#the last unicorn is a close second

[bylightofdawn]

Why would you do this to me, OP?! It’s like making me pick my favorite non-existent child.

THIS IS NOT A COMPREHENSIVE LIST. I just wanted to highlight some beloved and underrated nostalgic classics.

I am NOT counting: Studio Ghibli, DC, Marvel, Scooby-Doo, sequels/prequels, and most other franchises. I made an exception with MLP and Care Bears because both films were produced at the beginning of their franchises, as opposed to the G.I. Joe series, Transformers, etc. There's a LOT to cover in the 80s-90s, hence why I split the two polls. This is basically Don Bluth's Era lol.

90's Poll

Happy voting! ❤

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

lesson in words | s.r. x pregnant!fem reader

for some reason today, annabeth was not in the mood for her princess dresses or jelly shoes. she raised her voice when you were shuffling around her room, trying to find something appropriate for the aquarium. she didn’t want her sage green pants, or her lavender plaid shorts, not even her scratchy sparkling pink skirt.

“i want these!” kicking her legs in the air to indicate her unicorn pajama pants. you just sighed, not wanting to indulge her antics, “honey, those are house clothes. you sleep in those for a long time, they’re not appropriate for a day out. now, what’s our second choice?” leaning against her dresser with a fist beside your growing bump.

“unicorn! i want unicorn!” she jumped her body against her mattress, the springs creaking. a headache brewing behind your eyes, “annabeth diana reid,” you kept your voice stern and level, “if you can’t pick out day clothes then we can’t go to the aquarium. that means you can’t see the stingrays for another month.”

she pouted as she crossed her small arms over her chest, her hectic bed head another part you’ll have to deal with. “i hate you,” she said it mostly quiet, probably meant to be a whisper but doesn’t understand how that works yet.

you pursed your lips while diverting your eyes to the floor, “well i’m sorry you feel that way, but if you can’t fix your attitude and change your clothes then you can stay in your room for the day.” leaving your daughter behind as you headed to your shared bedroom where your husband was tidying the space.

he turned when you stepped on a specific creaky spot, he greeted you with a smile that dropped when you assumed he saw your upset pout and wet eyes. “what’s wrong?” quick to hurry at your side with his hands caressing your elbows.

“hormones mostly,” sniffling, “and annabeth has decided to be stubborn today and says she hates me cause i won’t allow her to wear her pjs out the house.” spilling what happen in the last five minutes as fat tears collected on your lash line, one blink and they slid down your pregnancy cheeks.

“oh honey,” spencer leaned your head into his chest, neglected nails curling into his navy polo. one of his hands slid along the back of your head to keep you hidden while his other rubbed soothing circles between your shoulder blades. “she doesn’t actually mean it.”

“i know i know,” you sniffled as you moved to place your ear to his heart, “just hurts having her say those words. she probably doesn’t understand the extent of its meaning.” taking a deep sigh as you gathered yourself to lean away from spencer.

“why don’t i go talk to her? try from a different perspective.” his warm palms rubbed at your upper arms as he stared softly into your wet eyes.

you sniffled, “she is a daddy’s girl. listens to you more no matter what.” chuckling wetly when spencer just shrugged. he pecked a kiss to your forehead and guided you to the made bed, telling you to rest for now as he went to talk with your four year old.

spencer knocked gentle on her cracked door, “can i come in?” both of you were making sure to teach the importance of knocking before entering a room. she almost caught the act of making her new siblings.

“yes,” she replied quietly. spencer slowly pushed open her decorated door, his head peaking in first before completely entering and closing them in.

his daughter lay in her bed, her flower comforter swallowing her. only a small lump shifting gave away her hiding spot, spencer took a seat at the foot of her twin.

he gave what felt like her calf a loving squeeze, “wanna come out and talk?” her small heel nudged into his knee, “no.” spencer could hear her pout.

“why not?” “cause i-i-i was a meanie to-to mommy,” annabeth began to hiccup through her words. spencer quickly pulled her sheets back and frowned at her rosy wet cheeks, along with a line of snot leaving her tiny nose.

“oh honey, come here.” spencer wrapped his arms behind her back as she threw hers around his neck. she crawled into his lap, her small legs stopping at his hips. “do we feel bad about our earlier emotions?” spencer rubbed a large palm in soothing circles.

“ye- yes. i-i want to see sti- stingrays, and i-i want to match with mo- my mommy.” her words a blubbering mess as she panicked over something small for the adults but other worldly for her child mind.

spencer cooed in her ear, “why don’t we go apologize first. see if she’ll accept.” he felt annabeth nod in agreement. he carried her the short distance to the master bedroom where you were laying on your back as your palms rubbed your stomach and you stared at the ceiling.

you turned your head at a small knock, your face softening at the sight before you. “someone has something to say,” spencer said as he let annabeth’s feet sit on the bed.

the young girl untangled from her father’s hold and slowly walked to sit beside you. you could hear her ragged inhales and frowned at her flushed face. “i- i- i am sorry for ye- yelling. i want to go to aquarium and you- you can help dress me, mo- mommy.” her tiny hands pulled at the helm of her sleep shirt.

you let a palm caress her warm cheek, “i was a little hurt when you said you hate me,” wanting to be truthful to your brilliant child.

her lip wobbled, “i- i didn’t mean it. i lo- love you with my whole body.” something you say to her to show your complete extent of affections. “i heard that it was an unkind word, i- i re- regret saying it.”

“i know you do, honey.” pulling her into your chest for an awkward side hug. “let’s be mindful of our words, alright? they’re very powerful.” petting down her hair, you felt her nod on your shoulder.

“are my two girls friends again?” spencer spoke up during the moment. he stayed near the edge of the room to give the both of you space.

you pressed a kiss into annabeth’s temple, “i think so. what about you bethie, do you want to wear matching overalls today?”

her eyes peeked at your through clumped lashes, “can- can we also do bows?”

you squeezed her side, “of course, bethie-boo.”

-

a/n: i took this idea from @khxna that they left on a post of mine. thank you for sharing💗

[peaktora]

𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄: 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ instead of sleeping, satoru and your daughter argue over what to name her stuffed dragon.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊1.9k words. established relationship (#married). the toddler dialogue is purposefully not structured correctly since it’s words from a toddler. fem!reader. intended lowercase. warning: you will wish you had a kid with gojo after reading this.

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊this was gonna be a basic thought post, but i got more and more interested in the concept and was like “y’know what? fuck it, ima just make this into a full fic.” so here we are with a more full look at dad!gojo <3.

satoru mumbles, "but i think he likes being called spike,” and it's obvious that he's sulking. you don't even have to look up from your book to confirm it.

“well, you don't know him like i do!” your daughter replies, tucking herself into your side.

you flip through the picture book's pages fast, just getting brief glances of its colorful illustrations. unicorns, dragons, knights, and princesses decorated the pages. after turning the last page, you sigh and put the book down on the nightstand. despite the fact that the book was designed for toddlers, it actually looked interesting. you just know you would love to read it to your toddler. you can imagine yourself reading it to her, seeing the excitement on her face as she explores the world of fantasy—her absolute favorite genre.

but unfortunately, that image in your head will have to wait for another day, because her attention? is completely taken by the debate between her and her father.

how the argument started is beyond you. just ten minutes ago, you and satoru were snuggled up on your daughter’s bed, trying to read her to sleep. and now? satoru and her are in a heated debate over what to name her stuffed dragon. it's tough not to be amazed at how something so easy can become so complicated with him.

"i bought him, drove him around in my car, and wrapped him up in a cute little box for you. i think we know each other pretty well.” satoru smiles and reaches across the bed for the dragon.

“nuh-uh! he not even like you!” your toddler, with her tiny hands and puffed cheeks, clutches her stuffed dragon tightly against her chest. the plushie, its vibrant green scales and friendly eyes, seemed to come alive in her hold.

he retreats back to his seat on the edge of your daughter's bed, his lips curled into a frown as he asks, "how come?"

her mouth opens, then closes again. you look away for a moment to give satoru a look of disapproval, and by the time you return your attention to her, her brows are already starting to furrow. she mumbles under her breath, "because," running her small fingers around the plush dragon’s ear. she looks to be at a loss for words, as if she hasn't come up with an answer to satoru's question.

but that's okay, since you—happily, do.

"because you’re taking his time away from storytime. and satoru, in case you didn't know? when it's time to go to bed, we have storytime.”

your daughter looks up, her face beaming as she screams, "yup! and mommy picks the super-duper bestest stories ever!"

satoru gasps, his eyes never leaving yours as he rises from his bed and holds his chest. "baby, who's side are you on?"

you roll your eyes, "i'm just sa—"

"oh, sweetheart," he mumbles as he rushes around the corner of the bed, his movements quick to reach your side. without wasting a second, he rests a palm on your forehead, checking your temperature with a clear look of false concern. concerned people don’t have to hold back the urge to smile. actually, they don't have a smile at all—but for some reason, satoru does, and he's terrible at hiding it. "are you sick? having some hallucinations? is that why you've decided to side with enemy?”

your daughter giggles, and it only feeds satoru's act.

he turns his head towards the source of the giggles. a playful pout forms on his lips as he teasingly asks, "or did this little munchkin of ours use her princess magic to change your mind? she has a way of doing that to me sometimes, y’know."

his free hand reaches towards your toddler, fingers wiggling in anticipation. as his fingers make contact with your little one's soft, ticklish skin, even more giggles slip past her lips.

she tries to squirm away from his touch, but that's when he adds another hand to the tickle fest, and all chance of escape is gone. at that point, she visibly gives up, curling into herself to try to halt her dad’s tickling.

“i-i don’t have powers, daddy!” you daughter manages to stifle out through her laughs. you smile at the sound—it’s one you'll never get tired of hearing.

"you can't be a princess without powers! every princess has powers!"

“i-i'm n-not a princess though!“

satoru's fingers pause in their spot, his eyes widening in disbelief. "not a princess? how on earth can that even be?"

you’re sure if she needed him to, he could easily write an entire book about how she’s a princess.

he scoops her up from her place next to you, careful not to let her dangling legs hit you in the process. she lands on his hip, her eyes fixated on him as he lovingly whispers, "you're daddy's little princess!" he pauses, then adds, "and mommy is the queen, so that makes me—"

“the king?”

“you’re just so smart, huh? see, a perfect quality of a princess.”

“but princesses have dragons! big ones with so many pretty colors and names! they go—“ she cuts herself off and raises her tiny arms high. with a wide smile on her face, she takes a deep breath and lets out a loud roar.

satoru nods and smiles warmly at her, "oh, i see...well, y’know what? not all princesses have dragons.”

she tilts her head, and you awe at the sight. “they don’t?”

"nope," he says, taking her tiny hand in his, wrapping it securely around his finger. he lightly massages the back of her hand, and it’s soothing—scratch that, reassuring. you can tell from the way your daughter leans her head on his shoulder, tucking herself in the crook of his neck. "you don't need a dragon to be a princess. you're my princess ‘cause you're kind, smart, and full of love. i'd say that's all you need to be one."

"really?" she asks, waiting for his nod before continuing. "okay…but i still want a dragon."

"i get it, munchkin," he hums as he takes the dragon plushie from the bed. "we still haven't figured out a name for this guy, hm?"

“nuh-uh!”

“he looks like his power is being super cuddly. he's so cuddly that he puts you right to sleep…how ‘bout…fluffy?"

“ew.”

“fluffy sounds cute, no?”

"but dragons aren't cute. daddy, they breathe fire."

"wel—" satoru begins, but your daughter interrupts.

“his name should be fireball!”

“satoru, she does have a point,” you assert.

she really did. it was a dragon, not something adorable, but something that’s usually thought of as a villain—or a protector. athough deep down, a part of you just wanted this little debate to finally wrap up so you could finally catch some much-needed sleep.

“i thought i took away all of her princess magic?” satoru frowns, "stop siding with the enemy!"

you can't help but snort at his comment. mostly because, for whatever reason, he’s taking this dispute very seriously. so seriously that he doesn't seem to notice you're trying to do anything to finally get to bedtime. "baby i was just sa—"

"who says this dragon had to breathe fire anyways?" he interrupts.

when your toddler goes to respond, it hits you. "what about fluffy fireball?" you mention. it's a perfect combination of the two. well, okay, maybe not a “perfect” combination, but it's good enough to finish this debate.

if you weren't so tired, you’d stop and ogle the way they ask "huh?" in sync.

you shrug, "well, why not? he is pretty fluffy and spits out fire. there can’t be a better name than that."

your daughter holds out the dragon, looks at it for a while, then brings it up to her ear.

she gives the impression that he’s nodding his head before hushedly saying, "got it." she then turns back to face you and yells confidently, "fluffy fireball agrees!”

"well, i don't agree," satoru huffs. "the name is way too long an—"

“satoru.”

“but—“

"satoru," you say more firmly, and his shoulders sink as he mumbles "okay" beneath his breath.

your daughter lets out a yawn, and your eyes are immediately drawn to her. you signal for satoru to come over to the bed, and he does, bending down to your level.

“is my girl sleepy?”

"um," she pauses and looks at her dragon. "just a little bit."

"i can tell," you say, gently rubbing her back. you sneak a quick glance at your husband, and he looks the other way because he knows it's way past her bedtime. you sit up next to her ear and murmur, "i think fluffy fireball is ready to go to sleepy-time."

she gives the dinosaur a look before asking him, "y’wanna sleep with me?” then, she shakes the dinosaur's head up and down before exclaiming, "okay!"

you watch as she leaps out of satoru’s arms, and plops down on the bed. the room fills with giggles and the creaking of the bed as she scampers towards the middle. once she's next to you, she settles in and gets comfortable.

you can't help but smile as you see her tiny hands reaching out, playfully fluffing the pillows around her. then finally, with a satisfied sigh, she snuggles under the covers, cocooning herself in warmth.

she sets her dragon on her left side, making sure her loyal companion is there to do his job and look after her (the princess). it’s cute really. however, if that dragon becomes even a little bit too comfortable with the job, you know satoru will undoubtedly compete for the position. he'd say, "it can't just show up one day and take my job," or something along those lines. knowing him, he might even contemplate throwing it away—who knows.

you’re jolted out of your trance when your daughter asserts to her dinosaur, "you can sleep on daddies side, he snores."

satoru gasps, “i do not—“

“yes you do!”

“when have i eve—“

"guys," you sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion in your voice. you cast a glance at both of them, making sure you have their undivided attention before pressing on. "c'mon, let's all take a breather and save the debate about your dad's snoring for tomorrow, okay?"

"but mommy, tell him he snores!" she whines. "he goes—" she cuts herself off to mimic satoru's snoring, and his face is priceless.

"now that’s just rude. how can you speak to me so coldly?” satoru scurries underneath the covers on the side of the dragon. and just like that, your daughter and her dragon are nestled between the two of you.

“this’ll be settled in a family meeting tomorrow. you two have already had one debate today. so right now? lets all go to bed.” you declare, then nestle deeper beneath the covers, closing your eyes.

as the voices of saddened "okays" and "alrights" blend together, a collective sigh fills the room. the sound of a click follows, and even with your eyes closed, the absence of light is unmistakable. it makes you feel even more exhausted than before.

you feel satoru’s arm slide around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. meanwhile, your daughter stirs slightly, searching for a more comfortable position in the cozy space between the two of you. you can feel her movements, her small body nestled snugly against yours.

you snuggle impossibly closer to your pillow, and take a deep breath.

silence, that’s what follows—and it’s nothing but peaceful. that is, until satoru bursts out laughing. "i don't snore," he blurts out into the darkness, his voice filled with mischief. "i just provide a little background music for the night."

it's at this point that you decide to be extremely biased at the family meeting tomorrow. he’s not winning a damn thing.

[sun-kissy]

Hi! Can I request James's sister with Sirius, but Sirius for some reason thinks she has a crush on Regulus? Thx I love your page! <3

thank you for the request angel! ♡

date | s.b.

tw: hurt/comfort, teensy bit of jegulus

potter!reader, sirius black x reader

“Potter. Do you think using unicorn’s blood instead would make our potion have a more iridescent colour? Because that’s what Slughorn wants,” Regulus asked dryly, shoving the book towards you and pointing at a paragraph which looked like nothing but muddled words.

You look at the book for a moment before sighing, letting your eyelids flutter closed and leaning back in your chair.

“No idea.”

Your hands come up to rub your eyes, exhaustion overwhelming your senses. Regulus and you had spent the whole day in the library like crazed scholars desperate for a good grade on an assignment.

That was exactly what you were. You had been paired with him for a Potions project, and ever since Professor Slughorn had made a breezy comment about your potion-in-progress, it had been driving the both of you mad. Although you weren’t exactly friends, there was a mutual agreement that doing well on this project was necessary to salvage both your grades.

The past few weeks were a blur - late nights wasted researching in the library and early mornings spent in the Potions classroom.

You groan and sit back up, willing yourself to hear him out and make sense of the lines in front of you. You blink and look up for a second when something, or rather someone, catches your attention. Sirius stands stiffly a few metres away, leaning on a bookshelf and looking over at the two of you.

When you meet his eyes, he quickly averts his gaze and pretends to be browsing the books on the shelf. You immediately sense that something is wrong - Sirius wouldn’t be caught dead in the library. You notice the hard look in his eyes, the subtle look of hurt in his features.

A frown instantly crosses your face. Your friend had been acting weird lately, ever since your lips accidentally crashed onto his at a party - and none of you pulled away.

It was a nice kind of weird, in which he fumbled over his words and his cheeks would get rosy when he talked to you. But ever since you had been swept up into the busyness of the project with Regulus, it was like whatever spark that was set ablaze had been doused out.

Sirius brushed you off every time you tried talking to him, yet you would catch him silently gazing at you in hallways and classes then immediately looking away as soon as eye contact was made. It made you mad, but more than that, it hurt your heart that the one person whom you thought would last forever was starting to drift apart from you.

Your annoyance started to get the better of you, slowly bubbling into anger in your chest. You take a deep breath and slowly stand up, your chair dragging across the floor. “Excuse me for a moment,” you mutter to Regulus, sidling your way around the table.

“Hey,” you make your way over to the bookshelf and stand in front of Sirius. He whips his head around, a false look of surprise on his face.

“Oh, hey Y/N! Didn’t think I would see you here. Anyway, I was just searching for a book for Moony - I should really make my way back now, James wants me to… plan some pranks with him,” he smiles, his lips pressed together. It’s obvious how forced it is.

You open your mouth to tell him your brother was in detention, his blatant lie adding fuel to the fire of irritation in you. But before you even say anything, he turns around to leave.

Anger flares up within you and before you can even think, you’re grabbing his wrist, your fingers wrapping around it with a vice-like grip. “Sirius!” you hiss, so unintentionally loud that Regulus looks up from his books, surprised. You look over at him apologetically.

Sirius turns back around, frowning. “What?” You flinch at the harsh tone, loosening your hold on his wrist but not letting go. You inhale sharply. “Talk to me,” you say, softening. “Please talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. What do you mean?” he bites back sharply, more hurt than anger in his tone.

“Let me go.” He tries to pull away, but you tighten your grip. “No. Something’s wrong, and you’re not telling me. Why are you ignoring me? What did I do wrong?” you ask, desperation seeping into your voice.

Sirius glares at you for a moment, seeming to be contemplating something. Then he sighs, his anger melting away as he runs a hand down his face.

