#so proud of being a good noodle

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

They cuddled in a love heart shape tho 🥹

[petrichorpaws]

Kaloo 🤝 Nike

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 7

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes!, there’s some slight smut…  but nothing too graphic (ion rly write smut haha), angst and comfort, this chapter’s brought to you by: a bunch of sad songs on repeat! A/N: 7k+ words what the fuck!!  (this might actually be one of my favorite chapters. :’))

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

“You don’t have a favorite color.”

“I… don’t, no.”

“But you’re quite partial to green.”

“I guess so—?”

“You’ve worn the same green shirt to bed thrice this week,” he notes lightly, pertaining to your Loki: Master of Mischief tee. The corners of his mouth pull into a faint, knowing smile. “It suits you, by the way.”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you glance at him, narrowing your eyes in slight embarrassment. “It’s a perfectly comfy shirt,” you reply, a defensive edge to your tone. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing at all,” he agrees reassuringly. “Just making an observation.”

“What, are you keeping a dossier on me now?”

Sylus gives a noncommittal hum, but offers nothing more in response. He keeps watch on you from his usual spot in the corner between the monitor and the CPU box, chin resting on an open palm. His gaze betrays hints of smugness to it.

You eye him weirdly. With a huff, you turn back to your typing.

–

You’re cooking dinner—with Sylus supervising the entire thing like your very own personal sous chef. Something that has now been the norm for you two, since your–banging!–success with the tofu dish. 

And for tonight’s menu: Butter noodles. Simple, foolproof, straightforward. 

"Simple" is… well, it’s not entirely inaccurate. But the way that the boiling water hisses angrily through the small lid hole wavers the already shaky foundation of your developing culinary confidence. 

(Just a little bit! You’re sure you’ve got nothing to worry about.) 

A faint burning scent clings to the air; you forgot to stir the garlic early on, and now it looks dangerously close to a char. You rescue it just in time, cursing under your breath. Your sous chef, of course, catches everything. Even your nervousness.

“You know,” Sylus chimes in, watching the wooden spatula tremble in your hand. “This is quite the step up from your usual instant noodle packets. You should be proud of yourself, sweetie.”

“Gee, thanks. Really complex work for an extra half-hour of cooking time,” Your words are snide, but he doesn’t miss the way your grip on the spatula tightens ever-so-slightly. Steadies. 

The smell stabilizes. You add half a stick of butter, squashing it to a melt, and he lets the subject drop—for now.

“Do you have siblings?”

“I have an older sister,” you answer distractedly, stirring the sauce and trying to scrape the edges of the sauté pan without having it splatter from the inside.

“How much older?”

“Uh—six years,” you reply, reaching for a pinch of salt. “She's got a family. Two kids. Another on the way.”

“Hm. You two are close?”

You pause, the question landing softly in the haze of rising steam. “I mean. S’ alright, I guess. We catch up over the phone sometimes.”

“Ah. Good.”

“... Yeah.” 

You catch a glance of his expression in your peripheral, looking thoughtful. 

_

It’s a recent development, his curiosity. Sporadic at first, like light rain on a windshield—little questions scattered here and there, easy to brush off. But over the past week, it’s grown into something more unrelenting. It’s almost as if you two were playing a round of twenty questions, only it’s just you in the hot seat being interrogated. 

There’s also that habit of his to take it one step further. Hedging his questions strategically, acting like he already knows the little factoid he wanted to ask and just needs you to confirm it. 

You don’t really get the logic behind it, but hey, who are you to judge? Everybody has their quirks. Even someone of his caliber, apparently.

… God forbid he gets blindsided by something he’s genuinely surprised to know about you, though. 

“You know how to play the violin.”

You pause the video you’re watching on your laptop at its five minute mark to stare at Sylus through your phone screen. He sounds… terse? Like you’d intentionally kept this a secret from him.

“Wha—yes, I know how to play the violin,” you huff, incredulous by the show of attitude. “What’s up with all these weird questions?”

“You’ve given me explicit permission to ask them. Level the playing field,” he reminds you, eyes slightly accusatory. “What else are you keeping from me?”

You groan, collapsing onto your back on the couch. “Ugh, I don’t know,” you say sarcastically. “Do you wanna know my time of birth too?”

“Born at exactly twelve twenty-eight PM,” Sylus recites without missing a beat, his voice bored and unimpressed. “I saw it on your Co-Star app, sweetie.”

You freeze.

“…”

“That’s creepy,” you tell him, tone disapproving, giving him a scolding poke on the nose. 

“Call it thorough research,” he counters smoothly, rolling his eyes at your feeble attack. “After all, a stubborn kitten’s been slacking on her side of the deal.”

_

The questions are, for the most part, harmless in nature. Anchored firmly in the mundane. He doesn’t stray too far from what’s comfortable, or what he deems safe to ask. And yet you can sense it beneath the surface: the burning curiosity. To know more of you, to take what he could—piece by piece, until he’s unraveled the puzzle of you entirely. 

And you don’t get it. His world—filled with endless adventure, lore, and literal fucking superpowers—surely has to be more exciting than anything you’ve got to offer. What’s your life compared to that? 

You said as much to him, mostly as an offhand comment. Although it did feel slightly more earnest when you put it into words, compared to how it sounded in your head. 

“Honestly, Sy-Sy. Life here’s really not that interesting compared to all the stuff going on over there,” you told him matter-of-factly, in the middle of collecting your daily rewards. “You don’t have to keep this up, you know.”

Sylus didn’t speak for a moment. The easy nonchalance he wore so well shifted into something more reserved, almost somber. He didn’t challenge what you said, nor did he affirm anything—you're met with silence, loaded with thoughts unspoken. 

“Don’t presume things on your own, little dove,” he said after a while, his voice low, a gentle reprimand. 

Before you could even process what he meant by that, he smoothly changed the subject, his tone reverting back to his usual effortless calm as if to ease the weight of your words. “Now then, let’s circle back—what were you saying earlier? You almost drowned in a lake when you were eight? Because of a dare you made with your sister?”

And that was the end of it.

You tell yourself it’s exhausting—the way he keeps digging, prodding, asking questions like you’re worth the level of fascination he’s making you out to be. But there’s also the truth, hidden and tucked beneath your half-hearted protests, slowly unfurling. A part of you—cautiously hopeful, dreadfully fragile—that preens under the weight of his scrutiny. 

So you let him press further; let him sift through twenty plus years of tiny, unremarkable fragments of your life like a beachcomber seeking treasures amongst the tide. And in return, he gives you his full attention, undivided and unyielding, as if your answers are the only ones that matter.

––––

He tells you there’s a new tête-à-tête feature in the game, so you check it out—not without giving him a slightly suspicious look. 

“A microphone feature?” You snort, leveling him with a half-amused glare. “You already hear me talk all the time.”

Sylus blinks at you, his face a guilefully-crafted mask of innocence. “I’m just giving you the option, sweetie. You know, in case you’d like to put our conversations ‘on record.’”

“Treat you like some kind of… quasi-therapist or something? An online confessional?” You give him the stink eye. “Is that what you’re angling for now?”

He shrugs. “If it helps.”

_

You had no intention of using the tête-à-tête “feature” you’ve been so graciously offered, quickly dismissing it as just another one of his tactics to show off his capacity to manipulate the game’s code, or something along those lines. 

It’s not the first time he’s done it. 

But then, midnight comes on a deceptively ordinary Friday, and it’s suffused with an all-too familiar feeling of utter emptiness that drowns you. You’re crumpled on the toilet seat like chewed-up gum, knees pulled to your chest—the day’s wounds still festering. It's not anything new, but it leaves you feeling like shit all the same. 

Yet another overtime shift. Yet another argument with your mom, over fuck all you know that you’re too damn old for, but still, still, finds its way to cut deep. Over and over, and over again. 

Your phone’s blank screen stares back at you, just as mute and useless as the rest of the night. And you—

“Sweetie?” 

You can’t speak. Not yet. But you don’t have to. One look at the exhaustion on your face is enough for Sylus to know exactly what you need.

Your mouth trembles open, then shuts again. He doesn’t say anything else, just waiting for you to make the first move. To start whenever you’re ready. 

After a long moment, you finally exhale a shaky breath. That’s when you catch his gaze; fixed, patient, almost... encouraging. It’s a subtle invitation, urging you to take the plunge, to make use of him to an extent only he can provide–the only one he could offer to you at this time–

So, you talk. Tentatively at first, the words slipping out like droplets from your leaking sink faucet. But once the dam breaks, you can't stop. 

It spills out. Every frustration, every ache, every moment that feels too much to carry for one person, especially for someone like you, and he… he just—

listens. 

-

-

-

You feel drained. Every ounce of energy wrung out of you after unloading the day’s weight to your unexpected confidant.

“That helped, didn’t it?”

If it were anyone else—or if you didn’t know Sylus the way you do now—you’d only catch the smug notes in his voice. The teasing lilt and the airy pretense of someone trying to ease the heaviness out of the room.

But you do hear it. Beneath the surface, woven so subtly into the words… something vulnerable. 

You hear the unspoken question behind it: he’s genuinely asking if it helped. If his presence, however small or inconsequential it might seem, was enough to pull you back ashore.

I helped.

Tell me I did.

“You did, Sy.” Your grin is tired, grateful, and a little lopsided. But it’s real. “Thank you.”

For a moment—just a split of a second—the red in his eyes betrays something achingly raw.

“Anytime, darling,” he says, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges, like it’s carrying more than the words themselves. “I mean it.”

And like a beacon of light slicing through the storm-tossed seas of your mind, you realize that he truly does.

____

You start giving Sylus the reins to select the music, trusting his taste enough to let him DJ for you. He picks the soundtrack for everything—cooking, errands, long rides—filling the silence with something that he knows the both of you would like. 

The playlists grow. From one, to two, to almost an entire collection of carefully curated tracks to suit the mood and vibe of the day. He takes it seriously—so seriously that you can’t resist sneaking in a Megan Thee Stallion track onto his precious “Slow Evenings” playlist.

He finds it hilarious. Hilarious enough to loop Kitty Kat for all sixty-five minutes of your commute back home.

You laugh despite yourself. It’s exactly the type of shit you know he’d pull as petty retribution, already intimately familiar with his brand of humor. And if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine him beside you, sharing an earbud, smirking as he revels in your exasperation.

____

One night, you notice a weariness in his eyes. It’s an odd enough thing to see that it leads to a discussion on what he’s been up to as the shadowy leader of a notorious faction, deep in a lawless part of his universe.

“Just an operative gone wrong, sweetie,” he says with a sigh, rubbing a temple as though trying to physically push the stress away. “It happens.”

You press him on the details of the botched deal—and maybe, just maybe, a small part of you is excited to live vicariously through the tale. But it’s not about you this time, you remind yourself. So you listen as Sylus indulges every question you throw at him, giving you the play-by-play: what the deal was for (special, hard-to-get protocores), where the trade-off occurred (west of Charon), and how it all went sideways (he knew it was a set-up the moment he walked into the venue).

You don’t really know how to comfort him in a situation like this, but you want to try.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you joke, “Can you imagine clumsy, ol’ me there? I’d be dead before I even make it inside.”

Sylus freezes, his expression going still. Unreadable.

“No, you won’t.” He says in response to the second part of what you just said, his tone brooking no doubt. He says it with such intense conviction that you almost believe this exact hypothetical has already crossed his mind—more than once.

I won’t let you.

Before you can even think of what to say, he adds, quieter this time, but no less convinced: “And yes—I can.”

It’s a direct answer to your question, and it makes the words die in your throat. His voice is softer now too, but there’s no mistaking his tone. It has the same conviction from before, and it hits you that he’s had time to ruminate on this thought—more times than he’d care to admit.

And I do. You have no idea.

____

There’s another shift in the dynamic of your, well, relationship.

“Did you hear what I said, poppet?”

You snap back to meet his inquiring gaze, unwavering as always.

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” You ask, the apology clear in your eyes.

He huffs, shaking his head in amusement—always patient, never annoyed—at your inattentiveness. “What’s on your mind, my sweet?”

Well. That.

Lately, Sylus has gotten into the habit of using possessive pronouns like they’re nothing. There’s also a notable increase on the variation of pet names too, each one more layered than the last.

It’s a little excessive, honestly. Like he’s trying to compensate for something—or maybe he sees it as just another natural step in whatever’s going on between you two. You’re still not sure what exactly goes in his head. He’s always been an enigma to you.

And yet, you never put a stop to it. How could you?

Little dove. Sweet girl. My darling.

When it comes off his lips like sunkist honey—each one brings a jolt straight to your heart. 

You're quite partial to one in particular. 

My love.

____

“Oh, my love,” Sylus tuts, feigning concern. “You’ve snoozed that alarm five times already.”

You groan, hitting the snooze button again—number six now—burying your face in your arms on the desk. 

____

You’re attending a despedida party for a friend who’s flying abroad to study (For a PhD in Biomedical Science! You couldn’t be more proud.) and the venue’s going to be at The Penthouse, somewhere fancy up north. It even has an infinity pool on deck, something the celebrant dropped into the group chat with far too much enthusiasm.

So, earlier today, you’d ventured out to buy something nice for yourself. Nicer than what you have in the closet, which isn’t much of a stretch. Something different than your usual rotation of plaids and band shirts—not that there’s anything wrong with them. They’re just… you. Comfortable. Predictable. Not exactly the dress code for a rooftop soirée.

Now, you’re back home from a successful (!) trip to the mall, bags in hand: a small gift for your friend on one arm and a much larger shopping bag on the other. 

You set the gift gently on the coffee table. Then, you head to the bathroom, the grosgrain ribbon of a paper tote held tight in your fist. 

The pretty fabric caught your eye almost immediately, the moment you saw the garment; its sheen almost like woven liquid in the light. It felt like a risk, even on the rack. But under the unforgiving glare of your bathroom bulb? 

