#dib squeaks

[picochupi]

Fuck you

Sorry, I'm Asexual 🤷‍♀️

[picochupi]

Uh oh-

[hunsa-jars]

Groke have mercy I'm gonna have two first year and 2 exchange students on my practice week, we won't have time for every activity and the kids will be fed up with the all gas-no breaks routine noooooooo

[lightnersdream-archive]

FURIOUS

[starmaidengarden]

Hey so you know Floyd, Riddle, Jack howl and Epel got their own tsums. Their s/o has a weird calming affect on the tsum that was previously rolling around like crazy:, Floyd tsum squeezes his s/o arm and his s/o’s just like “boop -*pats it gently * awwe. Not too tight ok. You can sit here with me”. S/o peels it off their arm and sets it on their lap And the floyd tsum doesn’t know what to do with itself.?

— floyd: x gn!reader. no cw/tw. established relationship. dividers: uzmacchiato.

The Lounge was anything but peaceful. Floyd's tsum zipped and bounced around like living marbles on the floor, particularly a certain Floyd tsum—a chaotic blur of soft fabric and unrestrained energy. Small and squishy, yes—but it rolled like a cannonball, bit like a plush piranha, and had a disturbingly strong grip for something made of cotton and pure chaos. It bounced off walls. It chewed on chair legs. It once got tangled in Jade’s shoelaces and refused to let go until it was bribed with a shrimp-shaped keychain.

It was, in every possible way, a tiny, adorable disaster. “Floyd, get it off the chandelier,” Azul hissed one morning as the tsum swung above the lounge in a victorious display of acrobatics. Floyd, sitting upside down on a couch with a lazy grin, only laughed. “He’s just havin’ fun~! Look at him go~!” Then you walked in. You had barely stepped into the room when the tsum, mid-swing, let out a high-pitched squeaky noise and launched itself off the chandelier like a fuzzy missile.

It clamped onto your arm like a baby squid, limbs locked tight, making a delighted little chirring sound as it clung. You blinked down at it, unbothered. “Well hello there, lil’ buddy.” The tsum gave you another affectionate death grip. “Too tight, now. Easy.” You gently patted its squishy plush head. “Boop. There we go. You can hang out, but let’s not cut off circulation, okay?” Carefully, you peeled the tsum off your arm like a stubborn sticker and set it in your lap.

It blinked up at you. Then it blinked again. And did nothing. No biting. No rolling. No screaming. Just… sat there. Motionless. It was as if the physical embodiment of Floyd’s chaotic spirit had been sedated by the simple power of gentle affection. You began stroking its head, and the tsum made a little purring sound—then slumped into your lap with a heavy plush sigh. Utterly content. Floyd watched the whole thing with a slow blink. “...You broke him,” he finally said, sounding both amused and mildly sad.

You. Sitting on the couch. Calm as ever. His tsum. Usually a squeaking blur… now peacefully curled up in your lap, squished into your hoodie like a sleepy gremlin. “…Whatcha do to him?” Floyd tilted his head. “He ain’t even bitin’ no one.” “I just gave him a pat,” you said with a smile. “He got all cuddly after that.”

The tsum gave a sleepy chirp of agreement. Floyd blinked. Then burst out laughing. “AHAHA—wow~ Even mini-me likes you more than me now?” resting his head against your shoulder. The tsum immediately gave a grumpy squeak and attempted to shove him off with its stubby body. Floyd smirked down at his own tsum. “You little copycat, stealing my Shrimpy.” The tsum squeaked again, curling tighter into your lap. It was now full-on glaring at Floyd, which only made him cackle louder. “Jealous of me?” he teased. “I am you, y’know!”

Floyd grinned, sharp teeth flashing. “Tch. Don’t let him fool ya~ I can be squishier. Wanna see?” Before you could respond, Floyd had wrapped himself around you like a lanky human blanket, arms draped over your shoulders, chin resting atop your head. The tsum let out a squeaky protest, trying to reclaim its place.“Too late,” Floyd murmured, smirking against your hair. “I called dibs first.”

[hazelira]

mine, yours, ours

𝐤𝐢 · ʚ 🐆 ɞ ‧ 𝐤𝐢

The morning sun was beginning to filter through the curtains when you felt it — the weight of a small body pressed against your side, followed seconds later by a heavier one flopping dramatically onto your other side.

You cracked one eye open.

Hana was already staring up at you with the round, suspicious eyes of a toddler on a mission. Her tiny arms were locked tightly around your waist like a human koala, her face smushed against your shirt.

“Mama’s mine,” she mumbled into the fabric, her grip tightening as if you might float away.

On your other side, Riki let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Not fair,” he muttered, flopping again, this time even closer, his long arm reaching across your waist like a competing vine.

“Mine first,” Hana snapped without looking at him, still nestled against you like she’d grown roots there. “No Dada.”

You giggled sleepily, brushing a hand through Hana’s messy hair and reaching back to run your fingers through Riki’s. “Good morning to my two favourite people.”

Hana lifted her head slightly. “Just me.”

Riki gave her a fake gasp. “Rude! I helped make you, gremlin.”

“You took mama from me,” Hana accused, scowling at him with all the fury a three-year-old could summon, which, to be fair, was a terrifying amount.

You tried not to laugh, but failed miserably. “You’re both being dramatic.”

“She’s been glued to you all week,” Riki groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes like some love-starved anime protagonist. “I miss my wife.”

Hana huffed and turned to glare at him, eyes narrowing in perfect imitation of his pouty face. “You had her before. My turn.”

Riki peeked at her from beneath his arm. “She’s my wife, Hana.”

“She’s my mama,” she shot back.

You blinked between the two of them — a tiny copy of Riki with your hair and his nose, glaring at the full-size version with equal sass. It was like watching a mirror argue with itself.

“Alright, alright,” you interrupted, barely holding back your grin. “There’s only one way to settle this.”

Both Riki and Hana looked at you expectantly.

You stretched your arms out dramatically. “Group cuddle.”

“No!” Hana squeaked, but she was already being scooped up gently by Riki, who dragged both of you into a warm, squishy sandwich of limbs and blankets. She kicked weakly. “Dada, let go! I cuddle Mama!”

“I am letting go,” he teased. “Letting go of my jealousy.”

“Not funny!”

“Funny.”

You couldn’t breathe from the laughter as they wriggled and squabbled slowly. Eventually, Hana sprawled on your chest like a sleepy starfish, Riki’s arm looped lazily around your waist, his cheek pressed to your shoulder.

You kissed Hana’s temple and then turned to kiss Riki’s nose. “There. Happy now?”

“…Still think she’s hogging you,” he mumbled.

“Still think Dada’s loud,” Hana murmured, yawning.

“Still love you both,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut again.

A beat of silence.

“Dibs on Mama after nap,” Riki said.

“NO!” Hana’s sleepy protest was muffled as she burrowed deeper into your shirt.

You sighed, smiling. It was going to be a long few years of this.

But honestly?