“Fuck, you-” he gestures with his hands. “You-“ he groans and drops his arms to his sides. “Why do you play with my feelings like this? I thought we had something! I really- really thought we had something,” he mutters, his voice cracking slightly.

You feel your heart break a little. “Sirius,” you coo, moving your hand down to gently hold his. “We do. We do have something. Why would you think we didn’t?”

Upon hearing your words, he turns to you and huffs out a humourless laugh, pulling his hand away. “Really? You really think so? Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen you with Regulus.”

Your blink, your face morphing into one of confusion as you stare dazedly at Sirius.

“Regulus? You think I like Regulus?”

He frowns at you. “Of course. Why else would you be spending so much time with him? It’s like you forgot I even existed.”

The absurdity of his words brings a small smile to your face, and before you know it, you’re pressing the back of your hand to your mouth to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, no. No way. He’s the most annoying partner I’ve ever had to work with. Why would you think I like him?”

The crease between his eyebrows softens, and you catch a glimpse of relief in his eyes, though he still seems suspicious. “You don’t? Then why have you been spending so much time with him? Going on study dates or whatever? You’re never with me anymore.”

You huff out a sigh, realisation dawning upon you. “For the Potions project, of course. Professor Slughorn said our potion wasn’t up to the mark, so we’ve been working our asses off to fix it. I really need to do well in this to pull my average up. I don’t like your brother, Sirius.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, and you can practically see the tension leave his body. “Oh. Sorry,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

You chuckle lightly. “It’s okay. It’s kind of my fault, I still should have made time for you. But is this why you’ve been ignoring me? You thought I liked Regulus?” you ask bemusedly. He winces and nods sheepishly, earning a laugh from you. “Siri, have you seen the way James looks at him?”

His lips start to curve upwards, his usual playful demeanour coming back to him. “I caught him drooling while looking at Reg once.”

You giggle at that, clearly imagining your brother gazing at Regulus with heart-eyes. Sirius grins back at you, taking your hand.

“So, we’re good?” he asks, intertwining your fingers together.

“More than good.”

“Great. Because I was just about to ask you out to Hogsmeade this Saturday. If you haven’t already got plans with emo boy, of course.”

“Sirius!” you whisper scandalously, trying to sound mad, but a giggle slips out and betrays your amusement. He chuckles, looking over at Regulus who was bent over a stack of papers and furiously scribbling down notes. “You better get back over there if you wanna survive till our date this weekend.”

“Date?” you ask mischievously, raising your eyebrow. “James would approve of that?”

He rolls his eyes at your feigned innocence, one hand on your shoulder as he gently pushes you back towards your table. “I’m pretty sure your brother is too lovesick for my brother to protest against it. So yes, love, it’s a date.”

[rafesslxt]

friends on vacation | mattheo riddle x reader x slytherin squad

mini series pt. 1

summary: you and your friends go on vacation before you start your last year at hogwarts. Let‘s just say it get‘s interesting between you and your best friend Mattheo.

warnings: modern slytherin group, vacation to spain, cursing, making out, touching a little, lap dance, hickeys, kissing pansy as friends in game, english is not my first language

Enzo, Blaise, Draco, Theodore, Mattheo, Pansy and me. We all sat together at my house around a big round table. My parents and I had a big house in New York, living there when the wizard world got a little too much.

It wasn‘t the first time that I had all of my friends over, we were inseparable. Everybody knew. So after a few years I showed them a little of my second world, leaving them no choice but to like it. Just like me, they liked to escape our world sometimes, leaving all the monsters and unicorns behind for some relaxing. Just like now.

"So.. where do we wanna go, huh?" Theodore asked into the round, lightning his cigarette.

"Why don‘t we think about what kind of vacation we want first?" I said, taking my Ipad in front of me and opening my vacation apps. " Please somewhere near the beach. I wanna tan and we‘re around the forest and mountains all the time in Hogwarts." Pansy said, stretching her legs over Draco‘s and Blaise‘s laps who were sitting on my garden couch.

"Yeah I agree, If I see one more forest I‘m gonna die." Blaise joins the conversation with a dramatic sigh at the end.

Mattheo and Draco teased each other at the meantime like little kids, throwing their cherry pits at each other.

"What about Italy? There‘s beach and sun." Enzo asks, sitting on the grass beneath us, playing with my dog. "Nah, I already live there that‘s no vacation for me." Theo answers, shaking his head and blowing out some smoke while speaking.

"I have an idea! Spain is beautiful and it‘s really hot there too, perfect to tan. I was there a few years ago with my parents. And the flight from there back to Hogwarts isn‘t that long. 2-3 hours I think." I suggested and looked around the table, all eyes on me now.

"Where exactly in Spain?" Mattheo asks me, sitting right next to me on a second couch, throwing a pit at Draco again. " Alicante is a great vacation spot. Lots of palms, beach, great fruits and sun. You guys will love it." I smile, already looking for flights for the next days.

"Sounds fine to me." Enzo shrugs, smiling up at me while the rest of our group joins in with "great idea" and some "let‘s do this".

2 days later

" Oh my god its beautiful! " Pansy says, stunned at the apartment I booked for us. "Wow, what a view. You really did a great job y/n." Blaise agrees.

The apartment has indeed a beautiful view, you can see the ocean right in front of us even tho it‘s night, you could see it because of all the lights from the little shops and restaurants along the ocean.

"Soo I booked this apartment with the balcony, 3 bathrooms which should be enough for us and 5 bedrooms. Pansy and Draco will share due obvious reasons." I started looking at them. "Also a kitchen so we can.. i din‘t know, have breakfast or have some snacks if everything is closed at night. And this big fat living room we‘re standing in."

" Blaise is right, you really did a great job at that." Mattheo grins, standing right next to me and looking around the living room.

We all settled in and unpacked our things. Pansy and I marked the biggest bathroom with our makeup and skincare stuff so the boys directly knew its our territory.

"Hey guys Theodore and I are going to a store, getting some groceries." Enzo shouted trough the apartment before walking outside the door with Theo.

"Pansy and me are showering!" I shouted so they‘d know what we‘re up to.

Mattheo and Draco looked at each other, before storming off the couch and sprinting to our bathroom only to realise the door was already locked. "Ugh."

I laughed at them together with Pansy as I shook my head. I took off my makeup as Pansy already got in the shower. "Mattheo is so smitten by you it‘s obvious." She laughs, shampooing her hair.

"You know we‘re just friends, Pansy." I say, cheekly smiling. Mattheo and I are best friends since first grade. All of us got friends real quick. Mattheo and Draco knew each other because the Malfoy‘s raised him for Voldemort. Pansy got a crush on Draco and didn‘t leave his side. Pansy and I had to share a dorm in Hogwarts which made us best friends too really fast. I met Enzo at my first class as he was my partner for the whole year. Blaise met Draco in the common room as they battled for the coolest broom. That‘s how we kind of found our way to each other and I wouldn‘t want to change it for a second.

"Yeah but he looks at you different as he looks at me for example." she answers. "Yeah because you‘re with Draco and he would chop Mattheo‘s dick off!" I laugh before joining her in the shower.

"No y/n, because he likes you a little more than just friends do. And hey I‘m not saying he loves you but all I‘m saying is that there is a little spark between the two of you."

Mattheo and I liked to flirt with each other a lot but we never really did something about it because we‘re just friends. And we just like to flirt for fun. Thats it. I think..

As we were ready we put on some clothes and walked outside the bathroom, our hair still wet from the shower. Pansy sat next to Draco, putting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. I had to smile at them, they always made me smile no matter what they did. Draco always acted cold towards eveyone around him, besides from his friends of course, we are like family. But he acted really warm around her which made me happy for both of them.

I sat down between Blaise and Mattheo, making myself comfortable laying my legs over Blaise his lap and my head on Mattheo‘s tigh. "Why am I always getting your girls legs?" Blaise complains with a little smile on his face. "Oh shut up you love my legs." I say winking at him which just made him laugh and shaking his head.

A few seconds later I felt a hand in my hair, massaging my scalp which made me purr a little. "Like that?" Mattheo asks, grinning down at me. "You know I do, Matty." I sigh, closing my eyes and enjoying his touch. "Your hair smells really good when it‘s wet. What is it, peach?" he asks me and lowers his head a little bit to my hair. " Oh so my hair only smells good when it‘s wet? But yes, it is peach indeed." Mattheo chuckles at my answer. "No it always smells great. It just smells more intense when it‘s wet."

Suddenly I heard a gagging noice which made me lift my head and see Blaise fake gagging. "Can you two take a room?"

"You‘re just jelous because you‘re alone." Draco snickers from the side, stroking Pansy‘s back. I laugh at his comment before I get a death glare from Blaise.

We all get interrupted by our phone‘s ringing. I take mine out if my pocket just like the rest did and saw a notification from our group chat. Yes, I made them get a phone a year ago but they all only used it between the holidays. Never in Hogwarts. But I did and I also made everyone of them an instagram account a while ago but Theo, he only joined this week.

Theodore: Yo guys we‘re on our way with all the groceries get ready for some drinks! And aye y/n this app you showed me is fuuuull of hot girl why didn‘t you show me sooner dude! *picture attached*

I laugh at his message just like the others do and answer him.

Y/N: I told you but you didn‘t want to join! 😤 I‘m getting the glasses 👀

As i send the message i stand up and walk towards the kitchen to get some glasses and shot glasses. "I‘m gonna help." Mattheo speaks as he stands up from his spot and follows me.

As I grab some glasses from a shelf above me, I feel his presence behind me. "Are you smelling my hair again?" "Yeah it‘s kind of addicting." He admits and kisses the top of my head before he grabs some glasses too and brings them back to the living room and sets them on the table in front of the couch.

I turn on the tv and switched to netflix putting on some random show for some background noises. Just in time Theo and Enzo came trough the door with bags full of alcohol and some food. "Hey guys, just put it on the table, glasses are ready."

"Yo Y/n we got something for you." "What is it?" I wondered as Theo pulled out a big bowl of fruits, handing them over to me with the words "here principessa, you talked the whole fucking flight about the food and especially the fruits here."

"Oh thank you thank you!" I hugged them both tightly and opened the bowl exited to eat some fruits right away. As the first piece of melon hit my tounge I moaned dramatic, sitting back down on the couch. "Ugh I love it so much. Here guys, try some fruits."

They all laughed at my behavior and took some fruits out if the bowl. "Wow these are really good." Blaise nodded, eating a piece of pineapple.

I took out a strawberry and put it to the half into my mouth, slightly sucking on it as I looked over to Mattheo, holding the bowl out to him as he was the only one who didn‘t take some.

He sat down to my left and took the other half of my strawberry, eating it while looking into my eyes. My cheeks flushed a light color of pink and I had to look away which made him smile.

"Come on guys let‘s drink something." Draco says standing up and taking the first bottle, looking towards me. "What‘s that? Jim Bean. There‘s an green apple on it, does it taste like that?"

"Uh- a little bit, it‘s strong alcohol like firewhiskey but with a hint of green apple." i tell him.

"Sounds fire." he says and pours something into our glasses, mixing it with Coke. We all took one, cheered and took our first sip. "And? You like it?“ i ask Draco with a smug face on my face. "Yeah i like this muggle stuff more and more." We all laugh at that and continue drinking and chatting, also planning a little bit what we‘re gonna do the next few days.

A few hours later we are all drunk, sitting on the couch and on the floor, but all around the table, playing uno. It was only Pansy against Blaise, the rest of us already lost. Blaise lay‘s down a wish card, seeing Pansy has only left 1 card. He thinks for a sec and says "blue" before Pansy springs up happy and dancing, throwing her blue card on the table. " Uno! ha!" Blaise groans in annoyance and lets himself fall back onto the couch.

"Let‘s play something more interesting guys!" Pansy suggests." Somethink like.. never have I ever or.. truth or dare!"

"Truth or Dare!" I giggle, taking an empty bottle from the ground. " I have a perfect app for this guys! It‘s called piccolo." I took out my phone and put all of our names into it so it could give us our first quest.

Draco and Enzo tell us about your most embarrassing story ever.

We all look at them, waiting for them to tell. Enzo tells us how his pants ripped at a date and Draco claims nothing embarrassing has ever happened to him but Pansy tells us how he sneezed into her face at the first dinner with her parents.

Theodore, choose someone‘s glass at the table and drink it all.

Theo groans and try‘s to take the glass with the least drink in it and chooses Mattheo‘s who has a little less in it then mine.

Mattheo, fill up your glass again.

Now Mattheo‘s the one who groans and does as the phone tells him to.

Y/n, choose your left or right for a at least 10 second kiss.

My eyes widen as I look to my left and see Mattheo grinning and to my right Pansy. "Sorry Mattheo." I giggle as i turn to my right and look at Pansy. She has to giggle too and comes near my face.

"Damn boys am I dreaming or are you seeing the same thing I do?" Theodore asks as he gawks at us.

"Shut up and be quiet!" Draco hisses and looks at us too. "Let‘s give them a show." Pansy giggles and pulls me closer. Our lips meet and I can‘t help but smile against her lips.

"Shit.." i hear Enzo whispering. She giggled against my lips as she hears him too and as the 10 seconds are up we seperate and look around us. They all look at us with big eyes and drooling mouths. "God what is it with boys that they find it so hot when teo girls are making out." Pansy asks.

As I lean back into my spot, Mattheo leans right next to me, his lips beside my ear as he whispers inside it "i don‘t know if i should be jelous or lucky to see something like that." My cheeks heat up again but I try to hide it with rolling my eyes and answering " you‘re a little pervert, mattheo." But I still have to laugh.

"And they‘re gone." I hear Blaise saying, which makes me look at them again to see the last bit of Draco and Pansy before they leave the living room and stumble kissing inside of their shared room.

I shake my head chuckling, Theo shouting "Use condoms my kids!"

Enzo, choose someone to drink against you, loser has to do the cleaning.

Enzo looks around the room and grins at me. "Oh my god why.." i half laugh and half whine as I take my glass and start drinking as fast as I can but Enzo is way faster and smashes his glass back down onto the table it almost broke. "Ha! yes!" Enzo celebrates.

Theodore, choose someone in this round and give them an interesting task.

Theo thinks for a moment before his lips curl up into a devilish smile. "Y/n.. " he starts "choose someone of us to give a lapdance to."

My face heats up at his words and my mind starts to think who to choose as I stand up to walk over to Theodore, but a pair of hands grip my hips and pull me into their matching lap. "Don‘t you dare pick someone else than me little peach." mattheo‘s deep voice echoes in my ear.

I look over to Blaise and tell him to put on a song for me. "Damn she really is gonna give him one." Enzo chuckles as he watches me standing up again in front of Mattheo.

Blaise puts on a song which comes out of the music boxes beside us.

I take a deep breath in and out, hoping not to embarrass myself in my drunken state.

I take his hand and leat him to an empty arm chair besides the couch.

I start slowly circling the chair, my finger gazing his shoulder and his chest as the music starts. When I stand behind him I grap his hair and softly pull on it so his head throws back. I arch my back and lower down a bit until i tease him with brushing my lips against the skin of his neck, making him shivers in his seat. I get back up and walk around the chair again, still touching his arm softly.

When I stand in front of him I put my foot on his chair between his spread legs, slowly tracing it with my own fingers. I know how much he loves me legs, he always told me. That was the real reason why Blaise always got the legs. Because I wanted to tease Mattheo.

I saw him gulping and his hands twitching as he trys not to touch my leg. I take my leg back to the ground and arch my back again, pushing his legs together and sitting on his lap in one smooth motion.

I hear the boys whistle at my move and I have to hide a smile. I slowly start to grind on his left tight, after a minute on his right but not with too much pressure, always just brushing and gazing touch.

I looked at Mattheo, him biting his lower lip and looking down at my hips grinding. I stand up again, turn around and bend over with an arched back, shaking my ass.

After that I took a few steps towards him but still with my back to him and sat down on his lap this time, leaning my back against him and slithering one arm around his neck so his head was at my shoulder. I started grinding my hips slowly but this time with more pressure. "And you wanted to do that on one of them?" Mattheo whispers in my ear, laying his hands on my moving hips.

Without answering him I stood up as the song was over. They all cheered and clapped their hands together which made me laugh and blush. I sat back down on the couch looking over to Mattheo who stood up, his hands hanging in front of his crotch.

He walked over to me, sitting beside me with a little frown to his face which made me gulp. "What‘s wrong?" I asked him quietly so the rest wouldnt hear, even tho they were already distracted by something new. "Nothing." he mumbled and looked at the still running tv. "Come on tell me, we‘re best friends. I can see somethings wrong."

Then he looks at me with sharp eyes, taking my hand and putting it on his lap. "Does this feel like nothing to you, y/n?" he asks with a low voice, my eyes going wide as I felt him hard in his pants, because of.. me?

Without even thinking I grabbed him trough his pants, making his eyes go wide. At first he looked at the boys, then at me. "Y/n.. " "Mattheo.."

Suddenly he grabs my shirt pulling me towards him and crashes his lips against mine. This time my eyes go wide as I feel his lips against mine. They feel soft and full, tasting like the apple whiskey we drank all night long. His hands roam over my body, feeling almost every inch of me.

I lick his bottom lip before I let him explore my mouth with his tounge. "Fuck you taste so fucking good." he breathes against my lips.

My hand is still on his lap, feeling almost paralyzed as i didn‘t move out of fear what would happen next If I continue. But I could feel how much harder he got from our little makeout session.

"Mattheo.. we have to stop." I whisper against his lips, my forehead against his. "But it feels so good.." "I know it does, but we will regret it If we don‘t stop, okay?" He groans and takes me by my hips, pulling me on top of him.

"Y/n, please. I beg you. Just make out a little more with me, I need this." he slurrs, obviously still as drunk as I am. That‘s why I blame my next decision on the alcohol.

My hands grab his shirt and I pull him even closer to me, brushing my lips against his. "Tomorrow we‘re normal friends again okay? Nothings going to be awkward or different, because we just make out a little.. like friends do, helping each other just to ease a little. Promise me." the words come out as a whisper and he nodds, agreeing to them. ".. I promise."

Desperately he closes the space between us, taking my lips in for a heated kiss again. My hands were on his hair, slightly pulling on some strands. "Do that again.." he groans. I pull again and a strangled moan leaves his lips making me shiver on him.

He arches his back a little, bucking his hips against mine. He shudders when my hips move back against his, still sitting on his lap.

"What are you even doing to me, Peach – huh?" I hear him say before he traces down an invisible path down my neck, leaving light and wet kissed.

– thats all I remember before waking up in my bed in the morning with my head hurting like hell. I groan and try to get up, wanting to take a shower. It sounds like the rest is still asleep so I walk into mine and Pansy‘s bathroom, taking off my clothes to get into the shower. With one last turn I see myself in the mirror, my eyes widen. What the fuck.

I had a hickey right between my breasts and one on my collorbone but it was really small and almost bot noticeable. Who was - shit Mattheo.

—

yoo 2 posts in less than 24h ?? Crazyy

this is going to be a mini series. 🫶🏻 inspired by my vacation 2 weeks ago to Barcelona 🇪🇸

my Masterlist

xoxo Sarah &lt;3

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Told you she was real

Buck Cleven X nurse! Reader

Summary: Buck has a girlfriend, Bucky does not believe such "lies"

Warning: none

Word count: 500 words

When Buck told his best friend that he had a girlfriend, Bucky laughed for minutes before saying that he didn’t believe him. But he was wrong, she was just never around the base. She was a travel nurse, that means that the Red Cross send her when she was most needed. That’s how they met, he’d fall and open his knee and she healed him, after they kept talking until, she was going to be send away. Buck gave her the address of his base, so she’d write to him.