Well, now, it’s looking less of a “bold choice,” and more along the lines of: “damn, what were you thinking?”

It’s not that big of a deal or anything. You like feeling pretty. But at the same time, you haven’t deluded yourself into thinking that you’re anything above average to look at, even on the nicest occasions. 

It’s something you’ve grown used to, a definitive truth ingrained deep in your bones. You know this—like you know gravity tethers you to the ground, even when you’d rather be carried by the wind. You’ve gone through more than a decade to accept it as just another fact of life, to make peace with the reflection staring back at you from the bathroom mirror. 

Even if it means you’ll never be on the receiving end of ‘interested’ glances from strangers on the street. Or that you’ve never known the feeling of someone doing a double take when they see you at your best, all dolled-up. More than once, you’ve sat across from dates whose eyes wandered—toward some other, someone better-looking, in restaurants, at parks, even outside the movies. Everywhere past your direction. 

But that’s okay. You’re used to it, the same way you’ve grown used to everything else.

And still, there’s that impulse—a sudden need for someone else’s opinion. Someone close. Someone that matters. 

There’s a pang of fear you can’t quite shake. You hear the small voice from the deep recesses of your mind, whispering to you that it’s one of your worse ideas. That you’ll fall short of any and all expectations, and that it’ll hurt more this time around. You’ll hear the polite, “you look nice” and you’re gonna have to live with the quiet certainty that you don’t, not really, and that you’ll never quite measure up to what he’s used to seeing. To her—

You swallow hard. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not outwardly, at least.

And if he did… Well.

“I bought something,” you say as an opener, the words tumbling out in a rush as soon as you get a glimpse of his form on the screen. You’re rocking back on your heel, a little awkward as you stand there in front of your small vanity table even with your phone laid flat, front camera pointing upwards. “You remember the going-away party I’ll be attending two days from now, right?”

“Of course, the one for your secondary school batchmate.” Sylus replies easily, voice reverberating through the tinny speakers. Even at an angle, you can see the confused tilt of his head. “Is it on the ceiling, sweetie? What am I looking at, exactly?”

“No, smartass. I—” You press your lips together, eyes flitting upward, as if courage might be dangling from the ceiling in question.

Fuck, this is a bad idea. I can’t do this.

“It’s–I bought something for myself. I mean, I bought her a gift too, obviously. But I also bought an outfit. For the party.” 

There. 

He blinks, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. Realization dawns on his face, a knowing smile beginning to form. His voice dips, a teasing edge to it as he purrs, “Oh? Well then, save me from the suspense, sweetheart.”

“I–I’m getting to it, okay?” It comes out a little snappier than you intend, nerves flaring hot. You sigh, feeling your shoulders drop. “I’m just… Don’t be—ugh, just don’t make a big deal out of this, alright?” 

You keep your eyes off the screen, unable to face him directly.

But when he speaks, his tone carries only a quiet understanding of your struggle.

Of course he understands. He always does.

He speaks; and it’s slow and measured—as if he’s coaxing a terrified, cornered animal out of hiding. 

“Show me.” Trust me.

And so with a heavy exhale through the nose, you flip the front camera towards your direction, revealing the bare expanse of gooseflesh skin—

… And the flimsy one-piece that clings to your body like wet plastic. 

It dips low between the valley of your breasts and stops short just halfway up your thigh. The material is a gauzy organza; see-through and light, in seafoam green. Barely leaving anything to the imagination as it reveals the dusky coral swimsuit from underneath the fabric and the hot flush that spreads across your chest like wildfire. Your fists clench and unclench behind your back – hiding the physical manifestation of your rising anxiety – while you shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

There's a deafening silence. 

The knots in your stomach grow tighter, creeping its way past your lungs. Your fingers tremble as cold sweat breaks out across your skin, chilling you from the inside. You feel horribly exposed. So exposed it’s almost unbearable. 

And you still can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Your thoughts stumble, desperate to cling to anything solid, and a faint memory surfaces—a passage from an org pamphlet you’ve skimmed through back in college, something that has to do with “self-perception.”

The flesh does not define you. 

Your body is but a facet of who you are. You are as inconsequential as the earth beneath your feet, and as important as stardust in the universe.

A low, guttural sound cuts through the stillness, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

You—

“Look at me.”

A searing heat laces the cadence of his voice. It sounds restless—like a flame unchecked, rapidly growing into a raging inferno. Stifling in the way it pulls the air from your lungs, like a suckerpunch to the gut.

Your primordial instinct is to flee. But right at that very moment, you're no different from a paralyzed insect caught in an inescapable web with the way you’re stood frozen in place. Every instinct to run is smothered by the mere inflection in his voice. 

—are all. And that is all there is to be. 

“My sweet little dove,” it’s almost a croon, the way the words curl around you like wisps of smoke. Sickly saccharine… downright serpentine. “Won’t you look at me when I talk to you?”

And like a marionette on a string, you obey. 

-

Time seems to stop to a standstill the moment your eyes meet his. 

Sylus’ gaze sinks into you. Loaded. Heavy. A crazed glint, almost—to it. Even to someone like you who's embarrassingly clueless about the nuances of attraction and wholly inexperienced in its depths can see it as plain as day.

Carnal desire. In its purest form. 

Sylus looks at you as though you’re something to be coveted. Devoured. 

A small, fearful noise slips past your lips, and the twin crimson flames burn brighter.

“You’d like to know what I think?”

Yes.

No?

He sees the war in your eyes, and a throaty chuckle escapes him—raw and breathy. “Maybe so?”

You give him the tiniest nod, and the grin on his face sharpens into something wanton, something far more licentious. It slinks in like a fever, stirring something deep within you. Something as old as time.

Sylus opens his mouth. 

You brace yourself for the inevitable.

-

-

-

A ring slices through the room like a hot knife. Just like that, you can breathe again. 

____

Your saving grace comes in the form of a phone call that grounds you back to reality.

It’s a friend, one of the party guests, asking for directions to the venue. You’re listening with one ear on the receiver, answering each question robotically—your voice a controlled calm on the surface, a stark contrast to the thoughts running amok inside your head. 

The words blur into background noise, muffled and distant, like a TV commercial playing on low volume in another room.

The moment you hang up, a suffocating hush swallows the room whole. You’re left alone with nothing but heat kindling low in your gut. The ghost of the heavy exchange from earlier stays with you, thrumming beneath your skin, hot and pulsating. 

You don’t know what to do with yourself. The abrupt suddenness of it all gnaws at you, its weight driving you toward an early retreat—maybe a long night’s rest will do wonders and help you get your shit together, who knows. 

You slip between the sheets... but not before retrieving your, ah, trusty little companion from its hiding spot in the bedside drawer.

You didn’t want to assume… You don’t want to expect anything from him, but you have needs. 

God, but you do.

Your body feels like flint struck against steel, sparked ablaze by just a handful of words. Words weaved into a vivid imagery from the mouth of your… friend?? 

(Something more?) 

The uncertainty wrecks you, every nerve alight with tension. And yet it’s the same uncertainty that roots you there. Hesitating. 

So. You lie back, pushing the sheets away from your fevered skin, and just—lay there. Staring at the ceiling. The plaster cracks form maps you trace with your eyes, as if searching for answers in their tangled routes. You count your breaths, one after the other, as though the repetition could calm your racing heartbeat. 

It feels ridiculous, almost. You’re a grown adult, acting like a teenager with a demented crush. It’s more than that, though—it’s deeper, messier, and completely illogical. 

But it’s not something you can figure out tonight, not in this state. So you stop trying. 

Instead, you switch on your little toy, open an incognito browser, and let yourself succumb to what your body’s been screaming at you for the past fucking hour. 

You feel… You feel weird about using anything Sylus-related to get yourself off. That’s not to say you haven’t, before, back when he was just another eye candy from a measly mobile game. When it was just another infatuation. 

But now? Now it feels all levels of wrong, like you’re toeing some invisible line. Worse, it feels like you’re exploiting something fragile, testing the limits of a bond already stretched thin.

So, any content related to that man stays off the fap fodder. You’re not that far gone. You think. 

Instead, you scroll through your bookmarks tab, a shaky sigh leaves your lips as you let the hard vibrations of your trusty rabbit glide from inside your thighs, up… up to your warm center, in between the juncture of your legs.

You pause on a Toji smut fic—one amongst, uhh, dozens in your folder. It’s not the same, you know this, but you’re settling for the next best thing in your current circumstance. 

Since what you really want, who you’d rather much have, isn’t—

…

Your phone glitches. 

The Chrome app crashes.

And what do you think you’re doing?

Your heart stutters a beat, and you stop breathing. 

You can’t answer. The words don’t come. But he doesn’t wait for you to try.

Put on your headphones.

You’re done with that. Tonight, tomorrow, any other night. Do you understand me?

The uncharacteristic curtness of the message sends a jolt through you, and a blush overtakes your entire body. You hesitate, just for a second.

Now.

You scramble to obey, fumbling for your earbuds, slipping them on with shaking hands. 

The moment the bluetooth connects, the game boots up on its own—straight to an irate Sylus, looking royally pissed-off. 

“Sy-Sy—” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t—”

"Oh, so back to Sy-Sy now, are we?"

The mocking lilt in his voice cuts sharper than the glare he fixes on your dimly lit face. Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you entirely. 

You want to explain, to defend yourself. To…

“I see what you read. What you watch,” he begins, voice cutting and mean. “In the dead of night, when you think you’re alone. When you think it’s safe. That no one hears the sweet moans spill so sinfully from your lips.”

His words pierce through the air like an arrow; you feel his overwhelming presence take over, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, every exhale grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.

“Oh, but I do,” he murmurs, the ambiguity in his tone somehow making it worse. “I hear everything. I know everything about you, kitten.”

A shiver races down your spine, your body betraying you as he speaks.

“What makes you tick,” he continues, his voice a sinister caress. “What leaves you writhing, desperate for more. The way your breathing quickens… the way your body trembles under the weight of your own pleasure.”

You’re struggling now—each breath harder to catch than the last.

“And the way that pretty little mouth of yours falls open in a silent gasp, right after you come undone.”

His words are a noose, tightening with every syllable. Your head spins as the air seems to grow heavier, saturated with the tension between you.

“But it’s never for me, is it?”

“I—I’m sorry… I don’t want to assume—”

“Assume?” His voice darkens, any hint of softness replaced with something colder, harsher. “Again with your presumptions.”

He leans closer, his tone dropping to a command that leaves no room for doubt. “From now on, the only thing you’ll need to believe is when I tell you you’re mine.”

You blink at him dumbly. His grin turns into something wicked—caustic and biting—as he cocks his head. Derisive.  

“Do you understand?”

Your head bobs in a weak, reflexive nod.

“Words, poppet.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good.” His tone shifts, smooth like languid amber, yet no less imposing. “Now, my love,” he coos, savoring the way your eyes tear up with desperation, “show me how you touch yourself.”

____

“Shi–iit,” he hisses. “This wet already?” 

You attempt to close your legs, shame rising like a tide, but freeze halfway when Sylus lets out a low, warning growl.

“Try that, and we’ll stop,” he warns. “I won’t repeat myself twice, pet.”

The weight of his words pins you in place, and you let out a helpless whimper.

“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his tone gentler—coaxing. “It’s just me.”

His gaze burns into you, relentless, but something tender bleeds into it. 

The glow of the screen casts shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, the upward tick of his mouth a dangerous contradiction—part teasing, part command. His sanguine eyes gleam with a mix of hunger and control, a look that leaves no room for hesitation.

You give in.

Your body relaxes under the weight of his stare, the fight draining from your limbs. It’s not submission—it’s surrender, pure and unfiltered, the kind that leaves you bare and vulnerable.

Sylus watches you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Not soft, not kind, but triumphant—like a predator relishing the moment its prey stops running.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping from his tongue like honey. “That’s better.”

____

Sade’s Smooth Operator starts to play in the background as you catch your breath.

You let out a tired giggle, swiping a hand down your sweat-drenched face, earbuds still in place. “Ugh—don’t piss me off.”

You hear a resounding chuckle. 

Gently, he asks, “Alright, little dove?” There’s a beat of hesitation before he adds, quieter now, “Did I go too far?”

You curl onto your side, phone clutched in your hand like a prayer. Sylus’ gaze peers back at you through the screen, a dangerously soft expression on his face that you don’t want to identify. 

“It's perfect, Sy,” you say, your grin tender and bittersweet, heart full of something you won't name.

____

It’s one in the morning. The dim glow of your laptop screen flickers across your face, spilling into the darkened room, casting shadows along the wall. You lean back against it, the end credits of Everything Everywhere All At Once rolling quietly in the background.

 

Silence settles between you and Sylus like a warm blanket.

“Do you think it’s… like that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unwilling to shatter the stillness of the moment. “All versions of ourselves colliding and coexisting at the same time?”

The question hangs there; he doesn’t rush an answer, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s choosing not to. 

When he finally speaks, it’s with the same quiet restraint, his voice threading softly through the air. 

“I’d like to think that in this vast expanse of the universe, there’s something for you and me.”

There’s a trace of something dreadfully optimistic in his voice, and it makes your chest tighten. You blink a few times, glancing upwards. 

The moment lingers, delicate in its quietness, until you instinctively reach for your phone. A quick swipe reveals a new addition to your shared playlist.

This Is A Life by Son Lux and Mitski.

A small, genuine smile tugs at your lips as you press play. The haunting strains of the song pour into the room, filling the spaces words can’t seem to touch.

“Sneaky,” you murmur, your gaze sliding back to Sylus’ face on the screen. His expression is unreadable, save for the faintest twitch of his mouth, the barest hint of a smile.

“Thought it fit the mood,” he says simply.

And it does. The music sweeps over you, soft and wistful, like the moment itself.

____

The balcony feels like a lifeboat drifting away from the chaos inside. The music, the chatter, the endless parade of tequila shots—it all fades to a dull hum as you step into the cool night air. 