You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

© hazelira | tumblr

requested by @illicitsubst4nce

[machveil]

I ate some ice cream a little too fast and now I have a tummy ache so have some Dad!König headcanons uugh— [explodes]

Dad!König who’s a little awkward at parent-teacher conferences. if you can’t make it and he has to go alone he feels like he sticks out. just an absolute unit of a man holding a bunch of papers about his kids classes trying to find the right rooms. if it’s the first time he’s meeting a teacher he’s low-key sweating bullets

Dad!König who clears his throat, pretends he’s at work, and voices his questions and concerns over his kids classroom experience. he doesn’t like meeting new people, but he wants to make sure his baby is getting everything they need. he isn’t afraid to schedule meetings with teachers or the principal if it’s for his kids benefit - his nerves be damned, he won’t tolerate his kid coming home teary eyed because someone said something mean to them

Dad!König who goes to the playground with his kid. he’ll watch them climb around, the occasional trip and fall has him crouching down and dusting off their pants. being a tall man means he can pick up and set down his kid nearly anywhere on any equipment. he tried to swing with his kid but got too nervous when the chains made a very audible squeak sound, the plastic seat itself bending a little under his weight

Dad!König who might as well be a jungle gym for the local kids. once all the neighbors are familiar with him, his child’s friends warmed up around König, he’ll have little kids running up to him with excited smiles, “Uhm— can we— can you lift us? Uh, please?”. he’ll let the kids hold onto his forearms while lifting them up, “Don’t fall now, it’s a long ways down.”, he chuckles, smile on his lips when they shriek and laugh. his kid always gets first dibs on dad lifting them up

[missmaymay13]

expanding the family - w.smith | m.celebrini

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

w.smith & m.celebrini x oc platonic

a one shot from the original - close to you

masterlist | series masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

June had planned a normal, emotional announcement.

But this?

This was so much funnier.

Because she hadn't even said a word yet.

And somehow?

Will had already figured it out from a DoorDash receipt.

______

"Did you just order a single pickle and a side of mashed potatoes?" Macklin asked, holding up the bag.

June froze on the couch.

"Uh."

Will narrowed his eyes. "Who in their right mind eats that combination?"

Macklin checked the receipt. "It says it's for June."

Will blinked.

Looked at June.

Looked back at the receipt.

Then—his entire body went rigid.

"NO."

June swallowed. "...No?"

Will pointed a shaking finger at her.

"YOU'RE PREGNANT."

Macklin choked on air.

Then squeaked like a dying rubber duck and fell off the couch.

June sighed. "Yeah, I'm pregnant."

Silence.

Then—Will let out a shaky laugh.

"No fucking way."

Macklin was still on the floor, blinking at the ceiling.

Then, voice cracking—"We're gonna be uncles."

And that's when it hit.

Macklin was on his feet in seconds, pulling June into the tightest hug ever.

Will was immediately in on it too, holding on like he never wanted to let go.

And for a moment?

It was just them.

Hugging.

Crying.

Trying to process the fact that everything had changed.

Macklin sniffled. "Okay, but I call dibs on teaching the kid to skate."

Will pulled back. "Absolutely not, I'm doing that."

"You? Bro, you can barely stay on your feet."

"Oh, and you think you're gonna be better?"

June just rolled her eyes.

Then—she grinned.

"Actually," she said slowly, "you don't have to fight about that."

Will and Macklin paused.

June smirked. "You each can get a kid. I'm having twin boys."

The room went dead silent.

Then—

Macklin collapsed onto the couch.

Will shrieked.

And June?

June just sat back and enjoyed the show.

⸻

Macklin and Will had never moved faster in their lives.

The second they got the call from Eky, they literally sprinted into the hospital room.

June, exhausted but smiling, motioned them over.

And when they saw the twins?

They broke.

Macklin's eyes were already watering.

Will let out an emotional laugh.

"Holy shit," he whispered. "They're real."

June smirked. "No, I made them up."

Will, voice thick, grinned. "Shut up."

Then—the twist.

June tilted her head.

"So, uh..." she started, voice teasing. "I had to pick names for them."

Macklin and Will both looked at her.

June smirked.

"I decided to name them after my favorites."

Silence.

Then—

"JUNIE. NO."

Will looked panicked.

Macklin's jaw dropped.

June grinned. "Meet Will and Macklin."

And just like that—

The two biggest menaces in her life completely lost their minds.

[gravehags]

heaven in hiding

Pairing: Swiss x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: virgin reader, ghouls being freaky, ghouls being able to smell virginity, hand jobs, dry humping, swiss being needy

Words: 1,487

Summary: It's not your fault you're a virgin, but it's certainly causing problems for Swiss.

