeping the boys in line. Laughs and a few smacks on the head filled the atmosphere, but you knew it wouldn't last long.

By the time it was nearing close to Bucky’s train departure, the three of you took to the streets and headed to the train station, silence enveloping you. Bucky’s hand was wrapped tightly around yours as you dreaded this goodbye, even if you had high hopes he’d return to you and Steve.

At the sight of the train and fellow troops heading into their cabins, Bucky turned to Steve, “you take care of yourself, alright punk? I don’t want any letters from my girl telling me that you’ve been actin’ out.”

Steve shoved his shoulder, “you’re acting like I’m 12 years old again. I’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, but looked to his best friend, “and Steve?”

Steve held his breath but let go, “yeah, Bucky?”

“Please take care of her.”

Steve glanced back at where you stood, picking your nails as your anxiety was pricking at your skin. He nodded, “I will.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief, “thank you, pal. I love her, so make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid either, okay?” Steve nodded in response.

Bucky then headed over to where you were standing, his eyes raking over your beautiful dress, your heels, and most importantly, your face. He did not want to forget a single thing about you or your features – he wanted them committed to memory. With a gentle hand, Bucky tilted your chin up towards him, “you alright, honeybee?”

You nodded, too afraid to use your voice as tears flooded your eyes. Trying to dry them up anyway, you nodded once more, unable to look at Bucky. He sighed, “c’mere, sweet girl, I got you.”

With no hesitation, you fell into Bucky’s arms, tears threatening to fall as you felt his hands rest upon your back and your head. You sniffled, “I’m going – I’m going to miss you so much, Jamie – so, so much.”

Bucky kissed your head, “I’m gonna miss you too, sweetheart. Don’t you dare think that I won’t for a second. You’ll be the first thing on my mind every second of the day.”

You breathed, “can living through this war be the first thing on your mind? And maybe completing a crossword puzzle?"

Bucky let out a small laugh but held you tighter, “just for you, honeybee.” Pulling back, he wiped away stray tears that threatened to fall from your eyes, a soft smile on his face. “You’re gonna be alright, and I’ll be comin’ home to you in no time.”

You nodded, a few tears slipping free from your eyes as you looked up at Bucky, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks and light stubble. You slowly traced over his lips, his nose, and his eyebrows, committing everything about him to memory. With a small smile, you leaned up, catching him in a kiss once more, “stay safe, you hear me? And take this damn thing with you - maybe you'll complete it." With gentle hands, you handed him the newspaper you had gotten today.

He carefully took the newspaper from you, already hoping the crossword puzzle would be easy this time around. Then, Bucky pecked your lips before he headed towards the train, “gotta come back for my best girl. I love you!”

As he stepped onto the train and hung out the window of a cabin, he continued yelling, “I love you, y/n l/n! I love you!”

You cried, a bright smile on his face, “I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes!” Blowing kisses towards him, both you and Steve watched as the train slowly started to pull away, seeing him mindlessly hand his ticket to the worker, not bothering to tear his eyes away from you or his best friend.

“I love you!” he shouted once more, all before his train sped up, leaving you and Steve behind on the platform.

Wiping your eyes and your nose with a cloth, you cleared your throat and turned to Steve, “gah, sorry. Let’s uhm – do you want to head back to my place?”

Steve nodded towards you, “yeah, yeah that sounds good. You alright?” He hooked your arm with his as you headed out of the station, continuing to wipe your eyes. “Yeah,” you started, “I’m okay. I knew this was coming. . . I guess I just hated the whole ‘saying goodbye,’ you know?”

Your best friend rubbed the back of his neck, “I get it, y/n, but he’ll come back – he has a reason to, and that’s you.”

Your heart fluttered, and tears welled up in your eyes once more. With a quick sniffle, you reached into your purse and grabbed your key, unlocking your door to your apartment. Once inside, you quickly got to making tea for you and Steve, something to get your minds off of your missing puzzle piece.

Once tea was made and you both were sitting in your living room, you turned to him, “tell me, Stevie. Please.”

Steve looked at you, a confused look etched upon his face, “tell you what?”

You leaned back into your chair, picking at your nails once more, “what happened at the recruitment office? I’ve known you long enough to see that there’s something you’re not telling me, there’s something in your eyes, Stevie, so please, just tell me.”