Out here, the world feels wider, the sky a little darker, and you can breathe without choking on the weight of the party.

She’s already there, of course. The friend of a friend. An acquaintance by definition, but someone who feels more of a comrade in these fleeting moments away from the crowd. You’ve seen her like this most times—leaning on the railing, a cigarette perched between her fingers, its faint ember glowing against the night. You don’t need an invitation to approach her.

“You mind if I bum one?”

She shrugs, silently offering the box to you. You take one.

“Fun party, huh?” you comment after two puffs, the lit end of the stick briefly catching the glow of the skyline. Your voice is loaded with the kind of irony only shared by those watching the world from the outside in.

“It always is with them around,” she snorts, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. Her voice carries the warmth of familiarity, from an observation you’ve both shared before. 

You exhale a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over the low hum of the city below.

The silence that follows isn’t just companionable—it’s necessary. A pause to recalibrate, to let the noise, and the lights, and the weight of too many people melt away. Neither of you feels the need to fill it. Words would only dilute the reprieve.

And then, unexpectedly:

“You look happy.”

The words land like a stone dropping into still water, rippling through the quiet. You glance at her, startled by the way her eyes narrow slightly, the way her tone suggests she’s already drawn her own conclusions.  

“You ‘ave someone?”

You weren’t ready for that. You blink at her, surprised she’s noticed anything about you—surprised, too, that it’s written plainly enough for anyone to notice.

“...Yeah,” you mumble, looking away. The admission feels strange in its simplicity. “Yeah, I do.”

She smiles at that—easy but genuine, as if your happiness has spilled over and warmed her, too. “That’s good.” 

There’s sincerity in her voice, unfiltered and direct, as she adds, “You look happier.”

You don’t reply, but her words settle somewhere deep, in the quiet places you thought were hidden. 

And for once, you don’t mind being seen.

____

The party has left you drunker than you’ve been in ages. 

As soon as the celebrant spots the two of you in the corner looking like a sad pair of eyesores, she quickly remedies it with copious amounts of Stone-Cold Stingers. You try to protest, but in the end, it’s futile against the cacophony of cheers and the face of societal peer pressure. 

So now you stagger inside the condo building, looking every bit like a drowned rat dragged in from the storm. A weary guard from reception following closely behind, his patience visibly fraying as you giggle your way toward the elevator.

“‘m fine!” you insist, words slurring together as you attempt to shoo him off with a lazy wave. To emphasize your point, you pinch your fingers together, holding them inches apart. “Just this much to drink, see?”

He doesn’t respond, his expression coming across resigned and frustrated. You can almost hear the thought running through his mind: I don’t get paid enough for this. 

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally relents, letting you totter into the elevator alone.

UG… P… 4…. 5…… Oh! Here you are. 

Rivulets of water drip down from your rain-soaked hair, trailing icy paths down your neck as you stagger down the narrow hallway. Your vision blurs, making everything double—no, triple—as you fumble your way to the left, stopping in front of the door of 601—wait, no, 603. 

You squint hard at the numbers, your head throbbing with the effort, but the stinging in your eyes and the stubborn clumping of your lashes make it way harder for you to make sense of it all. 

Your waterlogged clutch feels heavier than it should, and your trembling fingers struggle to find the zipper pull that’s somehow become the bane of your existence. You huff, muttering incoherently to yourself, your throat tight and raw as a burning lump starts to rise. An annoyingly persistent buzzing from inside your bag adds to your mounting frustration.

With an angry yank, you finally manage to tear the bag open, water splashing off it in tiny droplets. 

“Aha!” you exclaim, though the triumph is short-lived as your hands shake even harder when you pull out your phone. It’s the source of the buzzing apparently, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 

You try to unlock it—once, twice, three times—nearly getting locked out before the numbers finally click.

The notifications hit you like the mars lights of a freight train. Texts. Lots of them. You scroll through clumsily, the device slipping slightly from your grip as you snort gracelessly.

Sylus. Of course.

The words on the screen blur and twist, but you don’t need clarity to know the progression of each message—ranging from mild curiosity, to slight worry, to exasperatedly concerned. 

The syllables of his pet name echo faintly in your muddled head, a small, fleeting comfort against the weight pressing down on your chest. Sy-Sy. Sy-Sy. Sy-Syyyyy—

Synchronous with your erratic breathing, you dig through your bag with a heavy hand, each failed attempt sends you spiraling lower.

Another ping jolts you from your drunken haze: 

How are you feeling? Did you just get back?

“I can’t—I can’t find my damn keys!” 

The words slips out as a frustrated cry.

Inner pocket, left side. Answer me, sweetheart.

His words flash across the screen just as your fumbling fingers find the keys exactly where he said they’d be. 

A tear burns a path down your cheek as you let out a half-hearted chuckle, mumbling, “Can I even function without you?” 

How long has it been since you could manage something like this on your own? Has he become an extension of your mind?

The door’s stubborn resistance only adds to your unraveling. After several failed attempts—your fingers too wound up to grip the key properly—you finally twist the lock and push it open, stumbling inside, into the darkness. 

“I’m a mess, Sylus,” you whisper, voice thick with tears as your head spins, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. 

The world feels heavy and muffled, like you’re trapped behind a fogged window. You know you’re a sight to behold—shoeless, drunk, drenched like some stray that wandered too far into the rain.

“I’ve noticed,” he says, his voice warm and steady, cutting through the quiet void of the room. It takes a second for the words to sink in, for your scattered mind to piece together that, somehow, you’ve already opened the game in the middle of all your fumbling. Automatic. Like second nature.

You stare at him, trembling and pitiful, like a kid lost in a crowd. Your bottom lip quivers, and you hate how small you feel under his gaze.

You see concern pooling in the depths of Sylus’ eyes. That and something… desperate.

You sniff, rubbing at your wet cheeks with pruning fingers, clinging to humor like a lifeline. "Don’t you do anything else?” you mumble, your voice fraying at the edges. “Like... live your own life or something? You spend so much time with me...” You force out a weak laugh, bitter and jagged. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Your laugh cracks halfway through, more like a sob than anything. It’s pathetic—you’re pathetic. 

And yet, you can’t stop. Even if it stings your throat.

Sylus’ response comes, and his voice is solid—unwavering. He doesn’t flinch like you do. “I don’t get sick of you, sweetheart. Not in the slightest.”

Something in you cracks, spilling over. “I really like you,” you murmur, voice steeped with emotion. “You’re the brightest light in my life. You’re… you’re everything.”

A flash of lightning cuts through the room, illuminating your tear-stained face.

And for the first time since you’ve known him, Sylus calls out your name.

It’s quiet, reverent, and it feels like a tether pulling you back from the brink.

You crumple down the floor, clutching your phone like it’s the only thing holding you together. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and the quiet hum of his presence on the other end of the line.

“I’m here,” he tells you softly. “I’ve got you.”

____

This is a life

(Every possibility)

Free from destiny 

(I choose you, and you choose me) 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle @sapphic-daze @sarahthemage @cchiiwinkle @madam8 @slownoise @raendarkfaerie @sylusdarling @luminaaaz @greeenbeean @vvhira @issamomma @shroomiethefrogwhisperer @nicora04 @blueberrysquire @love-anteros @fiyori @peachystea @slyfoxtsu @tinyweebsstuff @i2sannie (i spend so much time cross-checking the tags this is tiring lmao)

[dumpywrites]

Wanna See My Cat? - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “Do you wanna see my cat?” You're not actually lying but he thinks it's a sexual innuendo.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, situationship-ish

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

a/n: I was contemplating on whether to actually add smut to this but I decided not to cause it's cuter this way and I think we could all agree there're plenty of bts smut but not enough fluff here! :D

Situationship was a funny concept. Either you commit or not, that was what you believed. Which was why you were not precisely proud to say that you was now in fact in one. 

In your defense it had only been what, three? Four weeks? A month or so? Min Yoongi was this nice guy your acquaintance introduced you to. Gentle, could be hilarious when he wanted to, and cute. Although he could be a little emotionless at times, mostly he was a really sweet guy and you liked him a lot. In your other defense, you did not believe what you had with him could be called as a situationship. It was just what your friends had been teasing you about. 

In the whole time of knowing him, you had been to total of three dates. The first being a casual “are you free for dinner after work?” kinda date, second a movie date, and third being a very chill cafe date. And in your opinion, you enjoyed all of them, you had the greatest of time chatting and spending quality time with him. But your friend kept teasing you otherwise. 

Apparently your dates were considered too boring, too innocent for today’s dating world standard. You had not even had your first kiss yet and one of your friends was already asking about his size. Evidently, wanting to take things slow was a crime nowadays and you were lowkey getting annoyed. 

Today though, your park date was cancelled due to the rain. You kept cursing to yourself at home when you saw Yoongi’s text telling you to do a literal rain check, seeing the thunderstorm. The outfit that you bought especially for the occasion failed to see the outside world. 

As you stood in front of the mirror, seeing the reflection gave you a weird idea. A small Siamese cat walking past your feet, meowing adorably. Your pet cat, Zuko. A cat whose existence wasn’t known by Yoongi yet. The lightbulb above your head lightened up. 

“Do you wanna see my cat?” You sent the text. 

**

Yoongi texted you to let you know that he had arrived at your place. You recalled last time he picked you up it took him around fifteen minutes but this time he only took ten. You wondered what made him arrive a lot quicker. 

You were giddy with excitement and took a screenshot to tell your friend. Instead of being excited and giddy for you, your friend sent a bunch of side-eye emojis. Well, they could be just teasing you but the chat bubble following afterwards had you wondering. 

“Woo! Give me a rating score later!!!” 

You crooked your head in confusion, but there was no time to ponder on your friend’s riddle when Yoongi was already waiting for you to open the front door. 

“Hey.”

That hey definitely did not have to sound that deep and hot. You had to gulped your saliva down upon seeing him in his comfortable clothes. Since when did wearing sweatpants and baggy t-shirt looked so good? And did he just had his hair cut or was it just you? So many questions pilling up in your head. 

You knew it was game over when he went in for a hug. Heavenly was the only words you could use to describe his smell. It was a mixture of his shampoo and his laundry detergent, and his intoxicating smell. It seemed like he didn’t even use any perfume. 

“What should we eat?” You said while smiling giddily. 

“I’m kinda craving some instant ramen?” He looked at you while lifting a shopping bag filled with a few packets of noodles. 

Your eyes beamed. “That sounds really nice actually with the weather and all.” 

“Alright cool.” He nodded. “Let’s cook?”

Yoongi was being extra touchy. You were boiling the water and he would swiftly grab the chopsticks in front of you from behind, making you feel his chest. You fully knew well that he could easily grab the utensils without doing that, but for some reason the demons were working hard at the moment. He even leaned his chin over your shoulder as you were chopping some sausages. At this point he could be doing it on purpose for all you knew. 

He did not stop when you both started to eat. From the smooth wiping your lips from food to feeding you. Who was this person and what had he done to Yoongi you might never know. 

Right after washing the dishes and escaping a few of Yoongi’s teases, you both chilled on the sofa. As you browsed through Netflix, you could sense him scooting closer to you. You could feel his body warmth that automatically made yours grew hotter as well. 

“What are we watching?” He asked with a husky voice. By this point he was hugging your waist and rested his body weight on you. 

“I was thinking some action? You love those right?”

“I do.” 

You paused. Why was the tone of his voice sounded slightly off and why was he looking at you funnily?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He broke into a small smile. “Nothing.”

“Stop or I’ll make you watch Puss in Boots!” You whined. 

And then it hit you. The cat! You were too busy being swayed, head in the clouds, fantasizing, that you forgot why he was initially visiting you in your apartment.

“My cat!” You exclaimed loudly, which made Yoongi jumped and sat back up from his position. 

You missed the look of confusion in Yoongi’s face as you ran quickly to your room to pick up the furball in your bedroom. 

“I can’t believe I forgot about him!” You chuckled with your pet now in your arms. “He doesn’t like roaming around, he mostly sleeps in my room.”

Yoongi just looked at you, quizzically. As if he could not believe his eyes. 

“Meet Zuko!” You smiled, proudly showing your cat. “Zuko, meet Yoongi.” You giggled and shoved the cat to the man’s hands. 

He stared at the cat blankly for a good few seconds before gently petting the creature’s head. 

“Uh, hi.” He said, sounding lightly awkward. “He’s actually really cute.”

“I know right!” You grinned. “Do you wanna hold him?”

“Sure.” He said, sounding a little unsure. 

The man sat down with your cat on his lap, slowly stroking the soft white fur of its tiny body. You bent down, sat on the carpet on his knee level to pet the cat. Somehow seeing you smile lovingly at the cat made Yoongi’s lips curled into a soft smile as well. 

“You’re adorable.” Yoongi said. 

“He’s the cutest cat, I know.”

“No, I mean you.” 

“Oh.” You shyly looked away, hoping the nervous giggles did not give it away. “Thank you.” 

Yoongi chuckled and huffed a sigh. “I can’t believe there’s actually a cat.”

“Huh?” You crooked your head to the side, wondering what the guy meant by that. “Of course there is? What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He laughed. “You don’t know?”

“Uh, no?” 

He ruffled your hair and laughed again, this time a little bit louder than before. You were still stunned, too confused to process when he quickly pulled you in and kissed your forehead. Suddenly you did not want to protest about how messy he just made your hair. 

“It’s alright, maybe next time.” 

You covered your face with both of your palms.  “What’s with you today?!” You said with your hands still covering your face. 

“I like you.” He shrugged. “Might not be the most animated guy out there so I’m just letting you know.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m so confused with you today???” You said with flushed face. “Oh my god, that’s not the point though! I like you too!”

He chuckled. “Let’s just get back to the movie?”