a/n: listen the way this man has been acting out on stage recently...he's going through it. someone had to do something about it.

~~~

“It’s because you’re a virgin.”

Your head whips around to face the blonde ghoul sitting on the couch who is currently flipping through an old copy of Vogue that was clearly stolen from your quarters. Your jaw drops and your cheeks heat up painfully while he continues to browse the magazine.

“I—no—who—”

Dewdrop looks up at you from where he’s lounging and gives you a small eye-roll. Cirrus is folded up on the opposite end of the couch fidgeting with her cuticles while Mountain leans against the wall, trying to avoid the conversation entirely. All you had inquired about was why Swiss was acting so goddamn weird around you ever since you and the ghouls had struck up a friendship and started spending time together. Everyone else seemed fine around you so why was he acting so…so bizarre every time you entered a room or walked past him? You had just come into the lounge and he had stormed out past you, practically running from the scene.

“Don’t bother trying to deny it, we can smell it,” Dew says, flipping a page.

“Bullshit!” you squeak before falling into a chair next to the coffee table.

“It’s true, hon,” Cirrus pipes up, looking at you apologetically. “You just smell…different.”

You bite your lip and fuss at the hem of your shirt, clearly embarrassed by being probably the worst sister of sin in the history of the abbey. Finally, you work up the courage to continue the conversation.

“So…is it a gross smell? Like is that why Swiss looks like he’s in pain when he’s around me?”

Dewdrop snorts loudly and tosses the magazine on the table, sending the pages flying.

“Babygirl he’s horny. You’re driving him batshit insane, that’s what’s happening.” Cirrus leans over to lightly smack Dew on the thigh and give him a pointed look, clearly indicating she wanted to ease you into this conversation.

“I…oh. Oh.” Your flush deepens and spreads across your chest, warming you from head to toe. “But you guys aren’t…affected…by me though, right?”

Mountain lets out a deep, vaguely sinister chuckle which Dewdrop snorts at.

“Oh, babe we’re affected alright. Makes us all fucking crazy. It’s just that everyone else handles it better than Swiss, he’s always been so sensitive about these things. We just go back to our rooms and jack off when it gets too much but he’s gotta be fucking dramatic and make a scene.”

You can’t lie, the thought of the ghouls alone in their quarters touching themselves to the thought of you makes your head spin and your cunt ache. Before you can comment on Dew’s bombshell statement, Cirrus interjects with a loud clearing of her throat.

“Hon, why don’t you go talk to him?”

Mountain’s eyebrows shoot up and Dew snickers to himself, causing you to pause a moment.

“Is that a good idea? Or will I make the problem worse?”

“Depends what you’re gonna do for him,” Dew says, a grin curling his lips. “Gonna help him out? I call dibs on being next.”

This time Cirrus doesn’t hold back when she smacks Dewdrop on the arm with the flat of her palm, causing him to yelp and jump in his seat. It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you stand and make for the door.

“Good luck,” Mountain intones ominously as you pass the threshold.

It takes a good ten minutes of you wandering the cloisters to find Swiss. When you see him, back against the wall bent over on himself at the waist your heart sinks. He looks fucking miserable. Were you about to make a bad situation for him worse?

His head is in his hands as you approach him, gripping at his curls. When you get within a yard of him, he unfolds and practically slams the back of his skull into the surface behind him. His body sagging, he turns to look at you, tail flicking behind him in agitation.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Wanted to talk to you.”

He chuffs out a desperate little laugh and folds his arms in a defensive position across his chest.

“About—” he clears his throat when his voice comes out a little too raspy, “about what?”

“They told me about uh. How you guys can smell me. You know.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and you wonder briefly if he’s willing you to disappear, his palms rubbing viciously at the stubble on his cheeks. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute and you shuffle in place, wondering if you should just cut your losses and walk away. When you shift a foot to leave, he reaches out towards you to gesture without touching.

“Don’t,” his eyes open and he looks at you longingly. “Please don’t leave. I—fuck.”

You’re by his side in an instant, hand on his bicep. Upon touching him for the first time, he flips your positions with a growl so that now he’s looming over you while you’re backed against the cold limestone wall. He doesn’t touch you, just hovers his hands above your shoulders while he leans in at the juncture of your neck to inhale deeply. He’s close enough now that you can feel the hardness of him pressing insistently, achingly into your belly and you look up at him.

“Let me help you,” you whisper, moving a hand to his cheek to drag the pad of your thumb along his jawline. “Please, Swiss. I want to help you.”

He lets out a noise that is somewhere between a hysteric laugh and a painful cry as you stand on your tiptoes to reach him. The upward tilt of your chin is all the invitation he needs and he slams his mouth onto yours. The breath is knocked from your lungs as he molds his lanky body to yours, gripping at your hair and neck. You barely register the way his tail wraps tightly around your thigh, drawing you even closer to him. His tongue is desperate against your lips, begging for entrance and you oblige him. The noises he makes as he plunders your mouth are desperate, animalistic, and they send shockwaves straight to your cunt. When you finally have to catch your breath, push him off you with a slight shove and he whines low in his throat.

“Can I touch you?” you breathe up at him and he replies with a frantic nod. You place your hand over his heart and very slowly drag downwards, reveling in the hard planes of his body. He’s watching you, pupils blown, and when you finally cup your palm against the curve of his cock he slams his fist on the wall behind you, effectively caging you in.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, bucking his hips into your touch. “Please.”

You breathlessly follow the line of him through the black denim and when your thumb brushes over the head his tail tightens its grip on your thigh, practically cutting off circulation, as he pushes you even further into the wall. Your exhales are nearly as ragged as his when he slots a long, firm leg in the space between yours, pressing divinely against your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” he croaks as you continue to swipe your fingers over the clothed head of his cock. “Please, please, please.”

Your wrist is at an awkward angle now with how intently he has pushed you against the wall but you do your best, sliding your palm over the denim in long strokes. Your eyes dart around the cloister, briefly worrying about who could stumble upon you but then he presses right there and you let out a breathy moan. Your own hips are rocking against him now with every swipe of your hand, both of you working in tandem. When you feel his cock jump, he lets out a whine and his hips begin meeting you stroke for stroke. You’re close but not close enough when he jolts forward, practically collapsing on you when he comes with a cry. His hand covers yours and urges you to continue moving even as he finishes, his body writhing against you. When you look up at him you see him blink tears out of his eyes and take several deep, shuddering breaths. Abandoning his softening cock and the wet spot at the front of his pants you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, breathing deep. He smells like smoke and something sweet that you realize after a moment is your perfume. And the realization hits you that you’re greedy for him, need your scent on him again and again. You separate but he’s still loosely holding you in his lean arms.

“You didn’t come,” he says flatly. “I’m sorry.”

You smile and when you run your thumb over his stubble, he practically purrs while leaning into your touch.

“You can make it up to me.”

[2-dsimp]

honest, with Fredrico I would love to touch his fangs and just feel how sharp they are.

I would love to see how sharp his teeth are, how warm his mouth is, and lowkey wanting to see his face turns red from how close we are.

Better if using tongue to examine

『Featuring your yandere Devilbat and his cravings for you』

———;———-

Fredrico: “Oh b-be careful they’re v-very sharp!“

The Devilbat tried to warn without moving his jaw in fear of accidentally harming his guiding light. His big furry ears twitched from your curiosity driven ministrations. His eyes observing your every subtle trace against his bared fangs which poked out from his lips. Hence why he always wore a scarf to cover them up.

Yn: “I’ll be careful, don’t worry—Ah crap! I’m so sorry Rico! Damn, I didn’t think they were that sharp”

Fredrico stilled and went radio silent. Baby blue eyes tunneling in on the pinprick of blood oozing from your finger tip. Without realizing it he had you pinned down on the couch his flushed expression, becoming more feral and concentrated. As he licked off his blood stained fangs. While You could only let out a soft squeak of surprise.

Yn: “Rico? What’re you—?”

His tongue slithered around your offending finger as the he hastily grabbed at your palm. clutching it tightly within his clawed hands right against his chest. As if calling dibs on the entirety of your hand while he languidly sucked and tongued your index finger. Before pulling away slightly with a wet pop. Leaving your finger coated in his healing saliva. As the Devilbat hoarsely whispered under his breath.

Fredrico: “I told you to be careful, didn’t I?”

[hp-hcs]

on a slytherin high rn so I'd be interested to see your take on yandere enzo berkshire? (on his own or poly with mattheo or theodore because there's no such thing as too much of the theo's) or just any sort of enzo x male reader.

~yanxidarlings; why you should make your writing blog a primary blog (case study)

detention — yandere! poly! lorenzo berkshire & yandere! poly! mattheo riddle & yandere! poly! theodore nott x male! hufflepuff! reader

TWs: possessive/obsessive/toxic behavior, referenced homophobia, implied past repeated homophobia, homophobic slur, implied past bullying, references to past violence, graphic threats of violence, sexual innuendos, implied sexual activities

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“…really, I don’t know what you were thinking. Here, this is the detenti- Mr. Riddle! Mr. Nott! Get off of those desks!” McGonagall scolded, snapping her fingers and casting a wandless spell that made them both fall off of their desks and safely into their chairs.

You hover awkwardly at the doorway of the classroom-turned-detention-room, feeling the sudden piercing eyes of three Slytherins on you.

McGonagall huffs in disappointment, pats your shoulder, and leaves without a word. The boys all share a look you can’t quite decipher.

“Well, well, well. What’ve we got here?” One of them drawls, putting his feet up on his desk and crossing them at the ankle. “A pretty-boy Hufflepuff got in trouble?”

You rock back and forth on your feet, biting your lip nervously.

“Aww, he’s nervous,” another Slytherin cooed patronizingly. “What’s wrong, little badger? Afraid of a few snakes?”

The first boy stands up, sauntering over to you with an obnoxious smirk. He holds his hand out for you to shake.

“Mattheo Riddle, darling.”

You slowly take his hand and shake it, your grip loose.

“Nice to meet you,” you say softly. “I’m Y/n.”

“Y/n,” the second boy purrs, joining the first. “Lovely name for a lovely boy. I’m Theodore, sweetheart.”

You swallow thickly, the two taller boys standing over you.

“Leave ‘im alone, guys,” the last boy speaks up. “I’m calling dibs.”

“W-what?” You squeak, your eyes darting between the three as they all share another wordless look.

“Come along, little badger,” Theodore grins widely, predatorily, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “We don’t bite.”

“Unless you ask us to,” Mattheo adds on, joining your other side and wrapping an arm around your waist.

Your cheeks burn with the innuendo and all of the attention. “Er…no, I’m alright. Thank you.”

“If you ever change your mind…” Mattheo shrugs, leaving the offer unspoken.

The third boy finally stands up, swatting away Mattheo and Theodore. They both, surprisingly, acknowledge him and step away from you.

“Ignore these idiots,” he says fondly. “They think only with their dicks and never their brains.”

The Theos™ immediately break out into loud protests at the accusation. The third Slytherin rolls his eyes.

“I’m Lorenzo, but most people call me Enzo.”

“What do you call yourself?” You ask, voice still soft and almost getting lost in the clamor of the two other boys.

“What?”

“You told me what people call you…but what do you call yourself?”

He blinks.

“Uh, Lorenzo, I guess.”

You nod. “Lovely to meet you, Lorenzo.”

“I have a feeling that it’s lovelier meeting you, Y/n.”

