#well now it's just me and the Great Empty again

[marauder-misprint]

The Morning After

Series Masterlist

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!reader

1.3k words

cw: fluff

The next morning, you aren’t talking to anyone. You are far too in your head with conflicted feelings about yesterday’s date to converse with anyone. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel all the eyes on you. Word of your date with Sirius had quickly spread beyond your friend group. There are whispers accompanying the stares but your ‘don’t talk to me’ face wards off any questions directed at you, for the most part. 

“Well?” Regulus asks as soon as you sit down across from him at breakfast. 

Dorcas leans her elbow on the table so she can get a full look at you. Instead of answering Regulus, you reach for a mug in front of you and it’s filled with tea by the time it reaches your lips. Regulus waits a moment after you set the mug down before giving Dorcas a pleading look. 

“How was it?” Dorcas asks.

You hum. “Could use some sugar. Can you pass it?”

Regulus holds out the container of sugar cubes for you.

“We’re not talking about your tea,” he says. His voice is teetering on impatience. 

“No?” you retort blandly. You didn’t want to talk about the date until you knew how you felt about it. 

“How was your day with Sirius?” Dorcas asks. 

You take another sip of your tea and nod.

“Much better,” you mumble. 

Dorcas and Regulus share an annoyed look.

“Can’t you just get the rundown from Marlene later?” Pandora asks Dorcas with a hand gesturing toward the Gryffindor table. “Seems like Sirius is more talkative this morning.”

Sure enough, when you turn around, you can see Sirius deep in a lively conversation. He’s surrounded by his usual crowd, all of whom are leaning in, captivated by whatever he’s talking about. James throws his head back laughing as Marlene says something. By the looks of the rest of the group’s reaction, it was an insult aimed at Sirius. 

Facing Regulus again, you sigh. “It was… fine. He wasn’t a complete arse.”

Dorcas’ face lit up. She had hoped the date went well because if you started actually dating Sirius, she’d have another Slytherin in their Gryffindor group. The Gryffindor group that already liked you. 

“Sooooo, will there be another?” she asks eagerly. 

Your face snaps towards hers. “I don’t know,” you say bitterly. “Maybe? Probably not?” You groan and rub your temples. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Like what?” Dorcas crosses her arms. She obviously wants to know every detail about  your date and why there won’t be a second one. 

“Isn’t there a quidditch match coming up? Last one of the term?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not nearly as interesting as-” 

You threw a slice of toast at Regulus to shut him up.

“Talk about quidditch or I’m eating in silence.”

---

At that moment, you want to be left alone so you can work on your assignments. You can’t work in your dorm, Dorcas and Pandora would hound you for details about the date. You can’t work in the common room, same thing but with Regulus and maybe Evan and Barty since they were nosy. You drag yourself to the library and search for an empty table that’s semi-out of sight. You really hope people respect the unwritten rules of the library that when someone is working, you leave them alone. 

For the most part, they do. You are completely unbothered minus the few lingering stares and too-loud whispered comments. You work through it. It’s nothing too disruptive and one harsh glance from you often sent the culprits scurrying off. 

“-made progress, Moony. I really think she’s warming up to me!”

That voice. You stop writing, eyes wide as you continue to stare at your parchment. 

“That’s great, Padfoot, really, but can you help look for the book?”

“She confirmed that I’m attractive.”

“I know.”

“That has to mean something.”

“Maybe…”

“She didn’t say she wouldn’t write over Christmas!”

“Sirius!” The second voice, that you recognized as Remus, was growing irritated. “We can talk about her later. The Charms essay is a bit more pressing right now.”

The Charms essay. The one you were currently working on and had snagged several books for. You hear Sirius let out a soft groan. You look up in time to see them appear from the shelves next to you. Sirius pales slightly, realizing you probably just heard everything he said. You give them an awkward smile.

“Which book were you looking for? ‘Fraid I might’ve grabbed it,” you offer.

Remus approaches your table, leaving Sirius where he stood. “Tunnels and Tombs of Moldova.”

You scan the table and spot it among the pile of books you haven’t looked at yet. You point at it.

“You can take it. Just bring it back when you’re done?”

“Thanks,” Remus says quickly, grabbing the book and heading off to wherever he and Sirius are set up.

Sirius is still standing just beyond the bookshelf aisle he emerged from. He’s staring at you, waiting for you to say something. 

“You better go with him, Sirius,” you say after a moment. “I doubt Remus will write your entire essay for you.”

Instead of following Remus, Sirius walks up to your table, standing at your shoulder and looking down at your essay. 

“You did enjoy yourself yesterday, yeah?”

It’s one of the few times you’ve heard him sound so uncertain, so unsure of what your answer would be. You tear your eyes from your essay to look into his grey eyes. The uncertainty isn’t just in his voice but etched onto his face. Like he really cares what you have to say.

“It… it wasn’t bad. Don’t think I’ll be writing to you over Christmas, but you know,” you say earnestly.

He runs a hand through his hair.

“So that’s a ‘no’ on a second date then?”

Part of you wants to laugh. Did he really think you were interested? Were you interested?

“Sirius…” 

“Yeah?”

“Ask me again after the next quidditch match.”

The widest grin spread across his face, his eyes lighting up. 

“So there’s a chance! You are warming up to me!”

You give him a gentle shove in the center of his chest, causing him to take a step backwards.

“Don't push it, Black,” you warn as you turn back to your essay and reach to grab a new book from the pile. 

There is silence again so you assume that Sirius left your side to find Remus. You end up not needing the book that Remus borrowed from you. You finish the essay without it. You move onto your other homework and are about done when Remus comes back, holding the book. 

“Oh, are you leaving?” he asks, confused. 

You nod as you finish stacking the books on the table.

“Are you done with that book? You can just set it on the stack and I’ll get ‘em put away.”

Remus steps forward cautiously and puts the book on top of your pile. He’s eyeing you carefully.

“Are you playing with him?”

Remus’ tone is almost accusatory, which takes you aback. You focus on putting all of your work back into your bag as you answer him.

“No? I don’t think so? What do you mean?”

“I know you heard him when we were over here. Made him jump through some hoops to get you on a date. And now you’ve given him hope that there’ll be a second date. He’s giddy ‘bout it.”

Standing up straighter, you say, “I need time to figure some things out.”

“Hm.”

You watch Remus walk away before turning to tap the stack of books with your wand so they would return to their places. Sirius is giddy about the chance of a second date? You think that’s a bit of an overreaction, but you’re not sure if you can talk since you don’t know how you feel about him. He was so concerned about if you had a good time yesterday. You had had a good time. You’d be damned if you told anyone that right now. The more you thought about it, you didn’t not have a good time every time you were around him. Maybe if you got to know him a little bit more…

tags: @2dloveshp, @yearninglustfully, @made-for-oliverwood, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @hisparentsgallerryy, @itsseaberri, @corawithfanfiction, @devilslittlehelper, @jllyunn, @barnes70stark,

tags: @crowleythesexydemon, @flow33didontsmoke, @navs-bhat, @louweenier, @l0g0phobe,

@ellouisa17, @theendofthematerialgworl, @marina468, @bmyva1entine, @ravisinghs-wife

[cherrysurf]

Tall blonde and evil! | Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader

chapter 9; cupcake with kids interview

After the bringing in the new year with a good party and a winning trophy life was good. You and bakugou were getting along, the public saw him in a new light, maybe very minor rumors of you having a crush on him but the public will always talk. The nice couple day break you had was amazing, you had finally caught up on sleep and your favorite shows spent more time with your cat, got new clothes for the new year and even got a new year's gift from bakugou. The only bad part to this all was—

You're new found crush on him, you found out a couple days after the ceremony it happened when you couldn’t stop thinking about him and felt empty when you were out doing something with him whether it be work or not, maybe the public was right. But you’d never tell a soul that this was embarrassing as it is the one thing you didn’t want to happen but the thing was you didn’t fall for bakugou because of his looks like every other person did, You fell for him because of the new found person you started seeing in him “the real” him as you call it him being nice and gifting you things didn’t help the emotions either it just added more fuel to the fire.