Buck closed her last letter, grinning like the town idiot. ‘’What got you smiling like that?’’ Bucky asked. ‘’My girlfriend is coming here’’ he says, smiling. ‘’Oh, I don’t say this to be mean, but are you sure you’re okay, mentally? Because there’s no way she’s real’’ Bucky said. Buck rolled his eyes and showed his friend the letter, he read it. ‘’Nah, I’m still not convinced. I have to see her in real life to believe you’’ he gently taps his back before leaving the room. Buck was happy, his girlfriend was coming on his base, he could prove to his best friend that she’s real and dating him. Plus, he was sure that Bucky was going to be jealous of him, Y/n was really beautiful.

She got out of the truck, looking around the base, looking for her boyfriend. When she spotted him, she dropped her bags and ran in his direction. She jumped in his arms as they spun around. ‘’I’ve missed you so much!’’ she squealed in his ears. Other soldiers were looking at the couple with confusion, his mysterious girlfriend was real? John Egan walked out of a building and saw his best friend kissing a girl, his jaw dropped, and he rose his eyebrows, what the hell? He thought. ‘’Wait a damn second!? She’s your imaginary girlfriend, she’s real?!’’ he exclaimed. ‘’Not so imaginary now, I’m Y/n, you must be Bucky. Gale told me a lot about you’’ she extended her hand for the pilot to shake. Bucky was even more in shock she had repartee, what was she doing with him? ‘’Great things?’’ he looked at his friend. ‘’Yes, but he did mention a certain unicorn story’’ she laughs. ‘’You did not tell her about that!’’ Bucky exclaimed. Buck only nodded, making Bucky face palm. ‘’I’m really happy to see that you are real, and I don’t have to send my best friend to a mental institute’’ Bucky says. ‘’Happy to be real’’ Y/n smirk. Buck smiles, proud of his girl. He kissed her again, happy that she came here. ‘’I can’t believe you’re in front of me’’ Buck says. ‘’Me neither, but I have a great news’’ she says. They stop walking and she looks at him. ‘’I got transferred here, permanently’’ she smiles. Buck hugs her tightly. ‘’Oh my! That’s amazing! We’re going to be together all the time’’ He cries out in joy. Bucky surely believed his friend now.

[k0juki]

Pls PLS hcs of reader and joost being parents!! Thank youu

Dad!Joost Klein hc.

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.

A/n: Girl dad!Joost just make my brain go brbrbr

Wc: 700

---

• I imagine it like you guys were together long before you got pregnant.

• The whole pregnancy would be so stressful for both of you, but I think mostly for Joost.

• Like imagine him when you told him that special moment. (Short Imagine ahead)

---

You stood in the bathroom, holding that pregnancy test, where two straight lines shined. You were pregnant. Fuck.

"Y/n? Are you alright?" Joost asked from the other side of the door. Nervousness evident in his voice. What took you so long? Were you hurt? "Open the door."

"I-i'm" you took a deep breath, claiming yourself. "I'm alright Joost." You answered him and put down the positive test.

You looked at yourself in the mirror for the last time and opened the door, seeing Joost leaning against the frame of the door.

"Hey, are you alright?" What are you going to tell him? 'hey Joost, I'm pregnant and not scared as hell' no, definitely not this, but you have to tell him something.

You opened your mouth just to close it again. You didn't think of anything. You had to tell him. Now or never.

"I-I think I'm pregnant.." you said and waited for his response, for him to say something. But he was looking at you like, you just grew a second head.

"Y-you're...pregnant?" He asked, surprise evident in his voice. "W-we're having a baby?"

You just nodded your head. You couldn't think of any words right now and you felt tears in your eyes. Maybe because you didn't tried for a baby or maybe it was just hormones.

And then, Joost took you in his arms, a happy smile on his face and his laughter filled the space around you.

"You aren't mad?" You asked, feeling lost.

"Mad? Why should I be mad? This is amazing! We're having a baby!" He laughed and spinned you around.

---

• He definitely made you listen to his music while you were pregnant. Not that you minded.

• Later you discovered that you were having a little girl. Ashley, but you called her Ash.

• "A badass name for a badass girl, no?"

• Also there would be some sleepless nights, at first when Ash is a little baby and starts crying at night.

• He would be up the second he heard her soft sobbing.

• "Hey there..." Joost whispered as he took her in his arms. "It's alright baby, I'm right here."

• Sometimes he would take her to your and Joost bed, and let her sleep here, in his arms.

• And her first words would be daddy. Joost would be literally jumping around with Ash in his arms tearing up.

• You and Joost would be teaching her to talk both Dutch and English, and other language if your is not English. (Like me)

• Missing you and Ash as he is on tour, so you would be face calling every day and night before she goes to sleep.

• Telling her every story, about places he was in, and what people he met.

• As she grew older, let's just say about four, Joost would love to take Ash on outdoor adventures, teaching her about nature and the world around her.

• A small hiking trips with Ash on Joost's shoulders.

• And mostly teaching her about music. His music. (Not every song okay?) He would DEFINITELY teach her how to dance and sing with her too.

• Also Joost would be playing princess with her, simply because she told him to, and what kind of father would he be if he rejected her wish.

• "No daddy, Mr. Pinky likes his tea with lemon, not sugar." Mr. Pinky is her favorite pink unicorn.

• "Alright, alright, my apologies."

• Calling Ashley his little bug. (He just gave me this kind of vibe.)

• "Daddy I'm not a bug!" Ashley whined.

• And he would write some songs about her. For her, and how much he loves her.

• Maybe he will try to talk you into taking her on tour. "Come on love, it's just for two months."

• And let's just say you said no. End of the discussion…

---

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

[elioslover]

Routines (Harry Styles x reader) dadrry!

Premise: Harry is stirred from his sleep by the best little surprise.

[I could not help myself!]

Word count: 1.4k.

Warnings: . Other writing / More dad!harry

🧸

The sun is bright-even brighter than the curtains shielding it from the sleepy owners tucked away under soft and fluffy white sheets. Speaking of, Harry has been in a deep sleep, swimming across dreamland with gills and a tail. An extremely enticing activity that only has him lulling further into unconsciousness. 

But it doesn’t take long for his dreams to start turning foggy, a soft and cute voice cooing out to him, coming from the sky above him, demanding his attention. He knows the voice well- knows he will be awake in a few moments. And how could he resist when the voice is so loving, a mumble of half-formed words and little giggles. 

He can feel someone starts to stir beside him, a soft grumble threatening to roll over and tend to the little voice calling for your attention from the other side of the bed. Harry needs to stop you before you are fully awake and can't convince yourself to fall asleep, well aware that letting you rest will be one of the only graces he can still give you. 

Blindingly reaching his arm out, Harry gently rubs his palm along your back, swirling circles along your skin, signalling your nearing return to slumber. Sighing out with relief, you shift and snuggle back into the plush sheets. 

The giggling goes on, closer to his face now and Harry can't stop the sleepy smile that creeps along his feature, excitement for his eyes to flutter open so he can greet the needy little one who is only moments away from wrapping their chubby little fingers around his nearest curls, threatening to tug if he waits much longer. 

This is a guarantee after a repeat of the same wake-up routine for weeks in a row- a tiny tot, reaching no taller than his knees, the perfect place to wrap around him to stay as close as humanly possible. A little baby, well rested, waking up with the sun and ready to sing their little songs for mummy and daddy. 

She had stayed snuggled beneath her lilac and unicorn duvet for as long as her little thoughts could keep her company, but after a good moment of fiddling with her fingers- raised above her and aimed for the ceiling, creating wonky hand puppets- she is determined for only one thing; the company of the tall, all-knowing parent. 

Her soft feet, devoid of creases, new to the whole living thing, pad along the hardwood floor, navigating from the safety of her bed in search of the main bedroom. The journey from one room to another is hardly existent- less than five footsteps away, and with the door already slanted, she is welcome to wander and waddle along to the king-sized mattress. 

A smile turns to a little grin, baby teeth peaking past her gums as she makes her way over before coming to a clumsy halt at the foot of the bed. Both parents are buried between a mountain of sheets, heads pressed into the pillows, soft snores emitted in intervals, and she frowns with little furrowed brows, longing for them to wake up and smother her with lovies. 

Harry obliges with another little smile, sending it her way from behind closed lids, taking a last second to enjoy the feeling of darkness before slowly squinting his eyes to open, slowly separating and embracing the harsh shining of the sun, peaking through a sliver of the crumpled curtain, bouncing along and illuminating the bedroom. 

With one eye more open than the other, his vision blurs to clarity, he is met with the wide and gleeful gaze of his favourite little gremlin. She has him grinning from her mere presence, partially satisfied that she has managed to persuade Harry to escape slumber, giddy for the gush of greetings she is guaranteed to receive. 

His voice is gravelly as a toothy grin spreads along his cheeks, shiny teeth cheesing up at the little lady looking over at him with the widest most innocent green eyes, thick black lashes fanning and framing her stark, fiery gaze,

“Good morning princess.” 

He can hear you shuffle with surety and satisfaction, digging deep into the mattress and delving back to sleep with the reassurance that your little one is taken care of- for the moment, at least. Satisfied with his success, Harry turns all of his attention to the little girl currently clapping her hands together with anticipation as she answers, 

“Hello, dada.” 

Each time she chooses to verbalise her thoughts, Harry feels like it’s the first time- the first time he’s heard her little voice. Even if she’s only been absent for a couple hours, he cannot help the surprise that stirs in his heart, butterflies batting against the walls of his stomach, filled with excitement over his little creation beaming up at him with such pure adoration. 

Harry rolls over fully, resting on his hip, one arm raising to cradle his head and the other reaching out in an attempt to reel her in closer. She obliges in an instant, bouncing up and down on the balls of her chubby little feet, bounding over to him, her hand wrapping around his own extended palm. 

With her hand in his, Harry is always amused at how tiny she really is- with such a rambunctious and animated personality, it's hard to believe her third birthday is yet to pass- fitting in his palm like that of a petit flower, her half-scrunched fist sitting right in the middle of his hand like blooming petals. 

“Did you have a nice sleep?” Harry ponders, a warm feeling melting his heart as she begins nodding avidly. She had no dreams, despondent to the world, wholesomely welcoming the darkness, and Harry longs for the days when his sleep was the same. 

She is inching closer, clambering over in an attempt to settle into his custody, and Harry is more than willing to comply as he gently guides her closer with his grip, encouraging her to continue her climb up onto the mattress, 

“Wanna snuggle with mummy and daddy for a little?” He already knows the answer, but he loves the way her eyes light up with excitement. 

“Absolutely.” That’s a new one for her, replacing the repetitive answer of yes, Harry is reeling with amusement, in awe of her apparent skill in picking up and copying the words she has heard both you and Harry saying at some point or another. This is absolutely his contribution- he had said it a couple times just the day before. 

“C’mere, clever little one.” He helps her crawl up, the mattress dipping so minimally as she cuddles closer into his hold. 

Harry shifts further back, careful not to bump your body, but soothed as one of your hands sluggishly holds onto his shoulder, your own body squeezing closer to his until there is no space and Harry is being spooned by his sweetest companion, back slotted between your chest. 

He provides enough space for his little one to snuggle over into him, her entirety curled into a half-moon, legs curled up and little arms scrunched against her chest. As soon as her head hits the pillow, she is starting to settle, little eyes struggling to keep from swelling shut with the promise of extra sleep. Harry knows it will be mere moments until she slips away with melatonin, leaving him with the promise that he will soon join her. 

His eyes flutter shut as she snuggles in even closer- if possible- and his arms curls around her with comfort and security, making certain she knows she is always safe in his company. And it seems like seconds before her body stills, and relaxes into the bundle of sheets, little breaths evening out until Harry is sure she is asleep. 

With sleepy eyes and a wholesomely swollen heart, Harry is wrapped up and warm, surrounded by the most important loves in his life, wondering how he got so lucky as slumber slowly seduces him back into darkness.  

[dandylovesturtles]

Decided to write a quick little something for @whumperless-whump-event Day 4: chronic pain/"I'm used to it."

featuring, of course, Sidelined Leo!

like I said before, since it's disability pride month I'd like to do a few things for the Sidelined AU, so hopefully I will find time for more as the days go. For now, I hope you enjoy this!

-----

Leo can tell it's going to be a bad day the moment he wakes up.

The pain in his arms and legs has grown from it's constant dull thrum to a more present burn, and there's a pinch between his eyes that tells him a headache is on the way. Really, he's not surprised; the last few days have been really good. He even went out on a mission two days ago, and did a little skateboarding yesterday. It stands to reason that his body has crashed out on him.

Sometimes he feels angry and bitter about it. Today, he just feels a sort of resigned acceptance. And that means maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

He hits the button on the side of the bed so it bends him into a reclined position, then fumbles around on his side table until his hand lands on his pill organizer. He should probably text someone to bring him water, but it feels like a pain, so he dry swallows them one by one and just resolves not to mention doing that to Dad or Raph.

Then he finally blinks the sleep out of his eyes and looks around his room and... darn it, his chair isn't here. Where'd he even leave it...

His memory is a complete blank on that one, so he sighs and clears his throat.

"Hey, Shell-man?"

There's only a second of silence before Shelldon's voice echoes from who even knows where. Donnie rigged his new room with more electronics than Leo will ever know about.

"S'up bro?"

"You know where my chair is?" he asks, like Shelldon can't track it instantly.

"You left it in the arcade, dude," comes the answer. "Want me to wheel it over?"

Yeah, no way he's getting himself to the arcade today. "Sure, thanks, Shelly."

"No problem, dude!"

Leo lets his head flop back on his pillows while he wants for his chair to be delivered. He fumbles around for his phone this time and takes a look at his reminders.

6:00 PM: Concert with Mikester

"Crap," he mutters, closing his eyes. Right, that yokai hip-hop group Mikey wanted to go see. Leo had promised he'd go with him, but he doubts he'll be able to do it now.

It's not that big a deal. Raph or Donnie will probably go with him if Mikey makes big enough puppy eyes at them. It's just, Leo had been kinda excited about it, too...

The dark buzz that heralds his anxiety flares up, and he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slow. He doesn't want this day to turn terrible. He needs to relax and accept the things he can't change, like April always says. Even when it sucks.

There's a whir of electronics that signals the arrival of his chair. Leo waits until it parks itself next to his bed, then he swings his legs over the bed and stands up just long enough to sit down in the chair again. Even that leaves him feeling a little winded, but he doubts his arms could have handled the transfer so he doesn't bother trying.

He wheels around his room until he finds his big comfy unicorn hoodie, then drives out into the rest of the lair, making his way up the ramp to the kitchen. He can smell breakfast cooking, and hear Raph's voice.

"Morning fam," he says as he comes in, trying to keep his voice upbeat even though he already feels tired.

"Morning Leo!" Mikey echoes, turning around with a whole plate of waffles. His smile falters a little when he sees the chair and the hoodie. "Oof. Flare up?"

"Yeah," he admits, steering his chair into the empty part of the kitchen table. Mikey sets the waffle plate down, and without having to be asked Raph starts fixing some for Leo, with blueberries on top.

It took work for them both to find the line between helping and babying, but they're better at this now. Leo doesn't mind Raph helping him out this way, especially because he'd rather not make a mess of the kitchen table.

"Mikey, can you grab my fat fork?"

"It has a name," says a tired voice behind him, and Leo smirks as Donnie comes around the side and makes for the coffee machine.

"I just used it. It's the fat fork."

"It's a GeniusBuilt Secure Grip Adjustable Fork-"

"I'm not saying all that."

Donnie huffs. Mikey snickers, swinging around him to deliver the fork with the thick grip to Leo. He has another set with a loop that can secure to his hand if he needs it, but this one is fine for now.

"Here!

"Thanks Angelo."

"Did you take your meds this morning?" Raph asks.

"Yes, Mom," says Leo, rolling his eyes as he cuts off a bite of waffle.

"Really? 'Cause Raph didn't hear you ask anyone to bring you water-"

"I had some leftover Gatorade in my room," Leo lies quickly.

"Uh-huh." Raph looks at him skeptically. "Leo, you know taking pills without water hurts your throat."

"Meh meh meh, you'll hurt your throat," Leo repeats in a mocking voice. Raph reaches over like he's going to cuff Leo on the head, then seems to rethink it and steals some of his blueberries instead. "Hey!"

"You are all so noisy already," comes Splinter's voice, and he finally comes into the room to join them, wearing the robe he slept in. He looks up at Leo in his chair. "Are you in pain, Blue?"

Leo hums an affirmative. "It's not that bad, though," he adds, because it's not. Comparatively.

Now it's his dad's turn to look skeptical. "Are you sure?"

Leo grimaces. "It's... a little worse than normal," he amends. "But I can handle it."

"Mmm..." Splinter walks off to get in his own seat. "Let us know if it gets worse."

"Yeah, yeah..."

The conversation moves on to other topics, up until Leo's wheelchair beeps at him. He groans, glancing down at the battery indicator, which is firmly in the red.

"You forgot to charge it, didn't you?" asks Donnie, looking amused.

"Shut up, I've been busy!" Leo snaps back.

"If you left it on the charger when you aren't using it then this wouldn't happen."

"Alright, anyone else have any criticisms for me today?" he says, except it comes out a shade too bitter and Donnie's grin falters.

Good job, Leon, way to be a dick. He winces, focusing again on his waffles. His arm is sore from the effort of eating and he wants to crawl back in bed and stay there, which is exactly the sort of attitude he's been trying to avoid.

"...I have the backup chair in the lab if you need it," says Donnie. A peace offering.

"Thanks," says Leo, returning it.

So after breakfast, Donnie helps him swap chairs. His main one is put on the charger and he wheels himself to the living room with the backup, then calls for Raph.

"Think you can help me get comfy, big guy?" he asks.

"Of course," says Raph with a grin. "What do you want?"

It's nice that he asks now, instead of assuming.

Leo directs him to help him onto the couch, then Raph gets him his fluffy blue blanket to cover him up. Even though he took his meds, he can feel the pain radiating at his hips and knees and he guesses he's going to need more later. He sets an alarm on his phone and settles in with a Jupiter Jim flick to fall asleep to.

He's not out yet when he hears the pad of feet, then feels the couch dip as Mikey sits next to him.

"Hey Leo," he says softly, and Leo gives a hum to let him know he's still awake. "You think... you're gonna feel up for the concert tonight?"

Oh right. Shoot. It had already slipped Leo's mind, and now he feels guilty all over again.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head so he can see Mikey. "I don't think so. I'm sorry."

"You don't gotta apologize!" says Mikey quickly. "I'm sorry you're having a rough day."

"It's fine," says Leo. "I'm used to it."

"I'm still sorry," says Mikey firmly. He gets up, then comes over so he can give Leo a very awkward couch hug. "I wish you didn't have to hurt," he says, sincerely.

Leo leans into the hug. Feels the dark buzz of anxiety ebb away.

"Hey, it's alright. All you guys make it easier."

Mikey beams at that, bouncing back up. "Hey, I know," he says. "I'll get Donnie to help me set up a sweet livestream so you can see the concert from right here!"

They don't have to go to all that trouble for him. But Leo looks up at his little brother's shining smile and can't say no.

"That'd be really cool," he says, and Mikey claps his hands.

"Yes! Okay, I'll go get Dee and we'll get on it!"