~~~ “So why did you get detention?” Theodore asks, looking up at you from where he lays on the floor of the library, the spot you four had chosen to further converse at after your sentence was served. “You don’t seem like the type to really do…anything wrong.”

You wince, closing your book and relaxing further into the comfortable couch. “I uh, tried to ask this guy to Hogsmeade this weekend-” The boys all sit up at this, a dark look passing over each of their faces. “-but he uh…did not reciprocate,” you laugh humorlessly, running your fingers along your orbital bone.

They can barely see it—it’s still too early—but a definite bruise is starting to form. It’s going to turn into a hell of a black eye by tomorrow.

“He hit you?” Theodore asks, his voice low.

You shrug. “Comes with the territory of being the uh, ‘Puff Poof’, as they call me.”

“Creative. Put a lot of work into that one.”

“Tell me about it,” you grumble.

“Wait, how did you get in trouble then? If you were the one who got beat up in the first place?” Mattheo asks, his face scrunched up in confusion.

“Oh, I called Dumbledore a uh…‘batshit crazy abuser with a sanctimonious attitude and a god complex’. As it turns out, he did not like that.”

They all stare at you for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Holy shit.”

“Talk about misjudging someone, damn.”

Your laughter eventually dies off and the conversation comes back around.

“So, Y/n, uh, what was this guy’s name?” Lorenzo asks sweetly, innocently. “Just... curious, is all.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Cormac McLaggen.”

They all collectively grimace.

“I know, okay? No need to rub it in.”

“You have terrible taste,” Mattheo scowls. “Asking out fucking McLaggen when we’re right here.”

“Yeah, don’t need to worry about him anymore, sweetheart,” Theodore says, sitting up from his spot on the floor and moving over to settle between your thighs and rest his chin on your knee. “We’re enough, aren’t we?”