Today you and him had to head out to an interview for the new youtube channel where celebrities come and bake cupcakes with kids, were the kids ask them questions about their up and coming projects and small things about their life you were quite nervous because you know bakugou can have a bit of a temper when people ask the wrong questions it really didn’t matter who they are—

So as you two arrive on set and you see bakugou get run up on by a bunch of little kids screaming his name and telling him how cool he is, instead of him getting mad at them he’s actually laughing and thanking them. The shock that it gave you was not planned at all but it was so sweet seeing him being polite to all of them and responding to all there questions, when it came time to film it was like a switch had flipped bakugou was more talkative,attentive to make sure none of the kids got hurtr and the cupcakes didn’t get messed up. Maybe a few minor funny arguments with the kids over the dumbest thing but it was nice seeing him being so kind. The kids asked great questions and Bakugou gave them amazing advice to pursue their dreams. This only made your heart well out of the amount of kindness and adoration for him you didn’t care about right now though you were just enjoying the moment seeing him like this, something that was new to you entirely.

bakugou deciding to keep his “nice” streak going invited you out to lunch after the interview he picked out the place since he doesn’t trust your food options after he found out you don’t have proper meals sometimes “you know bakugou those kids seem to really admire you” you tease “i hope so, i try to be a good role model” he says “you’ve been doing good the start of this new year” you continue on “i guess you have been too” he says quietly, saying nice things wasn’t exactly bakugou's forte he struggled with it since he was a kid, but he’s been trying he says it’s because of new years goals but you don’t know if that’s for certain sometimes when you think you knew bakugou he’d turn around and surprise you with something completely brand new so it was hard to keep up but you did, or tried….

“hey i’m going on vacation so, you’ll have a break for a week or two” he adds “cool thanks for letting me know” you say shocked he didn’t say anything before “surprised you’re not asking me for what” he says “well i guess after you asked me to set up a dinner for you and your mom because she was visiting town i refrained asking questions like that again.” you say looking down at your food “smart.” he adds, which you nod at— how did the conversation go from casual to awkward in mere seconds you think to yourself. Lunch ended and he dropped you off. Thing was now that you felt a total shift in your dynamic with him it was weird you couldn’t explain what it was or what it meant it was just something unexplainable right now, just like your feelings.

taglist; @kalulakunundrum @sweetadonisbutbetter @rednicotine @ikissfade @bakugouswh0r3 @allurearia @themultifandomgirl @junehasnotbeenfound @darhinadadragon @kodzubaby @harryzcherry @sahrii @kholethecutie @s4ikooo1 @babylambdietcoke @lover-no-lover61 @sikuthealien @homeless-clown @bookaholicfangirl4life @idexmids

[urinarythreatinfection]

Is This Love?

Luffy x male reader. Angst(?) Slowburn still. 1703 words Part one, Part three

Desc: You confessed to Luffy and he tries to find out what it means to him.

You’ve started sleeping in the men’s quarter’s again. It was hard to get some sleep at first, but life at sea is tiring, especially with the occasional marine attack and random weather conditions. Your body will shut itself down eventually. Unfortunately, someone else isn’t having much luck tonight.

“Hnnnnnnnn..”

Rustle

“Hrrrmmmmmmm”

Rustle rustle

“Hnnnnngaahh!” Luffy sits up quickly, his arms in the air. “Can’t sleep.” A shoe is thrown at his head by Sanji. “Ow!”

“Then go outside instead of bringing us into it!” The chef barks while the rubber man rubs his head. He pouts while getting up, making his way out onto the deck.

“waaatchhhh… night watchh.. heheheh. As if I even need to. Who would even dare approach the ship of the GREAT Captain Us-”

“Usopp.” The sniper feels a hand on his shoulder.

“EEAAAAAAHHH!” He screams and bursts into tears, ready to plead for his life before realizing it’s just his friend. “Oh. Luffy.” He has a hand on his chest, quickly pretending nothing happened. “Why are you up?”

“Wh- What happened!? Did you scream!?” A large muscular human reindeer runs over. “Luffy?” Fwoosh, back to small.

“I scared a bird, that’s all. I already took care of it.” The captain tries to open his mouth but is quickly shushed by Usopp. “You couldn’t sleep, right? Why?”

“(Y/n) sleeps back in his bed now but he still doesn't talk like before.” Changing the subject works, why wouldn’t it.

“Like before?” The two crewmates ask.

“Yeah like, he doesn’t.. look at me, the same. Like it’s… different. Not as warm.” He wracks his brain to explain, making weird hand signals because he can’t translate his thoughts into words he knows properly.

“Loving? Caring? Like you’re the only thing that matters in this unforgiving world?” Usopp finishes and Luffy nods, similar enough. He hums while nodding, eyes closed with a hand on his chin.

“Seems like he fell out of love with you.” The sniper states after a bit of fake pondering for dramatic effect.

“Out of love?” Chopper and Luffy ask before Usopp nods.

“I mean, you rejected him, right? Even outed his feelings in front of all of us, sounds like he just moved on. Let the feelings fade out into the wind.” He explains while the doctor nods. Luffy’s brain goes empty-er as he lets how he feels translate into thoughts,

“I didn’t reject him” and out through his mouth. The two previously chatting teens stop.

“You didn’t?” They ask and Luffy shakes his head.

“I just called him weird, then he didn’t say anything else.”

…

Is that not a rejection?

“Is that not a rejection?” That’s what I said. Usopp furrows his brows, trying to see through his friend’s eyes. “Did you also stay silent?”

“I didn’t know what else to say.” The sniper hums, he would definitely start ugly sobbing if someone he was in love with did that to him.

“You could’ve said, ‘Thank you for your feelings, I do not feel the same way.’ If he continues then scold him.” Chopper says with a hoof on his chest. Very kind. “Or kick him off a mountain.” Two different parents taught him two different things.

“That could kill someone..” Usopp points out, slightly concerned. Chopper nods.

“If they survive they ask for your help and then you have a new customer/patient.” What did Dr. Kureha teach him? The long nosed man stares at Chopper in concern and shock before Luffy speaks.

“I don’t wanna do that.”

“Well yeah he’s still our friend, kicking him off a mountain is a bit mu-”

“I mean, I don’t wanna lie.” He clarifies and Usopp stares at his friend, lips jutted out still from being interrupted.

“Lie?” The small reindeer asks instead and the captain nods.

“I do have feelings for him. I just.” Luffy motions at his chest, “Just…” This is why he couldn’t sleep. “I don’t know what love like that is. Being in love. He’s in love with me and I love him but I don’t know what my love is if he feels like that.” Luffy feels platonic love easily, he feels joy and happy and angry all very easily. Even something like excitement from a woman’s chest he can feel via living through Usopp, but romantic love he doesn’t know a lick about feeling. Passion and smooching, hugging and holding hands, staring into each other's eyes. You could do that all with a friend, mostly, so what’s the actual difference? It’s not like lust is the difference either since people do stuff without loving each other all the time.

“Romantic love…” Hiriluk loved Drum Island and Dr. Kureha loved having fun. “Romantic love is having big antlers and sturdy fur.” Chopper reverts to what he learned when he was a wee baby. Luffy rubs his own head, no antlers. In response to his captain’s confusion, Usopp speaks confidently.