The vibe after that conversation calmed down. Maybe it was the whole letting-the-cat-out-of-the-bag thing on your feelings making the air less thick. You ended up just cuddling, snuggling to each other while watching The Notebook. You both hated romance movies, but somehow finished the entire movie anyway after you misclicked it in the first place. It was nice and warm being in Yoongi’s arms and you were afraid you wouldn’t want to ever let go. 

And it was finally time for him to go home. Crazy how you did not notice the time went by so fast. Heck, you didn’t even notice the screen was already playing another movie. How could you when Yoongi was caressing your hair ever so gently? Goodness gracious. 

“Hey, I have to go now. Meeting in an hour, remember?” He tapped your shoulder. 

“I’m not letting you go.” You whined, hugging him tighter. 

He laughed. “Silly, I can come again tomorrow.”

You sat back up and looked at him. “Really???”

“I mean yeah, you don’t have work on Sunday, right?” He smiled. “If you want to, that is.”

“I want to.” You giggled. 

He flashed his gummy smile one more time before getting up from your couch. You walked with him to the door and waited for him to grab his jacket. The whole time you were stalling, asking him the most random questions, and made the silliest remarks. You just didn’t want him to go home yet, especially after finding out that he liked you too. 

“As much as I’d love to talk more about how much I disliked the whole education system, I really have to go now.” He chuckled. 

“Okay.” You pouted. You watched as he got up from tying his shoelaces. 

He huffed a sigh and smiled. “Come closer.”

You did as told without thinking and in a quick seconds, somehow you were pulled into a soft kiss. It was a soft peck and you could feel his smile through it. He didn’t gave you a chance to react as he swiftly let go. 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“Come on…” You whined again and covered your face in awkwardness, and he could only laugh at you. “Go! Before I lock you up!”

“I’ll text you.” He waved and you finally closed your door. 

You found yourself giggling and smiling to yourself like an idiot. This was new. Whatever in the fresh hell was that, you couldn’t lie to yourself that you were into this somewhat bold and flirty side of him. 

You casually walked back to your couch and switched the tv to youtube. As you let random science podcast video play, you decided to check your phone, realizing you had not text your friend back yet. 

“What do you mean by giving a score?”

Your friend replied almost too immediately. You were shocked to see the usage of caps lock. 

“YOU DON’T KNOW??????!!!!! WTF???”

“Okay, explain?????”

“Poor Yoongi has to deal with your dumbass 😔” 

“Shut up 🖕🖕🖕”

“It’s a code. You say that instead of asking to come over and have sex. Basically the new netflix and chill.”

“… okay. OKAY???!!!!!!”

“Bestie, did something happen though??? 😍”

“SO THAT’S WHY HE TOLD ME HE WAS SURPRISED THAT THERE WAS ACTUALLY A CAT???? OMFGGGGGG!!!!!! ASFDKSPSKSG 😭😭😭”

You put down your phone to muffle your tiny scream with your knuckles. You recalled him mentioning a next time. Then you also recalled him wanting to come over again tomorrow. Needless to say, it was finally time to let out that one cute underwear you had been keeping in your drawer for months.

Thank you for reading! 🐈‍⬛💕

[bbluefllame]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 .ᐟ

synopsis: the boys taking care of you when you're sick ! (smau + hcs cs I love domesticity and I was listening to w2e and laufey)

chars: keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

note: I was sick and mentally ill (devastating combo...) so! this was made cs I missed my babies. also, touya being rehabilitated (as always)

k. takami

- He rarely ever gets sick, so he gets home and starts panicking when he sees you next to the toilet throwing up and looking like death

- his ass is literally like “I know what to do, don't worry!” while he's running to the kitchen to google what to do before forcing you to chug medicine

- I've never seen someone more overprotective than him when you're sick. He'd be telling you to lay down the second you drag yourself off the bathroom floor

- God forbid you do any work around him, he'd give you the mom stare and tell you to go to sleep (like his ass even sleeps when he's sick…)

- he'd attempted to make chicken noodle soup but failed miserably. He put in too much salt and was like “it's fine, electrolytes are good, right??” Then he gives it to you, and even with broken taste buds, you can tell it's ass😔

- he's trying he swears, he's js not the best at taking care of sick people😔✊️ even though it kinda sucks he does put in a lot of effort and it's honestly pretty sweet even if he fucks up half the time! (When ur better tell him he did well, he'd melt even if he knows he sucked)

t. todoroki

- he doesn't know SHIT about being sick, patching up wounds and burns? ez. anything else? absolutely fried, COOKED!

- if ur horribly sick, he'd call his mom and fuyumi for advice. He'd be really aggressive while doing stuff for you, almost like he's mad, but he's not he's js aggressive 😭😭

- sucks in the kitchen, he's trying to turn on the stove but it doesn't work (or so he says), he runs back home and rei gives him a tub of soup to bring to you.

- he pretends he made it btw, reheats it and brings it to you on a tray, then goes “yeah I made it” when you praise him he looks proud and tries to hide his smile as if he fr made it (you know he didn't but ignore it)

- reads to you, don't ask why I think that he js does ‼️ you'd be laying your head on his shoulder and he's reading to you til you sleep (he's so cute clutching my stomach SOBBING)

t. shigaraki

- there's touya clueless then we have tomura clueless, tomura was taken care of by kurogiri if he got sick so he wouldn't really know what to do. He'd js try and copy what he remembers kurogiri doing😔 (he's trying his best okay‼️‼️)

- he'd do what you asked no questions, except he usually doesn't know what to do so he's js walking around clueless going “I know how to do this” (he doesn't know)

- unexpectedly, he's actually really good at making soup. He was gonna ask the chefs in the plf mansion, but he decided to try (soup is the only thing he can make without it burning)

- if you said it tasted good, he'd be grinning so hard thinking he's a chef and being all cocky & shi🙄🙄 like it wasn't allat calm down!

- when you came to find him, he jumped cs of how dead you looked and said damn, if u js started cussing him out he'd be stuttering and apologizing while trying not to giggle (beat his ass pls) (he should've stayed lost)

[azzibuckets]

i want the world to know

[paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: 5 times you and paige accidentally expose your relationship to the world (aka when your love is so strong you guys can’t help but slip up) and the 1 time you make sure the world knows

a/n: Ok so i wrote the summary rly wrong cuz idk how to word it but yk how the format goes 😅

masterlist

#1

You lifted the Big East championship trophy in the air, grinning at the crowd of cameras. After getting into several different poses, you handed the trophy off to another teammate for their turn and rejoined the rest of the girls, who were packed into a tight circle, whooping and dancing as you all celebrated your tournament win.

You were all watching and hollering in support as KK did the griddy when Paige touched your upper arm.

“What’s up?” You yelled over the noise of the fans and the team celebrating, stepping aside so you could hear her.

She shook her head, eyes sparkling as she stepped closer to you. “Your hat,” she murmured, gently take your Big East champs hat off your head.

“Is there something wrong?” You reached up to mess with your hair, but Paige got to it first, softly pulling out strands from behind your ears and combing through your hair with her fingers. “Just a little messy,” she explained. Her nose scrunched and her tongue poked out in concentration as she carefully fixed your hair, then put the cap back on backwards.

“Paige,” you complained, but with a smile on your face.

“‘M sorry, you just look so cute and gangsta with it backwards,” Paige stifled a giggle, giving the brim of your cap a little flick.

You pouted. “P, put it back right.” You whined.

“Alright, alright.” Paige stopped teasing you and swung your hat around. You beamed at her as she straightened your cap, leaving her finishing touches. Stepping back, she observed you with a proud smile on her face.

The next morning, photos of Paige touching your hair were all over Twitter, and fans started suspecting you two were more than friends.

#2

Some of the girls were over at KK’s apartment. Being the mother that you were, you took charge of making dinner, getting started in the kitchen by chopping vegetables for your famous chicken noodle soup.

After some time, Paige ambled into the kitchen, bored with the live and already missing you.

“How’s the food going, baby?” Paige came up from behind you, sneaking her hands around your waist and resting her cheek against your head.

“Good, you wanna help?” You turned around to give Paige a soft kiss on the lips before focusing back on preparing dinner.

“I dunno,” Paige gently rocked back and forth with you, burrowing her face into the curve of your neck. “Your hair smells so good. Can I jus stay right here?”

“If you want,” you giggled.

You guys started fooling around like love birds, Paige grabbing random slices of vegetables off the cutting board and popping it into both of your mouths.

That’s when KK came in, still on live. She carefully maneuvered around you guys, trying not to get you on camera, as she grabbed a snack. But as she left the kitchen, she ripped open a bag of goldfish, causing her phone to shift and catch you two in the background.

3712 viewers saw Paige feeding you a slice of carrot from behind, one of her hands in the pocket of your jeans and the other reaching around your shoulder to put the food in your mouth, thumb resting on the corner of your lips as you chewed.

#3

During a game against Seton Hall, Paige got elbowed while on defense, the girl’s elbow flying up and smacking into her face.

Paige flew backwards, dropping to the ground, the pain taking away her breath. Still, she forced herself to get up and keep playing defense, sprinting to catch up and do her duty.

After that possession, as she got subbed out with blood dripping from her nose and down her mouth, she yelled angrily at the referee. One of the team’s physicians ran up to Paige with a napkin, trying to blot at her nose, but Paige’s mind was buzzing with an intense mixture of anger and pain, and she pushed away from the physician, brushing both her and Geno’s orders for her to calm down off as she tried to keep yelling at the ref.

Seeing the physician’s growing frustration at Paige refusing to let her clean up her nose, you got up from the bench and over to Paige. “Let me,” you told the physician, who gratefully handed you the napkin.

“Paige.” At your voice, Paige turned around.

“What the hell was that?” She demanded. “You saw that right? They didn’t even fucking call it-“

“Paige,” you reached out with the napkin. “I know. Let’s just get you cleaned up first, hm?”

Paige reluctantly nodded, leaning forward to let you wipe up her nose. You placed one hand under her chin to stabilize her. You didn’t even realize it, but your thumb instinctually stroked her cheek in an attempt to soothe her. She continued grumbling under her breath, but stayed still so you could make sure she was okay.

As soon as you wiped up the last of the blood, she started to walk off, but you called her back. “P, let them check to see if it’s broken.” You gestured at the physician waiting helplessly on the side.

Paige rolled her eyes but turned around to make her way back to the physician.

Later that night, the video of you cleaning up Paige’s bloody nose went viral on Tiktok, the comments going wild over how Paige seemingly refused to listen to anyone but you.

#4

You and Paige were attending the ESPY Awards. Paige was nominated for Female College Athlete of the Year and had invited you along as her plus one. When she won, you both stood up in excitement, and you couldn’t help but kiss her on the cheek before she went up on stage to accept her award.

All night you two had been a little bit more touchy than expected for friends. On the red carpet, her hand constantly rested on the small of your back. Even when she was getting interviewed and you were standing off to the side, some part of her body was always touching you.

Your table was in the very corner of the venue, so you decided it was safe to interlock your ankles. You two often did that as a way to reassurance each other of your presence when you couldn’t touch in more obvious ways. Her ankle wrapped around yours, and your calves pressed against each other.

Both of you failed to see that the table cloth only covered half of your legs, and so anyone who walked by and looked closely would see them intertwined. Which still would’ve been fine, since you guys were in the back of the room - the only reason you two were caught was because you were in a background of a picture of the couple at the table in front of you. In the background, you were staring at each other with fond smiles on your faces, and if you zoomed in, it was clear as day that your legs were interlocked.

Later that night, as you guys left the ceremony, throngs of sports fans waited outside, yelling at the athletes streaming out of venue in hopes of getting noticed. Paige shielded you from them, moving from your left to your right side so that her body blocked out all the fans reaching out and waving their posters in your faces. Her hand glanced over your waist, leading you through.

#5

You had Paige enfolded against the wall of the bedroom. She let out a guttural sound as you sucked her skin between your lips, rolling it between your teeth.

“Baby,” she breathed, fingers tracing down your spine. “Holy shit, this feels so good, but we really gotta go.”

You ignored her words, continuing to brush your lips over her skin, until she had to physically push you away. “I want you,” you complained, fisting the bottom of her shirt to attach your lips to hers.

Paige kissed you back, slow and steady, before gently grabbing your chin and pulling apart. “I know, baby, I promise we can continue this later. But Geno’s gonna kill us if we’re late.”

The whole team was supposed to go to a media event at Gampel to promote March Madness. You’d have to meet fans and also do interviews with the press, but right now you didn’t cary about any of that. All you wanted was Paige, now.

But your girlfriend was firm, leading you out the door. Right before you got to Gampel, you dropped her hand, and you both walked with your arms crossed, knowing that if either of you left your hands dangling, they’d end up intertwined.

As soon as you entered, Paige was pulled away for an interview. You had twenty minutes until yours, so in the mean time you hung out with Ice, talking to some fans.

“I like your lipstick,” one of the fans complimented you. You had put on bright maroon lipstick before leaving the house.

“Thank you!” you smiled, laughing and agreeing once the fan asked you to post your makeup routine and the brands of all your products later on Instagram.

Paige finished up her interview and came over to you and Ice. “Thank god,” she muttered, “that took forever. And it’s so hot in here.” She ran her hands through her hair, collecting it into a ponytail.

You froze when you saw smudges of maroon littering Paige’s neck. You had been careful not to leave hickeys, but in your rush to leave the apartment, you had forgotten to clean up your lipstick once Paige had let her hair down.

“What?” Paige cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but before you could say anything, a fan came and asked her for a picture.

“Hey, wait,” you interrupted, but the fan quickly snapped a photo and took off in her eagerness to find the rest of the team.

“Oh my god,” you muttered. “Paige, look.” You opened your camera on your phone, showing the crimson on her neck.

Paige gaped for a second before bursting out in laughter. “I’m not gonna lie, babe. This is kinda hot.” She examined her neck, trailing her fingers over the red marks.