Your cheeks burn at their words.

~~~ “What’re you all doing, bringing a Puff in here?” a fourth year jeers as the boys lead you through the Slytherin common room towards the dorm they all share.

Theodore stares at the kid with his dead eyes; unnerving to everyone in the common room.

“If you even so much as look at him again, I’ll carve your eyes out in your sleep.”

The threat comes not from Theodore, but Lorenzo.

You gape, bewildered, as Lorenzo leads you down the hall, humming to himself like nothing happened.

“Same goes for you, you know,” Mattheo leans down to murmur in your ear. “Don’t even think about looking at another boy, got that, lovely?”

You reach their dorm and are roughly pulled inside, the door being slammed shut behind you all. Theodore pushes you up against the wall, pinning you in place.

“Ours, understand?”

[picochupi]

Looks at all the Alastor rp blogs on here as I wait for the Lucifer ones to start rolling in:

[cherrys-muses]

you’re now entering theatre 4!

NOW SHOWING; IT’S JUST A SUPERCUT OF US.

🎟️ ticket; warfare

🍿 order; water & nestle dibs

w; if you don’t enjoy this character — sam!, but other than that, no warnings! just small sprinkling of a mention of when he’s gone to training but not in detail. an; this is so short and i’m so sorry 💔 i hope you guys still enjoy this!!

The plates of stacked pancakes slide in front of Sam before a stack of waffles slide in front of you. His brown eyes gleam with his oncoming ‘they’re literally the same’ speech — when you know for a fact they’re not. 

“Anything else?” The waitress asks, a soft smile on her face. 

“Do you have any strawberry syrup?” You ask, hopefully. Sam is already drenching his in maple. 

She nods. “I’ll be back with some, doll,” She notices the glass of milk in front of him already half-way gone. “Plus some milk.” Her white less squeaks slightly against the floor, and Sam is already opening his mouth. 

You’re quick to speak. “They’re not the same,” Your index finger lifts, head shaking. “Waffles hold more syrup, pancakes soak them. That’s why you have a side of pancakes with a mountain of syrup now.” 

He rolls his eyes, huffing as he picks up his knife and fork. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. They’re made from the same ingredients.” 

“Yeah,” You watch as a full glass of milk is placed in front of him and a bottle of strawberry syrup in front of you. You’re quick to thank her before going back to your, already discussed, debate. “Yet. One still tastes better than the other.” 

Sam chews as he watches you drench the waffles in the syrup, brow lifting slightly. “Why’d you drench yours then?” 

“I just like the syrup.” You shrug, beginning to cut the waffle into triangular pieces before eating. He smiles a bit, watching your hands work. He always admired the way you did things — the way you’d concentrate. 

It’s something he’d do every time you both were together. When he was away, he’d find himself replicating how he’d cut up your food the way you’d do your own, or how you’d hum brushing your teeth. He’d silently hope that nothing changed when he got home. 

Nothing ever did. For that, he was grateful. 

He’s leaving again tonight, and even if you both haven’t really spoken about it, he knows it bothers you just as much as it bothers him. 

Gently placing the fork down, he lets out a heavy sigh and wipes the corner of his mouth with a heavy palm splaying over his mouth. You glance up as you chew, brow lifting just slightly. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. Just full.” 

You stop mid-chew, eyes staring at him a bit longer. Deciding not to say anything, just yet, you only nod and place your own fork down. “Do you need to catch a nap before leaving?” 

You’re only asking because you’re tired yourself. He nods, still. “Yeah.” 

“You can stay with me until you have to leave,” You shrug. “If you want.” 

He nods again, letting out a small cough. A better way of clearing his throat. “Yeah. Alright, sounds good.” You nod and smile softly, grabbing your fork once again, taking one last bite. 

Sam pays, of course, and dumps both of your leftovers into two separate styrofoam containers. He carries them both, opening the door for you before following you towards his car. 

It’s quiet on the way to your complex, wind drifting through the windows, causing your heavy eyes to become even more heavier than before.

Before you could even remind him, his shoes are off and his sock-covered feet is hitting the boho rug that lays out on top of the hardwood floor. He smirks, smug, and you roll your eyes as you pass by him, the smile that tugs at the corner of your lip betrays your annoyed demeanor. 

You’re already drifting off towards your bedroom to change back into pajamas while he pushes the leftovers into your fridge. Making his way towards the bedroom, he shakes his head when he notices you already under the covers, waiting patiently. 

Making his way over, he slips under the cover. You smile and move closer, your arms wrapping around his bicep as your cheek lays on your pillow and half of his. 

He gulps slightly when he feels your eyes on him, cheeks burning, throat tightening. “What?” 

You shake your head slightly, unwrapping an arm and wiping under his eye gently. He flutters his eyes slightly. “Eyelash,” You mutter softly, lifting your finger. You smile softly when you notice his eyes cross just a tad to look at the tip of your finger. “It’s not fair that you have pretty ones either.” You shake your head, arm moving to wrap around his bicep once again. 

From here you notice some new freckles dotting against his temple and on the tip of his nose — cute. 

He’s quiet for a moment. “You didn’t let me make a wish.” 

“Hm?” 

“Isn’t that the whole rule?” He turns his head. For some reason, he didn’t take into account how close you’d gotten. Your eyes slowly fluttered open. Even if you were tired, and they were too heavy, you’d keep them open just to stare at him a little longer. “You make a wish then blow. Like a birthday.” 

“I forgot.” You say quietly, softly. A shoulder lifts and drops in a useless shrug, eyes flickering down to his lips before back up towards his eyes. 

“Should’ve reminded you.” 

“What would you have wished for?”

The corner of his lips tug upward in a small smirk, head shaking just slightly. You can hear the shift from the ear pressed close to him. “It wouldn’t come true.” 

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you let out a small snort. “You’re secretly a dork.” 

“Mmm. True,” He hums softly. His nose almost grazes against yours when he nods. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” You repeat softly. He can feel the drag of your thumb on the inside of his bicep against the skin. 

“When…” He trails off quietly, gulping around the lump that suddenly makes his throat close up. “When I get back, would you want to go out?” You blink once, lips parting. 

“As in — an actual date?” You ask. 

“If you want,” He tries to play it off. But you know Sam all too well to notice the small shrug he does and sniff as his lips turn downward slightly, already accepting something that you haven’t said yet. “It’s cool if not.” 

“I’d like to,” You nod. You want to laugh at the shocked look on his face. But you keep it reduced to only a smile. “What do you have in mind?” 

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” He nods. “I want to kiss you really bad right now.” 

You let out a soft laugh this time, leaning close and pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth before dropping your forehead to his own. “You can kiss me after the date. How about that?” 

He smiles softly, nodding. “Yeah. You have a deal.” 

[takami-takami]

Like Idiots.

includes— hawks x reader. fluff. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. pining like idiots. keigo is a pain in the ass. the reader is worse. i had fun with this. <3

There is zero need for Keigo to make a confession when it comes to his crush. It would be entirely redundant to confess. 

Your sigh at the thought is palpable. It really is quite a shame.

Part of you yearns for that passionate drama of an ending, where in some novela-inspired twist of fate, your adoring knight is forced to spill his love at your feet. In your daydreams— the ones dreadfully reminiscent of some lovelorn teenager's— a faceless villain from fuck-all-nowhere nearly ends the life of his beloved hero partner.

And the words spill from his throat like his lovesick sobs, clutching you close to his chest while you do your best to pretend you're not biting back a smile at the attention. 

"I love you! I've always loved you," he'd cry. 

Or something like that. 

And you'd kiss, and sparks would fly, or whatever. 

End scene. 

You're not getting that confession, though. 

It figures your love life would turn out to be a comedy. Par for the course of your life, you suppose. 

Instead of a scrawled letter sealed with wax or a poem whispered under the imposing moonlight, your confession is written all over Keigo's face— well, not all over, exactly. Every centimeter of his face conceals his emotions meticulously, flawlessly.

Every portion of his face is perfectly practiced and impeccably controlled; except for two measly little points. 

You prod at your food again with your fork in hand, all frowns as you sit across from your work partner in a booth at the diner he likes to drag you to on your lunch breaks. 

And you stare uncomfortably into the most cartoonishly blown pupils you've ever seen.

"Um. Hawks?" 

"Yeah? What's up, chickadee," he asks sincerely before chomping down messily on a battered chicken drum, moaning and letting his eyes fall shut as he does with every meal— typically an obstacle for your focus, this accidentally whorish display is actually a welcome reprieve from your racing thoughts.