“It’s okay. They call me Captain of Love Usopp for a reason!” He strikes a pose and Chopper claps. “Love is like the warm sun on a snowy day, a ray of light peeking through storm clouds, an oasis in a desert. It’s the light at the end of a tunnel.” A lot of metaphors, but not a lot of actual explanation. It’s not doing much good, though Chopper at least seems into it. The rubber man isn’t as interested though, realizing this isn’t answering much of his questions. He looks down.

“I don’t want (Y/n) to be out of love with me if he’s like this because he doesn’t love me romantically anymore.” Luffy mumbles to himself, deciding to go to the restroom. Maybe that’ll help.

“Amorrr is- Luffy? Where’d he go?” Usopp looks around, realizing he’s gone. He looks down at Chopper, who’s expecting more. The sniper clears his throat and continues. “Love is like!” You get the point. Chopper doesn’t know about romantic love much, even as a reindeer. They don’t usually love romantically to mate, while both Hiriluk and Dr. Kureha were interested in their medical endeavors and danger. As for Usopp, he’d been on the same island all of his life always focusing on other things to ever truly register romantic love. His sick mother, her death, then trying to become a brave warrior of the sea. No parents to teach him either. His assumption was it would be figured out once on the ocean, being surrounded by lovers and admirers all the time. Neither of them can help Luffy, at least not in the way he needs.

So what does Luffy need? He doesn’t know, and neither do they. So he goes to the restroom.

“Love…” Luffy says while sitting on the toilet, not going or anything, just for thinking. “Loovvee. Loav.” Repeating it isn’t helping, “Louuvee, loaf.” though it is cheering him up. “Shi shi shi!” He laughs a bit, then stands up. This didn’t give any answers, but he won’t stress about it. Things will work out eventually. Luffy splashes water and soap on his hands, dries them off, then leaves the restroom. He goes back to the men’s quarters. Before going back to his own bed he stops by yours. “...” He crouches down and stares at you. “..luv.” A small mumble before flopping onto his mattress. His heart and mind feels clearer.

Meanwhile, your eyes open, what was that about?

_____________________

‘Why’d he just stare at me? Or maybe he wasn’t? My eyes weren’t open but I definitely felt his body heat and breath.’ You think to yourself as you poke at your food with a scowl, finally taking a bite out of it.

“Luffy’s gonna steal it if you don’t eat in time.” Nami tells you, pointing to your plate with her fork. On cue, the captain tries to reach for her food, hand smacked away before he could grab anything. No time for thinking during breakfast, but you’re on dish duty today. That should give you a chance to think.

“Hey.” A voice says behind you and you almost drop the plate you’re rinsing off. It’s Sanji. “So… about you and Luffy.” He starts, looking awkward. “You’re really in love with that id- with him?” He’d like to insult Luffy but feels it’s not the time.

“Way to bring it up again.” You grumble, placing the last dish to dry.

“Did he reject you?”

“Yeah, obviously. Don’t know what I expected to happen.” You don’t really feel like talking about it but he’s asking so you answer.

“Are you sure?” The chef asks and you look back at him, irritated.

“Hell you mean ‘are you sure?’ I’m pretty sure, dude.” Your eyes glare at him. “He called me weird and acts like I’m a specimen now.” Your sass makes Sanji frown back.

“I’m trying to help you, dumbass. Luffy’s not like other people. What you think might be a rejection can be something else entirely. He could say someone has a strong smell and consider it a compliment.” He lights a cigarette, annoyed at the attitude. “You could’ve read him wrong.” It’s a bittersweet thought that you just misunderstood.

“Even if I did misunderstand, so what? It’ll still mean a rejection, just in his own way.” You’re too stressed to talk about this. You were already trying to move on.

“He asked me about love yesterday.” Your eyes widen. “Usopp and Chopper said the same thing happened the day before.” Sanji says after taking a breath of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the window. “That’s what I mean, but if you’re going to be a dick about it-” He leans into your face “-I don’t have to tell you anything.” He says mockingly.

‘Asshole.’ Though you were mean first, technically. Still, you really want to know the details. You clench your jaw, then speak. “I’m sorry for being an ass, tell me.”

“Huh? What’d you say? Tell you what?” He puts a cupped hand to his ear.

“Tell me more about what Luffy asked you.” He continues to stare at you until you sigh. “Please.” That gets a satisfied smirk out of him.

“Should’ve just said so.” You hold in your anger so he can continue. “What Luffy asked me…”

Cliffhanger wooaaaAAOoah. But still, theres another chappa. I already had a good portion of this one finished but the next one will prob take longer. Also my bad if this one was more comedic than you would like, all of my stuff ends up having a moment like that, plus moments with Usopp always tend to be unserious. I thought about not posting this immediately after it was done to space stuff out but.. nah. Not my style ig. Comment if you want, idk. Havent done slow burn in a long and by a while i mean years and also only like 2 or 3 times.

Next

[ilysungho]

20 and 29 for taesan pls :)

a/n: i had previously written a taesan voyeurism prompt, but he was a dom in that so this one's for sub taesan! for dom!taesan, you can read here -> prompt 53 + 57 wc: 1k contains: sub!taesan x dom!reader, perv!taesan, strangers to ???, humiliation kink taesan, voyeurism, semi-public setting, handjob, masturbation, little degradation, lowercase intended, prompts italicized

“ahhhnn faster please, harder…”

the air in the room got thicker as the sounds from taesan’s phone escaped without a pause. sinful thoughts ran across his mind while one hand palmed the bulge forming on his pants, pre-cum staining the material. he wanted just one chance… one chance to make his dreams of fucking you come true, but every time he even looked in your direction, his boner couldn't help but form.

for you though, it was a shocker to see the lonely boy in the empty class, raggedly breathing while his shoulders shuffled mysteriously. this room had been your favorite one to study in after a long day, usually empty and resourceful with the whiteboard walls and standing tables. not to mention how it was tucked away in the corner of the building, so not many people came by.

black frames decorated taesan’s face as he concentrated on the video, imagining your boobs engulfing his length and your pretty face fucked out from the previous rounds, wanting to replicate the scenes he watched. he kept palming himself, the moans in the video enhanced with the noise cancelling earbuds he put on.

and in true loser fashion, he just had to moan your name. while you stood right behind him.

“say that again pretty boy.” you whispered into his ear, fingers holding the removed earbud. taesan gasped, scared to look back while he turned his phone off and attempted to not freak out at your voice. “y-y-y… y-y/n…” well that was an epic failure…

“i didn’t know you thought of me that way. and you even know my name, so why don’t you tell me yours?” you had a sly smile as you turned his chair to face you, taking a seat next to him. he was red as a tomato facing downwards, fixing his glasses from falling off his embarrassed face. not only did his crush find him watching porn, he also had to say their name out loud… great job idiot.

you clicked your tongue at his silence, pulling his chair close to yours now. “such a naughty boy. not even telling me your name, yet you touch yourself to the thought of me? well, go on. i’d like to see that in action.”

"w-w-what?! no! no i can't!!" he looked at you, still blushing hard. but you looked at how his jeans had a dark spot. in a teasing manner, you got up and turned around. "ok then. i'll go study like i was supposed to."

taesan's eyes widened at your quick decision, grabbing onto the sleeve of your button down. "wait... i-i'll do it.... but only i-if... only if you let me do you too!" you didn't know he would react like this, but you liked seeing how desperate he got. composing yourself, you sat back down on the chair in front of him and nodded, at which, he visibly gulped.

"go on then." tilting your head to the side, you crossed your legs and sat back, hands resting on the armrests. taesan nervously touched the stained fabric, feeling even more turned on by the whole situation (it was as if he enjoyed the humiliation...).

he palmed himself some more before unzipping and pulling out his dick under his boxers. you raised your eyebrows at the sight, his long cock glistening under the lights while the veins on it ran all throughout up till his red tip. he hissed under his own touch, thumb covering his slit, as he wrapped his fingers around himself.