You glared at her, completely unamused. “I’m literally wearing bright maroon lipstick, and that photo the girl took with you is gonna be all over the Internet within the next two hours.”

Paige adjusted her hair to cover her neck again. “Listen, baby, I’m not entirely opposed to people finding out. I want the world to know you’re my girl.”

You blushed, Paige’s possessiveness sending warm tingles throughout your body. You were her girl. “I know, but there were so many more ways we could’ve let people find out. So many more romantic ways.”

Paige grinned, hooking her fingers through the loops of your jeans and pulling you in. “I don’t know,” she teased. “This seems pretty romantic.”

“If we’re both being honest, almost the whole world already knows we’re dating. We’re not that sneaky,” you admitted.

A glint appeared in Paige’s eyes. “Well, then, we might as well show the ones who don’t.” She smirked at you before gathering her hair into a ponytail.

[zvdvdlvr]

to the heart

cred: @/cafekitsune

Being John’s wifewho is a badass cook and finally meets the team!!

     Your mother always said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Being married to the one and only John Price could only further confirm her statement.

     John was a military captain- forming, training, and leading men and women into missions that could very well take their lives. As well as gain muscle and a family, military folk also gained an iron stomach. At least in John’s case.

     The way he casually scooped up half the lasgma in the big pan made you wonder how he had survived off of packaged meals. John just shoveled down mouthful by mouthful as you eargerly awaited his reaction. Making something John wouldn’t like is borderline impossible, but you wanted to make only the best for the man that protected you and your loved ones in ways you couldn’t even imagine.

     When John finally asked you if you’d be open to meeting the men he unofficially adopted, you were immediately filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Your husband had refrained from the gory details of the missions he preformed but entertained you with stories of his team goofing off or doing something impressive (John was more proud of those men then he let on and you could tell). He had told you that the way he had described your cooking had the men salivating.

     You had decided to make a classic meal on the evening they were to dine with you. A simple but tasty spaghetti and meatballs dish. For the side- recipe you’d seen from Instagram- you cooked up a dozen fluffy pull-apart garlic/cheese/butter muffins (all dishes were John approved, of course, he’s eaten everything you’ve made). You debated a salad, but figured you’d just offer instead of set out a bowl in case they didn’t want any lettuce or anything.

     John pulled you out of the kitchen when he heard the sound of an engine come closer to your secluded country-side home. “They already love you with the way I talk about you, love. Don’t worry your pretty little head,” he murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to your forhead as he les you out to the porch.

     Eventually you found out John was exactly right. You greeted everyone with a hug- which was surprising to you that Simon seemed to melt into you like he hadn’t felt a good hug in years because, according to the stories John told you, Simon was anti-touch. Kyle was a sweet young man and you could tell how mich he admired John. Johnny was a handful, you observed. He immediately started taking cracks at Simon after he pulled away from the bone-breaking hug he gave you and recieved a sharp punch to the shoulder.

     “Plates and bowls are right there. Silverware’s on the table,” you said, gesturing to the respective items. “Come on, J,” you said, urging your husband up from his spot at the table.

     John carried your plate and his in one hand and weapped his hand around your waist with the other. “Are you doing alright so far, love?”

     You nodded with a bright smile. You easily got along with John’s teammates and they seemed to get along with you. And you could only hope that they liked the food you made.

     Luckily for you, though, you didn’t have to wait long for your answer.

     You were sitting down in your seat beside John when you heard a noise that sounded like a gasp and a whimper.

     Two spots to your left, the fork in Johnny’s hands shook as he chewed.

     “Is- Are you okay?” You asked skeptically. You’d avoided using any foods you’d known they were allergic to, so what was the problem? Did he not like it? Did the spaghetti go bad? Were the meatballs moldy? Did you add the wrong spices to the pull-apart muffins?

     “Lass… I need you to send me ma this recipe. I don’t- this is- serve this at my funeral, cap, bury me in this,” he babbled as he shoved forkfuls of noodles into his mouth.

     You breathed a sigh of relief, incredibly grateful for Johnny’s compliment and reaction. You looked at Simon and Kyle. To your surprise they too practically licked their playe xlean before bouncing back up to get an even bigger heap of spaghetti.

     John watched you through moist eyes and soft smile. The way you fawned over his team like a mother duckling made his heart race in ways he didn’t know was possible for a man his age. He didn’t have to tell you how much he cared for Simon, Kyle, and Johnny. You knew because you always knew- even when John couldn’t form the words to say anything. Seeing you all interact made his heart swell. John felt complete; pure, even. At times he wasn’t sure if he deserved this small but solid family, but he knew he would fight tooth and nail to protect each and every one of you.

[imjustdelusionalok]

yandere dc: meeting camgirl! reader <3 pt. 2

Yuppp, this is the part two of my previous post <33 but this time she'll be meeting the rest of the batboys and kon! (reminder she has met some of them even from before!!)

if you get into the 'terry mcginnis' part and is confused on who he is, watch batman beyond bc hes the new batman and its sooo good and hes underrated <3

Anywho here it isss

BIG warning: this may more or less have the same amount of clownery as the last one so prepare my sweets and also my brain is fried so some parts might not make sense but i tried😔💔 please repost to support me i spent sm timee 😭

tim drake aka 'red robin':

Also one of your most biggest and creepiest faithful fans that you've ever had in your stream!

Hes a frequent donor AND victim to your relentless charms just like jason and dick.

Has met you before you decided to even become a cam girl, as you two both go to the same school AND classes too 🥰 (he may or may have not gotten bruce to manipulate the principal or some higher up into changing classes...)

he's like a lovesick highschool student who developed a crush, but this time more extreme.

While you on the otherhand, saw a weird looking boy staring at you with the most fullest smile you've ever seen. toothy, cheshire grin, and all-- (he ran away almost IMMEDIATELY when you saw him)

(...you also chased after him when he ran 💀 he was shooked, but stops once your hand grabs his shoulder and you ask him who he was)

"You >:D i saw you looking at me, who are you >:)"

...my, he never knew you were this bold... you really need to stop being so cute or your further fueling his delusions i swear--

You shake him. "Ow- okay-- my name's Tim--"

You then smile and drag a stunned but intrigued timothy with you.

...Are you perhaps some social butterfly, darling?...

From that moment on, tim's interest in you increases and a friendship between you and him bloomed! Hes so proud of himself for making the first move even though you did it first...

(Again, dont ask how darling lives in bludhaven, but meets tim and jason whose in gotham 💀 either think of her as having teleportation powers being the reason for the frequent back-and-forths or tim being so obssessed, he moves in bludhaven just to see reader--)

When i said creepy, i said c r e e p y. Even worse than klarion, thaddeus, and even dick who i said before was on another level 😦

Tim is both sweet, nervous, and shy... or at least, is how he shows himself for you.

he must look decent for you or how else would he make you reciprocate his feelings?

He's capable of changing in a blink of an eye so anybody who isn't his beloved, dont test him, okay? <3

He sits in the back with darling in class. In the back. You heard me.

Normally he'd be in the front to be able to see and listen better, but darling is a slacker so--

He sighs, looking at his rushed and poorly written notes. He doesnt even know what the topic is anymore, and it kinda looks like hieroglyphics--

Meanwhile, you on the otherhand, was cooking instant noodles with the others... with a pot AND a stove... D: (he loves you but damn he wants to cry rlly bad on how screwed you two are--)

As for the part where he finds out about your part-time job as a cam girl, this man was seething.

No honey, not at you, but at your parents-- how could they let their beautiful daughter do this?! Do they even care?!-- oh? What was that, darling?... Your parents were gone? i guess that explains it...

proceeds to feel bad for you, and wishes to look after you. But you being you, you remain so hardheaded. Why cant you let him love you?? why cant you quit that stupid job?! >:( (hes a bit hypocritical on this one since he literally donates thus further fueling you to go on)

Sigh... nevertheless, he realizes a bit that he can't persuade someone like you for now, so he donates in your live like the good friend he is...

Yeah, 'good friend'...

In the darkness of his room, he watches with unblinking eyes the way your body moves on his screen. You look so enticing, the way a bit of pink colors your cheeks, how every moan you give were light and breathy... simply fantastic. He sighs.

"Oh baby... what am i going to do with you?... <3"

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 38% for nuisance, 70% for humor (80% as red robin)

⋆˚✿˖°

conner kent aka 'superboy':

Ah yes, another top donor and one of your most perverted watchers out there.

Cocky, rebellious, womanizing... doll, you're just another girl for him to use in order to piss off tim since he loves pushing that man's patience so much.

Has probably met you through him too, as this man follows his best friend that has been, in his eyes, acting a bit too strange lately.

And he now knows why. You.

thinks you're absolutely adorable. the way you act out of impulse to the way you speak so brazenly to him, intrigues the kryptonian so much.

Hm, your going to be so much fun to play with <3

But unfortunately, the boy of steel did not know who he was up against.

"...Doll, what did you just say?--" it was 8 at night and he was in his best attire holding a bouquet of flowers. Not just your average red roses, but a well-thought out blend of daffodils, carnations, and tulips. just for you.

But right now, you're breaking his heart.

"Yeah Kon, i love you but no. i'm not dating you. Sorry."

...you don't have the right to say you love him.

"a-and why can't we date?--" he was so confused, these months spent trying to court you, all wasted.

"erm... im not interested, kon. yeah you're hot and you support me and all, but im gonna be honest with you... you're not my type. and plus..."

he feels his heart break even more when you continue.

"...I'm interested in someone. I've known them for so long Kon, and i would hurt them if i get with you."

...

"...sorry." you run away.

things with kon has never felt the same since. he no longer visits tim just to see you, only him. he ignores you too, not even a single glance being spared. but you swear you could feel cold blue eyes watching your figure sometimes...

...and then that happens. you see a message notification from him. conner.

'im sorry if i made things awkward between us. forgive me, doll? :('

your thumb hovered whether or not to answer. you made your decision.

'kay. wanna play dti? :3'

he's so glad you cant see him right now... crying pure tears of joy, and complete relief that you took the bait.

'okay :)'

just because he got rejected by you once that doesnt mean he's immediately gonna back down <33 and about that boy you like, who was it? can't you tell him and he'll give a quick visit to the very lucky guy...

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 49% for nuisance, 80% for humor (95% as superboy)

ᯓᡣ𐭩

damian wayne aka 'robin':

...knows the guy that you like.

he's genuinely angry at you, but mostly at your taste.

seriously, him? why not him instead...

frequently donates money and is also very dedicated in line.

(to save you trouble, most of the batfam is a big fan to you and are often your biggest donors. they wish to stop you from pursuing such a... scandalous, line of work but cant help but further support you the more they give money and get addicted to the content you make 😞💔)

discovered you on accident when a certain someone, *cough* tim, *cough* left their computer on without closing the tabs.

you cannot simply imagine the sheer shock that painted his face during that time, seeing someone, you, getting it on with another guy that seems all too familiar.

...and he cant help but get angry. (you'll all understand soon enough why he and kon hates reader's man and possible bf sm 😭)

meeting you face to face... thats a whole situation. tim immediately regrets bringing damian to see you because this man already went off on how much of a 'hoe', you are.

you can take a lot of things, but this boy rubs you off wrong.

"seriously, drake? your new friend is a prostitute? you drew the line making friends with that kryptonian clone, but this takes the cak--"

*slap.*

...that hurts. damian's hand slowly makes its way up to his cheek, where the red was starting to spring.

he looks at you like you were mad. you are, thanks to him. "...you... you little---"

he was held back by an angry but calmer kon despite being also insulted, whilst tim holds you comfortably.

"hey don't listen to damian over there, alright? :( he's just a bit--"

"I'm speaking facts here!-- hmpfh!" a hand covers his mouth.

"seriously tim, does he ever shut his mouth?" kon says.

he huffs. "no. and that's why i was considering bringing duct tape earlier, Kon."

...okay, maybe his first impression forever got him labelled as a bitch in your eyes, but damian tries to make it up to you in any way he can since he actually finds you decent after getting to know you. (think of those asian parents that after scolding you till you cry, they give you food but instead money in damian's version)

"...ahem."

no response.

"...AHEM."

you finally look up at him, and a bag was thrown straight at your face. "you stupid ass-- wait a minute." you look inside the bag and it was filled with... money.

you look up at damian, only to see his figure quickly dashing off and hide behind a wall where he would secretly try and take a peek for your reaction. you smile and give a thumbs up.

"...you aren't that bad, but try shutting your mouth most of the time, okay? :3 <3"

...the green in his eyes glinted... and he scoffs. typical damian wayne.

"...sure, prozzy-- HEY STOP CRYING--"

fierce but protective. rude but caring. that is what damian is towards you.

and that is how he'll always be as long as that man is around...

"i'll be with you. and i shall do everything in my power to ensure you do not end up with him!--" too late.

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 25% for nuisance, 78% for humor (89% as robin)

ִֶָ࣪☾.𔘓

terry mcginnis aka 'batman beyond':

...is the man that kon, damian, and the others have beef with.

how he's part of the main timeline in this is that all of the events before batman beyond happens earlier. (i also tweaked a few things in canon here so dont mind me)

terry's dad died before the entire 'Powers' situation, leading to Terry living with his mom earlier.

...terry also suffers from something.

at a young age, terry cannot feel any sort of emotions. remorse, empathy, such things were removed from him. he could only feel empty, comparable to having a large gaping hole inside his chest instead of a beating heart.

the boy ponders why he was cursed with such a thing, and why he could only feel pity and sadness. just a little.

...he thought he was unsavable. until--

his eyes lands on you, the girl who was playing on the playground's swing. (note: darling used to live in gotham as a kid)

...he gulps. pretty...

"you there, what's your name?" you asked. always the first one to make a move...

...and you sound nice.