When his eyes flutter open once more, you're faced once again with black saucers and the sound of reckless chewing. His pupils are still dilated like a cat tripping balls on the dealer's finest catnip.

"Hawks, I really think I should tell you that—"

Your intervention is rudely interrupted by a waitress in a 50's style apron and folded paper hat combo, likely rushing over notepad in hand to get first dibs on serving a celebrity. 

You would prefer to be unfair. It'd be easier to displace your frustration for your lot in life onto this poor woman, to tell her that her hat looks stupid and pink isn't her color, that she should really just stop trying. 

You decide to be an adult. 

Keigo, on the other hand, does not. Like a child given free reign to order for himself at a restaurant for the first time, he explains that she should really heap on the sugar for his coffee.

"No, no, no. More than that. Like syrup. I want it to taste like it's gonna put me in an early grave and— wait, where are you going?"

The debacle brings to attention another phenomenon that you've grown accustomed to seeing:

The second his gaze meets her's, Keigo's pupils shrink to points once more, constricting to tight dots before bouncing back to their natural size. And predictably, once again, they expand like blown glass when you catch his attention.

"Hawks!"

"Yeah, what?"

His chewing ceases obnoxiously, chicken drum in his right hand and half-chewed remains in his left cheek.

You might as well rip it off like a bandaid. You let out a puff of air.

"Your eyes," you attempt to gently point out. 

"Mm?" Keigo's head tilts to the side, pondering your observation for a moment.

"My eyes? Ohh," he drags his words as if in realization, treating himself to another chomp into the drumstick. "You gettin' lost in them, huh? Happens, dove. You can stare, I don't mind."

"No!" You squeak out your denial before smoothing down your shirt and tipping your chin high. 

You have the upper hand here. Remember that.

"I mean," you correct your course, staring down and poking at your plate while a smile creeps up your lips. "It's kinda hard not to when your pupils look like they're gonna swallow your goddamn irises."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Kei'?" You flick your gaze up toward him, worried now.

Under normal circumstances, it's an established habit for Keigo to slot one palm over his mouth when called out. 

But this time, that hand bypasses his lips, crawling upward to reach his visor and wordlessly drag it down over the source of his shame.

A stronger person than you would hold back their laughter. They would take pity on the flush rising over his cheeks and neck like sunsets. Perhaps they would coo praises to soothe him, or even take it all back to ease the shame and discomfort that makes him feel utterly naked. 

They would take pity on the man who, under the fluorescent high beams bolted to the diner's ceiling, looks just like a clown tripping on stage with the spotlight shined on his face.

You are not a strong person. 

In your hysterics, you reach over to pry the barrier off his eyes, climbing into his lap and over him like tussling teenagers. 

"Keigo, I didn't say it was a bad thing—"

"You're laughing," he laments like a kicked puppy, prying your face an arm's length from his with a single palm. 

It's over. This is it for him. His life is over, he's going to have to change his identity. 

He can start fresh with a new hero name, one not centered around red-tailed hawks— he'll need to rebrand as another bird, most likely. Preferably one with the same signature red feathers so as not to make a fuss for the merch department.

Maybe a parrot. 

Winged-Hero Parrots.

"You're laughing at me!" 

"I'm not laughing at—" another uncontrollable wheeze. His wings flap in indignance once, slamming against the cushions of the pink diner seat before drooping down like a dog's tail between its legs. You pluck the visor and raise it above your head out of arm's reach, one hand planted against his chest for stability.

"Not laughing at you! Baby, I promise—" 

"Baby?" He repeats.

The silence is worse the second time around— but luckily for you, Keigo is a stronger person than you are. No laughter erupts from his chest, no smirk settles on his face. 

If anything, your slip up seems to elevate his heart rate more than yours.

"We really should—"

"I think we need to—"

Both sentences collide in the small space between you, his lips completely still and mere inches away from yours. 

You're reminded of the feeling of your fingertips about to touch metal after being charged with static, the skin crackling with the air's tension as you contemplate whether to just get it over with and touch.

And slowly, as if suddenly cognizant of your bodies and environment, you both crawl off each other and scoot toward the furthest edges of the booth seat.

Your knees make their way toward your chest for comfort, while Keigo's wings drape over his shoulders like a cocoon. 

"We should talk."

[eloquentcoconut]

Hello! I’d love to see a fic about Ace, Deuce and y/n having like a traumatic event that makes them all super attached to eachother and they’re almost constantly together and if one of them is away they all have different reactions like Ace gets super quiet, Deuce gets irritated easily and y/n getting super anxious. I’d really really love to see everyone’s reactions to this! Thank you so much!

Little Lies That Are Always On My Mind

Word Count: 2,349 words. 

TW: Bullying?

Synopsis: Ace, Deuce, and Y/N find themselves involved in a potionology accident of their own doing - surprise surprise. How are they going to sift through the lies and unravel the truth?  

Notes: I tried - y’all I really tried. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Endless Night, an ancient but once a popular sleeping potion that allowed for the creator to infiltrate their victim’s dreams in order to access their memories, a rudimentary truth serum in today’s standards and I am being liberal with the word truth.” Professor Crewel cracked his whip against his desk, startling some of the students awake.

“Pay attention pups! I won’t be asking again so nicely IF there is a next time.” Professor Crewel began to write upon the black board.

“Endless Night was not 100% guaranteed that it would even work against the victim. Should the victim wake, suspect they’re in a dream, or their disbelief was pushed too far the potions effects would be null and void.”   

“Ace, why aren’t you stirring?’ Y/N whispered to their partner, nudging his side.

Ace jabbed a finger to his left. “That’s not my task! That’s Loosey-Deucey’s!” 

“No? I haven’t touched that ladle once. I’ve been adding the ingredients.” Deuce defended himself, side stepping to show off his collection of canisters as proof. 

“I’ve already put some of them in though…’ Y/N trailed off.

“But that was my job?” Adeuce said simultaneously. 

Y/N sighed and rubbed their head exacerbated. Ace and Deuce were their closest friends, they enjoyed their shenanigans and company dearly, but when it came to schoolwork, Y/N would trade them to professor Crewel for one dog kibble.  

Y/N turned to the duo once more. “Alright well I’ve put a twinge of sage and dried mint.”

“I thought it said a PINCH of sage and mint.” Deuce picked up their potionology textbook and began skimming the list.

“No way. I put a pluck of sage and dried coriander, you two need glasses or better brains.” Ace scoffed.  

Unbeknownst to the trio, their arguing had drawn attention. 

With a fierce crack of his whip, professor Crewel marched over to them. “No barking during my lecture, naughty puppies! You are all to stay behind after class and clean the entire room. Perhaps that will help you three learn to follow directions obediently. Start over.” 

“Yes professor.” We said at once. 

“It's your guys’ fault though. I called dibs first.” Ace whispered.

“Can it Ace.” Deuce mumbled, cleaning off his island. 

“Yeah, get bent.” Y/N flipped off Ace, turning around to examine the potionology textbook.

Professor Crewel coughed, “As I was saying, there is no margin for error. Even just one drop over, and the results would be disastrous to say the least. Sleep poisoning, restless slumber syndrome, and perceived dream world are just some of the few DIRE consequences.” Professor Crewel shot Y/N, Deuce and Ace a stern look.

Whilst people were milling about, caught up in their own business, the unattended cauldron began to bubble and brew with renewed vigor. Pink shimmering liquid squeaked as a violet sweet-smelling bubble floated to the top.

“UH! I don’t think it's supposed to be doing THAT!” Ace ran around the pot, pulling on his friends’ lab coat sleeves. 

“What?!” Deuce flinched back upon witnessing the overflowing cerulean goo.

“Huh?” Y/N jumped back as red spark clouds circled over the potions head.

A puff of black smoke, reminiscent of campfire marshmallows enveloped the trio, ushering them into a fitful slumber. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

 Y/N, Ace, and Deuce are nothing short of a miracle case. It's a marvel in itself that they were able to wake at all. At least, that's what the staff at the infirmary would tell themselves. They weren’t pleased in the slightest when they awoke one by one.

Disoriented, the trio was able to find comfort once spotting one another, but why did they wake up alone?

“Do you guys know what happened?” Y/N asked tentatively. 

Deuce rubbed the left side of his head and scrunched up his face as he recalled the memory. “...We… Our potion exploded?”