"tell me how you want to do me, pretty boy." you smirked as he jerked into his hand, caught off guard by the new request you gave. but he complied, his mind running at full speed with everything he could think of to do to and with you.

"f-fuck you," thrust, "eat you o-out," thrust, "suck y-your tits," thrust, "a-and more..." thrust.

he imagined your boobs in place of his hand like the video he was previously watching, eyes closed to really visualize it. his posture was so messed up though that you got entertained by it all. he looked oh so pathetic, hovering off his chair as he thrust into his hand, and you knew that it was something you would love to tease him about some other time.

"be more specific cutie, otherwise you might not get what you want." you took your feet out of your shoes, raising it up to touch his balls through socks. taesan fell back onto the chair, his eyes shooting open as an involuntary moan came out. the sound caused you to press harder onto him, wanting to hear it again as he squealed out.

“‘m gonna use m-my tongue—aahn— to eat you o-out. and t-then FUCK i’ll lick y-you clean until you c-cum again. nghh i-i’ll use my dick a-after to fuck y-your tits and s-spill my c-cummgh on your body. then i-i’ll finally l-let your p-pussy get f-fucked…”

“that’s a lot of talk coming from a whining bitch under my foot huh pretty boy?” taesan looked straight at you then, trying to settle down on his seat to readjust how he jerked off. the eye contact made him feel hot but his competitive nature came to show as he pointed his cock at you, tonguing his cheek to not make any more sounds.

you both stared long and hard as he continued on, his hand working harder than it has ever before to help his dreams come true. the concentration produced perspiration as he felt close. and with a few more hard pumps, he shot his load right onto your shirt.

you stood up while smirking, amused at his bravery. after taking your shirt off, taesan watched as you came and took his hoodie off of him, redressing with that instead.

"i'm taesan..." he breathed out while coming down from his high, sweat trickling from from his forehead to his jawline.

“well let’s make your thoughts a reality, yeah taesan?” you said, grabbing your stuff while waiting for him to get ready. it might be your place or his, but it’s the start to a new bond between you two.

[quotidian-oblivion]

So I woke up today and found the house empty. Turns out, my dad was at work, my siblings were at Islamic summer camp classes and my mom was out shopping and no one would be home for a few hours.

I was left unsupervised for several hours straight at home.

And so, in all my teenage rebellion glory, I decided to have chocolate milk for breakfast. Because you know this girlie pop loves her choccie milk.

And so I quickly freshened up and eagerly leapt to the kitchen for my delicious breakfast. I didn't wanna go all the way to the store and purchase a choccie milk, so I decided to make my own.

I got the milk, sugar, cocoa powder, drinking chocolate powder, ice and blender. All the basic ingredients cuz we didn't have much at home (which was why my mom was out shopping).

Now the thing about the blender is that my mom often refers to it as her precious gold. The blender is sacred in this household and whoever so much as even sets it down too hard, invokes the wrath of my mom. So, in order to preserve my life, I took great measures to make sure nothing happens to it. But while pouring the milk, I paused.

I knew that the blender had a minimum capacity for it to do thr blending, but I didn't know what. So I just poured it till the first measuring line. I made my chocolate milk, meticulously measuring each ingredient with my soul and even adding some coffee to it.

And then, it was done! But with everything blended together, the choccie milk had somehow risen in volume even though all the ingredients were milk and powders. So I grabbed the biggest glass in our house and that thing is HUGE. It's as big as my water bottle.

But even after filling the glass to the brim, there was still, like, half of the contents of the blender left. I shrugged and plopped an ice cube in, resolving to drink the other half after I did my chores. So I drank the first glass and since I was hungry, it didn't take long. I was chugging the glass like a man who had just gotten through a breakup, paid bail and had staggered into the first bar he found.

I did my chores and stuff then poured the rest of the blender contents. It filled the entire glass yet again. Fyi, half the contents were not foam. The foam took overall 4% of the space, the rest was pure chocolate milk. Idk how my quarter-blender chocolate milk turned into a three-quarters-blender chocolate milk, but I'm starting to think now that there is a reason why my mom loves that blender more than her husband and children and the reason might be that I think the Spirit of Chocolate Milk decided to cross over from the Spirit World and take the mortal form of Blender (I recently started watching atla).

Anyways, it took me a while to chug the entire chocolate milk. And when I did, I fell sick.

Now, you might ask me, "Quo, why didn't you just share it with your siblings when they got back?" The answer is: If I had to trade chocolate milk as ransom for my siblings, I would shoot them myself.

(For legal purposes, this is a joke, but the seriousness is there)

And I couldn't very well share it with my parents because they're recently started talking about physical health and gyms, enhancing my gym-phobia and increasing my desperation to start a badminton club myself because the only physical exercise I find comfortable is taking a racquet and beating the shit out of cocks. Shuttlecocks. So if they found out that I had, most likely, roughly a litre of chocolate milk for breakfast, they would freak. So I had no choice but to finish it.

Anyways, as soon as I finished the huge ass glasses of chocolate milk, I started to feel the consequences of my unregrettable and unsupervised actions.

My stomach became sentient and decided to master water-bending and bend the water inside itself to torture the shell that held it. I felt like puking my breakfast out, but no way in hell was I gonna let my stomach get in the way of my one true love. So I refused to puke out the chocolate milk.

I endured the attack of the Puke Nation and finally prevailed. And of course, lamented to my friends about it because I'm a dramatic bitch.

I quickly washed the blender and the glass and cleared everything out just in time as my mom and sisters came home.

And guess what she brought for me. No, guess.

She got me chocolate milk. She went to the store, saw a bottle on clearance, and bought it. And if I don't drink it today, it will expire.

Anyway, it's been 6 hours, that's enough time to give my stomach a break from a litre of chocolate milk, right?

If I don't update, you can correctly assume that I committed death via chocolate milk overdose. Drink on, soldiers 🫡

[cocostyles]

Love Lies Bleeding — Naruto Uzumaki

pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x fem uchiha reader!

word count: 1216 k

summary: Naruto hasn’t been present since he became Hokage.

warnings; fem reader, heartbreak, breakup, english is not my first language

part two

Years had passed since you first met Naruto Uzumaki. Back when you were just children dreaming of becoming ninjas, he had lit up your life with his contagious smile and unshakable optimism. You had fallen in love with his determination and charisma, seeing in him not just the hyperactive boy who dreamed of becoming Hokage, but also the man who would one day change the world. You always saw his great potential and had faith in him. Now, that dream had come true. Naruto was the Seventh Hokage of Konoha, and while the world celebrated him, you felt more alone than ever.

Over time, you had learned to accept that Naruto had responsibilities that extended beyond you. However, that understanding began to turn into an unbearable weight that barely let you breathe. The dinners he promised to attend turned into cold plates. The nights he said he’d be home early ended with you falling asleep on the couch, waiting for him after crying yourself dry.

One day, after a long silence between the two of you, you decided to talk to him.

“Naruto, I feel like you’re not here with me anymore. You do so much for everyone else, but… what about us? I miss you.”

Naruto looked at you with those blue eyes that had always melted your heart. His gaze softened, and a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

“That’s not true. I love you more than anything. How could you doubt that?” he said, taking your hands. “I know I’ve been busy, but I’ll find my rhythm soon, and we’ll be fine.”

You wanted to believe him, but that very night, you found yourself alone again. He had promised to be there, but an “emergency” had pulled him back to his office.