"hm? well? :3"

...he decided to speak. "...terry. i'm terry... you?..."

you smile. "they call me (name), pretty right?" he could only nod. yes, it was very pretty...

i think everybody could guess how things go from then on.

he meets you, grows up with you, falls in love with you, and in the end lives happily with you... if only it weren't for his tendency to maim just about anyone who gets near you.

he's a dog, honey. but he's your rabid, vicious dog.

by the time he grows up, he's learned how to hide what he truly is from you, and the terry that we all come to know and love is now here.

charming, witty, humorous... terry mcginnis is nothing but an amorous boy for you... and you love it. (u match his freak sm)

in his eyes, you two are together <3 and its not even a lie you two are but you're too much in denial since you firmly believe he deserves better :( (tho thoughts like that dissapear when he and you yk ;))

absolutely hates it when you spend time with anyone, especially with his adopted siblings. dick, jason, tim, and damian? fuck no. (if you read the batman beyond comics, those two despise each other--)

...so expect those two to be at each other's necks.

and about the cam girl part, yup, this man knows. and like tim, he tries to persuade you to stop. you're a complicated person, he knows. either for money or fun, you do crazy shit like this every time... but this one's really serious.

"...look at me." you obey, eyes staring back at ocean blue ones. terry's eyes were always so pretty...

"...hehe, pretty eyed as ever, mcginnis..." and he can't help but smile slightly at your words.

"..." damn you, really. his soft spot for you is huge, and 99% of the time, you get off the hook easily.

in the end, he might have allowed you to do this... 'artist' stuff, but on one condition:

he gets to f*ck you on some parts.

you blink, cheeks starting to redden. "...what--" and just like that, your fate is sealed <3

...currently, you were on Live. the rest of your boy toys watched with envious yet very heated gazes as your pussy was getting demolished by his dick. the close up shots were so unnecessary, the way he roughly pummels into you was so--

'$10000 from GR4YS0N_68'

'GR4YS0N_68: ugh yea terry ruin that little bitches cunt'

terry grins, feeling you getting closer. the position you and him were in was perfect, babe... perfect for a pic.

his strong hand gently but firmly grabs your jaw, making you face the camera.

he whispers to you so closely."smile for the camera, sweetie."

you oblige, a broken smile on your lips. the stream abruptly ends.

no need for the public to know what you both are doing in private anymore...

Yandere rating: 100% on money, 0.0001% for nuisance, 90% for humor (100% as batman beyond)

(finally its finished 🤕 i have so many unfinished works huhu....)

(update: ill also try editing this too <3)

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

The many offers to one Billy Batson, curtesy of many a BatFam, and his answers

Jason offered to “strongly inconvenience” his scumbag uncle Ebenezer, he said sure and Jason planted a lot of illegal material in his house and got him arrested till he’s very very dead. The family home he stole is now property of a bank that Wayne enterprises just so happens to have recently bought

Damian offered a friendly alliance for information on the daily talks and goings on within the justice league, Billy said sure as long as Damian teaches him how to sword fight. Damian now has many files on the hilarious inside jokes, embarrassing moments of many justice league members, and lots of footage of Batman rambling on about how proud he is of Damian

Bruce offered to adopt him to get him off the streets, Billy said no. “I’m not going to give up being Billy Batson and be William Wayne-son Bats.”

Jason offered to let Billy be his sidekick for the week Batman told him he was benched from League business, Billy said yes and thus Hoodlum was born.

Stephanie offered him a twenty if he tried to use a phrase of her choosing as a spell on a thug next time they patrolled, he said yes. Turns out the Champion of Magic can bend a lot of rules with spell casting, so saying “skedaddle skidoodle your dick is now a noodle” apparently works as an actual hex (Bruce was not happy with either of them, the rest of the bat fam are not writing lists of phrase ideas to test and building a “Magic Test” fund. Absolutely not, no way)

Cass offered him some ASL lessons so he could remember how to do it without the Wisdom of Solomon, hopped right into being taught by her since it is a good skill to have.

[carlottawllms]

Author’s note: After my mini-series "Memory Loss", this is my first real and detailed series and I really hope you like it as much as I do! Huge thank you to @mountttmase for being my biggest supporter and motivating me to keep going when I was too disheartened. Without you, this series would never have been published. Thank you!

Also for this series pls keep the following in mind: Mason is his current age, but contrary to reality, he’s been playing for United for years.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. And now, enjoy! 🩷

-

When you’d gotten ready for work and made your way to Carrington, you’d hoped for a calm start into the new week. But you probably should’ve known that the chances of that happening were practically non-existent. There were no calm days at Manchester United; there was never a day without bad news coming your way and as one of the club’s PR managers, you could count the number of calm days in a year on one hand and then again, they usually only ever happened during your summer holidays.

But that today’s news would cause more than the typical chaos and would instead throw your whole life into disarray certainly hadn’t been on your bingo card for the week…

You’d just got out of the car and were on your way to the main entrance when you were met with the last person you’d expected to see here: Mae.

A former good friend of yours and Mason's ex. He and you had been best friends pretty much since he started at United and you’d introduced them to each other - not quite intentionally, but it had happened.

Mason and Mae had hit it off pretty well right away. So well, in fact, that they'd been together for about three years until he’d called it quits about a year ago. Albeit unplanned, they also had an adorable 2-year-old daughter together, the one you recognised in the background, holding on tightly to your best friend’s hand.

What was going on?

“Morning.”, you smiled. “You’re alright?”

“Yeah, perfect actually.”, she nodded, a disturbing bright smile on her face. “Mase might need your help from now on though. Have a good one, y/n.”

“What- Mae, I-“ You didn’t even have the time to question anything as she simply brushed past you and jogged to her car, not sparing anyone another glance.

“Well, that was weird.”, you mumbled under your breath, making your way over to the entrance where Mase, Ellie and Luke were still rooted to the spot.

Mae and your best friend shared custody of Ellie. As Mason was often travelling due to training camps and away games, he didn't have set days when he saw Ellie, but always gave Mae his days off a few weeks in advance so she could adjust. And it had actually worked pretty well so far...

Until your strange conversation with her just now, you’d thought that maybe she had an emergency or had to work spontaneously but judging by her good mood and Mason's completely horrified expression, neither was the case.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you this early. Good morning munchkin.” You squatted down to Ellie’s height with a bright smile on your face. Whatever was happening, she didn’t need to know just how worried you were and when you opened your arms, she fell straight into them.

“Look, auntie y/n.”, she said excitedly, nearly smashing the fluffy elephant she was holding into your face.

“If that isn’t the cutest little elephant I’ve ever seen. Does it have a name?”

Ellie nodded rapidly at that. “Noodle.” Her wide grin told you everything about proud she was of that name and although it was a rather odd one and made you want to laugh, you simply poked her little button nose.

“What a special name you’ve chosen there, princess. Well done.” With a kiss to her head, you stood back up, searching for Mason’s eyes immediately, but he still looked as shocked as before.

“What’s going on Mase?”, you asked, voice low to prevent the little one from listening in. “Why’s she here and why was Mae so weird?”

When Mason didn’t answer, Luke thankfully stepped in. “I haven’t caught everything, but she basically came here, dropped Ellie and the bag off and then told Mase in brief that she’d signed over full custody to him because she no longer wants to restrict herself. She talked something about leaving England and going to Dubai, but she didn't finish, so I’m not entirely sure. Mase tried to talk to her, but she just said there was nothing to discuss and that he could take responsibility now after the two years she’s had her. Said he’d made enough money in his career to be able to retire early and take care of his kid. Well and then she was gone. I tried running after her but…”

Your heart had dropped further into your stomach the more he’d said and once he was done, you were ready to throw up. It wasn't so much the fact that she left Mason alone with everything that was hurting you, but that she had the heart to leave her sweet little daughter behind like that; to break her heart and abandon her as if she didn’t mean anything.

Ellie was only your goddaughter, but you’d do literally everything for her. What kind of mother was cruel enough to leave her own child behind?

“Oh my god.”, you whispered, your gaze dropping down to that innocent little girl who probably had no idea what had just happened. The thought that in the years to come, when she’d have a better understanding of everything, she might come to the conclusion that it was her fault that her mother left her; that she wasn't enough, broke your heart. “Mase, I’m so sorry.”

You wrapped him into a hug, holding him as tightly as possible and when he eventually wrapped his free arm around you and hid his face in the crook of your neck, your heart broke all over again. He probably hadn’t really registered the extent of it all yet, but you could already tell how fragile and scared he was. His heart was beating way too quickly in his chest, his breathing irregular and once he’d calmed down and pulled away, the mist of tears and panic were easily recognisable in his big brown eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”, you whispered. “I’m here, I’ve got you both.”

After kissing his temple, you turned to Luke. “Take care of him at training, okay? Make sure he’s alright and not spiralling. I’ll take care of the rest.”

You kneeled back down in front of Ellie. The little girl had clutched her plush toy to her chest, hand still having a tight grip on her father’s fingers. “How about you and Noodle spend the day with auntie y/n, hm?”, you asked, tickling her sides a little. “I’ll show you my office and then we’ll go and gave a girl’s day. How does that sound, hm?”

The smile, that resembled her father’s so much, appeared on her lips. “Wif ice cweam?”

“Well, of course.”, you laughed. “It’s not a girl’s day without ice cream, munchkin.” You hoisted her up in your arms and as she was comfortable enough around you, she immediately sank into your body, arms wrapping around your neck, with the elephant still in her small hands.

“You finish at three?”

“Yeah, but I can-“

“No, no you can’t.”, you interrupted him, knowing that he wanted to propose calling it a day earlier. “You have an important game on Saturday, and I know what happened is major, but Mase, this little one here wouldn’t want you skipping training sessions or games, alright? Ellie and I will have a perfect day, you’ll get your pretty little bum out on the pitch and I’ll be back at 3.”

Your comment about his bum had actually brought up a tiny smile on his face and eventually he sighed and nodded. “Fine, but you can call me if som-“

“You do realise I’ve done this a lot, don’t you?”, you laughed. “Luke, just take him inside please. See you at three, Mase. Say bye to daddy, Ellie.”

“Bye daddy.” The little girl reached out and wrapped her arms around Mason’s neck in a mini hug and when he squeezed her tightly and made her giggle, your heart leaped in your chest.

In the beginning, right after he’d told you they were expecting, you’d had your problems with imagining Mason as a dad. Not because you’d questioned his abilities or whether he was meant to be a dad because the way he was with his niece just showcased how perfect of a dad he’d be, but back then he’d still been so young and a kid himself sometimes and you’d worried that they both had underestimated the responsibilities a child brought.

But against your worries, he’d been the perfect dad from the very first second on and whenever you saw him with Ellie, you couldn’t help but swoon over him and his interactions with his daughter.

After speaking to your boss and explaining the situation without giving too much detail as it wasn’t on you to decide how much Mason wanted to share about this topic, you took the day off and quickly drove towards one of your favourite breakfast spots as Ellie had negated having had breakfast already.

The little girl insisted on sitting in your lap whilst eating her yogurt and as she usually was quite the independent young lady and very much into doing things herself, it made you wonder if she��d understood more of what had happened than you’d thought.

Throughout the whole day, she seemed a little clingy; always either holding onto your hand tightly or wanting to be carried and everything about it pulled at every single one of your heartstrings. She was only a 2-year-old little girl; she should be carefree, laughing and enjoying life because it was still easy, but instead she was holding onto what she had left.

“Oh!”, Ellie suddenly exclaimed, pulling you from your deep thoughts. “Bwaseles.”

For a second you were confused what she was talking about, but when she eventually pointed at the little shop not too far from you, you realised the was talking about the woven bracelets they had.

“Do you want one?”, you asked, walking over to the shop with her on your hip. “Which colour do you like?”

Ellie took a moment to look at all the colours before she made grabby hands at the pink one. “This one, yeah? Should auntie y/n get one too?”

“Pink!”, she nodded and as smiled at you like that, you couldn’t help but stare at her little face for a moment. She was a carbon copy of Mason, had always been and would always be. There was not a trace of Mae and whilst at first, you’d felt a bit sorry for her as she’d carried her for 9 months only for her to look exactly like Mason, now you were glad she did.

She had the same features, big chocolate brown eyes, dimples when she smiled, and her tiny cheeks were littered with freckles. Her hair the same colour as his and she also scrunched up her nose adorably when she didn’t like something.

She was a mini-Mason; visually as well as in character.

“Oh, so we’re matching? I love that.”, you grinned excitedly before kissing her chubby cheek, making her giggle. “We could get daddy one too, you know? You can give it to him when we pick him up.”

After paying for three pink bracelets – the shop owner was kind enough to tie them around Ellie’s and your wrists – you made your way back to Carrington. It was shortly before three when you parked the car and lifted Ellie out of the child’s car seat you’d got fitted for her just recently.

She clung to your neck as you tried to set her down, so you kept her up and walked over to the main entrance with the little girl on your hip.

Mason was in deep conversation with Erik as you entered the building, probably filling him in on what had happened this morning as the expression on the manager’s face seemed concerned, but it wasn’t long until he spotted you and his player’s daughter. He waved you over with a smile and once you reached them, Erik gently tickled Ellie’s side.

“Hello you.” His smile turned into a laugh rather quickly as Ellie reached for his head, evidently surprised that there was no hair. The confused look on her face was way too adorable for her own good.

“Hi baby. Did you have a nice day with auntie y/n?”, Mason kissed her cheek as he took her from you and the little girl was quick in nodding. “Bwaseles.”

Your best friend furrowed his brows. “Brasles?”, he repeated and to you it sounded pretty much the same, but Ellie frowned and shook her head no.

“Bwaseles!”, she said again, this time a bit more determined, but as you could still see the confusion in Mason’s face, you decided to put him out of his misery.

“We’ve got matching bracelets.”, you explained, holding out your hand for him to see and Ellie, wanting to do the same, nearly smacked her dad in the eye. “And we got one for you too.”