He races away. Leo chuckles, curling up under his blanket.

Maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Lunch

Summary: Javi's rough start to the work week is turned around when he finds a surprise from his daughters in his lunch

Word Count: 3.1K (oops)

Paring: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: Literally nothing but sweet, sickening fluff, Javi being so in love with his family, Javi being the ultimate girl dad, a lot of glitter (?)

A/N: Our favorite family is back! I am a firm believer that Girl Dad!Javi keeps every single piece of artwork his daughters give to him and has a wall at his office dedicated to all of their drawings and crafts because he refuses to get rid of any of them 😭 I love them so much, they make me sick, your honor 🫡 unbeata bc that's just who I am, apologies in advance for the mistakes

Series Masterlist. Never Too Late Masterlist

4 hours into Monday and Javier Peña was already counting down the hours until Friday. It seemed like this week was going to have no problem giving Javi a swift kick in the ass back to reality after another blissful weekend with you and the girls, a grumpy frown falling upon his face, wishing he could rewind back just a few hours to when the biggest problems he was trying solved revolved around which book his daughters were picking out for bedtime, rather than strategy meetings on how to solve the better half of the southern drug trade still ranging in Mexico. 

Rubbing his hands over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Javi let out a sigh, grumbling low in his chest before running his hands through the dark curls of his hair, praying that the closed door of his office was enough to give his co-workers at the Laredo Sheriff's Department enough of a clue to let him at least try to enjoy his lunch in silence.  

Shuffling and stacking a few stray papers left out on his desk, Javi cleared a space for the brown paper sack he mindlessly pulled out of his work bag, plopping it in front of him without a second look. He shuffled through the pocket he knew he had an extra fork in somewhere, considering he was at the point of eating his lunch with nothing but his hands before venturing out to the common kitchen where the rest of his co-workers were, ready to disrupt the sacred silence and peace that was his lunch time. 

“Of course I forgot a fucking fork…” Javi grumbled to himself, abandoning his search in his bag after a few minutes, letting out another disappointed huff, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the speckled tiles of the ceiling. Javi was just about to get up, bracing himself for the perilous journey for a plastic fork he was about to embark on, when the corner of the lunch bag perched on his desk caught his eye. 

Was that… glitter?

As his gaze shifted down the rest of his bag, Javi’s impatient and bothered demeanor had quickly shifted, a soft smile growing between his cheeks, picking up the lunch sack that had very clearly been given a makeover by his daughters before disappearing into his work bag this morning. 

What was once a plain brown paper bag had somehow been turned into a hodgepodge of arts and crafts- glitter, pink and purple hearts, several stickers from separate collections of puppies, Star Wars, and unicorns, doodles and drawings from each of the girls, and a stray Batman band-aid that Harper must have added, considering the 17 she had covered herself in last night for fun. 

Quietly laughing to himself at his girl’s creation, Javi spent a few moments thoroughly examining all sides of the bag, his heart melting to read “Daddy’s Lunch- From Lucy, Elliot, Harper and Mommy” scribbled across the front. 

Carefully, Javi opened the top of the crinkly brown paper, revealing a plethora of surprising goodies inside, the first being a tiny stuffed cow and a fruit-by-the-foot that he obviously had no recollection of packing for himself last night. Setting the things down on his desk, Javi shuffled through the next added layer, this one consisting of another fruit-by-the-foot and a half eaten granola bar, which one of the girls clearly had gotten into before his lunch had departed from home.

 The last thing hiding lunch was a piece of paper that had been folded several times to fit inside the bag, Javi gently removing it with the rest of his surprise treasures. As he unfolded the now somewhat crumpled paper, the grin on his face began to grow wider and wider, seeing the colorful crayon creations doodled on the page. Before him, sat a paper with drawings of each of the girls done by themselves, perfectly embodying their tiny personalities. Lucy’s was neatly sketched and colored, and then outlined in a darker color to make the inside colors pop, Elliot’s had crazy scribbled hair and was holding a hockey stick in not one, but both hands, and Harpers was done in every color that the Crayola crayon box had to offer. 

As if their adorable self-portraits weren’t enough to have him in a puddle, in the middle of their artwork was a drawing of Javi standing between them with the words “We love you Daddy!”  etched in big, pink bubble letters above them. 

Javi had been so enamored by the art his daughters had made him, taking in every stroke and scribble on the page, he hadn’t noticed the smaller note that had fallen to his desk, your neat and careful handwriting etched across the paper. 

Jav,

3 little munchkins were very insistent on re-making Daddy’s lunch last night, and even more insistent on decorating your very boring brown bag. They told me that they were adding a few surprises to your lunch, so this is me apologizing in advance for any half eaten snacks or stuffed animals that may have ended up in there. I hope you have a great day, we all miss you lots and can’t wait to see you later. 

Love you lots, 

Osita 

Even though it was nothing but a few words scribbled down on a piece of paper and a drawing similar to one he had seen a thousand times before, it never failed to surprise Javi how something so small really did mean everything to him.  

Years ago, still working for the DEA, in the midst of chaos and corruption in Colombia, one of his former agents had always insisted on carrying his “lucky” drawing from his son in his back pocket on every mission he was sent on. Back then, the idea of carrying a colored, crumpled piece of paper in his jeans for good luck seemed like a somewhat ridiculous notion, but now, as Javi stared up at the bulletin board next to his desk, overflowing with drawings, paintings, and projects from his 3 daughters, he couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t hold any gift from his girls so near and dear to his heart that he ever dared to let it go. 

Overlapping his newest artwork over the most recent crafts given to him to hang in his office, Javi hung today’s drawing at the front and center of the board, your note nestled next to it, beaming with pride at the love and and joy at how full his heart felt from a few simple pieces of paper. 

Admiring just a little longer before reaching over to the phone at the corner of his desk, Javi began to punch the familiar pattern of your home phone number on the receiver, patiently tapping his fingers as the line rang, the other hand grabbing his actual lunch food out of the flamboyantly decorated bag. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey baby, it’s me.” 

“Hi. Is everything okay?” You questioned cautiously, somewhat surprised by his mid-day work call. 

“No, everything is-” He paused, smiling back his lunch bag, “everything is great. I just had some time during lunch and wanted to see if the 3 stooges are around so I can say thank you for my lunch.” 

“Oh God, I almost forgot that was last night’s surprise project. How bad was it? I was only there to supervise lunch bag decorating because they were adamant they were more than capable than packing extra snacks for you.” You snickered, Javi practically almost able to see the hysterical look plastering your face through the phone, laughing right along with you at the adorable gifts they had left behind for him. 

“Well, I got…” Javi stopped, reaching back over in his pile of goodies, “two fruit-by-the-foots, a stuffed purple cow, and a half eaten granola bar that has Elliot written all over it.” 

“Is that Daddy? Did he get our lunch?! Did he like it?!” A chorus of little voices squealed in the background. 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself.” You snickered, the muffled and muted sounds of the phone being passed off to the girls rustling through the other end of the line as Javi nestled his phone between his ear and shoulder, beginning to open up his food as he waited for a response from his daughters. 

“Hi Daddy!” The 3 shouted through the phone in unison.

“Hola, pollitas! (Hi, little chickens) Thank you so much for my lunch today!” 

“Did you like the bag, Daddy? It was my idea to make it look pretty because the brown is so boring.” Lucy boasted, in her lovingly know-it-all tone, making sure her dad knew she was without a doubt, the ringleader of the lunchtime antics. 

“I added the extra snacks!” Elliot chimed in, making sure her voice was well pronounced through the phone ensuring that Javi could her her contributions. 

“I helped-ed too!” Harper interrupted, trying to butt in over her sisters. 

“Well, Mommy helped a little bit too, but it was mostly us!” 

“Was it a surprise, Daddy?” 

“Best surprise I’ve had in a very long time. I already put your drawing up on my board so everyone can see your beautiful artwork. I think everyone at work is gonna start thinking I have professional artists that live in my house.” Javi’s cheeks were already sore from the goofy grin that was only getting wider every second he listened to his daughter’s sweet little voices on the phone, the girls erupting in a fit of giggles at his compliment. “Los amos mucho, morritas (I love you so much, kiddos).” 

“Hey Boss, you gotta second, I-” Agent Carter half knocked, opening Javi’s office door, stopping in his tracks as he met Javi’s cheerful grin turned death glare upon his arrival, slowly retracting his steps while Javi let out a scornful sigh, holding his hand out to get Carter to at least let him wrap up before dealing with whatever bullshit was coming his way. 

“Hey pollitas? Daddy has to get back to work, but I’ll see you in a little bit when I get home, okay? I love you so much. Can you pass the phone back to Mom?” 

“Okay, bye Daddy! Mommy! Mommy, Daddy wants to say goodbye!” 

“The gremlins said you wanted to say goodbye?” You laughed over the clatter of the phone being handed haphazardly back to you. 

“Yeah baby, I gotta go back to work, but I just wanted to say I love you and thanks for helping them with lunch, it was really fucking cute. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“The cutest 3 stinkers that I’ve ever met. I love you too, Jav. Bye, babe.” 

“Love you, bye.” 

As the dial tone went silent, Javi hung up the phone, taking in a deep exhale, still holding his hand out at his co-worker to preemptively prevent whatever what stupid remark was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I wasn’t gonna say anything!” Carter winced, holding up his hands in defense at Javi’s death glare, trying his best to hide the sly smirk spreading between his lips. “…. I just never really struck you for a rainbow glitter type of guy.” 

“Fuck off, Carter. Give me 10 more minutes to try and eat my lunch in fucking peace.” Javi groaned, trying to shoo him back out the door he had barged in from.

“Okay, okay, message received! I will say…I do think the glitter really does capture your bright and sparkly personality though, the unicorn stickers are really a nice-” 

“Carter…” 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m leaving! “ 

As the door clicked shut, Javi let his annoyance slip back to content, letting the colorful sparkle of his lunch back serve as his beacon of hope for the rest of the work day, thankful for the extra piece of home he got to keep with him until he got to see his girls again. 

“Hey, I’m home!” Javi’s familiar voice rang through the hallway, barely 3 steps through the front door before the girls were rushing through the house, barrelling towards their dad to attack him with the biggest bear hugs their little bodies could muster. 

“Daddy!” They screeched, wrapping around every free inch of Javi’s body that they could reach, giggling as he crouched down to greet them, peppering them with ticklish kisses all over their faces. 

“Hola, Pollitas! Oh, I missed you guys! Did you guys have a good day today?” Javi grinned, now letting the bags he was holding in his hands drop to the floor, collecting his daughters in his grasp, wrapping them up in the tightest hug he could manage through their excited squirms and wiggles. 

“Yeah, we went to the park with Mommy and then we came home and played soccer and then ran through the sprinkler!” Lucy beamed, her sisters nodding in happy agreement, excited to tell their dad about today’s shenanigans while he was at work. 

“I scored two goals on Mommy!” Elliot added, her face lighting up with pride at her accomplishment. 

“No way! Nice stuff, Ellie Bellie!” Javi grinned, holding his hand out for a ferocious high-five from Elliot, pretending to shake his hand in pain at her strength, making the girls snicker at their dad’s overdramatics. “Hey, can you tell me where Momma is, I gotta go say hi to her too and then you can tell me all about the rest of your day, okay?” 

“She’s in the kitchen making dinner!” Lucy replied, giggling as Javi pressed a long kiss into the top of her head, nestled between her messy hair. 

“Mommy’s makin’ ‘pisgetti!” Harper cooed, Lucy and Elliot trying their best to keep from laughing at their youngest sister’s inability to pronounce spaghetti. 

“Thanks, lindas (cuties). Why don’t you guys go clean up your stuff and then we can help Mom with the rest of dinner?” 

“Okay!” The three agreed, dashing back through the house and disappearing down the hallways, Javi laughing to himself as he kicked off his shoes and picked up his bags, heading into the kitchen to find you at the stove, happily humming and swaying your hips to the radio playing in the background as you cooked, so wrapped up in what you were doing that you hadn’t realized your husband’s presence. 

Quietly setting down his bags on the counter, Javi rested his hip against the stone ledge, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you work, wondering to himself if he would ever get over how even the simplest things like watching you make dinner made him fall more and more in love with you, the familiar warmth of home and you creeping through his cheeks in a soft smile. 

“Hi, Momma.” He smirked, making you squeal in surprise as he snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss into your shoulder, rocking you back and forth in his grasp. “I missed you guys today.” 

“Hi, handsome. We missed you, too. The girls haven’t stopped asking when you were going to be home since you called at lunch time. They were so excited you liked your lunch. Sorry if it was a little obnoxious. I tried to tell ‘em to go easy on the glitter, so hopefully none ended up in your food.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the image of the finished lunch bag that had made its way to work with Javi this morning. You turned around to face Javi, his hands still resting on your hips as you draped your arms over his shoulders, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your lips meet his, his mouth lingering just a little longer than usual as you felt his smile growing amidst his kiss. “What was that for?” You blushed, butterflies swirling in your stomach as his lips gently pulled away from yours, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your skin in the space where your t-shirt and shorts parted. 

“I love you so much. You and the girls, I just- I’m just so thankful for all of you.” Javi grinned, the soft brown of his eyes sparkling in the kitchen light, looking you up and down as if in awe of the fact that you were the woman he got to hold in his grasp at the end of each day for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too, you goof.” 

Before your lips could meet again, the happy giggles of your girls flooded through the kitchen, their little pitters and patters of their feet tumbling the hallway to greet the both of you again. Peeking over Javi’s shoulder, you cocked your head in confusion at the plastic bag your girls were now rummaging through on the counter, wondering what Javi had been shopping for on his way home. 

“What’s in the bag, Jav?” 

“Well…” He paused, making his way over to the kitchen counter with the girls, picking up the bag and tipping it over, shaking its contents out in front of them, “I figured, since the munchkins did such a good job with today’s lunch bag-” 

“STICKERS!” 

“GLITTER PENS?!”

“PUFFY PAINT!” 

The girls shrieked, picking up the various brightly colored craft items Javi had brought home with him, along with a pack of brown paper bags, making the reason for his pit stop abundantly clear, and making you smile even wider than you already were. 

“...I figured, I still have 4 days of lunches left, and you guys did such a good job with my lunch today, that you could decorate the rest of my lunch bags for the week.” 

“Really?!” The girls squealed, their faces lighting up in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Javi beamed, reaching his arms around the girls to pick them up, the 3 laughing and squirming in pure joy, your heart bursting at the seams watching just how much Javi loved his little girls and the silliest, smallest things he would do just to make them smile. 

“Mommy, can we start right now!? Please, please, pleaseeeeee?” Lucy begged, Elliot and Harper joining in with their silent plea of sweet puppy eyes. 

“Let’s help Mommy with dinner and then we can-” 

“It’s okay, I think spaghetti can wait a little longer.” 

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem

[devoutekuna]

A summer day

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

His daughter inherits his love for food, always taking some whenever she had the chance, you didn't understand how she wasn't fat at this point, always stuffing her plate with meat. So when she found out that there was something cooking on the grill, she instantly went for it, leaving the comfort of the shade from the blazing sun as she ran for the open grill. Standing on the stood only for her to accidentally burn herself with the instance she accidentally touched the grates. She hadn't even noticed for a few seconds till a small burning feeling became. "Papa!" See, her father always told her if someone was burnt or on fire to throw it in water or something like that, she didn't have that good of a memory. Soon enough she was trying to stay on the unicorn floaty dipping her hand in the pool water which was practically boiling due to the sun, which didn't help much, resulting in her father having to come save her.

Nanami-

He loves the sun, but would prefer to be in the shade right now, laying on the grass staring up at his book. But always looking back towards the pool to see his daughter swim, she had floaties on and knew how to swim so he trusted her, but not enough, that's why you were there. Sat right beside the pool water as she kept trying to swim towards you. "Kitty!" Screaming towards the poor cat that kept coming around their house. "Come here" swimming towards the cat as it ran away from her.

Geto-

"Oh no" the waves washing away her sandcastle, she should've listened to her father when he said that it was silly to build it so close to the water. "I told you baby" picking up the sandcastle mold as she sucked over the pile of sand. "How about we go do something else?" It was getting dark and he wanted to go home, especially since his whole body was covered in sand. "Ice-cream?" Trying to still build the castle once again. "Ice-cream or the fancy restaurant?" He shouldn't have gave her that option as she'd surely pick the ice-cream over the restaurant. Grabbing her hand as he pulled her up. "Ice-cream!"

Gojo-

Feeling an ounce of sun and he's already got the bright idea to have a water fight, normally he'd use water guns, only the balloons. But he was feeling devious and wanted to get back at his son for last summer. "Just don't come in the house with the guns or balloons." Locking the males out of the house, keeping an eye on your son as he was close to the pool. Water already being spirited onto his son's head as he tried to refill the water balloons. "Hey!" turning around to shout only to get a face full of water. Laughs filling his ears as he reached for a water balloon throwing it blindly into the space. Unfortunately for him, his father had turned on his infinity which wasn't even fair yet.

Toji-

"Daddy Daddy!" Running up to the man who was sat on the beach stuffing his face with watermelon, ignoring her mother completely as you laid face down under the umbrella. "Look!" Accidentally throwing the seashells onto his lap. The main one being a big conch shell, picking it up and shoving it in his face. "It's like moana's daddy!" Grinning and everything. "Yeah" he wasn't that interested in seashells but he loved to see his little girl smiling. "Show your mum" leaving all the small seashells on his lap as she woke you up.

[fatgirlonadate-blog]

21 Days - Day 16

You're on a secret mission today. No, not the undercover surveillance mission - do you even care about that one at this point?

This is a much more important mission - a covert operation.

It is unlike any you have ever faced before. And it will demand every ounce of feminine charm you possess—though, admittedly, that's not a lot.

You don't exactly have a ton of experience with this. But you’re not part of the UNICORNS for nothing; you're brave, resourceful, and determined. You've fought hundreds of Wanderers and survived multiple attempts on your life.

So bedding a ~400-year-old virgin should be easy, right?

Right???

You’ve never thought of yourself as sexy—or even especially attractive—so you feel a bit foolish as you slip into the lingerie you bought just for this occasion. The black lace clings to every curve as if it were specifically made for you, yet somehow it makes you feel even more vulnerable than if you were completely naked. It highlights all of the spots that Xavier seems particularly fond of kissing - the curves of your breasts, your stomach, and the swell of your hips. The delicate strip of lace that fits snug between your thighs barely covers you, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

You tug at the almost nonexistent scraps of fabric, hoping they will somehow expand and conceal more of your skin, but it’s useless. 

Why did you ever think this was a good idea? You feel every bit the awkward, blushing virgin, not the confident sex kitten you'd hoped to be.

Please, God, don't let him laugh when he sees it.

You quickly throw on some clothes—Xavier’s oversized red sweater and a pair of black leggings—before you can second-guess yourself and take it all off. You leave your hair loose and natural, adding a light spritz of vanilla perfume to your neck and wrists. You keep the makeup minimal, opting for a touch of lip gloss and a light sweep of mascara—just enough to accentuate your best features. 

The goal is to look pretty, but still casual enough to lure this elusive bunny into your trap.

You take a final look in the mirror, exhaling a deep breath as you brace yourself. This is either going to be the best night of your life or really, really embarrassing.

Either way, Operation: Seduce Xavier - All the Way has officially begun. It's too late to back out now.