As time passed, the emptiness in your chest only grew. You truly tried everything to rekindle the connection you once had, back when you went on missions together: preparing his favorite meals, decorating your home to give him a warm welcome, even finding moments to visit him at the Hokage Tower. But Naruto always seemed distracted, absorbed in something you couldn’t reach.

One sleepless night, you decided to take a walk. The streets of Konoha were quiet since the war, illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. Without realizing it, your steps took you toward the Hokage Tower. As you approached, you noticed the light in the main office was still on. Curious, and with a strange feeling in your stomach, you decided to go up and see if you could convince him to leave his work behind and come home, just for tonight.

As you reached the door, you heard laughter. It wasn’t Naruto’s laugh—you knew it well. Nor was it the kind of laugh one hears in a formal meeting. It was feminine, sweet, and intimate. Your heart began to race as you stepped closer, your hands clammy and cold. Then, you saw them through the crack in the door.

Naruto was leaning toward another woman, someone you immediately recognized as a kunoichi who worked closely with him. They were far too close, their hands brushing against each other, looking at one another as if they were the only people in the world, sharing a moment that left no room for misinterpretation.

The ground seemed to disappear beneath your feet. Everything you had built with him—all the trust, promises, and dreams—shattered in that instant. But then, anger surged through your veins, burning away the shock. The pain and rage churned in your chest, suffocating you, but you refused to remain silent. With firm steps, you pushed the door open, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoing in the room.

“Naruto?” Your voice trembled, but not from fear—from barely restrained fury.

Both of them turned to you, startled. Naruto stood up immediately, his face pale.

“Love… this isn’t what it looks like.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze fixed solely on him. The disappointment in your eyes was unmistakable. It felt like your heart was being ripped apart, the betrayal cutting deeper because he had been your friend before anything else.

“Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like while I’m at home waiting for you, doing everything I can to keep this relationship afloat, you’re here… having fun?”

Naruto froze. You were right. He had neglected you for something that offered a fleeting distraction in his relentless life, something that wasn’t even worth it. That’s why he hadn’t left you—because he still loved you more than anything, just as he had since you were children, when he used to tease you about marrying him someday, and you’d laugh, saying he’d never deserve you. How right you had been.

The kunoichi stood, uncomfortable in the heavy silence between you.

“I should go…” she murmured, but you raised a hand, stopping her instantly. Your Sharingan flared to life, its fiery red gaze freezing her in place.

“No. Stay. This isn’t just my issue—it involves you too.” You turned your attention back to Naruto. “So? What’s going on here?”

Naruto swallowed hard, avoiding your gaze. “It’s not what you think. She was just helping me with some documents. It’s late, and we were just relaxing a little.”

You let out a bitter laugh. The sound sent a chill down Naruto’s spine—it reminded him of Sasuke’s icy fury, and for the first time, he felt afraid. He had never seen you like this.

“Relaxing? Do you know how many nights I’ve spent alone while you’re ‘working’? How many times I’ve convinced myself this is just a phase, that things would get better?” Your voice cracked. “How long has this been going on?”

“I’m not doing anything!” Naruto responded, louder than necessary. But his uncertain expression betrayed him.

You shook your head, the pain and frustration finally spilling over as tears you could no longer hold back.

“You always said you loved me, that I was your priority. But I’m not, am I? You don’t even have the decency to admit it!”

The kunoichi stepped back, startled by your rising anger, and tried to intervene. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble—”

Without looking at her, you spoke coldly, your voice sharp as a blade. “You’ve caused enough trouble. Leave.”

She nodded quickly and left, leaving you and Naruto alone in the room, the air thick with tension.

“I…” Naruto began, but you raised a hand to stop him.

“No more excuses, Naruto. I always tried to be understanding, but this… this is something I can’t ignore.”

Naruto tried to approach you, but you stepped back, the thought of his touch repulsing you.

“I need you to stay away from me,” you said firmly, though your heart ached as the words left your lips. “I want you out of my house.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the office, leaving Naruto alone, guilt etched into his face. The frustration boiled over as he swept everything off his desk, tears burning his cheeks.

That night, as you walked home with your heart in pieces, a decision began to form in your mind. You needed to leave Konoha, at least for a while. You had devoted your life to someone who had once meant everything to you. But now, you realized you had lost Naruto long before that night.

[mylovelookup]

ART DUMP

Hello! Dropping some art (sketches, doodles, etc etc) inspired by fics I recently read or I'm currently reading.

This modern love wastes away - by hellotte (@hellotte)

Mutually Assured Destruction - by Rhaegang (@rhaegang)

(inspired by The Shed.)

Mate - by Mordancy (@vamqira ily)

Come Sail Away - by whointheheck

No Man Can Take The Sea - by sad_pense_trop (@metropoliswhite)

Times New Roman Firing Squad - by whimsicalwaves (@whimsicalwavess)

(Ollie in a suit!)

New Chemistry - by lemoncaprisun

(the aftermath!)

divine, improvise by moi

I couldn't tag some of the authors because I couldn't find their urls on here, sorry! 😭 if anyone knows their urls you're welcome to tag them!

[widevibratobitch]

something about being told im 'the leading person at this whole academy when it comes to interpretation and stage intelligence' by the husband of the woman im trying (not really. but i mean. who knows) to seduce... ok boy you got me. lets make it a polycule.

[atwas-gaming]

Wow. I have got to figure out how to run old games on my shiny, modern gaming PC, because the new Carnivores remake. SUCKS.

[mcmansionhell]

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[poguehearted77]

Just Another Cliché

Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, but after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.

<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>

Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.

Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.

Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.

It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.

You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.

A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.

"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.

Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.

"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.

You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.

Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.

-

Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.

Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.

There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.

"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"

You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."

It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.

"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."

Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."

So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.

That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.

"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."

He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.

This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.

Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.

Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.

-

The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.

He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.

"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.

You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.

Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.

Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.

"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.

It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.

"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.

Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.

Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."

You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"

The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?

Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.

He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.

The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.

The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.

He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.

Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.

His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.

You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.

She finally said yes.

That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?

You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.

Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.

Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.

Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.

In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.

Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.

[thesacrificialdove]

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 1.6k words rich yandere x gn!reader — ko-fi | patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms

tags sugar daddy, rich yandere, low-key obsessive behaviour, first meetings, college student reader, age gap, brief mention of a rapist (no description or anything more)

—📜" Being a broke college student, you decide to try your hand at getting a sugar daddy. You find someone who is... quite eager to know everything about you. It's weird because he doesn't seem to be the same person he was online.

They say to spend your youth on nightclubs and partying with friends. But really, they don’t know the true beauty of being in a jazz club and drinking all by yourself. There’s no ill intentions, there’s no partying until the sun goes down—just some nice music and good drinks.

People find it odd, sure. But nothing can beat this feeling for you. As you lay in a couch that’s worth double your college tuition, you drink champagne that's triple your college tuition. 

How you ended up here is another embarrassing story. Hunting for a sugar daddy online is a clear plan for destruction. It could end well with a decent allowance every now and then, of course. Yet, fear gets the most of you. The thought that you end up with a fat well and alive man who asks for sex with his small dick looms over you like a gloomy cloud. That fear is there because your sugar daddy is anonymous.

Sighing, you drink another sip of the champagne as you fix your posture. Again. The seat in front of you is still empty. You’d think he wasn’t really being honest with you but he did have a reservation ready for the both of you.

It’s not bad to wait. Even if you do look dumb getting stood up, at least you’re enjoying yourself.

“You lonely there?” someone asks behind you.

Turning your head behind you, you see a towering man with a smile so bright you think you could be blinded by it. He looks elegant—the way he’s holding a glass like a connoisseur and his long black hair pulled into a slick ponytail. Fuck, is he your sugar daddy? He looks the age for it and honestly, he aged really good.

You tell him, “Maybe. Are you lonely?”