“Yes daddy!” Ellie fidgeted in Mason’s hold as you pulled the bracelet out of your pocket. You could see in his eyes that he’d been hoping for a different colour, but as it came from his daughter he wouldn’t dare to complain.

Shifting Ellie a little so he could hold her with only one arm, he held the free one out and watched your slim fingers tightening it around his wrist and when Ellie beamed at him, he couldn’t help but smile brightly himself.

That little human in his arms was the most important person in his life, closely followed by the rest of his family – which included you.

Once Mason had grabbed his things, you walked to the carpark together. “I have a couple of things I need to do, but I’ll come over after, okay?”

“y/n, you don’t have to. I don’t want to be a burden an-“

“You could never be a burden, Mase.”, you smiled. “Either of you. It’s okay if you don’t want me to, then I’ll just go home, but I assume you’ve got some things you want to talk about, hm?”

Mason searched your eyes for a moment, unsure if he wanted to take up on your offer. What had happened to him meant a lot of baggage and he didn’t want you to suffer from it too, but he knew he couldn’t do this alone.

“Yeah, I think that would be nice.”, he sighed. “We can order something for dinner then.”

You said your goodbyes not too long after that and whilst Mason went home with Ellie, you got started on your little plan.

Obviously, Mason had the most important things at home. The nursery was equipped with everything a 2-year-old would need, but you knew that everything else, such as food, snacks and drinks, he hadn’t stocked up enough for even the week as normally she didn’t stay over on such short notice and especially not for such a long time.

And as you didn’t want him to have to go through the faff of getting all the stuff after exhausting training sessions, you’d decided to use the rest of your day off for helping him out. You’d spent enough time with him and Ellie to know what she liked so it was an easy thing to get done.

After a quick stop at your flat for a shower and a change of clothes, you arrived at Mason’s at around 5.

“Come on in.”, he smiled once he’d opened the door. “What’s all that you’ve got there?”

“Well, everything about today was very short notice and I assumed you weren’t properly prepared, so I went to the stores and got you the most important things.”, you explained, your cheeks blushing as you only now noticed how slightly invasive that sounded. Maybe he’d wanted to do it himself? You quickly brought the two bags inside so he could close the front door. “You should get through the week without having to get new stuff. I just thought it would make things easier for you, you know?”

Mason simply stared at you, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. He was overwhelmed, positively so, and when the tears welled up in his eyes, he pulled you into his chest. Arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, trying to will the tears to stay inside, but it was to no avail.

“Oh Mase.”, you sighed, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m here whatever you need.”

You kissed the side of his head whilst holding him as tightly as he was holding you. It was obvious how much he’d needed this hug and when you felt his hot tears on your skin, you started running your hand up and down his spine, whilst the other gently scratched the back of his head.  

It was the sound of Ellie’s voice that had you pulling away eventually. You gently wiped the tears off his reddened cheeks, thumbs brushing right beneath his eyes.

“Daddy?”

“Coming, princess.”, he called, gratefully taking the new colouring-in book you held out for him. “I’ll get her to play in her room for a bit. Be right back.”

Whilst he was sorting his daughter, you put the groceries and kid’s supplies you’d bought away and put the kettle on and before you knew it, Mason was back downstairs.

“C’mon, sit down.”, you nodded towards the kitchen table and once you sat opposite him, you locked your eyes on his. “How do you feel, Mase?”

“Lost.”, he admitted quietly. “I don’t know…before today everything seemed to be okay. She’s never said anything before and especially not that she doesn’t want Ellie around anymore. Whenever she came to pick her up she seemed happy to have her back and then today, she bulldozed in, dropped the bag to the ground, handed me Ellie who looked frightened as fuck and just told me that she doesn’t want her anymore. She had the decency to talk quietly so Ellie didn’t have to hear everything, but y/n, the way she talked it sounded as if our daughter was some sort of toy you could just give away once you were done playing with it. She literally said she’s had her for long enough and that now it’s my turn to take care of her. I just…this is all just so fucked up.”

When his eyes filled with tears again you weren’t sure if it was tears of sadness or pure frustration. Maybe it was both, but either way, it hurt you to see him like this. Carefully observing his reaction, you reached for his hand and squeezed it in sympathy and when Mason didn’t pull away, but instead wrapped his fingers around yours, you sent him a soft smile.

“I’m so sorry, Mase. I don’t understand her either and I know it’s difficult right now, but what’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one, y/n.”, he sighed helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. I’m away a lot, you know that. I have training til three, games and away games. Erik said I can take off a week to figure everything out and he’d still play me that weekend, but obviously when I stay away for longer, he’d have to bench me. I feel like I’ve been put in a position where no matter which decision I make, it’s the wrong one. But then again, I don’t really have a choice. Until I’ve found a nanny or something, I’ll have to stay home, I just…I don’t have a plan.”

You hated seeing him so down and distraught. He was this happy person who’d climbed every mountain, no matter how high, with a smile on his face so far but right now he looked as if he’d reached one that was too high to conquer.

“I do though, Mase. I have a plan, but I don’t want to overstep, okay?”, you started, squeezing his hand and when he nodded, you continued.

It was an idea that had spontaneously popped into your head in the car earlier. It was completely crazy and when you’d briefly called your best friend Kay during your mini-stop at home and asked her for her opinion, she’d openly doubted your sanity for a second.

But you didn’t care.

“What Ellie needs now is stability and a structured day. I still have about three weeks of annual leave, and I could take at least two weeks any time now, meaning you’d get one week with her so she can start to feel comfortable and at home and when you get back, I’ll be here. I would talk to Elizabeth if it’s possible for me to work part-time and from home and since it’s only for about a year until Ellie can join nursery school, it wouldn’t be forever. This way you wouldn’t have to go through the faff of finding a nanny you trust and put Ellie through getting to know a new person.”

Mason was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. “No, I can’t ask that of you, y/n.”

“You’re not asking, Mase. I’m offering.”, you smiled, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. You knew it sounded absolutely crazy, but you meant it.

“But…she’s not your daughter, you shouldn’t have to…and I just…I can ask my mum and-“

“Mase, hey, I just want her to be okay. If you rather your mum do it, then I’m okay with that, told you, you can totally say no. I was just thinking that she’d have to permanently move here and her life is down in Portsmouth. No matter the decision, Mase, you know they’ll come up here often anyway.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, trying to figure out what was best, and you gave him the time he needed. It was a big decision and one that he had to feel comfortable with.

“We could make a trial run, if you like.”, you added softly. “You know, see what it’s like those two weeks with me and if you want your mum to take over, you can still get her up here.” 

“You would do that?”, he asked quietly, not believing you’d give up a huge chunk of your life for a child that wasn’t yours. “You would actually do that? Take two weeks and then work from home? Part-time? y/n, that’s a huge thing and I don’t want you to abandon your own life for a girl that’s not even yours.”

“I love her, Mase. She’s not my actual daughter, I know that, but I’m her godmother and I love her and want her to be okay. I would do everything for her and for you, too, so unless you don’t want me to, I would love to step up and do this for you both.”

[tossawary]

Have you ever thought about who would be the funniest or most compelling naruto characters for either Shen Yuan or Shang Qinghua to transmigrate into?

Ha ha ha, no, that's never crossed my mind until now. Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua are most interesting to me because of their specific relationships to "Proud Immortal Demon Way" and its characters, but transferring their story-bending abilities as transmigrators to something else...

Being flippant about it, I guess I could say that Shen Yuan's most notable skill is his "reverse harem creation" ability, seducing the people around him by being nice to them and happy & chill about life. So, any character for whom a harem is particularly funny. It would be funny to put him in Naruto, because Naruto is also not too shabby at building a harem and Shen Yuan is also a rather unambitious person who would probably hate being the protagonist. It would be funny if Shen Yuan could make Sasuke obsessed with HIM instead.

Generally, however, it's always fun to put Shen Yuan into scum villain roles. He'd probably make a good Orochimaru. It would be very funny if he accidentally seduced Kabuto or someone like that.

Airplane Bro in the "Naruto" universe is funny to think about because he's no longer the author and maybe he didn't even LIKE "Naruto" all that much. Maybe he never even finished it. He was using the one manga volume of "Naruto" that he owned as the coaster for his noodle bowl just before he transmigrated. He's SO bitter about it. He wrote a 20 million word story and didn't even get to transmigrate THERE???

Airplane Bro's main skills involve paperwork, being a traitor, and seducing cold-faced henchmen, so... I don't know. He should be someone relatively plain and it should be really funny to have a terrifying villain head over heels in love with him, and I cannot name a set of characters off the top of my head. When I try to think of "Naruto" characters who don't make facial expressions, I keep getting stuck on Itachi, and I have no idea who would be the funniest character to have accidentally earned Itachi's loyalty by being nice to him over the course of his childhood. I guess I'd say to pick an Akatsuki member and invent some random nobody ninja so Airplane Bro can be their new pathetic sidekick.

Rule of thumb for SVSSS fic ideas for me is "Is it funny?" Or "Does it break my heart?" but mostly "Is it funny?" Preferably in the way that breaks a genre trope.

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you're in the hive, the other bees assume you're supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Summary:

Virgil accidentally gets absorbed by his best friend's brother's polycule.

In his defense, they keep feeding him every time they see him, and Patton's cooking is really good.

Chapter 1: Halloween Party

Wordcount: 1.9K

~

There are a lot of people Virgil doesn't know at this party. Remus is here, somewhere, and Virgil needs to find him again before the party ends, because Remus was his ride and he doesn't want to get left here. Janus is here too though, and Virgil doesn't think Janus would let Remus leave without him, and he's sure Remus wouldn't desert Janus, so he's trying not to worry too much about the fact that he doesn't currently know where Remus is.

But that's it for people Virgil knows, and Remus didn't even bother to introduce him to anyone before fucking off to who knows where, and Virgil’s certainly not going to walk up to a random stranger and introduce himself, so he's currently appreciating the snack table. If he's eating or deliberating on what to eat next, he can't be expected to talk to anybody, right?

“’Scuse me, itsy bitsy,” someone says from behind him, and Virgil turns to see a vaguely familiar man in a dazzling prince costume holding a fresh plate of deviled eggs.

Virgil moves so that the prince dude can set the plate down on a clear spot on the table, and frowns. “I'm taller than you, Princey.”

Prince dude shrugs, plucks one of the eggs up, and takes a large bite. “Lucky you, or we'd've had to ask you to vacate the premises,” he says. “No little spiders allowed, real or fake.”

Which, yeah, now that he's mentioned it, Virgil had noted an extreme lack of spider-themed decorations, which is unusual for Halloween. Usually there'd at least be spiderweb cupcakes, but the cupcakes at this party are mostly cute ghosts.

There's probably a good reason for that, Virgil realizes with a sinking feeling. “Should I change?”

“You got another costume handy, or were you planning on spinning a spider-silk cocoon and metamorphosing into a butterfly?”

Virgil grimaces. “No,” he admits.

Prince Dude considers him. “It's not very realistic,” he says, which is true. Virgil hadn't been going for realism, he'd been going for passable costume I can make on short notice. He's wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, and he'd cut some pool noodles in half and wrapped them in more black cloth and stuck them to his back for the other four legs. It had been a pain to get them to stay in place properly, actually, and he'd ended up sewing their wrappings to the back of his hoodie in order to keep them where he wanted them. He'd been pretty proud of it, given that Remus had dropped “we're going to a costume party at my brother's house” on him like an hour beforehand, but now he's wishing he'd come up with any other idea. He could have put a sheet over his head and been a ghost, or something. Granted, that would have required him to have a sheet that was both white and that he was willing to cut holes in, which he didn't, but still.

Prince Dude continues to quietly scrutinize Virgil, and he wants to squirm under his gaze. Eventually, the guy shrugs and says, “Might be best to ask the scaredy-cat himself. Wait here, I'll be back.” And he saunters off before Virgil can answer.

For lack of anything better to do, Virgil picks up a deviled egg and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. It's really tasty, actually, and now he's wishing he'd taken smaller bites rather than horking it down in one.

Virgil had thought that Princey was just being mean with the “scaredy-cat” thing, but the guy he's talking to now actually is dressed as a calico cat. Prince Dude points back at Virgil, and Mister Calico Cat glances in his direction, then turns back to Princey. Virgil can't hear what they're saying, but he supposes Prince Dude must've asked Calico if Virgil’s costume was too creepy crawly scary.

They talk for way longer than Virgil had expected, and he can't tell if Calico's response was more like “No, he's fine,” or more along the lines of “Yes, that's terrifying, please have him removed immediately from my sight and also my home.”

He occupies himself with another deviled egg. If he's going to get kicked out, he might as well enjoy some more of this tasty food first.

Oh, fuck. Remus.

Remus isn't going to want to leave early just to take Virgil home, and Virgil still doesn't know where he even is! Fuck!

Well, Remus could have warned him not to be a spider, so if Virgil gets kicked out of the party it'll be at least partly Remus's fault. Virgil doesn't know anybody here, but Remus knows at least half these people, and if Calico’s spider aversion is enough that there are no spider-themed decorations in the house on Halloween, that sounds like the kind of thing Remus would know about.

Granted, Remus revels in being gross and annoying, but still! He's not a total dick. He should have told Virgil.

Fucker.

Calico vanishes into the other room, and Prince Dude comes back over to Virgil. He doesn't look like he's about to kick Virgil to the curb, at least. Virgil braces himself anyway.

“Good news!” Princey says with a grin. “Li’l Mister Muffet says you don't look like a creepy crawly death dealer and he doesn't have the urge to remove you with arson!”

Virgil blinks. “...gooood?” he says slowly. He hadn't even considered kill it with fire being a potential response to his costume. That would have been worse than just getting kicked out of the party, actually.

“Honestly you're much more Doc Ock in silhouette, Spider-Man,” Princey continues. “That helps a lot.”

Virgil glances back at where Prince Dude and Calico had been chatting. “So he didn't leave the room because he can't stand the sight of me?” he asks anyway.