You know you can't rush these things; if it's meant to happen, it will, and you would never force it. But you're pretty sure that, despite his old-fashioned ways, he wants to take this next step with you. He just needs a little nudge to push him over the edge.

The timing for this feels either just right or completely wrong - with nothing in between. Despite your efforts to put on a happy face last night, Xavier could see right through you. He knew something was wrong the moment you walked in the door, and you'd spent most of the night trying to reassure him that you were fine. 

He knew better, but he finally let it go before bed, cuddling you with a tenderness that weighed heavy on your heart.

He has his secrets, and now you have yours.

If you were being brutally honest, your mission today is about more than just pent up attraction.

Seeing Rafayel has made you desperate to solidify your connection with Xavier; to feel for him what you felt in just five seconds with Raf. It was just one kiss - and yet, somehow, it was as if your heart remembered his the moment your lips touched. 

But that's stupid, isn't it? The stuff of fairy tales. That doesn't happen in real life.

The feeling was more intense than it had any right to be, and you cannot make sense of it. It’s not as if you were ever truly together, so there's no reason for this to knock you off-balance the way that it has. Yet somehow, closing the door on a future with Rafayel has sparked a hunger within you—a craving that only one man can satisfy.

And today just happens to be that man's birthday.

Birthday sex is not cliché, is it?

Hell, it probably is, but you’re determined to make this the most unforgettable birthday Xavier has ever had. It's not just another day. It could be a first - for both of you.

And it all begins now. You square your shoulders, take a deep breath, and walk into the living room with more confidence than you actually feel.

Xavier is sprawled on the couch, engrossed in The Little Prince , absentmindedly munching on a bag of chips. He looks cozy in his gray sweatpants and loose white t-shirt, his messy hair falling across his forehead. A slight crease forms between his brows as he reads, completely lost in the story.

You’d given him the book and a card for his birthday—a little diversion, a little compromise. He’d mentioned that he usually spends the day reading and enjoying a good meal, so you’d spent the morning making him breakfast in bed, followed by a cozy afternoon curled up reading on the couch together. All in all, it was a good way to spend the day.

But now it's time for the real birthday to start.

"How's my little prince?" you ask, sinking onto the couch beside him and snuggling against his side.

Xavier groans but pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around you. "You cannot start calling me that."

"And why not?" You ask, poking him in the chest. "You don't like it?"

"No," Xavier shakes his head, his voice losing some of its teasing tone. "Not that one."

You glance at him curiously, surprised that he sounds serious. You've never known him to be picky about pet names. In fact, you're pretty sure he secretly loves them.

"Alright," you say slowly. "Then how about Xavie? Xay Xay? Xavie baby?"

Xavier scrunches up his nose, making a disapproving noise.

"Not those either? Okay, fine. You leave me no choice," you say with a playful grin. "Birthday Bunny it is."

He lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and sets the book aside to pull you into a kiss.

"One day," he agrees, peppering your cheeks and nose with small kisses. "You can call me that for one day a year."

"Every October 16th," you nod, grinning. "Got it. That means... 6 hours until I have to stop using it. We better get to work."

"Get to work?" He raises an eyebrow at you, confused.

"I have a surprise for you," you whisper, stealing a kiss from his lips that was meant for your cheek. "It's something sweet."

"Hmm," he hums, pretending to be deep in thought. 

"This surprise wouldn't have anything to do with all of the ingredients you bought yesterday, would it? Flour, and sugar, and candy,” he lists off. “All of the things someone might need to make a...cake?"

Xavier doesn’t bother hiding his smile, and his starburst eyes sparkle with amusement.

"Xavier Shen!" You gasp, though there's no real surprise in your voice. You hadn't exactly been stealthy. "I told you not to look in those bags!"

"It was an accident," he says, his smile growing wider. "I'm clumsy. I tripped and my face landed right in the bags. It hurt a lot."

"You are a huge, really old, terrible liar," you say, attempting to scowl, but your laughter spills out as you pinch his cheek.

He laughs with you, tilting his face away from your playful fingers, then stands up from the couch.

"Do I get to help?" He asks, reaching down to offer you a hand.

He pulls you up with such enthusiasm that you stumble into him with a giggle. "Of course! It's your birthday; it's your cake. I'm just here to supervise."

He struggles to pout past his smile, "I don't need supervision."

You give him a sidelong glance, smirking, but decide not to mention the last time he nearly burned down the apartment complex. After all, it is his birthday. You can let that one slide.

You and Xavier work together to mix the ingredients for a simple, round white cake. You walk him through greasing the cake pan and adding the batter, though you bite your tongue when you notice he’s overfilled it. It probably won’t matter, you remind yourself, and the main goal is for him to enjoy the process. Still, while he’s distracted, browsing through the cake decorations, you quietly adjust the oven to the correct temperature.

There will be no Xavier kitchen disasters on your watch. At least, not today.

As the cake bakes, you seize the opportunity to set your plan in motion. 

You start by casually brushing against him while arranging the decorating supplies, trying to catch his attention. When that doesn’t seem to do the trick, you intentionally knock over an oven mitt and bend down to pick it up, doing so slowly to make sure he notices the way your leggings cling to your ass as your sweater rides up. You think you've finally gotten his attention, but when he looks over, all he does is smile and return to scooping icing into piping bags, completely unfazed.

What the hell? Does he really love cooking that much? 

In movies and cheesy romance novels, this kind of thing always works. You can’t help feeling a bit silly now. You’d hoped that if you kept him worked up throughout the day, he wouldn’t be able to resist you tonight. But, apparently, none of this works on him. He's either too oblivious or too innocent to even notice.

As the sweet scent of cake fills the apartment, you slip onto the stool beside him at the bar counter, pulling a half-empty bowl of icing closer to inspect it. He’d mixed it himself while you were busy trying to play seductress, and it actually looks perfect. Smooth and creamy, just the right thickness for piping.

Xavier glances over, flashing you a grin, and dips his finger into the icing before bringing it to your lips. "Try it. I think I got it right."

Your stomach does a little flip as you open your mouth, and he slides his finger in. The icing is rich and sweet, with the perfect balance of butter and sugar, and you trace your tongue along his finger, making sure to get every last bit.

His eyes, locked on your mouth, grow darker as you attempt to tease him by sucking gently.

"Do you like it?" He asks, rubbing his finger against your tongue before slowly withdrawing it.

His voice has dropped to a low, suggestive tone that makes your heartbeat quicken, and suddenly, you're not sure if he's talking about the icing or something else entirely. But that hardly matters—you may not be a good seductress, but you still know an opportunity when you see one.

"Um, I don't know," you stammer, as you feel your own cheeks start to heat up. "I need to taste it again. Just to be sure."

His eyes linger on your mouth, flick to the bowl, and then drift back to your lips. He dips two fingers into the icing, and then lifts them back up to your parted lips. But instead of feeding you, he smirks and smears the icing from the corner of your mouth to the side of your cheek, leaving a playful, sticky line in his wake.

You're surprised for only half a second before you laugh and swat at him. "Xav! You did not!"

He catches your wrist in his hand with ease, and tugs you closer. "Hold still." He laughs, "I think you might have gotten some on your face."

"Oh, you think?"

"Yeah, don't know how that happened," he says under his breath, moving his other hand to the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss.

His lips press gently against yours, and he teases away the smear of icing on your lips with his tongue. You part your mouth for him, and he deepens the kiss. It's sweet and warm, and leaves you wanting more as he pulls back to wipe the icing off of your cheek.

He sucks the sticky residue off his thumb, and you feel a warm ache between your thighs at the sight.

Does he do that on purpose? He must. He must know.

"It's good," he says, a smile spreading across his face. "Not too sweet. Just right."

You're contemplating whether or not you could move fast enough to smear icing all over his face as payback when the oven timer goes off with a loud beep. He turns away before you get the chance, slipping on oven mitts and carefully easing open the oven door.

You hold your breath as Xavier pulls the cake out and sets the warm pan down on the counter to cool. It has risen just over the pan’s edges, but it is a perfect golden brown color and has baked evenly across.

"It looks so good!" You praise, feeling genuinely impressed and relieved. 

It does look good. Better than you could have hoped for.

Xavier's smile borders on brilliant as he looks between you and the cake, and it’s so heartwarming that you’d do anything to keep that starlight in his eyes forever. In this moment, you think—if there’s any purpose to life, maybe this one is yours.

As the cake cools, you move on to the decorations and present him with his options. You know stars are kind of his whole thing, but you couldn't resist picking out something that might make him laugh.

"Okay. Biggest decision of the night," you say, holding up an item in each hand. "Bunnies or stars?"

Xavier rolls his eyes, taking the small, marshmallow bunny from your hand and inspecting it with a smile. "You're really not going to let this bunny thing go, are you?"

"Why would I? You're my birthday bunny for...I don't know...5 more hours?"

He laughs and shakes his head, "Alright. Let's do both."

"Both?"

"Yeah," he nods, placing the marshmallow back into your hand. "Bunnies and stars belong together, don't they?"

"You're right," you say softly, a feeling of warmth blooming inside of your chest. "They do."

It’s such a simple statement, light and playful, nothing that has to mean anything. Just harmless flirting - not something you should take so seriously. But you’re losing yourself in him, and finding love in every word, every breath, every glance. 

You’re certain he must feel it too—but does he feel it the way you do?

Together, you and Xavier pipe delicate blue and purple swirls of buttercream all over the cake until it's fully covered in icing. You scatter small candy stars over the top, and add one white marshmallow bunny and one yellow star to the center. It’s far from a professional finish and the colors do not exactly go together, but that only adds to its charm.

You made it together; it was always going to be perfect.

"Only one candle?" Xavier asks, rifling through the bag of decorations and pulling out a singular, white candle.

"Yeah," you reply slowly, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I thought... well, hundreds would be too many for one cake, and... it's your first birthday with me. You know, the first one we’re spending together."

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now you feel a little stupid saying it out loud. It was supposed to be a sweet gesture, but your reasoning sounds embarrassingly naive and kind of cheesy.

Xavier’s eyes shine with warmth as he leans in, gently tilting your chin to meet his gaze. He presses a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, then a second, deeper kiss to your lips. 

"It’s the first one that has ever mattered. One candle is perfect."

You bite your lip to keep your feelings from tumbling out of your mouth. It's the first one that has ever mattered because it matters to you - and you matter to him. 

And you may just tell him exactly how you feel if you open your mouth, so instead you simply nod.

Together, the two of you complete the final touches on the cake. Xavier gently nestles the candle into the icing while you search for a lighter.

"Got it," you say, pulling it from the kitchen drawer before returning to his side, standing over the cake together. "Do you know what you’re going to wish for?"

"I do, yeah."

With your eyes on Xavier, you light the candle, and a little flame flares to life. You watch as he leans in to blow it out, and try to etch every detail of this moment into your memory.

"Should I sing?"

Xavier laughs, his eyes finding yours as he wraps an arm around your waist. "I would like that."

Blushing, you awkwardly clear your throat and launch into the most off-key rendition of the birthday song ever sung. He watches you with a smile so warm it makes your cheeks burn even brighter.

As your song comes to an end, he laces his fingers with yours, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft, tender kiss to the back of it.

"Do you want to know what I wished for?"

"No!" You say quickly, laughing as you smile up at him. "You can't tell me. It will ruin the birthday magic."

He gives you a tender smile, his hand cradling your cheek as his thumb brushes softly against your skin. 

"I don’t need magic to make this wish come true; I just need you." His voice is gentle, his eyes searching yours before he continues. "After this, let's spend every year together."

It's a wish and a request - all at once. You’ve never felt happier as you whisper a soft yes against his lips, and seal your promise with a kiss.

"What did you wish for?" he asks, breaking the kiss just long enough to pose the question.

"Me?" You ask, confusion knitting your brows.

"It's our first birthday together," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't you get to make a wish, too?"

You smile at him, shaking your head. "That's not how birthdays work, bunny. Only one person gets to make a wish when they blow out the candles."

He thinks for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before it melts into an excited grin. "Come on," he says, "We'll start a new birthday tradition."

Before you can even ask, he’s already pulling you down the hall, and guiding you out onto the bedroom balcony.

You shiver as the cool night air greets you, and he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You lean into his warmth, waiting for him to explain what this new tradition could be.

When he remains silent, and all you can see is the sleepy, darkened neighborhood, you turn your head to look at him, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

"Look up," he whispers against your ear.

You turn your eyes to the night sky, where only the moon and stars are reflected back at you. Then, a small glimmer of light streaks past, disappearing as quickly as it came. Another follows, then another, and another. A small shower of bright trails light up the sky, leaving a brief shimmers behind them.

"It's so pretty," you whisper, more to yourself than to him.

It takes you a moment longer than it should to realize that he's doing this. That those are his falling stars, and they're all for you.

"Make a wish," he says, pressing a kiss against your hair. "I'll make it come true."

It’s beautiful—absolutely breathtaking; a sight few people will ever get to see. But it’s not the pretty lights dancing across the sky that have left you feeling breathless. It's him.

He’s offering you a wish, a promise to make it come true. And without a single doubt, you know he’d do anything to keep that promise for you.

You begin to tremble in his arms as warmth spreads from your heart and fills every inch of you with absolute certainty. You understand, suddenly, how very dumb you have been today. You weren't craving intimacy and unbridled passion. Not really.

No, this feeling—this pure, unshaken faith and limitless hope for the future—is the feeling you’ve been seeking all along.

You’d wondered if what you felt yesterday could ever be matched, and now you know that it can't.

Because this is not a match; it's an eclipse. It’s not the same, and you wouldn't want it to be.

It is wildly, beautifully, utterly different.

Kissing Rafayel had felt like drowning—like being crushed by a wave of memories from the past that were too intense and passionate to understand. 

But this, wrapped in Xavier's arms as he lights the night sky with unspoken promises, feels like catching a glimpse of your future.

This isn’t a brutal, inescapable tide that pulls you under and leaves you gasping for air. It’s the warm, secure comfort of finally coming home after being lost for far too long.

"I love you," you whisper, wishes and stars forgotten as you turn in his arms to face him.

Xavier cradles your face in his hands, his gaze filling with wonder, as though you hold his entire universe in your eyes.

"Say it again."

"You didn't hear me?" You ask softly.

"Just say it again."

"I love you, Xavier," You repeat, your pulse racing.

He releases a long, unsteady breath, his body trembling under your fingers as a tender, vulnerable smile lights up his face.

"I love you, too." He says, his voice strained with pent up emotion. "I've always loved you."

He said it back; it's real. Your heart has either stopped beating entirely or it's just racing so fast that you can't tell one beat from the next.

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly your arms are around his neck, and before you can fully process it, he lifts you into his arms and pulls you into a kiss. It’s impossibly gentle, and he holds you as if you are the most precious, delicate thing he's ever touched.

"Because of you," Xavier says, his eyes brimming with affection as he looks up at you, "I've started to feel emotions I've never felt before. And I've done a lot of things I wouldn't normally do. I didn't know it could feel like this."

Tears of happiness blur your vision, and you nod, understanding exactly what he means because you feel it, too.

"You mean everything to me," you whisper, your voice trembling as you struggle to find the right words. "You're all I want, Xav. I'm all yours."

"And I'm yours. Completely." He says, his voice low and sure, and the sky above brightens as a cascade of shooting stars streak across the night.

He wipes a happy tear from your cheek as he gently sets you back on your feet, and you laugh - overwhelmed and elated in equal measure.

You know it’s probably too soon to say these things, to feel these things. It makes no sense how he’s captured your heart so quickly, or how you seem to hold his just as tightly. 

But there has never been any logic in love; you either feel it or you don't. And right now, it's the only thing you can feel.

"I love you," you say again, hugging him close, still in awe that you get to say it out loud.

"One more time."

"I love you, I love you, I love you," you chant, smiling against his chest.

"I could never get tired of hearing you say that," he says, laughing softly.

"I've wanted to tell you that for a while now," you admit.

"I've wanted to say it for much longer."

"It's not a competition, bunny."

"No," he agrees, still smiling, "But if it were, I'd win."

"How do you know that? Maybe I've been madly in love with you for months." You counter.

His smile wavers, his expression turning thoughtful. He opens his mouth as if to say something but stops, shaking his head gently before finally saying, "You'll have to trust me on this one."

You know that look; you recognize that hesitancy, but you pretend not to as he leads you back inside the apartment. His hesitation doesn’t unsettle you the way it used to. You do trust him, now more than ever, and there's nothing that could rob you of the happiness you feel tonight.

The cake ended up tasting even better than it looked, and you praised him with exaggerated moans and hums of delight as you shared it together. His blushes and half-hearted complaints over your dramatics faded into laughter, and before long, his laughter became your own as he chased you from the kitchen to the living room.

You laugh and squirm as he pins you to the couch, his fingers relentlessly tickling your sides. When his hands brush against your sweater, grazing the lingerie beneath, you fall silent as the memory of your plan for the night springs to mind. 

It doesn’t seem as important now, but that doesn’t change the fact that you still want him—perhaps even more than before. Just not for the same reason.

You love him, and you want him to feel that love in every possible way.

Xavier stops his playful assault once he notices you've gone quiet, and his fingers still to a caress as he takes in your expression.

"I know that look," he teases, looking down at you. "What are you planning?"

"Planning? Me? Nothing." You say innocently, even as you start to blush. "I was just thinking that now that the birthday bunny has had his cake, he might want to open his present."

Xavier tilts his head to the side, giving you a confused look. "Didn't I already open my present?"

"Not this one. There's one more. It's...hidden somewhere. You'll have to find it."

"Hidden?" He scans the living room and small dining room before his eyes drift back to yours.

A slow smile spreads across his face, "Hmm. Not in here," he murmurs, and leans down to nuzzle your neck. "I wonder where it could be?"

He kisses and sucks a sensitive spot below your ear, and your pulse races as he nudges your thighs apart.

"Is it in the bedroom?" He suggests, his mouth moving down your neck as he settles his weight on top of you.

You hadn’t really thought about how to show him this particular gift, and now, with his hands on you, you're too distracted to think of anything clever. But the way he’s already touching you tells you that he won't have any trouble figuring it out on his own.

"No, not in the bedroom," you whisper. "It's somewhere much closer."

"Much closer," he mumbles against your neck, his hand slipping under your sweater to trail up your stomach. His fingers tease along the edge of your bra before he gently squeezes your breast.

"This close?" He asks, rocking his hips against yours.

"Getting warmer," you gasp, feeling the hard outline of him pressing against you through the fabric or your clothes.

Xavier pauses, propping himself up on one arm as his eyes meet yours. His gaze slowly drops, lingering where his hand is hidden under your sweater. You feel the light, curious tracing of his fingers over the lace of your bra, and see the moment his eyes widen.

"Oh," he breathes, lifting your sweater up to your chest. His breath catches as his eyes fall on the delicate, sheer black lace of your bra.

He swallows thickly at the sight before him, his lips parted as his breathing turns uneven. "This is my present?"

Your cheeks flush with warmth, and you resist the urge to tug your sweater back down. Instead, you manage a shaky, "Yeah. There's... more."

His eyes snap back up to yours, and he pushes himself back on his knees to trail his hands down your stomach and rest on the waistband of your leggings. 

Your stomach tightens with anticipation as you wait for him to say something—anything—to reveal what he’s thinking. But the way his pupils are blown wide and his gaze devours you is at least a little reassuring.

"More?" he echoes, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband as he looks up at you, waiting for permission.