He chuckles and takes the seat opposite. Finally. “No,” he says, “not anymore, at least. All thanks to…?” he gestures to you.

When you tell him his name, he parrots it like he’s tasting it. “Beautiful. Your mother picked it out?”

“I’m sure so,” you don’t know, who the hell would know that? “It’s a generational name, really. In our family we keep reusing names.”

“So are you the second? The third?”

The third was your great grandfather but he ended up being a rapist. Eugh. “The fourth,” you answer. “But I never tell anyone that, actually. Bit embarrassing if they call me the fourth, so.”

He laughs, somehow finding you amusing. “Nicolas,” he says, “very nice to meet you.”

Was… his name Nicolas? You’re not so sure about that. From the site he only revealed his last name so that you could get the reservation. Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Nicolas.” The little twitch in his lips is unavoidable to your eyes, “You look very nice tonight,” maybe that’s why he took almost an hour to arrive here. “Do you live near here or?”

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head, “I come from Bolzano. But I came here from Portofino, where my heart currently is.”

You nod like you know where those places really are. Italy, you assume. “Very nice. I heard it’s a beautiful place.”

“Beatiful even more with company,” he puts his drink down. “How about you? What makes you come here?”

You, actually. You wanted to go here. “I was raised by my grandfather and jazz was his favourite. Every corner of the house Hank Mobley would be playing. I have his old records that he passed down to me and whenever I play it, I can see the way he dances.”

“So, come down here for a little trip to memory lane?”

Before you could answer, you think about it even more. The man you were talking was definitely not Italian, right? No, his name sounded British, at most. And Nicolas sounds like he has little to no knowledge about the fact that you two are supposedly on a date.

Fuck, did you get him wrong? I mean, he is interested, you think.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you hum. You put your glass down too, clasping your hands. “I think I do need to go now. It was nice to have your company—”

“Going so soon? A bit rude especially if you came here to be mine for a price, no?”

You pause. Though you’re ready to leave this embarrassing meeting, you’re caught. You turn to him in confusion. So you were… wrong? Right? 

“Sit back down, this champagne is a bit too new to me.” He raises a hand and someone immediately finds their footing beside him. Nicolas speaks in his own tongue, requesting something you don’t understand.

You’re promptly back on your seat with a small wave of his hand. “Come on, I think we have a lot to learn about each other. But I know you.”

Did he send in a private investigator or what? Fuck, man. You didn’t think that those things were real in real life. “How much do you know?”

He doesn’t answer. His legs are crossed as he watches the busboy leave to prepare your drinks. “How are your classes?” he asks, making idle conversation of things you’re a bit worried to talk to him about. “Hope you’re dealing well.”

“Yeah,” you say, unsure of this now. “It’s all fine, yes. Just a few projects and classes.” You wonder for a moment how rude it would be to ask for a price on your body right now. “Nothing interesting, really.”

“I’m sure anything you say is of interest,” he says, all too fond of you. “Tell me, love, you mentioned having difficulties with some of your professors.”

He wasn’t interested in all that before when you were talking. “It’s fine. Well, not like I can say no. It’s a bit hard when you’re paying for an education and you’re not being taught,” you laugh, “Self-taught learning, he excuses.”

“That’s simply lazy,” he excuses. “Fine arts is such a nice career path. No reason to be dismissive of students who want to learn it.”

Did you tell him what you’re studying?

The busboy returns and brings a drink to the both of you. The song changes and it sounds familiar. You could almost see your grandfather dance behind Nicolas.

“I’m going to guess that’s your doing,” you say, “Thank you. It sounds lovely.”

He smiles, “I’m not one for jazz myself.” He reaches for his glass and swirls in, taking a whiff of its scent afterward. “But I’m curious as to who you are. How you grew up is one of those things”

When the both of you talked online, you expected him to be more lustful than this. Maybe it’s the repeating innuendo in his messages. All of that persona is gone now as if it never existed. It’s concerning.

Both of you make small conversation. Mostly it’s about you. He asks every little detail about you, asking for things that not even your friends would care about. It’s the little things.

‘Do you like soft cotton or silk?’ You don’t really know the difference but cotton is nice.

‘How often do you see your family?’ Every or so month, you’d wager. But you make sure to keep in contact.

‘What’s your thoughts on caged animals?’ A bit cruel, but you can see where it can stem from. Still, it’s cruel. You’d never do it.

The night come to a close when you start to feel a bit light-headed with the drinks you’ve ingested. Nicolas puts aside your glass as he stands to go on your side of the table. “Maybe it’s time to take a break tonight, love?”

You groan. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine now. I’m really thankful for tonight.”

“I’m glad,” he says, pulling you up and helping you walk. You don’t need it but it’s nice anyways. “I can take you back to your dorm, yes? You don’t need to worry about anything else when you’re with me.”

In your pocket, your phone buzzes. You don’t get to check it when Nicolas wraps both of his arms around your waist. He pulls you to the exit and you swear you hear ‘Signore Giordano’ come out when the men bid him goodnight.

Which is weird, because his surname is Abbot.

The ride was a blur, literally. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. The next thing you know is that both of you are in front of your dorm. It’s too dark outside. The streets are dead silent. The low rumble of his car is the only thing you can really hear.

He calls your name. “It’s time to go home. You can’t stay with me yet, love.”

You stretch in the seat. A car seat has never been more comfortable. “Been nice, really. Thank you.”

As you unbuckle your seat, he leans forward. His arm drapes over your shoulders as his hand comes to your face. “Then can I get a little reward? Just a little?” He turns his cheek, a grin on his face.

It’s stupid but oh well, he would pay you. You press a kiss on his cheek and he looks like the happiest man alive. He laughs, looking at you with stupid heart eyes. “Thank you. Call me with this number—” he places a card in your hands—”and delete that damn app. I’ll come find you after your classes tomorrow for your contract. You don’t need to find anyone else now.”

He leaves shortly after you get inside your dorm. You hear the revving of his car go in the quiet night. It’s relieving. You’re tired on your feet, unable to really process what happened tonight.

It’s whatever. It’s all done now.

You delete the app on your phone, swiping away a message you got from it. You’re pretty sure it’s from another match you had last time but again, you don’t need it anymore.

do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ L0tus_Ren_ & @ Ivan Belikov

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby names

in which spencer comforts you after you wake from a good dream about becoming a mother

fluff! warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader sort of wants to be a mom sort of doesn't, they discuss having a child in the future, talk of pregnancy stuff, I think that's it! a/n: another short sweet fluff piece that is by no means going to get me a pulitzer but is cute nonetheless!! love u!!! let me know if u enjoyed!!

Spencer wasn’t in the room when you fell asleep into an impromptu nap, induced by the pattering rain, the low light of your bedside lamp, the warmth of your favorite throw blanket—but he is when you wake up. Home from work, sprawled on the bed next to you, long legs crossed and as close as he thought he could get without disturbing your slumber. 

“You came home,” you whisper groggily, curling into his side and letting your sleepy eyes flutter shut again. 

He pulls you closer against him, rubbing your arm. “I always do.” A low, affectionate chuckle that buzzes from his chest and dizzies you. “You tired?”

You hum a distant affirmation. Visions of diaphanous pink, of sweet cooing, of a haloed Spencer doused in warm light and smiling down at a some blanket-bundled creature in his arms, still burn behind your eyelids, fading with every passing second. The gentle classical music you’d been playing earlier now blends with the sound of evening rain tapping ceaselessly against the window. Spencer is warm next to you, scent familiar and comforting and only contributing to your drowsiness—but a lingering sort of sadness still claws at your stomach. Emptiness. It bites like a shock of icy water. It’s just a small thing. You feel silly for being upset, but you are upset, and you want to tell him. 