“Nah, he wanted to make another plate of horse devours,” Princey says, reaching past Virgil to grab a cupcake off the table. This one has a little frosting bat.

“A plate of what?” Virgil says, because surely he didn't hear that right.

“Little snacks,” Prince Dude clarifies instead of repeating himself. “Our fridge is crammed with delicious bits and bobs. It's been so hard to resist the temptation to eat them before the party.” He bites appreciatively into his cupcake, then adds with his mouth full, “You'd think he wouldn't notice what with how much he made, but nooo, sneak one chocolate covered cherry before party time and it's a lengthy scolding for you!” Princey sighs dramatically, then cheerfully devours the rest of his cupcake.

“...hors d'oeuvres?” Virgil says hesitantly.

“Yeah, a couple ordervs of deviled eggs, cheese and crackers, and those scrumptious little pinwheel things,” Princey says. Virgil’s not sure if Princey actually doesn't know how hors d'oeuvres is pronounced, or if he's messing with him, but then Princey gives him a mischievous grin that one, confirms that yes, Princey does know what he's doing, and two, is so familiar that it freezes Virgil in place as the pieces click together in his brain.

The lack of a mustache makes Prince Dude's face look different, and so does the way he did his makeup, and he carries himself differently, but it's undeniable all the same: Virgil knows that grin.

This is Remus's twin brother.

Now that he's connected the dots (you haven't connected shit) the family resemblance is clear even to Virgil’s honestly rather faceblind eyes.

This is Remus's brother, and it's his house they're partying at.

… Virgil doesn't remember the guy's name.

Fuck, he should've made sure he at least knew who the party hosts were, especially the one related to his mischief goblin of a best friend.

Well he can't exactly ask now, can he?

“Also like, five types of cupcakes,” Princey continues, oblivious to Virgil’s inner turmoil. “Seriously, have you tried the cupcakes? Chef Boiardelightful made multiple separate batches of different flavors, from scratch. And they're all delicious!”

Virgil smirks. “And did you try to snitch them before the party too?”

Princey gasps theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest. “How could you accuse me of such a thing!?” he protests with exactly as much dramatic emotion as Virgil would expect from Remus's twin. “For your information, I did not! I merely sampled a portion of the batter left on the spatula after the cupcakes had gone into the oven. Also some of the frosting.”

“He means that he licked the bowls clean,” says a new voice, and Virgil does not jump out of his skin, thank you very much. And even if he did jolt a little, it's nothing to the startled squawk Princey emits.

Calico's back, holding a platter of little finger sandwiches on toothpicks. He offers them up to Virgil, who takes one. “Thanks.”

“No worries, kiddo!” Calico says cheerfully, and puts the rest of the platter down on the snack table. Princey plucks up two sandwiches by their toothpicks, and gets a stern look in response. “Make sure to leave some for the guests,” Calico scolds.

“My delightful and beloved Patissier,” Princey says, cupping Calico's face gently with his free hand. “I assure you that each of our guests could have a heaping plateful of food and we would still have leftovers until next Tuesday. No-one will be going home hungry.”

It really is an impressive spread. Everything Virgil’s tried has been really good. Remus really could have played up the ‘free food’ angle more when trying to convince Virgil to come. If he'd known the food would be this good, then overriding his usual party-related reservations—it's gonna be loud, there will be a lot of people, I don't know anybody, etc—would have been a lot easier. Then again, Virgil probably wouldn't have believed him. He'd mostly been expecting pizza and cheap beer, honestly, not– not homemade delicacies.

The tiny sandwich Calico gave him is lightly toasted, with some kind of sliced-meat-and-cream-cheese filling, and a little green leafy garnish on top. It definitely looks much fancier than most things Virgil eats, and he can understand why Calico doesn't want Princey to eat them all. That probably took a decent amount of effort. He almost feels bad eating it himself, except that Calico had offered it to him specifically, and it would probably be more rude at this point to not eat it.

“Are you sure my costume is okay?” Virgil asks, interrupting the minor squabble Princey and Calico had fallen into.

“Oh, yes, you're fine,” Calico assures him. “Trust me, if you were pinging my brain as an actual spider I wouldn't be in the room right now, let alone standing next to you.”

“Really, cause most cats I know would eat a spider soon as look at it,” Virgil quips, and is rewarded with Calico laughing.

“That wouldn't be very good host-ly of me, now would it?” he says. “I would never eat a guest!”

“Not unless they're a reptile with scallions,” Princey teases, and Calico flushes.

“Hey!” he protests, swatting Princey's shoulder with one hand and trying to cover his extremely red face with the other. Virgil wonders what the reference was, exactly, but doesn't think it's his place to ask. It seems rather personal, from how hard Calico is blushing.

…maybe he'll ask Remus later if he knows what the story there is.

~~~~

Chapter 2: The Morning After

[blockedbykei]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 !!

— half filo!iwaizumi headcannons

— a/n: there's some parts here only understood by filipinos okay 😭 (fic filler until chapter 2 comes)

- iwaizumi is half filipino and that is a fact

- when he gets mad at oikawa or at the whole team he's definitely cursing in tagalog (hardass "putangina ninyo" with the crisp T)

- eats the lucky me pancit canton like twice a week and is probably addicted to cup noodles too

- puts fishballs in his ramen because he loves them in pansit too

- has a playlist with mixed japanese and filipino songs

- he will court you. literally will do all the traditional filipino courtship shit

- you will find him with a guitar outside your house singing a song, with makki, mattsu, and oikawa behind dancing

- also loves giving you flowers even if there's no occassions

- VERY hospitable his place is always the house you and the boys go to all the time

- you're all bringing home tupperware with homemade food every visit and he's also pestering you about it because his mom would kill him if he doesn't get them back

- knows how to play basketball a little because of his filipino relatives

- speaks tagalog in the household sometimes, most especially to his mother, and you've picked up a few terms such as "magandang umaga" and "salamat"

- and when you're used to it, you'll start saying "po" and "opo" (the filipino terms of showing respect) because iwaizumi told you to use them

- when his mom is on his ass, she will be on EVERYONES ass

- one time when iwaizumi pissed her off, all of you started cleaning the house because you were all kind of scared

- doesn't brag about being half filipino though but hes proud of it

- annual trips to the philippines and brings you a whole bag of piattos

- kanal humor in the philippines, aircon humor in japan

- which means that his humor in the philippines is very chaotic, backhanded, sometimes perverted jokes, and in japan, he's more reserved and has to hold back in making very mean jokes 😭

- very romantic towards you though he loves dancing with you in your bedroom in the dark

- good at killing flies

- once a week, when you're having dinner at his place, they're always having a barbecue, and he's wearing a tanktop even in the cold weather fanning off the flies that hover on the grill

- also very clean too he's good at cleaning

- GOOD at singing he secretly loves karaoke but it's only something between the two of you

- he loves to sing for you

- also the receiving end of his filipino cousins' teasing because he's half japanese, but he also teaches them how to speak japanese

- you, iwa, oikawa, makki, and mattsun bond over filipino street games such as chinese garter and luksong baka

- iwaizumi's mannerisms and attitude is strongly inherited by his mother, so to others, he may seem full japanese, but once you've gotten to know him, best believe you feel like you're at the philippines with him

- very trifty, you don't remember the last time you've spent on something new because he's always fixing things himself

- teaches the boys a few curse words and dirty words in tagalog and says that it meant "youre handsome" or "i love you" in japanese but it's actually "motherfucker" and "dick"

- has a special heart for stray cats so you're stray feeding with him hehe

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

Running Free

Wandanat x human pet!fem!reader

Summary: Wanda and Natasha have been looking for a pet for some time, but they've had no luck until they meet you, will you be a good fit for their lives?

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: 18+ due to themes, MDNI, heavy pet play, human pets, abuse, violence, hurt/comfort

Authors notes: Bumble finally is trusted to run without running off :')

Your tail wags furiously as you stand at the back door, your brown and gray ears perked up in excitement. Natasha and Wanda have decided that today is the day you get to run off-leash in the backyard for the first time. The anticipation in the air makes you almost vibrate with eagerness.

"Ready, Bumble?" Wanda asks, her hand resting on the door handle. You bark softly, your body practically buzzing.

"Alright then," Natasha says with a smile. "Here we go.”

Wanda opens the door, and you shoot out like a bullet, your hands and feet pounding the grass as you dash across the yard. The sensation of freedom is exhilarating. You run in wide circles, your ears flapping and tail a blur of motion. You dart from one end of the yard to the other, sniffing every corner, and occasionally pause to dig at an interesting spot before taking off again.

Natasha watches from the pool, a relaxed smile on her face as she floats on a pool noodle. She keeps a watchful eye on you, ensuring your playful antics don't lead to trouble. Wanda stands near the patio, clapping her hands and cheering as you explore with boundless energy.

Your joy is infectious. You leap and bound, your athletic form a blur of brown and gray. You chase after butterflies, bark at birds, and roll in the grass, savoring the sheer pleasure of being free to move as you please. The backyard, with its lush greenery and wide-open space, feels like a vast playground just for you.

After a while, your pace begins to slow. You are panting heavily, your tongue lolling out of your mouth, but the happiness in your eyes is unmistakable. You make your way over to the pool, where Natasha has been keeping a close eye on you.

"Had enough fun for now, Bumble?" Natasha asks, reaching out to pat your head. Feeling just how warm you'd gotten from the summer sun at midday.

You give a happy bark, your tail wagging as you look at Natasha. With a final burst of energy, you leap into the pool, splashing water everywhere. Natasha laughs, moving aside to give you space as you paddle around, cooling off from your run. She doesn't stray too far as the pool gets deeper the further out you go.

Wanda walks over, chuckling at the sight of you swimming in the pool. "Looks like someone's discovered a new favorite spot," she says, leaning down to scratch you behind the ears.

You swim over to Natasha, who holds out her arms to help you out of the pool. As you climb out, shaking off the excess water, you lie down beside the pool, your head resting on Natasha's knee. “Good shake!” Natasha calls out. Wanda joins you, sitting on the edge of the pool and stroking your wet hair.

"You did great, Bumble," Wanda says softly, her voice filled with affection. "We’re so proud of you."

Your eyes close in contentment, your body relaxed and your breathing steady. This moment of freedom, of pure, unrestrained joy, has been everything you needed.

[inthelittlezine]

Say hello to the InTheLittleZine organizer, @anpanbun

Pronouns: she/her

Anpan has been insane over Martyn Inthelittlewood since circa 2012, and its really reared its head in the last year or so. You can count on her bad sleep schedule being even worse until this zine gets made!

Next up is @kingtheghast

Pronouns: she/he/they

Ghast is an artist and designer who loves doing character art. Sometimes, they draw minecraft youtubers. Maybe more than sometimes. Okay maybe all the time-

(Quick note, I couldn't have gotten this zine off the ground without Ghast's help <3 -Anpan)

Meet our second Art Mod, @maggymations (pfp credit @/sofi1z)

Pronouns: she/her

Maggy, mostly called Mags, is an artist and (sometimes) animator that has only been in the mcyt fandom since around 6 months ago. She’s always open to meeting new people and is super excited to get the zine up and running!

Introducing the first half of our writing mod team, @phosphorus-noodles

Pronouns: she/they

Hello everybody! Phosphorus Noodles also known as Pho has been following Martyn's work since 3rd Life and is very proud of themself for correctly predicting the winner's pov of Limited Life from day one.

Here's the other half of our writing mod team, @ilexdiapason

Pronouns: they/them

Ilex has had the lyrics to "Screw The Nether" memorised since it was released. They currently show no signs of kicking Martyn out from where he's been living in their head rent-free since then.

Say hi to @tinjap!

Pronouns: she/her

Tinja's favourite things in the world are drawing silly little pictures, doing silly little crafts, collecting silly little things and thinking silly little thoughts about Martyn.

Last but certainly not least, its @contravictoire

Pronouns: they/them

Vic loves Evo SMP maybe a bit too much for their own good, and you can catch them obsessing over Martyn's Eyes and Ears lore at all times! (You didn't hear it here at the ITLZ, but they are also a big PearlescentMoon and TangoTek fan!)

[quitealotofsodapop]

While Wukong and Thunder are trapped in the web, Rumble and Savage are with MK.

Prev.

Yesss

Wukong sensed danger and didn't want to risk the cubs or MK getting trampled or worse in the chaos - so he passed the twins to MK and tried his best to conceal Thunder beneath his cape. The youngest triplet still couldn't separate from it's parent just yet, and refused to leave him even with great danger looming.

When the Noodle Gang make it to the airship, questions are had;

Pigsy: "Uh, MK? Why are there baby monkeys in your arms and hair?" MK, rattled: "These are Monkey King's babies. He trusted me to keep them safe." Tang: "THE MONKEY KING HAS BABIES!?" Rumble & Savage: (*scared geckering!!*) MK, shushing and cooing: "Ok, its ok buds. Mr Tang was just really surprised! There there.... Your Mama is the strongest monkey on Earth, he can handle anything." Mei: "Except for whatever is going on with those spider zombies." MK, nervous: "Ye-yeah. Spider zombies." Pigsy: (*having a proud papa moment at seeing MK being so good with these weird baby monkey gods*) Red Son: "Since when did the simian reproduce?" The Gang: "Red Son!?" Red Son, annoyed sigh: "Long story. My father was captured as well. I was going to steal this ship so I can find an antidote, but I believe my parents would look down upon me if I robbed shelter from mere infants. So I GUESS we must work together on this." MK: "This is up there with the weirdest day of my life."

Note: the babies try eating Red Son's hair moments into the mission. MK has his existential moment inside the Trigram Furnace with one of the babies in his arms, cooing softly up at him.

Spider Queen sees one of the babies and has to stop herself from squeeing at the adorable fluff balls. She quickly reminds herself that they're all in a brawl rn.