“For a dream potion, I find it odd I didn’t dream at all. Just a flash...” Ace trailed off, outstretching his own hands in front of himself, confirming their reality. 

“A flash of black. More like a blink. I don’t feel any different?” Y/N finished. 

A half bear half human violently yanked the privacy curtains. “If that’s all you're going to do is lie there and take up space, get out.” The head nurse scowled and quite literally chased them out. 

The trio were left stunned and lost. Standing outside the infirmary doors, they looked up at midnight blue sky, encrusted with diamonds. No one had informed them what had happened, and no one had waited for them. 

Ace checked his phone. It was still the same day, 0 messages. 

A fast-paced puff ball darted by their line of sight. Y/N tilted their head to the side. “I’ve never seen a black rabbit on the school grounds before.” 

“A black rabbit?” Deuce perked up, albeit cautiously.   

“Why are you bringing up rabbits?” Ace questioned, pocketing his phone as they walked.

“I just saw one, anyway it doesn’t matter.” Y/N waved it off. There is a forest nearby, it really isn’t so strange an animal could roam the grounds. “But isn’t it odd that not a single person reached out to us?”

“Maybe it wasn’t that serious?” Deuce attempted to comfort the duo, himself included.

“Still…” Y/N wasn’t convinced, and the looks on Ace and Deuce were confirmation. 

Ace looked around and asked, “can we stay over at Ramshackle tonight?” 

“Sure.” Y/N reassured. 

Deuce fretted over the knick knacks on his coat. “Don’t we need permission though… I don’t want to get into even more trouble.” 

“If our own classmates, peers, and dorm cannot even manage a ‘get well soon’ DM, I say screw them and let them figure it out.” Ace crossed his arms over his head in a relaxed pose but looked off to the side frowning. 

“...Yeah.” Deuce dropped his hands and continued his walk with more certainty. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The night was ordinary and serene. Y/N, Deuce, and Ace awoke one by one, did their morning routines and went off to class. No new messages, or a sense of urgency from the trio to check in with anyone.

And that’s where their peace ended, and their troubles started.

Entering homeroom, a wave of scrutiny washed over them. All eyes locked on their forms as they made their way to find empty seats.

“I guess that potion accident is water under the bridge. Or should I say goo under the desk?” Ace joked.  

Professor Crewel said nothing, letting out a scoff, and turning back to the board. 

Out of the corner of Ace’s eye, he noticed a poster of a bunny the color of midnight with deep set sapphire eyes. ‘That poster is new.’ He thought. ‘It's out of place in potionology, homeroom or any class at NRC…’

Ace whispered his findings to Y/N and Deuce. Before Deuce and Y/N could find the poster, professor Crewel had thrown a piece of chalk in Ace’s direction!

“Trappola! It has become apparent that you have learned nothing from yesterday’s incident about yapping - move to the other side of the classroom before I muzzle you!”

Professor Crewel was practically radiating anger, and everyone felt suppressed to say anything as Ace took his stuff and switched seats.  

Feeling the oppressive atmosphere, Ace could not find it in himself to make light of the situation and decided the best course of action would be to lay low until the whole thing blew over.  Even as his peers taunted him, Ace remained quiet, burning a hole through that off putting rabbit poster. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

History of Magic with professor Trein wasn’t any better. A cloud of tension followed the three into the sinfully boring classroom. 

Deuce clocked a noirette rabbit with ocean eyes resting in the plush cushion where Lucius usually slept. Deuce looked to Ace and Y/N in confusion as the pair let on as though they did not even see the rabbit. 

After a while of taking notes, the rabbit hopped over to Deuce and flung his pencil case off his desk. 

Deuce balked, Y/N and Ace looked bewildered at their friend’s sudden clumsiness, and all the other students turned their heads to the source of noise.

Professor Trein looked up from his papers and gave Deuce a stern look.

“I’m sorry professor! A rabbit-”

“None of your excuses.” Professor Trein returned to grading his papers. “See that another disruption doesn’t happen again.”

“What was that?” Y/N whispered to a flustered Deuce. 

“Didn’t you guys see that rabbit bat my stuff away?”

Ace shook his head. 

Deuce grumbled and returned to his studies. But the rabbit had returned. With a sly smile the rabbit tore out the history pages with its teeth out of Deuce’s textbook!

*riiiiiipp*

“STOP THAT!” Deuce shouted at the naughty rabbit.

Y/N and Ace looked concerned at whatever was affecting Deuce. The peanut gallery gave their two cents in the form of bitter comments or mocking laughter. 

Professor Trein scowled. “Spade, remove yourself from my classroom before I give you detention.”

“But professor-”

“NOW.”

With his head held low, Deuce left third period. 

Deuce wasn’t sure what else to do with his sudden free hour, so he stood outside the classroom waiting for the dismissal bell to toll. 

Other students gawked they passed by, whispering loudly about ‘once a delinquent always a delinquent.’ Or ‘watch out! If you look him in the eyes, he’ll throw something at you! Scary!’ 

Deuce started to sweat. ‘How would they know? Am I really that obvious? I’m not even good at fronting my ‘good boy’ persona?’ 

A few daring students made fun of Deuce until he snapped. Deuce had grown so irritated that he left and decided to wander around campus to blow off steam. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Returning to Heartslabyul after school, Y/N, Ace, and Deuce were met with opposition from Trey, Riddle, and Cater upon entering. Heartslabyul students gave them dirty looks as they passed by the group. 

Riddle was the first to speak, and rather harshly too. “How nice of the Night Raven College punk celebrities to grace our humble dormitory with their presence.” 

Ace crossed his arms. “We were literally in the infirmary from 1st period to midnight. Which any of you would know if you bothered to check on your underclassmen.” 

The micro celebs were met with fierce looks. Y/N watched as the black hare emerged from the rose hedge and ran towards the Heartslabyul higher ups. 

“That rabbit is back!” Y/N said to Deuce.

Deuce didn’t notice the rabbit but believed his friend anyways.  

The rabbit poked Cater’s leg. Cater turned his gaze to Y/N and asked, “so it’s true, you’re stealing other dorm members to fill up your own dorm.”

The bunny tapped Trey’s shoe. 

Trey crossed his arms and nodded. “You think you can get your way with everything just because you ‘helped’” Trey air quoted the word, “with a few overblots… Oh brother.”  

Y/N gave Cater, Trey, and their prefect a harsh look. “Where is this coming from? This seriously cannot be about yesterday’s potion accident…”

Y/N stopped and considered it. They didn’t have any dreams last night, nor did Ace or Deuce, and the actions of the ever-vanishing rabbit are making their school life needlessly difficult. While Y/N was musing over their thoughts, the dark rabbit swatted Riddle’s elbow and winked.

Riddle glared at Y/N. “Don’t act like you did anyone any favors. Not everything is about you Y/N. You literally brought up the overblots just for praise… Wow.” 

Deuce stepped in, “you guys brought up the overblots, not Y/N.” 

Cater eye rolled. “Puh-lease, Y/N is always acting like they're better than everyone. They’re just malding ‘cuz their lies finally caught up with them.” 

Trey added, “How many times does a coincidence need to happen before it's a pattern? I bet they’re causing the overblots to make themselves look good… Talk about messed up.” 

Y/N was upset to say the least but had no idea on how to even defend themselves against this weirdly one-sided beef. Y/N felt as though there was nothing they could do if people were this dedicated about misunderstanding them out of thin air. Their thoughts began to swirl together, lingering on ‘what ifs’ as their breath quickened. 

“You guys are jerks!” Ace had had enough. “Whatever is wrong with YOUR messed up heads, get over yourselves!”

As Ace took hold of Deuce’s and Y/N’s hand, exiting Heartslabyul Y/N made a connection.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You think we never actually woke up?” Ace’s eyebrows rose in alarm. 

Y/N nodded. “That rabbit, everyone else acting like actual villains but only with the things directly on our mind or what had just happened to us… It’s like a dream, isn’t it?”

“A twisted nightmare you mean.” Deuce rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. 

The day left the Ramshackle club emotionally defenseless. Dreading what would transpire the next day, and the foreseeable future if they could not escape.  

“It's no fun if you’re aware.” A little voice whined. 

!!!

The dream bunny made its appearance seamlessly materializing into existence.

“GAAHHH?!” 

Its coat gave off an iridescent glow as it breathed. Ace broke the stillness. 

“What do you gain from tormenting us?” He demanded.  

The dream bunny said nothing and gave a smug grin, "once you wake after tonight's slumber you’ll be returned to your waking world.” 

Promptly, the creature vanished in a cloud of fading sparkles. 

Y/N, Deuce, and Ace were left with little choice, they agreed it would be in their best interest to stay in Ramshackle and wait until they awoke the next day to leave. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

*COUGH! ACK!* 