“I had weird dreams.”

Spencer offers a hum of his own (perhaps a habit you’d picked up from him) and you open your eyes, watching him watch the rain. The stark angle of his jaw, the sweet slope of his nose. Any baby he had a hand in creating would be absolutely cherubic. “You know, Carl Jung said dreams are hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.”

You fiddle with the knit of his sweater, and he covers your hand with his own, looking back down at you, deep eyes full of easy contentment. Like as long as you’re together, he can’t imagine a thing to be worried about. 

“Wait—the dreams are the door? Where does the door go?”

His brows pinch slightly as he recalls what is no doubt an exact quotation. 

“Uh—he said they led to a primeval cosmic night, that is soul long before there was conscious ego, and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.”

You frown, sleepy head aching as you twist your brain into knots trying to decode the ornate language. “Was he the weird incest-y one?”

Spencer chuckles again. “Nope. That was Freud. Jung was essentially saying that there is something primal and instinctual about our dreams. He said they were our way of accessing the unconscious, which can process things the conscious psyche can’t, and our consciousness was a ship on the great sea of unconsciousness.”

“You’re losing me, Dr. Reid.”

The corner of his mouth flickers up. 

“He just meant they offered us an unbiased look at our lives. Our desires, our needs, unburdened by conscious ego.”

Our desires. Our needs. 

You chew your lip. 

“What does dreaming about having a baby mean?”

You say it because Spencer is your closest friend as well as your partner and you trust him completely with every thought in your head—but the way his hand pauses on your arm makes you nervous. 

He takes a moment to dissect your answer, digging for a hidden meaning like a precious gem, and then, once he decides there are no landmines, proceeds cautiously. 

“Well… some people say that a baby in your dream is a representation of you. It could indicate a desire to nurture, or a need to be nurtured.” Again you make a noise of vague acknowledgement. His hand starts back up again on your arm, and he delves gently deeper. “Why? Did you dream about having a baby?”

For a moment, you can only nod. Suddenly you’re choked up, releasing an exhaled, “Yeah,” as tears cloud your vision. He gives you a moment, just holding you as you try to find the words to continue. “It felt really real. I mean—I think I knew it wasn’t, but I was so happy that I didn’t care. I—she—” You laugh tearfully. “I’m being ridiculous, I know, I just… I miss her. Is that crazy?”

“That’s not crazy,” he says quietly. A stretch of silence follows, and the brief deluge of tears fades to trickling stop. Spencer is probably used to you enough so that he’s not surprised when you huff dramatically, trying to dispel your melancholia with a hefty dose of drama. 

“I wanna have a baby!”

Your boyfriend releases a surprised laugh as you bury your head against his chest, but it only takes him half a second to root his hand in your hair and hold you there. 

“Because of your dream?”

“Yes!” You sniffle into his sweater. “She was so perfect, ’nd sweet. I wanna have a baby so much.”

“With who?”

You look up at him tearfully and visibly frustrated. His eyes betray only fondness. “You, Spencer! Who else?���

“No one! No one else.”

You collapse again, satisfied with his answer. 

“You were such a good dad. It was—oh my god, you were so happy. You were holding her, and smiling at her, and—can we please have a baby?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, half chuckle, voice tinged with pity. His hand sweeps over and over your hair in a soothing pattern. 

You pout, hiding even further away against him. “That’s not an answer.”

“We can’t have a baby right this second, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“Why not?”

He hums, pretending to consider the question, hand still carding gently through your locks, detangling. 

“You’re not pregnant, for one thing.”

“I might be.”

“I doubt it.”

“I could be.”

He angles your head up, smiling. Those warm brown eyes of his are full to the brim with sparkly affection. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“No, I’m saying, we could have a baby.”

The curve of his mouth lessens though doesn’t entirely dissipate, and the subtle lines next to his eyes soften as he regards you. There are a thousand reasons you shouldn’t have a baby right now, but Spencer knows you know that, and it’s still not what you want to hear right this second. 

“We could.”

He’s not being serious, but your heart flutters anyway. 

“Really?”

“Sure. Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“Spencer. I’m not joking. You’re not taking me seriously.”

Spencer pulls you closer, and though you’re mildly annoyed, you allow it with a huff. 

“I am taking you seriously. Like the plague.”

“I know you want kids.”

“I do.”

“We can have kids.”

“Angel. We have time. I believe that you want a baby, and I’m overjoyed that you want one with me. And you know we’d need more time to talk about it.”

Of course, you probably will change your mind tomorrow, and again the next day, and Spencer will love you then and every time you change your mind thereafter. 

“Do you love me?” You ask softly, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hand and not looking at him. Just to make sure. His eyes are liquid adoration on you. 

“More than anything in the whole world.” And maybe, you think, you’re okay with keeping it that way. For just a bit longer, at least. Spencer squeezes your arm. “I do think you’ll get to meet her again one day. I’ll get to meet her.”

You smile to yourself, imagining your little dreamy baby girl back in your arms. “One day.”

He kisses the top of your head. 

“Did we name her in your dream?”

“Elizabeth. But only because in my dream your mom’s name was Elizabeth, for some reason? I don’t… I can’t explain that.”

“Hm... I love my mom, but I don't know if I'd want to name my baby Diana. Feels too prophetic.”

“Hold on, I have like, a hundred baby name ideas. Can you hand me my phone? I’m gonna tell you all of them. First and middle name combinations.”

Spencer reaches for your phone on the side table. “Boy and girl?”

You scoff, settling into the crook of his arm, head on his shoulder, so he can see your phone screen. 

“We’re not having a boy, Spencer.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

You smile and tangle your legs with his, searching through your notes app with your non-dominant hand for your list of ridiculous baby names. 

“I can’t believe you would even suggest that. You're obviously going to be a girl dad.”

“Am I?”

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m so glad I'm not pregnant because you’re clearly not ready. You have a lot to learn. Okay, how does Artemisia Valencia October Reid sound to you?”

You’re lucky he loves you so much.

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Takeout Box

** this came to me in a fever dream and now y'all have to read it too**

Jason wasn’t entirely sure what to do. There was a large cardboard box on his doorstep, and not only was it faintly glowing green, it was also rattling and making muffled noises. He considered the possibility of Ivy, Harley, and Selina dropping off a box of feral cats, but surely they wouldn’t target Jason “Peters”, right?

With most strange doorstep boxes, he might have called for backup immediately. In fact, he ought to call for this box, especially with the sticky note on top. “Caution- May Bite”

It couldn’t be a bomb, what with the shaking and the noises.

Jason’s ears caught the sounds of his next door neighbor moving around their apartment, and he made up his mind. He could call the other bats after the suspicious box was out of the open.

With great care, he slipped on his oven mitts (better safe than sorry) and gingerly began pulling the box inside. It was heavier than he’d been expecting, but not more than he could handle by himself, which he thanked some unseen deity for. The movement stilled to a whisper almost as soon as the first edge of the box cleared the doorway, and the noises also calmed down some.

Once he’d gotten the box far enough into the apartment to close the door, he began circling it, looking for more identifying markings. He found himself sorely disappointed- the only visible symbols belonged to the note.

Three distinct knocks sounded from the box, nearly scaring Jason out of his skin.

“Hello?”

Three knocks again.

“Is someone- in there?”

Three knocks, more urgent this time.

Well. Fuck.

“Okay, okay, just, be still a moment?”

Carefully, one hand still protected by an oven mitt, Jason dug out a knife and slid it shallowly through the tape holding the box together. With the other hand he reached into his pocket for his phone to tap out an emergency code.

At least one bat would be coming through his window within fifteen minutes, and Jason could hold out until then if the person was hostile, but he wasn’t leaving someone trapped in a box.