Steve seemed shocked that you were able to read him like that, but was defeated. With a sigh, he turned and reached into his handbag, pulling out a file, “there was this Doctor there, Doctor Erskine, who uh – he approved me for the army, y/n. But it’s for an experiment, something they call a super-soldier experiment, I’m not sure. But, I’m going – I leave in a couple days.”

How is your world falling apart this quickly?

[getoswhore]

Gonna start this off that Easter can be seen a s religious, but this is for Bella so please shush. Also, Bella…hope you like. I know its not as good as yours are, and I am a bit…quite a lot, rusty with my smut writing, but enjoy! I had fun writing it, and as long as you like it, I’m happy, but constructive criticism is always welcomed.

Easter is one of the most celebrated holiday’s in the world. The same could be said for Geto’s family as they were running around setting the table for the newly wedded couple who were married the day before. Suguru and Bella smiled with joy as they saw their closed loved ones help their darling angels set up the table for this marvelous holiday. Little did Bella know, but once everyone went to bed, and they created the adorable children’s Easter baskets, that Suguru had an amazing idea to shower his wife with. He smiled softly at how her beautiful hair was done up, his face lighting up into a small blush as he began to imagine how it would look later that night.

              “Darling?” His deep voice gently wisped over Bella’s ears. “Come here.” He motioned her over with his fingers as he pointed at their children running outside trying to find the most eggs. “Thought you would want a picture taken..” He whispered against her ear, seeming to cause hers to heat up since she felt his chest against her back.

              She always loved that about him, outside of his gorgeous looks, hair, and body, he always seemed to care for their children no matter what the circumstances were. She let out a beautiful smile, one that simply took Suguru’s breath away every time he saw it. “So, it seems, would you mind getting the camera for me?” She asked him while her darling husband let out a chuckle, gently kissing one of her sweet spots along her neck as a way of saying ‘certainly’. He left her admiring the children outside, seeing them gently battle each other, knowing if they were too rough, they would get scolded by either parent.

              Suguru came back and handed over the professional camera to his wife. He always gave her what she wanted and treated her like a Queen. He promised that to her on their wedding day anyway. He watched her take the small photos of their daughter and son running outside. He gently wrapped his bigger arms around her small waist. While she was quite tall, he towered over her by about 6 inches, leaving her to still look up at him. He made her feel dainty, almost like a beautiful flower, or a porcelain doll, to where one touch too strong would break her, even if that was far from the case. He chuckled as she seemed to let out a squeak when his hands gently grabbed her sides, stabling her between his arms.

              “Much better” he whispered, still against her skin, which he could tell she was blushing, while it wasn’t present on her face, by how much heat radiated off her body. He noticed all the small things about her which is why he is always the better husband…and if anyone challenged that, they would go missing within the fortnight. He smiled as she watched their two heathens (adorable babies…but all kids are hellions) together.

              Family dinner came and went, so their babies were put to sleep with the promise of the Easter Bunnies (AKA Brownie) visiting them in their sleep. Suguru chuckled once he realized the two were completely gone, helped Bella finish with the egg hunt of clues and the basket preparation before whisking her off to bed. There the adult version of Easter began.

              “God...you have no idea how long I just wanted to take you and put another one in you..” He whispered along her skin, each word leaving a butterfly kiss as he dipped lower and lower, gently rubbing between her legs as he slowly worked his way down. He ended up having to tie her arms up to keep her hands out of his hair, knowing that made him go feral. He smirked at the small whimpers and whines that left her beautiful mouth, the sounds only fueling him more to continue. “Hush, Love, as much as I would want to hear you beg and scream for me…we do have sleeping children, longing for a sister or brother, sleeping beside us.” He winked as he watched her bashfully try and hide her face.

              He moved one finger around the dampening spot along her panties while moving his middle and ring fingers in almost a teasing way. “Such a good girl~” He purred out and brought her lips down to his for a kiss. (Hear me out) His tongue piercing gently clinking with the roof of her mouth as the two started into a heated make out session. Suguru smirked hearing her whisper his name from her lips, as he continued to rub her lower lips, in hopes of her begging him to stuff her full. “What is it Princess?” He asked, pulling away from the kiss, a trail of saliva left among her lips being the only thing left of him. “I can’t understand you.” His eyes were hooded, looking at her as if she was a meal, and he was starving. He moved his lips, down her neck, to her chest where he played with the fabric of her night shirt. He moved it off of her head—rather ripped it down the middle but he would always by a new one so who cares—and gently moved his mouth to the valley of her breasts. He gently cupped one while he began making out with the other.