You give him a shy nod, lifting your hips to let him slide your leggings down your thighs. As the sheer, black lace of your barely-there panties comes into view, his face twists with something between awe and agony, like you look so good that it hurts.

You suck in a quick breath, your stomach coiling in a mix of pleasure and self-consciousness, as he runs his fingers lightly along the delicate fabric between your legs.

He's being so quiet, and the fire his touch ignites in your stomach does nothing to reassure you that you don't look ridiculous wearing something like this.

"Do you...like your present?" you ask softly.

"Like it?" he whispers, unable to drag his eyes away from the sight of you. "I...love it, you, this..."

You bite your lip to hide your nervous smile as he seems to struggle to find his next word.

"You don't usually wear things like this," he says finally, meeting your eyes, and you can see the hunger there more clearly now. "Is it just for birthdays?"

"It's just for you," you whisper, the ache between your thighs becoming almost unbearable as he rubs his fingers more firmly over the damp lace of your panties. "Whenever you want me to wear it."

He groans, a low, rough sound that vibrates in his throat, and trails his eyes slowly down from your chest to your panties. 

Without a word, he stands from the couch, quickly sliding your leggings the rest of the way off. He slips one arm underneath your knees and the other behind your waist, and carries you bridal style toward the bedroom.

The moment he sets you down on the bed, his hands are already tugging at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. 

Your pulse races, breath hitching with anticipation, as he quickly strips off his sweatpants and briefs. He's hard, and your eyes widen as you take in the size of him. It’s the first time you’ve truly seen him like this, and you wonder how in the world it's going to fit.

There's only one way to find out.

As he climbs onto the bed, you start to lift your sweater, and his hands are there instantly, helping you tug it over your head. A soft moan escapes your lips as his mouth finds your neck, trailing kisses and gentle bites down the newly exposed skin, moving slowly down to your chest.

He pauses when his lips meet the edge of your bra, his hands firmly cupping your breasts. He looks up and asks, "Can I unwrap my present now?"

"God, yes," You say breathlessly, even as your cheeks burn hotter.

You expect him to reach for the clasp of your bra, and are surprised when he moves past it and kisses a path down your stomach.

"Xav—" You barely get a chance to ask him what he's doing before he slides his hand beneath you, easily lifting your hips as he hooks his fingers in the lace of your panties and slides them down your thighs.

Once your panties have been tossed onto the floor, he grasps your thighs and spreads them apart. He lets his breath ghost over your clit, and an impatient whimper leaves your mouth. 

You want to squirm and chase the sensation, but his strong hands on your hips hold you firmly in place. You moan as you feel his tongue lick a strip along your slit before circling your clit. 

It’s somehow even better than the first time—something you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are. 

The tension coiling in your body leaves you breathless, panting, and when he slides two fingers into your pussy, a gasp escapes you. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close as your thighs start to tremble.

The slick, wet sounds of his mouth against your pussy are enough to drive you insane, and the thought of him stopping is nearly unthinkable. But you had a plan - you want more than this. You need more than just this from him.

"Xav, please," You beg, tugging at his hair to get him to look at you. "I need you."

His fingers pause inside of you as he meets your desperate eyes, and the loss of his tongue on your clit makes you feel even more needy, shredding the last bits of self-consciousness you have been holding on to.

"I want to feel you. Inside of me. Please."

Even with his face between your thighs and his lips shining with your wetness, his cheeks still manage to flush at your words, a soft pink dusting his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. 

You bite your lip, mentally preparing for rejection, as you watch the silent struggle play out in his eyes. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you wish you could read his mind; understand whatever it is that is holding him back.

"If you don’t want to..." Your words come out halting, uncertainty and self-consciousness creeping back in. "We can wait."

His brows furrow as he shakes his head, shifting closer to cover your body with his. He cups your face in his hand, his voice low and soft. "You think I don't want to?"

The way his voice drops and the intensity in his eyes make it clear that’s the furthest thing from the truth. 

He settles his weight on top of you, his cock brushing against your slick pussy, his desire unmistakable.

You gasp softly as you feel him slide against you, so close to where you need to be filled. Unable to stop yourself, you buck your hips, trying to feel more of him. 

He moans at the slick friction, pressing his forehead to yours as he thrusts against you, his cock grazing your clit with each movement.

It’s hard to focus, and the question slips from your lips before you can stop it, awkward and overly honest. "You want to wait until marriage?"

Surprise twists his expression as he pulls back to meet your eyes, and his lips curve into an amused smile.

"I don’t want to wait," he says, shaking his head before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. "And...we’re already married, Mrs. Shen."

His words draw a whimper from your throat, surprised at how good it sounds for him to call you that while you're panting and desperate underneath him.

He shifts, positioning his body between your parted thighs. He fists his cock, rubbing the tip along the wet folds of your pussy until he brushes against your entrance. 

His eyes find yours, his breath coming in shallow pants. "Are you sure?"

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as the heat between your legs builds. You're aching for this connection; you are so, so very sure.

"Please, Xav," You whimper, spreading your legs wider. "I want you so badly."

He groans, his hand tightening on your hip as he uses the other one to guide his cock. His breath hitches and his brow furrows with concern as his warm, blue eyes meet yours. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

He remains still, waiting for you to nod your agreement. 

When it comes, he moves slowly, gently easing his cock inside you.

The sensation is intense as he stretches you in ways you haven't experienced before. A gasp escapes your lips, a mix of surprise and pleasure, as you adjust to this overwhelming feeling of fullness. 

His cock is larger than his slender fingers, and the difference makes for a deliciously tight fit.

Xavier slides just halfway inside you before he leans forward and covers your body with his. His weight feels protective and warm as he drops his forehead to your shoulder and releases a shuddering breath.

Then he lifts his head and cups your cheek in his hand, his expression full of affection and awe.

"You feel amazing," he says. "Is this okay?"

"It’s so good," you whisper breathily.

 Your hands slide down his back, fingertips tracing the contours of his muscles before settling on his hips. You give a gentle, urging pull. "Please."

Slowly, he pulls out of you, and then gently thrusts forward. A groan slips out of him, and he fists the sheet beside of your head in an effort to maintain control.

You let out a series of small moans and gasps as he builds a very gentle, slow rhythm; pulling out just slightly before sinking back in a few inches. It feels exquisite, and you're savoring every sensation. 

But your body is craving more—much more.

"Xavier," you say softly, running your fingers through his hair. When his eyes flicker open, you continue, "Harder. I want to feel all of you."

Your words must snap the last threads of his restraint because he groans and sinks all of the way inside you before pulling out and thrusting back in hard.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips as pleasure and pain collide, creating a feeling better than you thought could exist.

He freezes at the sound of your gasp, his body trembling against yours as his eyes search your face. "Did I hurt you?"

Words are gone, lost to you in the rush of sensation. No longer needing gentleness or hesitation, you grip his hips tighter, urging him forward as your own hips rise to meet his.

A mix of confusion and desire flickers across his face as he catches his breath. But he gives in to your urging hands, pulling nearly all of the way out before thrusting his hips forward to meet yours again.

"You like that?" he asks questioningly, his voice rough with need.

You arch your back at the sensation and wrap your legs around him, urging him closer.

"You do like that," he says in a tone that borders on amazement. He stares down at you like he's never experienced anything so wonderful before.

"Yes," you gasp, the word barely leaving your lips before you pull him into a desperate kiss.

His thrusts gain more confidence, building a rhythm of faster, harder movements.

Pleasure builds within you, and you’re struck by how perfectly everything fits, as if you were always meant to be this way—completely, undeniably his.

"Feels so good being inside you," Xavier pants, his breath hot against your skin as he trails biting, sucking kisses along your neck. "I never want to stop."

"God, don't stop."

He marvels at you as you writhe beneath him. You clutch him tight, forcing each one of his strokes to go deeper as your pussy clenches around him.

You can feel the pleasure building and building...

"Tell me you need this," he says roughly. 

His hand cups your face, tilting your chin until your eyes meet his. "Tell me you want me to come inside you."

Your pussy practically convulses at the growl of his words, and your brain nearly stops functioning. He's not blushing or shy, and the look in his eyes is possessive and demanding.

You don't even have to think about your answer. "I need you. I want you to come inside of me."

Xavier's strokes deepen until he's slamming himself all of the way home with each thrust, and within moments you cry out as your orgasm pulses through you. Your back arches and you cling to him tightly as pleasure seizes you.

You feel his cock thicken, and with a deep groan, he comes inside of you.

The sensation is unique; you didn’t think you’d be able to feel it. But you can feel his warmth spreading inside of you and filling you up.

He stares down at you, panting, as his strokes gradually slow and you loosen your grip around him.

"That was..." He trails off as he collapses on top of you.

You stroke his hair as your breathing finally begins to slow.

"I love you," he mumbles against your shoulder, and then kisses it.

"I love you, too."

After a moment, he slowly withdraws and shifts onto his side, gathering you into his strong arms. His lips find yours in a soft, sweet kiss. You snuggle close to him, feeling satisfied, warm, and blissfully drowsy.

He traces a finger gently along the curve of your cheek, his gaze filled with unmistakable tenderness as he takes in the sight of you.

"What did you wish for? Earlier?"

It takes you a moment to remember, and you hide your face against his chest when you do. It's a silly wish; not one that you want to say out loud.

"Tell me," he says softly, stroking his fingers through your hair.

There’s no reason not to tell him, other than the fact that it’s an impossibly big wish. Too big and too hard to fulfill for the short amount of time you have been together.

But he wants to know, and there’s no use in hiding it. 

You blush as you look up at him. "I wish this could all be real. The marriage. Living together. You know...all of it."

He looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment, and then nods slowly.

He holds out his hand palm up. A small, glowing ball of light appears there and shimmers softly. He raises his hand to his lips and blows gently.

You watch as the light floats toward the ceiling and disappears in a small sparkle.

Xavier looks at you and smiles. "This shooting star has made a promise to you."

[hazbinshusk]

Your tags now have me thinking about Reader walking in on Husk masturbating, VERY obviously to them, maybe he's moaning their name or maybe he's huffing a piece of their clothing... gross old man~

Can he stop himself, or is he too close to climax to give up now, despite knowing his crush is staring right at him...?

I've finally finished this piece born of my obsessing over this piece by @irkimatsu, so please show it some love too. I definitely didn't do it justice, but hey, here's some husk love anyway :)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Your phone buzzes in your hand as you reach the door to Husk’s room, and you open a text from Angel. He’s responding to a question you swore you’d sent him less than thirty seconds ago – you swear, that man has had his phone surgically grafted to his hand.

tf would I have ur pillow for?

You roll your eyes at the little laughing emoji he’s punctuated the message with. You’d left one of your pillows in the newly built hotel’s media room during Charlie’s last movie night. The event had been painfully heavy on insipid musical numbers and pastel unicorns, but thanks to the drinks you’d shared with Husk and the spider you’d managed to last through the entire event. Your number one suspect for the missing pillow had been Niffty on a cleaning spree, but when that had come up as a negative, you’d decided to widen the search.

You were still looking at your phone when you opened the door in front of you and stepped into the room. “Hey, Husk, have you seen my—”

You come to a standstill as your eyes lift from your phone, heat flooding through your entire body.

Husk is on all fours on his bed, fur mussed more than you’ve ever seen and his wings quivering so much that a few feathers fall free even as you stand there. One of his suspenders are falling from his shoulder to hang pointlessly against his arm and his eyes… his eyes are half-lidded and glazed over even as they register his surprise at your sudden appearance.

But what males you freeze in place is the way his hips are rocking forward needily into the pillow squeezed between his thighs.

Your pillow.

“Husk…”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes the words out, his voice rough and hoarse and broken. His face is flushing a deep red under his fur, his ears tucked back against his skull even as you watch his hips still snap forwards against the soft cotton. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue and he groans, his head falling forward.

Husk’s pants are unfastened, the one suspender still in place the only thing stopping them from slipping down off of his hips to bunch around his thighs. Even still, you can see the firm, thick base of his cock each time his hips pull back before he buries it in the pillow again, and even as he apologizes again you can see his claws tighten in the sheets so hard that the threads pop. His breath leaves him a shuddering exhale, his eyes rising to watch you from under his brows, his vision glazed and almost… hungry.

The heat inside you flares in your face and in your gut, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him any more than he can look away from you. Husk’s eyes are glued to your face, his lips parted as every other breath leaves him what could be moan, a desperate murmur of your name.

“Fuck,” he groans the word, the rhythm of his hips quickening helplessly. His breathing is labored, his mouth hanging open in an almost punch-drunk grimace as he whines, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

You swallow, trying to ignore the way you’re pressing your thighs together, the way your hands squeeze at your sides against the urges you can’t even acknowledge right now because Husk is desperate and you realize suddenly what he needs.

“It’s okay, Husk.” you tell him, your voice shaking ever so slightly on his name. “You can cum for me.”

He curses again, his whole body rutting forward before he shudders, his body quaking as his orgasm finally peaks. He moans what you think is a ‘thank you’ as he does, his forehead pressing into the mattress as his shoulders shake with the sensations rolling through him.

He’s beautiful.

[ckret2]

Chapter 24 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's extremely inconvenient prisoner, featuring: the Pines figuring out a way to chase off Bill's ex-girlfriend... who happens to be a giant eyeball with bat wings.

It kinda goes like this.

(A head's up before we get going: this chapter is a bit more mature than prior ones, so I feel like a warning's in order. There's no sex, and nothing here is erotic or sexy (unless you, too, happen to be attracted to eye-bats), BUT there IS some academic speculation on the logistics of alien sex, and some very filthy-sounding dialogue describing acts that, to humans, aren't sexual at all. Plus some dirty humor and toilet humor. And nothing here is what I'd call billford quite yet, considering Ford still very much hates Bill's guts—but like, he's definitely a little too obsessed with the anatomy of triangles for it to be normal. If any of this is too spicy for you, skip this chapter and come back next one. We'll be starting a new "episode" then.)

####

It was past midnight. In his search for the eye-bat repellant recipe, Ford had flipped through every notebook he'd used during his initial interviews of the residents of Gravity Falls, flipped through them a second time, torn apart half his bookshelves looking for any reporter's notebooks he might have accidentally sorted in with his larger binders, and now he was exhausted, frustrated—and, worst of all, bored out of his mind.

Which made it hard to avoid thinking about more interesting topics.

And for the last hour he'd been unwillingly plagued with the question of how an eyeball and a triangle had a "casual physical thing." 

If that didn't mean sex—and you never knew with aliens—then it was still something close enough to fill the same social/recreational niche. It certainly meant sex on the eye-bat's side, Ford had fully documented the reproductive cycle of eye-bats, that was sorted out—but triangles?

It had to be something that would work in the second dimension. Ford had visited a two-dimensional universe populated by geometric shapes, he knew roughly how their bodies functioned: a shape's perimeter was its external surface—its "skin"—and its internal organs were inside that perimeter. So if Bill was still configured the way he had been in his home dimension, any external reproductive anatomy would have to be somewhere on his perimeter, right? Maybe at one of his corners? Or camouflaged where the seams of his brick pattern reached his edges?

But then if Bill were a normal two-dimensional person, he'd have his eye on the edge of his body, not right in the center of his "internal organs." So he'd been rearranged to some extent. Who knew how the rest of his body worked now? His top hat contained flesh and a skeletal structure; maybe it was a removable reproductive organ that could be passed to a partner, like some cephalopods' detachable tentacles—

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

To aid in his anatomical speculation, Ford had drawn a diagram of Bill in his journal and labeled various points on the triangle that might be concealing reproductive anatomy. He quickly scratched out the drawing's staring eye and slammed his journal shut. 

He'd happily gone thirty years assuming that Bill had no sex life—Bill was an energy being who presented himself as a floating featureless triangle, his hobbies involved cheating at chess and discussing multidimensional transportation, he probably wasn't designed for "physical things," and if he was designed for it then surely he wasn't interested. Ford was not pleased to have his assumptions disputed.

Because the thing was—Ford knew more than any living human about the mating rituals of unicorns, werewolf/mermaid couples, stomach-faced ducks, and tentacled warrior piglets. (Did he ever know about tentacled warrior piglets.) He had the only photos of a gnome mating ball, which he didn't need, because that horrible sight would be forever seared into his long-term memory. He knew the names of twenty obscene acts in siren sign language, and knew how to use his extra fingers to make them extra obscene. This wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. He was curious about how strange, supernatural creatures functioned; and those functions included how the reproductive drive influenced their behaviors; and a living triangle that had escaped from the second dimension was certainly a strange supernatural creature.

But, unfortunately, it was also Bill Cipher. And Ford did not want to think about what Bill did in bed. ... Assuming he used a bed. Really, at this point the only thing Ford knew was that Bill's only admitted partner was capable of flight. Maybe he just hovered while he—

Ford slammed his journal shut again to stop himself from scribbling down more theories, then stuffed the journal in a desk drawer for good measure. Did normal people think like this? He had no idea. He didn't even know who he could ask.

Enough of this. Back to searching for that eye-bat repellant recipe, and this time he wasn't stopping until he found it.

####

Like a vast eye in an upside-down triangle, the circular center of the portal lit up so bright blue it was almost white. The four energy vents glowed in sympathy. A rainbow constellation lit up in twirling patterns around the central light.

Bill watched with bated breath, a second-dimensional shadow waiting for his door to the third dimension to open. The cavern walls shook; the ground quaked and rumbled ominously; Bill didn't care. The portal was stable, the lab was somebody else's problem, and Bill had a party to get to.

The steel beams supporting the cavern rolled like a wave, and Bill's stomach roiled with them. They weren't supposed to be able to move like that. But he knew what he was doing, the portal was stable, he was not here to destroy this world, he'd come here to save it, whether it wanted to be saved or not—

The whole world undulated. Bedrock and steel were not built to undulate. Bill bobbed on the energy wave like a toy boat on a choppy sea; but the steel shattered, rock crumbled, shrapnel and rubble sprayed out. There was a peal of deafening thunder as the world below him cracked apart.

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

Dream diary. With a groan, he sat up, checked to make sure no humans were coming by in the next few minutes, and pulled his stolen journal out of its hiding place.

The guide on lucid dreaming had recommended writing down his dreams in full, vivid, rich detail—any people or scenes or events, anything he could detect with his five (?) senses, as much as he could recall.

He drew a portal—gray inverted triangle with a center circle, four circles around the triangle, all five circles filled in yellow green—and then a yellow green line trailing out of the portal's side that grew progressively wigglier like a seismogram. He labeled his doodle, "this." He'd remember the rest.

After a moment of thought, he wrote, "Don't remember if I was a human or a shape. My organs were doing things a shape's shouldn't." (He wrote "human" as 人; there was no translation for the word in the language Bill wrote in. The two angled strokes stood out in Bill's rows of Morse-like dots and dashes.) "Being around so many humans who are CONVINCED I'm trying to destroy their world must be getting to me. Sixer pitched another hissy-fit about the portal yesterday. Enduring all that negative talk can't be healthy for me. I know I'm just helping their boring little planet, but maybe their accusations are getting lodged in this stupid brain's subconscious."

Maybe he should meditate a bit—go think positive thoughts, drown out the mortal voices that insisted they knew his plans better than he did. He'd had enough dreaming for one night, anyway.

Beneath the note to himself, Bill added in English: "Everything would have been fine if you'd just let me finish, Fordsy." If the humans ever did find this journal, Bill was determined to get the last word in.

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

He wondered how much was left of Ford's portal.