He pulled the flaps open to reveal not one, but two dark haired children bound and gagged, curled up around each other. The one on the left growled a little around the gag, only for the other one to bump purposefully into them in reproach.

“Holy shit.”

Crap. No. Cursing around kids was bad. Bad Jason.

In a stroke of stupidity, he reached down and undid the gag on the growly one first, only to find sharp teeth digging into his hand after he pulled the piece of cloth away.

“Hey! No, stop that! Fuck, kid, I’m trying to help!”

The other kid made a small noise, and Bitey let go. Jason grimaced, but moved so that he could undo the other gag.

Calm took several deep breaths once the gag was off, and Jason wondered how, exactly, the kids had been breathing up until he opened the box. Their noses hadn’t been covered, but- Cardboard boxes were not conducive to breathing.

Instead of asking questions, Jason busied himself untying the kids, taking care not to let his hands go near Bitey’s mouth again. He figured he could ask questions while he found all the knots.

“So- what’s your story?”

Calm snickered.

“You’re bad at this.”

With a shrug, Jason tugged another knot loose. He didn’t want to use a knife this close to the kids. Kids were wiggly, right?

“Well, pardon me for not expecting a pair of kids at my front door.”

“I’m Danny and she’s Ellie. We were told that we’d find family here.”

“Who told you that?”

Now that the two were free, they looked at each other. Bitey- no, Ellie, was the first to speak up.

“CW did. Just so you know, no returns or refunds, the receipt was lost the moment you brought us inside.”

Danny smacked Ellie on the side of the head.

“He doesn’t have to keep us, Ellie. We can find some empty house to live in or something if he doesn’t want to. CW said we just had to live here for a few years, nothing about having a guardian.”

“Danny, we’re eight.”

Jason was about to ask who this ‘CW’ was, but Danny continued planning to live homeless in Gotham.

“We’ll just leave this haunt- you can feel it, he doesn’t want us here. Surely the Lady will shelter us until CW comes to pick us up.”

Ellie reached up to scratch at the back of her neck, and Jason could see a rash blooming on her arm. When he looked over at Danny, who was still muttering about asking for sanctuary in Gotham, the boy also had a flush of red rash spreading across his face.

There must be an allergen in the box.

“Let’s- get out of the box. And get you two wiped down for irritants.”

Danny shrugged and scratched at his own skin.

“It’s your haunt- we can’t be here if you don’t want us here. Well, we can, but it hurts.”

“My apartment hurts you?”

Ellie nodded, sitting on her hands to keep from scratching herself.

“It stopped when you brought the box inside, but- well.”

The two helped each other stand and clamber out of the box. Once they were no longer touching the glowing cardboard, it disappeared, leaving behind the sticky note. Ellie scooped it up, showed it to Danny, who shrugged, and then stuffed it in her mouth.

Jason startled.

“Hey! That’s evidence!”

“Goop now,” said Ellie, still chewing.

Danny took Ellie’s hand and started pulling her towards the door, and Jason could see even more of the bright red rash on the back of the boy’s legs.

“We’ll get out of your hair, Avenger. Sorry to drop in.”

“Danny!”

Ellie dug her heels in.

“It’s safer here! CW said it would be- even,” her voice dropped low, and her eyes darted around a little. “Even Dan said the Avenger would be safe. And if Dan said it-“

Jason decided to circle around and stop the kids before Danny pulled his sister out the door.

“Why would it be safer here with me?”

“Because you’re like us.” Danny and Ellie spoke at the same time.

To Jason’s extreme relief, Nightwing slid in through the window in the apartment kitchen just in time to have heard the kids.

“How is he like you?” Dick was smiling widely, but Jason could see the tension beneath the smile.

“He died and came back different.”

Dick’s smile instantly dropped, and the room went silent. Jason stared at the kids, and the kids stared resolutely back. They hadn’t turned to look at Dick at all, not even when he had spoken.

He could see the rashes start to recede, first from Ellie (sue him, he liked that she bit) and then Danny.

“I’m telling B.”

“Don’t you dare, Dickhead. I’ll tell him he’s got grandkids myself.”

The kids looked at each other and then back up to Jason.

“You’re keeping us?” Ellie’s voice was small, and her tone was different from anything Jason had heard from her so far.

With a firm nod, Jason patted their shoulders, turning them to face inside the apartment instead of the door.

“Sure. Us undead have to stick together, you know?”

[xifere]

xifere presents… kenji sato x gn!reader

content warnings… 18+, not proofread, sub!kenji sato, edging, solo masturbation, pet names, praise kink, might be a lil ooc, kenji can’t be discreet over the phone

How embarrassing, really, Kenji thought. He stared at himself in the mirror across from him as he sat on the edge of his neatly made bed, hands positioned behind him. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like months, and now the evidence was staring right back at him, though covered by the thick layer of his black sweats. It ached. He wanted nothing more than to relieve himself, but he knew himself. He can’t cum without your help.

And yet, he was desperate. Already, he was breathing heavily as he took a shaky hand and palmed his clothes dick. He let out a deep sigh before pulling down the waistband of his sweats juuuust enough for his cock to bobble up. The air was cold against his sensitive tip, and a hiss left his lips. Kenji wasted no time wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, just the way you do, trying to stimulate the same movements you used. He glanced up and caught a glimpse of himself biting his lip with a slightly flushed face in an attempt to hush himself from sounding so pathetic.

He imagined you behind him, guiding him to his orgasm, and the image itself makes him forget any rational thoughts.

“Fu-hhhh…”

That one time you really did sit behind him, whispering sweet nothings in his ears, reminding him how much of a slut he was for you while praising him all the same, popped up in his mind, and he couldn't help but stroke faster. Your sultry voice, your breath on his ears, the teasing kisses you gave him. Oh, how he fucking mi–

A loud ringtone filled the quiet room. Startled, he let go of himself, and his incoming orgasm was lost. But he quickly recognized the ringtone– it was the one he picked specifically for you.

But shit. Could the timing have been any worse better? At this point, his tip was fuming. An angry red, his slit trickling pre. He couldn't stop now, but he wasn't going to skip your call either.

“Hey baby… what's up?”

“Just wanted to say you did great today, sweetheart. I saw your little heroic moment on the news.” God, and the first thing you do is praise him. He feels like a horny teen again, the way he wraps his hands around his cock just to jerk off at the sound of your voice. You wouldn't mind though, right?

A shaky, “Yea?” was all he could manage without revealing his actions to you.

“Mhm, and also just to say sorry for not being able to see you lately. Work has been so busy and…” he could listen to you for hours. He stroked himself to the pace of your words, squeezing tighter every time he went over his tip. He couldn't do the same motions as you, his brain already too preoccupied with you and his need to empty his balls.

“Ken? Ken, baby, I know it’s been a few days, but if you’ve missed me that much, you could've just told me.”

He didn't even realize. He'd already gotten too comfortable, his back against the bed, one hand holding his phone to his ear, the other hand stroking his cock, and his throat eliciting all the evidence you could ever ask for. You'd never mistake these moans for anything but pleas for pleasure.

But being caught only spurred him on more. “Hahh– missed… you s’ much…” You couldn't hear them as well as his breathy groans, but the sound of slick was filling up the room, slowly but surely.

“Don’t you dare cum, Ken.” He stopped. A whine. You loved it. The way the pitch of his voice rose when he didn't get what he wanted. And he wanted more, so why should he listen? He thought he would break with how much his cock ached. Yet his hand was still at the base of his dick. “I’m coming over right now, so sit pretty like the good boy you are.”

He so terribly wanted to disobey you, show you he doesn't always have to be a good boy for you, but he knew himself. He wouldn't have been able to cum without you anyways.