              He moved his mouth to the other one, his fingers playing with her nipples, almost in a teasingly slow motion, much like what his mouth was doing. He chuckled lowly at how her eyes looked at him, begging for him to fix her, to please her, but he decided to take his time. His tongue ring paying extra attention to each one of her nipples when his mouth was on it, all while his other hand played with her dripping cunt. He smirked against her skin when he felt the slick get even worse. “Awe, Baby..” He whispered among her skin, that was starting to have a small sheen of sweat appear, though the difference between that and saliva was questionable, not that Suguru minded.

              He continued his path down to her cunt, one that was still covered by her adorable panties. They were not going to be in Suguru’s way much longer, though. The sheer smell of her was causing his brain to turn slowly into mush. “Hm~ seems you always get so responsive..” He whispered, more to himself that to her. He watched as her body moved with the way she panted, the soft rising and falling of her chest, his eyes seem to darken. He was finally fed up and completely ripped her panties off of her clothed pussy. He took a sharp inhale, pocketing the ripped garments into his back pants pocket. He quickly dove his nose there and took a deep whiff, a small groan leaving his lips at how heavenly she smelled.

              Suguru, teasingly, began to kitten lick, only for a few moments later, began to fully devour her sobbing cunt. His licks were aggressive, almost that of a dehydrated animal, and he was beginning to leave bruises on her pretty thighs. Bella could do nothing but take it. Her arms still trapped along her head as she withered and squirmed from what her husband was doing to her, all while she tried to keep quiet to not wake her beautiful children. Bella’s eyes began rolling back as her body shivered along his lips when he began paying extra attention on her little clit. Suguru’s eyes looked up at her through the valley, watching her every facial expression like she was a painting. He continued to lick, suck, and gently nibble on that small bundle of nerves until Bella was almost ready to cum, only for him to pull back at the last second. Her sheen translucent liquid dripping down his chin as he removed the rest of his own clothing. He, with predatory eyes, watched her breathing as she panted, the glistening of her cunt and even her own hooded eyes looking back at him caused him to almost growl at her, seeing her trying to squirm over to him. He stood, as tall and manly as he was, his hair completely out of the man bun he normally was found with, staring at his beautiful wife.

              “Hold still love..: He whispered as he got on top of her, flipping her body to spy a mirror at the back of the bed, one Suguru placed there earlies, already having this in mind. “Eyes on the mirror…don’t break eye contact or I’ll make sure you have more than just a new necklace, ‘kay Pretty?” He whispered next to her ear, gently kissing her cheek, leaving a small trail of what was left from down below. He would’ve loved to have her taste herself, but he was too needy now and frankly wanted another baby. He smirked darkly as he slid in, watching her eyes roll back at the full feeling and he bottomed inside of her, loving how she clenched around him. “Hm~ So tight..” He muttered, letting out a small pant. He waited to see if she needed adjusting, because he was still a loving husband after all. When he noticed she was ready, he began thrusting. He thrusted deep inside of her, hitting the spots that made her vision blur and stars to appear before her eyes, something quite common when Suguru finally had his way with her. He flipped her back over, allowing her to see the mirror above them as well, he could see her fucked face, the drool slowly leaving her, the white ring forming around his heavy balls as he continued to abuse her poor cunt. “Such a good girl..” he whispered against her neck, moving and capturing her lips again. He felt her tightening around him, making his own feel heavier than normal. He grunted as she came, letting out a gorgeous noise that sounded like bells chiming among his brain. Suguru grunted, fucking her though her orgasm, as he pumped his own load inside of her a few minutes later.

              Bella’s eyes were heavy, while there was not a lot of action, watching and dealing with the family before this tired her out. She was about to close her eyes before Suguru began thrusting again. “Oh? You thought you were done?” He chuckled deeply beside her. “I think another four rounds should make sure you bear another child for me…yeah?” He pretended to ask, Bella could only nod, knowing this was about to be a long Easter night.

Holy shit is this long...Anyway, Happy Easter!! Love You!!

i am in pure shock rn