####

Old man bladder. Stan dragged himself out of bed. The other guest room bed was empty. Stan hoped Ford was sleeping in his study—he'd mentioned once he kept a cot down there. Better than pulling another all nighter studying alien sorcery or whatever.

He skipped his glasses, groped his way to the downstairs bathroom, and, yawning, lined up with the toilet.

The toilet said, "Pretty forward of you, Stanley."

Stan screamed.

He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom and hit the wall. Bill flipped on the light and leaned out to grin at him. "Careful! You're due for a broken hip any day now."

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

"Jsh—shut up!" It had dawned on Stan that if he could hear Bill without his hearing aids, then half the house probably could too. He hoped no one had overheard that. "Why are you sitting on the toilet in the dark!"

"It's a free country, Stanley Pines."

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

Bill bolted from the bathroom like a scared rabbit, then caught himself, rolled his eyes, and raised his hands over his head in mock surrender. "You could have asked nicely!"

Pointing at Bill as he retreated, Stan added, "And stop being so darn creepy! Lurking in the dark and sneaking around silently all the time, like a... some kind of—burglar ninja assassin!"

Bill turned to shout back, "What, do you expect me to make a peace cry every time I walk around? Make sure I can't sneak up and stab you in the back?"

Stan had caught about half of that. "YEAH, smart guy! It might help!"

Bill flung his hands out in defeat as he rounded the corner.

Stan finished his business, went back to bed, and glared angrily at the ceiling another ten minutes.

####

It had taken half the night, but at last Ford had disassembled the filing cabinet and found a few notebooks that had gotten stuck behind the bottom drawer, including the one with Old Lady Sprott's eye-bat repellant recipe. Ford copied it down, left a list of ingredients on the gift shop cash register for Soos, and finally dragged himself into the house to sleep.

And paused in the entryway.

Bill was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window; Ford had seen him like this before. Usually, he could make himself walk by.

But he couldn't tonight. Maybe it was yesterday's conversation still weighing on his mind, the loose ends they hadn't tied up tangling around his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Bill's voice was inappropriately calm: "Dying."

Ford's guard went up. "Do you... Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally," Bill said. "Hey—how many decades do you think this body's got? Probably not even a century, right?"

Ford's guard went down. Just moping. But it was an interesting question, one he'd put some thought into himself—what age had Bill's body been made at? How had his body been made that age? How long would the body last? Ford had wondered whether studying Bill's freshly-made-but-already-adult body might reveal anything medically useful about how aging affected the human body; but the odds of convincing Bill to participate in any medical studies—much less finding someone to conduct the study who believed their story—were nonexistent.

Ford said, "At a loose guess, I'd put you around... fifty, maybe? A very spry fifty." Bill's hair was a shockingly vivid gold, not a hint of gray, and when he was in a good mood Bill bounced about with an enviable lack of joint pain; but Ford had seen faint, delicate creases around his mouth and eyes that spoke to age. And the look in his eyes... Ford hated the phrase "old soul"—he'd been called that by some of his school teachers, and it only made him feel the distance between himself and his age peers all the more strongly—but with Bill, it was uncannily fitting. His eyes aged his whole face.

"You think this thing looks fifty? Wow." Bill took a deep drink from a cider can. "Shooting Star's best guess was half that. Thanks for shoving me twenty-five years closer to the grave."

Half that? When Ford had been a child, he'd had a harder time guessing adults' ages, and he supposed Mabel might be the same; but it was difficult to mistake a 50-year-old for a 25-year-old. Maybe there was something else going on. He'd have to ask her later. "With exercise, a healthy diet, and a little luck, you could still live another fifty." Ford nodded at the two empty cider cans already sitting on the table. "With your current drinking habits, I'll give you five."

Bill cackled—loudly enough to make Ford tense up, afraid someone would catch them talking. "Cheers!" Bill finished off the can and slammed it down with the others. "Ugh. Finite lifespans. Awful."

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

"'Welcome to death row,'" Bill said. "Ha! What'm I doing, worrying about decades. Let's be real, I don't even need to worry about the next five years. If I haven't found a way out of this body before then..."

Bill left the thought unfinished. An uneasy weight formed low in Ford's stomach.

"Ah, whatever. Like you'd let me live that long. Right, Sixer?" Bill pushed himself up unsteadily, keeping his balance first with a hand on the back of the chair, and then on Ford's (suddenly very tense) shoulder as he passed him. "I'm going back to sleep before that last can kicks in."

The way Bill was walking, Ford wasn't sure he'd make it up the stairs. "Why don't you sleep on the folding bed in the living room?"

"No window," Bill said. "I've g—" (He stumbled on the stairs.) "I've gotta see the stars."

Of course he did. When Bill said it that way, it was so obvious Ford didn't know why he hadn't realized that himself. Where else could Bill sleep but as close to the sky as possible?

Ford listened as Bill stumbled his way upstairs, creaked across the floorboards, and collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

Ford had thirty years left. Exactly thirty years. Don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet! Ninety-two was a good, old age. Older than his father had been. But thirty years felt too soon. And yet it felt fitting, somehow, for his life to be divided so neatly in thirds.

If Bill lived another fifty years in this body, and Ford lived thirty, who would stand guard over him? Would he and Stan have to pass that burden on to their gniece and gnephew? Or to Soos and Melody?

Why was he wondering—what made him think they wouldn't find a way to kill Bill before then? What made him think he wouldn't kill Bill before the end of this very summer?

What made him so sure Bill hadn't been lying about when Ford would die? Thirty years felt too soon; but ninety-two felt flatteringly optimistic.

Ford sighed, and picked up the cider cans to recycle.

He wondered whether Bill—hiding from his ex, fretting about death, sleeping on his enemies' floor—regretted how he'd spent his life.

####

Bill's second entry in his dream diary started, "Wet dream about Iris."

He filled most of a page with an extremely graphic summary before he sighed in frustration, stowed the journal away, and stared at the ceiling as dawn crept in. Well. Terrific. He was pretty intimately familiar with how humans coupled, but he didn't have much practice with the solo act. Plus the humans would give him heck if they caught him at it. He'd just have to suffer.

So here he was, all riled up and nowhere to go.

Who else could he make miserable?

####

Stan was startled awake by a heavy pounding on his door.

"Heeey Fisherman!" Somehow, Bill's voice was even more grating at dawn. He rattled the door several more times. "Just passing by! Wanted to let you know! Here I am! Right here!"

Did that demon ever sleep? And, follow up question, could Stan knock him out for a few hours?

Ford—who must have come up after Stan went back to bed—groaned and muttered something.

Ford wasn't nearly as loud as Bill. Stan reluctantly sat up and put a hearing aid in. "What?"

"What the devil is he up to now."

"No idea," Stan lied. "Go yell at him about it, he listens to you."

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

A minute later, Stan heard Bill exclaim, "I can't win with you people!"

He smirked.

####

The kitchen reeked that morning. When Stan came in for breakfast, the window was open, a fan in the entryway futilely directed fresh air into the kitchen and a fan on the kitchen table directed the noxious fumes outside, there were bags of groceries on the counter—he noticed hot sauce, peppers, cheap perfume, and an entire bag of raw onions—and Ford was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of vile-smelling brown liquid. The moment he saw Stan, Ford put him to work stirring the pot so Ford could start dicing onions.

While they worked, Ford explained the situation with the eye-bat harassing the tourists and the solution he'd hit on to drive it away. Soos had collected the necessary ingredients this morning, but couldn't help cook because he was busy finding a way to block the bottomless pit—

####

Outside, Soos scooted a trampoline up to the pit, carefully lined it up with the edge—the trampoline and the pit had nearly the same diameter—and shoved it in. It plummeted into the dark. After a short wait, Soos chucked a baseball down the pit. It disappeared, then bounced back up.

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

—so, Ford was working on the repellant, and in the interest of public safety and the greater good he was drafting Stan into helping too.

Which Stan supposed he couldn't argue with, but considering the smell he would've preferred dicing the onions. "Is all this really necessary for one eye-bat? I usually just swat 'em off with a tennis racket."

"This eye-bat happens to be large enough to carry off a first-grader," Ford said. "And Bill claims it's his ex-girlfriend, so I don't want to risk them meeting."

"Huh." Weird thing to date, but then Stan didn't know what he did expect a triangle demon to date. "Somehow I figured he was tangled up in this."

Ford laughed ruefully.

After a moment of chopping and stirring, Ford said, "Speaking of Bill—he claims that you ordered him to announce his presence? And that you tried to pee on him."

"I did not and he's a dirty liar! He made the whole thing up!" Stan didn't expect Ford to believe him. Stan also didn't expect Ford to believe Bill. Ford knew they were both liars. What Stan expected was for Ford to side with the person he liked best.

"Uh huh." Ford didn't question Stan further. Ha. Pines solidarity.

Even though he'd already won, Stan went on: "All I did was mention how quiet he is! I can never tell where he's lurking. Sometimes I almost forget he's here." In Stan's mind, Bill had been rapidly demoted  from "active existential threat" to "annoying houseguest who blends in with the shadows." Watching him help Mabel cut pretty pictures from fashion magazines with plastic safety scissors drained away most of his intimidation factor.

Ford gave Stan a funny look. "Really? I can't forget he's here for a second. Sometimes I swear I can tell where he's been in the house—like a cold spot left by a ghost."

Stan tried to figure out how to ask whether that was a reaction to decades on the run feeling like hunted prey—which Stan knew how to cope with—or a lingering magical side effect of Ford and Bill's alien possession deal—which Stan did not. Then Ford added, "It's probably because I hear him bumping into the furniture all the time."

"Oh. Yeah. That's probably it. You've got better hearing than me." Case closed. Stan turned back to the stove—

A deafening buzz made them both start. Stan splashed boiling brown stink across the stovetop. "What—!"

Standing in the doorway with a kazoo, Bill said, "How's that, Stanley? Do you like that better?!"

"YOU!" Stan flung the stirring spoon to the floor.

Bill bolted from the room with Stan in hot pursuit. "Whoa! Mercy! Truce! You can have the kazoo! It's not even mine, I'm just holding it for a fr— Ow ow OW ow—"

Stan hauled Bill in by the back of the neck and didn't let go until he was in the middle of the kitchen. He pointed at the spoon, then pointed at the pot. "Pick it up. Get stirring." He grabbed another knife and joined Ford chopping onions. Whew, what a relief.

Bill gave Stan a perplexed look, but picked up the spoon, gave the pot an experimental sniff, and got stirring. He didn't even wince at the smell. "Is this the gnome wizz? What is this, punishment for not letting you use me as a urinal?"

"Whatsamatter, I thought you were the one who thinks pee belongs in the kitchen."

"You're both too old for toilet humor," Ford snapped. "Bill, this problem is your fault, the least you can do is help prepare the spray, and you're not getting a knife, so you're on pot stirring duty. Deal with it."

Bill rolled his eyes dramatically. (At the moment, they were both uncovered; but one was already half squinted shut against the morning light.) "Fine, but only because I like hanging out with you."

Ford scoffed.

"And I don't see how this is my fault just because we happened to date. It's not like I invited her over," Bill went on. "If anything, you should be grateful she's my ex, or else I wouldn't be helping you chase her away—"

"Hey, that's what I wanna know about this," Stan said. He gestured toward the window; the ex in question was currently circling above the gift shop entrance, like a vulture waiting for something to die. "Exactly how do you 'date' an eye-bat? Just—how does that work?"

"Well, it depends on the eye-bat, doesn't it," Bill said, a touch patronizing. "They don't all have the same tastes, you know. But she happens to like art films and water parks. Easy date."

"I'm not talking about that! You're telling us you slept with an eyeball with bat wings—right? That's what we're talking about, right?" From the corner of his eye, Stan saw Ford giving him a sharp look, but he didn't tell Stan to stop. Yeah, the nerd was curious, too.

"Yes, Stanley." Bill's condescension was almost more overpowering than the kitchen's stench. "That's what we're talking about. I 'slept' with an eyeball with bat wings." He exaggerated the finger quotes around the euphemism. "Any more prying you want to do into my personal life, or...?"

"You look at that freak out there and think it's appealing?"

Bill stopped stirring and squinted out the window. Flatly, he said, "Yep. She's still drop dead gorgeous. Thanks for asking." 

"How do you even know that's a she! How can you tell a girl eye from a boy eye?"

Ford said, "Technically, Stanley, all eye-bats are female." He held up an onion and used his knife tip to gesture at it like it was a model eyeball, "They're parthenogenetic parasites that reproduce by attacking other species' faces and depositing egg-bearing spores on their eyeballs, which swim to the tear ducts to begin incubating. Over the next few weeks, the infected eyeball grows wings and develops its own nervous system while the host slowly goes blind in one eye, until the new eye-bat is mature enough to emerge from the host's socket and seek out her mother's colony—"

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

"Would you stop talking about eye-bat sex?! I'm already riled up! I don't need help making it worse!"

He slammed the stirring spoon down and started pacing. "I'm losing my mind. Do you know what it's like to be randy for something you don't have the right body for?!" He gave them a pleading, slightly crazed look. "I need to feel her pupil contracting against mine. I'd lick her hot, salty tears off her sclera. I'd bite deep enough to taste her retina. I want to look like I've got pinkeye from all the bat spores coating my face. I'd give my right eye just to have one of her wings fingering my eyelid again—but if I cave and go that far I know I'd lose my head and give her the left one too, and then I've screwed up, because STUPID HUMANS BODIES can't regrow their STUPID EYEBALLS—"

He kicked the wall so hard he lost his balance and stumbled back into the stove. "Ow. I'm going insane. I can't take it. I need to kill somebody. I need to set something on fire."

Stan and Ford were petrified. Stan's jaw had dropped.

Bill was panting from the exertion of his outburst, arms trembling, face flushed. His shoulders slumped. The picture of a broken man, he said, "I'd do anything to rim her optic nerve again."

Ford let out a strangled noise.

Bill took several deep breaths. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry! Wow. That was... I think the fumes are getting to me." He shook his head. "The fumes and the hormones. Human hormones. You know, your species has very insistent..." He gestured vaguely toward the doorway. "I'm—think I should lay down."

Stan and Ford nodded. Bill trudged from the room. A few seconds later, Stan heard springs creak as Bill flopped his full weight on the living room sofa.

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan said, "I shouldn't have asked about..."

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

They lapsed into silence. After a moment, Ford stood up to take over stirring the pot.

Stan resumed chopping onions. "Say, d'you think he staged all that to get out of stirring?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

Ford had turned away from the stove, and was staring at nothing with a faraway, troubled look. It was the look he got when he'd just latched on to some mystery that would haunt him until he solved it.

"Ford—?"

Ford slapped down the spoon and stomped into the living room. "But you hate losing your eyeball! So how did you two— I mean—! The spores—?"

"Incompatible biology." Bill's voice sounded muffled. "It's why we never got serious. She wants kids and my tear ducts can't incubate wings."

"Ah! Of course. That makes perfect sense." Ford returned to the stove with a look of triumph.

Stan didn't know how Ford had recovered from that fast enough to ask follow-up questions. Weird nerd. Stan shook his head but said nothing.

####

In Ford's journal, he scratched out most of his speculation about the anatomy of Bill's species, scribbled over the diagram, and added, "I severely underestimated how much his eye is involved."

####

At one point, during Weirdmageddon, when Bill had been torturing Ford for information, Ford had spat in his eye. Bill had licked it off. He'd seemed eerily undisturbed.

Ford would probably wonder how Bill had interpreted that act for the rest of his life.

####

Outside, dressed in a homemade hazmat suit consisting of painter's coveralls and a scuba mask, Soos faced off against the eye-bat, a spray bottle strapped to each hip like a cowboy's revolvers. Dipper and Mabel stood behind him, armed with a rake and a golf club, wearing a bicycle helmet and a football helmet with tree branches taped on. The eye-bat stared them down warily.

Leaning on his elbows over the kitchen table so he could stare out the window, Bill said, "Bet you a hundred bucks she steals Questiony's hat."

Stan snorted. "I'm not taking that bet. You don't have any money."

Bill grunted and turned back to the window, just in time to see the eye-bat dive for Soos's face. Soos whipped out one of the spray bottles, dropped it, ducked down to retrieve it just as she swooped past where his head used to be, and lifted it in time to spray the eye-bat when she circled back to attack him again. She reeled off screeching, eye watering, pupil contracting. Bill winced in sympathy. Poor gal. And she didn't even have an eyelid for protection. But, hey—better for her to suffer than for Bill to risk getting caught in this body. He'd take someone else's pain over his own embarrassment any day.

"It seems to be working the same as it does on any other eye-bat," Ford said. "Good. Once she's gone, Soos and the kids can spray the rest on the roof. That should drive her off while keeping the worst of the scent away from the tourists."

Streaming tears, the eye-bat dove at the kids. They yelled in alarm. Dipper threw his rake at her and missed. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to squint at the battle with both eyes.

"What, do you see something?" Stan asked.

"Just appreciating her sphericality." Bill sighed wistfully. "That spray's gotta be excruciatingly painful—but, I've never seen her that wet before. Sure, we've fooled around with a little hot sauce a few times, but even then—"

"I'm sorry I asked."

Outside, Soos shouted, "Hey! My hat! Give that back!"

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

As the eye-bat retreated toward the forest, Ford sighed in relief. "She's gone. It worked."

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

"Frankly, I can't believe that you gave us accurate information on how to get rid of her."

"What! You wound me! Why would I lie about that?"

"To trick us into doing something that strengthens her? To arrange an opportunity to meet her?" Ford suggested. "After all, as one of your Henchmaniacs, she could have helped you escape."

Bill's blood ran cold.

She could have helped him escape. SHE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE! He'd been so worried about not looking stupid or losing his eyes, when all this time—! He could have signaled Iris from the window, and—and the bottomless pit was right there, she could have carried a message to the gang—at the very least, she could probably open doors for him—and instead he just—when he could have—

He watched in despair as Iris's pretty little optic nerve vanished behind the trees.

No, Bill decided—no, getting her help was a terrible plan. If it was a good plan, he would have done it; so it was terrible. He had a better plan. What was his better plan?

"Come on, you think I need her? I've got all the pals I need right here—whether you're ready to admit it or not." He elbowed Ford. Bill had decided he'd wheedle Ford back over to his side, and he would. His survival depended on it. Now more than ever. "I've got a way out, don't worry about that—it's only a matter of time—and she's not part of the plan."

Ford scoffed. "Really. Last night you were moaning about being on death row."

"Wh—Hey! That was..." Not fair. He scrambled to revise his story.

"You're lying about something," Ford said. "If it wasn't how to get rid of her, then it was why you wanted to get rid of her. For all we know, maybe she wants you dead as much as we do."

"Yeah," Stan said, "the 'girlfriend' story sounds crazy enough to be true, but you seem like the kind of guy who has a string of exes who'd love to kill you." (He did, as it happened, but it wasn't his fault he kept falling for petty jealous psychos who hated seeing him thrive.)

Ford said, "If she hadn't been a danger to the tourists, perhaps I should have invited her in to talk."

Unbelievable. Even when Bill did exactly what he was supposed to, he was still the bad guy. "Fine, she was a notorious black widow and you saved my life, happy? Do you like that story better? I made it up just for you." He jabbed a finger in Ford's shoulder. "You know what your problem is? You're too paranoid. You can't trust anything anybody says. You'll only hurt yourself like that—"

Ford shoved Bill's hand away and stepped out of poking range. "I spent years unlearning the paranoia you gave me. And when I finished, do you know what I figured out, Bill? All along, there was only one person I shouldn't have trusted: you."

It stung, but only in a distant, impersonal way; like a hard slap on a numb cheek. Bill turned to give Ford a sour look. "At the lengths you take it to, I could tell you the sky is blue and you'd have to check."

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

"Ha!" Bill angrily shoved the table against the wall as he stood up. "Thanks for taking care of my pest problem, boys." He stormed upstairs, flipping his hood up as he went. Ingrates.

####

The view out the attic window was more interesting than usual, mainly because there were three humans traipsing around on the roof spraying eye-bat repellant. From time to time Mabel came by to make funny faces at Bill through the glass; he did his best to one-up them. Once, Soos nearly fell off the roof and died; Bill hadn't laughed that hard since he was murdered.

Their return indoors was heralded by Mabel shouting, "Dibs on the shower!" and Dipper replying, "I take shorter showers, let me go first!" They pounded up the stairs. Mabel tried to take them two at a time, tripped near the top, and by the time she recovered Dipper was already in the bathroom. She groaned. "Augh! Not fair! I don't want to smell like onions and gnome pee!"

"Neither do I! I need it more, I haven't showered in two weeks!"

Bill wondered why Dipper got to go so long between showers without getting dumped in a cold tub in his sleep. (He knew why.)

Bill whistled to catch Mabel's attention. "Consolation prize." He waved a cheap perfume bottle toward Mabel. "We had leftovers after mixing the repellant. It smells like strawberry candy."

"You're my hero." Mabel took the bottle and sprayed it all over herself, in her hair, and under her sweater. "You need a shower too, you know."

"Sure, but until Dolores fumigates the kitchen I'll just blend into the background stink. I can put it off til tomorrow without anyone complaining."

"You're grossss." Mabel emphasized the hiss by poking Bill's arm. "Once I'm clean, I'm not talking to you until you've showered too."

"I'll be devastated."

"Those are my terms!" She kicked aside Bill's cushion-bed so she could sit under the window without stinking the cushions up, and settled back to wait for the bathroom. After a (very short) companionable silence, Mabel said, "It's too bad we had to chase off your ex. I can see why you like her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Can you?"

"Iris was so graceful!" Mabel said. "And murderous, but mostly graceful. Like an evil swan."

Bill laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, she is. Floats like a dream. If you think she's graceful in the air, you oughta see her in the pool. She's the only person I know who can make a cannonball look elegant."

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

"Look at you. Yooou still like heeer." Mabel propped her elbows on the edge of the window seat and balanced her chin in her hands. "How did you meet Iris?"

For the last couple of days, almost everyone in the house had talked about Bill's ex like she was some kind of malevolent creature, rather than a person. He was used to outsiders talking about his friends that way—heck, most of his friends were malevolent creatures—but it grated all the same. (He missed home.) Just hearing Mabel call Iris by her name was a breath of fresh air. No one else had even asked if she had a name.

"I met her at a party," Bill said. "I'd just gotten a piano and was showing off, and she came by to ask about Earth music. She wasn't in my crew then—but the party was open invite, and everyone in that corner of the Nightmare Realm knew that if you wanted info on Earth, you came to Bill Cipher. So, we talked about waltzes and tarantellas, I played a little Beethoven, we hit things off..."

They talked until the bathroom was free and Mabel went to shower. Sweet kid. Hopeless romantic, though.

When Bill got out of this place, he was gonna find the first boy who would break her heart and kill him before they could meet. It was the least he could do for her.

####

The third entry in Bill's dream diary: "Shooting Star's cartoon is getting to me. I dreamed about the wolf and the cat arguing over who had to host someone's birthday party. The wolf refused to let guests into his enormous mansion, but the cat's house was burning down. They asked me how to resolve this. I told them the cat should execute the wolf as punishment for his inhospitality, take over his mansion, and wear his skin as the party host. The animals were so in awe of my wisdom that I was deified as god of the jungle."

That was not what he'd dreamed. The animals were so horrified at his suggestion that they'd tied him to a stake and forced him to watch as they threw the cat into the flames of her own house. He couldn't remember whether he'd dreamed that he was a triangle or a human.

He preferred his version. Once he'd regained control over his dreams, he could replay this one and make it end properly.

He'd get the hang of this in no time.

####

(You're legally required to tell me if you had a reaction to this one. Even if it's horror. Especially if it's horror.)

[judasgot-it]

There Was Only One Bed

"We tend to get into these situations a lot, now, don't we? Shouldn't the hotel managers have known better at this point?"

Kaldo Gehenna Ver. Here

You and Orter had some sort of curse that had kept you working together for over two years now. Always, without fail, he would end up needing your help - last time it had been a flying mantacor, this time it was a violent unicorn who someone was keeping illegally in their home.

He can stop a violent beast from killing civilians but he couldn't stop property damage appearntly. That was too much work for him, it was just a 'clean up job' for a big and important guy like him. After all, he's the Desert Cane. That job was for the poor.

And for you.

You ran and kicked the back, watching him fold like a chair. He barely gave a shout, he merely stumbled and fell, his palms and knees scrapping against the cobblestone against your feet.

A laugh escaped you. Small revenge for that comment earlier.

”I'm about ready for a nap, I don't know about you.“

You stood over him, watching him search for his glasses. He was practically blind, his hand waving in the air as he searched for his lenses.

He looked pitiful, if only he hadn't said such a rude thing about your job earlier. But you gave him pity anyway, handing him his glasses back and watching as his eyes reappeared, giving you the meanest glare he ever had.

”What are you, an animal?“

He said this as he was still sitting on the ground, truly proper behavior from a stuck up who cared about the rules.

”No. But it's funny and you deserved it.“

You smiled, your face splitting apart in a shit eating grin.

“I don't think people deserve to be kicked.”

“They do when they insult others. You should try it sometime.”

Standing up, you offered your hand. Surprisingly he accepted it, pulling your down if only a little on purpose.

His grip was strong. It felt like he was trying to squeeze your bones out of your hand, and as if he were trying to pull you down with him. Payback.

"Let's go. I booked us rooms so we don't have to travel all night."

He stalked forward, walking ahead of you. There was a rush to catch up, your smaller steps having to leap in order to match up with his strides. He didn't acknowledge it, just nodding and continuing his pace.

What an asshole.

"How far is the inn?"

"Close. I'm not telling you."

Orter kept walking, his eyes focused on the path ahead of you.

"What? Why."

He scoffed, reaching around to flick your forehead. You dodged the onslaught, swatting his hand away.

"You would just kick me and try to get there first. Seriously, you don't have any respect for social decency."

Huffing, you tried to kick him again - your foot only made it halfway there until it was encased in a prison of sand.

Orter looked back at you, adjusting his glasses as his yellow eyes focused on your form. You could swear he was smirking, but it was wiped away in a second - maybe it was the glare you were sending him, who knew.

"Maybe you really are just an animal."

"Or maybe you're just an asshole!"

Stupidly, you pulled out your wand in hopes to cast a small spell at him. It was pointless, seeing as he had you disarmed with his stupid sand.

"You know we're in public, right? This just looks bad on your part."

Orter scoffed, letting you languish in his pile of inescapable sand if only for a little while longer. He reached over, gently hitting his knuckles against your head as he tried to physically knock some sense into you.

"Ow! What the hell!"

"I'm doing you a favor."

He gave a couple more knocks, as if it would make sure that you had some sense knocked into your head. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you felt his knuckles travel across your face, from your brow down to your cheekbones.

"What are you doing?"

You felt your face flush as his eyes traced your figure, golden eyes analyzing your form - it made you feel naked, and you could only escape by averting your gaze. His small huff of amusement made the feeling worse, your cheeks warming underneath his touch.

"Checking to see if you really have a brain underneath that skull. Seems like it's there, but I'm not sure."

There was no chance to retort as he dropped you roughly on the ground, leaving you to sputter and choke on offensive insults while he walked away, heading towards the hotel.

What an asshole.

-

This was a nightmare.

"Just take the bed, I'm not planning on sleeping anyway."

Orter looked at you with a straight face as he said this, pulling out a novel the hotel provided and tucking himself in a corner, as if that would be comfortable enough to be there for eight hours.

"Absolutely not. We can share, can't we?"

The bed was big enough for the two of you - maybe if you squeezed in, but you both paid for it, and it would be impossible to sleep knowing that there would be a man in the corner killing his neck while you laid down comfortably all night.

"I'm the man here. It's only proper that I allow the lady to take the bed."

"Excuse me? Are you really pulling that card right now?"

You took one of the pillows off of the bed, throwing it at the man. He seemed unphased, used to your outbursts.

What the hell was that about? Was he really going to treat you differently just because you were a girl?

"It's just the rules. I don't make them."

"Doesn't mean you have to follow them, ass!"

You slapped another pillow at his face. There was a struggle as he caught it, pushing you towards the bed and trying to subdue you - it had already turned late into the night, and your shouting was most likely disturbing the other guests.

It didn't matter to you. Orter deserved to be embarrassed.

Flipped him over, you tried to shove the plush cotton pillow over his face, struggling against his force. You felt him shift underneath you, his arms blocking your assault and preventing you from playfully suffocating him.

Your defense had been weak, perhaps too playful against your opponent. It was swiftly that he had worked to subdue you, his palm pressing against your shoulder while his knees worked against you, pinning you down against the soft bed.

The pillow was forgotten, with Orter merely staring down at you with his wasp-like eyes.

"This is rather improper of you-"

Growling, you threw your hand up, not really aiming for anything. It was with a shock that you felt your palm connect with his nose, and his weight fall against you as he took the hit on his face.

It was a moment later that blood began to drip down, making you cringe at the moment.

"Oh gods, I'm sorry."

Orter sat up, his hand attempting to cover the blood that began to drip from his nose. It was futile as it fell onto your shirt - the feeling was unpleasant, but you ignored it in favor of overwhelming guilt.

"Here. Um..."

There was nothing to aid him, besides your already soiled shirt. You handed the fabric to him, taking his bloody hands away from his face and trying to stop the bleeding that you caused.

He glanced at you, batting his dark eyelashes as he tilted his head down and ruined your shirt further. The fabric pulled against your ribcage as you both held it in place - at this point, it would be easier to take it off and hand it to him.

"fhanks."

"Thank you. For ruining my shirt."

"Is' nod my fauld' thad you hid' me." Orter's words were muffled by the shirt, and it was with a horrible ruttering sound, like an old rusty engine, that he tried to breathe in through his clouded and bloody nostrils.

Still ruining your shirt.

"You deserved it!" You deflected like it was breathing, "You're an asshole, manhandling me like that."

Drawing the fabric over your head, you shoved it in his face the best you could, still feeling his weight pinning you down at your hips. You would kick him if you could, but clearly, he had planned for this, not having moved from his position on top of you.

It took a moment to sink in the mistake you made, making eye contact with the man as he stared at you - making great effort to stay on your face and not look anywhere else.

He got off of you quickly, looking to the side and avoiding looking at you as if you had the plague. For once, you didn't shove his face for his perceived misdeed, instead taking the opportunity to cover your chest with the forgotten pillow, staring as Orter sat on the farthest edge of the bed, his warmth now sorely missed.

It had now gotten colder as it moved on in the night, no thanks to also having lost a shirt. There was nothing to say about that, as you would have to get up in order to get your day clothes - exposing yourself further to the man.

"Don't look at me." There was a crack in your voice as you said this, but you hoped that he would have been too distracted to really care about your state.

He glanced at you. The usual dull look on his face was painted red, his eyes wide as he turned away again, finding the floor much more interesting.

For once, he was speechless. No annoying taunts or a lecture about society - it was as if seeing your chest made him silent for once in his life.

Silently, he got up, his eyes still trailed downward. It was an awkward few minutes as you debated between getting up while shirtless and he struggled with forcing his bloody nose away with a pure force of will.

Despite being a double-liner, the man hadn't learned any spells to dispel such a pesty and annoying problem. How unfortunate.

It wasn't until a shirt was thrust into you direction were you broken out of your thoughts.

"Here. Sorry, just," Orter placed the shirt on your lap, turning to look back at the wall again as fast as he could "Take mine."

There was a long moment of silence.

It was a nice gesture. And you did feel bare, even underneath the pillow.

But this was Orter's shirt.

"Thanks. Um...we should go to sleep now."

You threw it on, trying your hardest to not focus on anything as you tried your best to straighten the fabric around you best you could. The shoulders were too large for your frame, making the buttoned collar fall too low on your skin.

It was better than nothing. At least you weren't forced to wear your dirtied shirt, which you assumed was somewhere off on the floor at the moment.

Silently, you forced yourself to lay down, going through the motions as you pushed the pillow underneath your head.

There was no body lying next to you. Instead, there was light breathing just below - it seemed like the asshole was still stubborn.

"Orter. I said we can share."

"I'd rather not. It's improper."

"I am literally wearing your shirt, what could possibly be more improper?"

"Sharing a bed."

You groaned, frustrated.

"Shut up, virgin."

That got the man up, unlike any other insult you had said. He crawled up onto the bed silently, his form dropping itself with a huff down onto the soft mattress.

"You are insufferable."

"Now that is improper."

The lights in the room went off, and you felt a light smack against your face.

"You should sleep."

"I am, Orter."

"Right."

His hand went up, feeling your face, as if to physically check for signs of your rest. His fingers trailed up and down your skin, tracing your nose and cheeks gently in the dark.

You could feel his thumb caressing your lips, as if you weren't still awake.

What a strange, strange man.

Anon asked for either or but I thought I could make it funny with Orter since he seems like such a rule guy. The vision is here. No confession and reader is kinda a tsundere cause idk...the vibes match.

Hope y'all enjoyed it. This is for my Valentine's event, it's still open and has slots open. go. ask away. do what you please.

[syd-slays]

Warning: blood, war, death, etc

Sophie forgets that elves are actual living beings sometimes.

She’s been awake for over 36 hours and all she can think about is the possibility of her friends/family dying. She’s the Moonlark, it’s her inherited duty to protect.

So she starts making a plan. Writing down names and marking them with a bright red X. The easiest way to defeat the Neverseen is to eliminate them.

But the plans become increasingly more violent, more blood, more sacrifice.

She picks out the easiest plan, hiding away the rest, and calls Team Valiant.

They step into her room and she begins to explain the plan. She’s far too tired, the kind of tired that settles into your bones and fogs your brain, to notice as the horror appears on their faces.

Stina leaves before Sophie can even finish the plan. This is the first time Stina hasn’t run off yelling but the way the door slams says enough. She wants to be strong enough to be part of this team but not if it means the violence Sophie describes. Stina is rude and ruthless but just a kid. She runs home and curls into a ball by the unicorn pens. She’s too scared to share those plans with her family so she watches the foals chase their mother. She sees so much life, in the unicorns and in the mirror every morning, how could she take that away?

Stina resigns for Team Valiant the next morning.

The slamming door knocks papers onto the floor, all the worst plans finally on display. Dex bends down and collects all of them. He views them with more calm than a child should manage. He can’t hate Sophie for them because he understands the strategy. He’s a technopath, he sees the entire world through science and mathematics. He hates how he agrees with them.

He’ll organize them and set it off to the side. He’ll spend the entire day with Sophie, they don’t talk and she sleeps through most of it. In the many hours when her eyes are closed, he’ll walk over to her desk and read through the worst plans. Again and again and again and again. He tried so hard to find holes in the logic.

He doesn’t cry until he gets home and walks right into a prank the triples planned. They wait for him at the top of the stairs and cover him in glitter. It’s silly and juvenile but Dex just breaks. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, covered in gold, and sobbing. The triplets freeze for a second before running away. They come back with the rest of their glitter and cover themselves in it. It makes a mess, the entire stairway is absolutely covered. It makes Dex laugh through his tears.

As the Dizznee family stands, covered in glitter the color of sunrises on the beach, the color his last invention lit up as, Dex finally finds the flaw in Sophie’s plan. These idiots in front of him cannot be reduced to a single statistic, they are worth so much more.

Biana sobs when she first sees the plan. She can’t even bring herself to move, just waits for the tears to ruin her mascara and turn her eyes bloodshot. In her head she knows this is war and she’s been a good little soldier this whole time. She has learned the commands fight, break, and heal over a hundred times. She can perform them with extreme efficiency. This is the first time she’s heard ‘kill.’

She cries because if Sophie really asked her to, she would. She has learned that Sophie knows what’s best when it comes to these situations and Biana would do anything to protect her family.

She waits for the tears to dry before leaving. Gives Sophie a smile and pleasant goodbye. She light leaps home and sneaks into her brother’s room. He’s not in yet so she waits on his bed. He’s her older brother, surely he can protect her from this.

When he enters the room, he’s covered in blood. He had been outside training with Grizel. It’s a small cut but the red is alarming against his thin white tee shirt. He looks so frail in this moment that Biana can’t bring herself to force this unsettling news upon him. He calls her a loser and tells her to leave. She tells him that his cologne smells like dinosaur poop. They’re both laughing when the door closes behind her.

She passes her dad on the way to her own room. He makes some half hearted comment about how important family is. How ‘everything will be alright.’ Biana knows it’s a lie. She’s known for a long time but she can’t tell if her father knows. She refuses to burden him with this new knowledge.

Biana decides that he’s right, it is her job to protect her family. It’s how she will uphold the Vacker legacy. But her hands still shake when she holds a knife. She won’t kill anyone, yet, not while better ways still exists. She’ll call Sophie in the morning, plan something better. She’ll think of her brother’s laugh and father’s doomed optimism and realizes that any death might take these qualities away.

Wylie is the oldest member in the room. This is the first time he notices how much of a difference this can make. Sophie mentions her plan and suddenly they all look so young.

He can’t even blame Sophie for thinking about all this violence, he’s been there. When his mom died he punched the mirror in his room, until his reflection was cut into a million tiny pieces and blood dripped from his knuckles. When his father was exiled, he dreamed about unfortunate things happening to the council. Nothing as violent as Sophie but enough that he isn’t surprised. Trauma and fear can destroy a person.

He doesn’t waste any time lunging across the room and pulling Sophie into his arms. She bursts into tears immediately. He tells her about his family and how much their lives mean to him. About how death destroys so much. He asks her if it’s really worth it. She crying so hard she can’t even utter the word ‘no.’ He know though and that’s all that matters.

He looks over her head at all the other children in the room, Stina running, Dex panicking, and Biana sobbing. For the first time he wonders if this is the reason he was placed on Team Valiant. His coworkers are so young, so full of life. He must make sure they don’t forget that. They have such wonderful futures ahead of them.

Later he’ll visit Stina. He’ll find her a job where she can still help the Black Swan but at a distance that makes her comfortable. He won’t let her feel guilty for leaving. He knows it’s what’s best for her health.

He’ll find Dex and Slurps and Burps, reminds him that there is so much more to him than the technology he creates. He’ll offer real human connection, a way to pull Dex away from the metal objects that consume him.

He’ll pass Biana at the mall. He’ll follow her through a few stores holding her bags. He tries not to notice the delicate way her hands run over fabric, tries not to imagine her using the same elegance when wielding a knife. She’ll talking about what clothes are in, how Wylie should change his hair. He’ll tell her that this is the future she should focus on, following her fashion designing dreams, instead of a future where she wasn��t enough to protect those that matter.

Nobody mentions the plan again. It’s stored in Sophie’s dream journal, a somber reminder of being a broken and terrified child.

They will find another way to best the Neverseen.

There is a future out there for each of them.