Slowly one by one, Y/N, Ace and Deuce attempted to organize their thoughts as they awoke in the infirmary bed. Despite being snuggled in close, they were crowded by a mirage of concerned faces and a wave of questions. 

The three looked at one another, as if asking permission from one another to dare to voice their thoughts. They never did, swept up in the fussing and caring looks of their friends, even professor Crewel was present. 

Eventually when the fanfare settled down, and the three were permitted to leave, they left together to spend the night at Y/N’s dorm to discuss what in Twisted Wonderland they had been through. 

A black rabbit with blue eyes skidded past them. The trio had a wordless understanding wash over them.

‘If we’re together, we’ll always be fine.’ 

[thought--bubble]

The Final Scratch

Epilogue to Kitty-Cat Series

Ettore X (Neuro-Divergent Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,707

Kitty-Cat Masterlist

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners and Dividers by @arcielee

Warnings::Ettore, birthing, pregnancy, ect ect. No Spoilers

"Will she live?" Ettore growls, neck craned downwards and shoulders perched like a lion on the hunt.

Once again, he started his day by immediately stalking to Dibs' office and demanding assurances. Demanding to know that you would survive the birth.

"I..... I don't know, " Dibs responds, her hands outstretched in front of her as if protecting herself from the expected onslaught.

He stalks closer to her as she backs up towards the wall.

I will rip you limb from limb.

"Did you hear me before?" He snarls. Feeling as if she isn't taking his threats seriously and he is determined to make sure she understands fully what awaits her if she doesn't deliver what he has asked of her.

"I have done all I can, I have tracked her health. I have given her the right supplements and monitored her blood pressure. The rest.... the rest is up to god"

He huffs. God. God has never been there for him, and he doesn't expect him to show up now.

He storms out of Dibs' office and heads back to his room. Where he knows you'll be. Waiting for him. His good girl. His sweet pet.

She's dying

He tries to force the thought from his brain. The helplessness of the situation had started eating away at him lately. As you inch closer and closer to your due date. He hardly sleeps, his eating has all but stopped.

The nights are the worst. Laying beside you, listening intently to your soft, quiet breathing, Boyse's voice bouncing around in his head. "You're gonna kill her!" The words still crisp and clear. It felt like Boyse was haunting him.

She was right

He rounds the corner into his room, and there you are. Laying on your side stroking your cheek. He crawls into the bed pushing your hand away and replacing it with his own.

You purr and nuzzle into his hand like you always do, and he pulls you closer. He leans down, presses his nose to the top of your head, and breathes in your sent. The scent is comforting. Familiar and heartbreaking.

Do I have a heart to break?

The idea of love had been hammering around his head for the last few weeks. Was he in love with you? Did he love you? He was unfamiliar with the feeling, so he couldn't be sure.

What he did know was that he wanted you. He wanted to keep you right here next to him. The thought of being left on this ship without your presence was suffocating.

He rolls you over and spoons you from behind, pushing himself up close.

Mine.

You smile softly and close your eyes. You have gotten so used to this feeling that Ettore pressed up close to you is now a comfort, a need.

He bites gently into your shoulder, eliciting a small squeak from your lips. That's not the sound he's after. Ever since the first time he had you moaning, he chases the sound.

He brings his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down. One thing that had not changed about Ettore was his insatiable appetite for sex.

As always, you were pliant in his hands, a light purr emanating from your throat. He lifts your leg slightly, pulling it towards him, and rests it on his hip before sliding even closer to you.

He owns you. Mind, body, and soul, and he knows it. He grips himself tight rubbing the head of his hardened cock against the curve of your ass. Every stroke of his skin against yours, building up heat in your belly.

He pushes against your entrance gently. Uncharacteristically gentle, and slides into you.

He grips your leg slightly, lifting it as he thrusts his hips, slowly building up speed, his eyes glued to where your bodies connect.

He hears your little pants and mewls and they urge him on.

"Cmon Kitty. Give me what I want. " He croaks from behind you, snaking his hand down your leg and grazing over your pearl.

You whimper and turn your head back to look at him pleading with your eyes and he smirks.

"I know what you need. First, give me what I WANT"

He hastens his movements, the skin of his hips slapping up against your ass, his fingers hovering just above your pearl. Close enough to feel the heat from his fingers.

You pant heavily, mouth hanging open, and eyes rolled back. You arche your back, and that lines him up perfectly to pummel the spongey spot inside you, so you finally give him what he wants.

You start with low moans he can barely hear but once he finally brings his fingers down and caresses your clit you moan out loud, the sound echoing off the walls of room.

Purr my Kitty Purr

"Good, Kitty." He pants heavily behind you, his body now moving at his full pace.

You nearly shriek when your climax overtakes your body a mixture of pleasure and pain as your uterus contracts with your orgasm.

Ettore follows quickly behind with a loud grunt as he finishes inside you.

He rests his forehead against your back, breathing heavily. You can feel the rhythm of his pulse beating behind you, your own pulse relaxing.

Ettore pulls out of you, and it is followed by a gush, and you both freeze.

It's time.

Dibs had told him to expect this. This would be a sign, but he didn't want it. Wanted to stop it somehow.

You groan out in pain.

"Ok, cmon Kitty." Ettore rolls you onto your back and then shimmys you toward the edge of the bed, helping you onto your feet.

As he is walking you toward Dibs' office, Monty is standing against the wall watching the two of you.

You feel heat flush your cheeks due to the bareness of your bottom half. The embarrassment is quickly forgotten as you are hit with another contraction, your legs nearly buckling beneath you.

Ettore grips your arm tightly, nearly dragging you, his eyes locked on the door to Dibs' office.

Almost there, almost there

When you reach the office, dibs and Ettore quickly get you onto the examination chair, and from there, everything moves really fast.

Ettore watches on in horror. Your face contorted in pain, still you hardly screamed just some pained gasps and groans.

Please don't die. Please don't die

Dibs delivers a seemingly healthy baby girl as Ettore speechlessly watches on, she washes the baby and does all the necessary after birth checks.

"Check her " Ettore motions toward you as you still sit in the chair, face pale and slow moving.

Dibs hands the baby to Ettore and runs off to check you over.

He looks down at the baby in his hands and feels confused. The little thing. He made this thing. He is supposed to love and care for this thing. Two feelings he wasn't sure that he was capable of.

He looks back over toward you and sees that Dibs is done with her checks. He quickly hands the baby to you not wanting to hold her anymore.

She's still alive. She's ok

Ettore looks to Dibs for confirmation and she shrugs.

"Sometimes they survive a day or two, she seems healthy, but only time will tell, if she goes to sleep and wakes back up. Well. Thats a good sign."

The feeling of nausea swirls around his stomach again and he returns to your side. Pacing by your bed and occasionally looking down at you. The little girl in your arms making him uneasy.

You reach out your hand to him weakly, ushering him to come to you, and after a few minutes of pretending he doesn't see your hand, he finally acquiesces to your request.

You take his hand and place it gently on your daughters head. The little baby skull is so soft and gentle beneath his fingers, and he squirms a bit.

He is not made for this. Not built for this.

You start to nod off, and he shakes you by the shoulder.

"Hey, hey Kitty? Stay awake for a while longer, yeah?" The desperation in his voice rattles you slightly. You knew this would most likely kill you and you had felt at peace with that, but the pained expression on his face and the little girl in your arms had you wishing for a different outcome.

As your head lulls back again, Ettore reaches out again and tightly squeezes your arm.

Please don't sleep. Please don't sleep

You take his hand and place it on the baby again and your eyes meet his.

"So Beautiful"

Ettore's entire body goes rigid as he hears your voice for the first time. The sound weak but so sweet, so soft.

"Yeah....." He looks at you with reverance. Is this love? He can't be sure. What he does know is that you have changed him. Not entirely, but you have affected him in a way he didn't expect and isn't sure he likes. He is experiencing an entire host of new feelings. Fear, shame, pain, sorrow.

You lean your head back and close your eyes. Slowly being pulled down into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Ettore takes your hand. He's saying something, no doubt, trying to raise you from your sleep, but it's no use. You sink faster and faster into that darkness, the beautiful calm settling over your body.

Nothing hurts. All you feel is a comfortable hum that lightly vibrates through you. It feels good. It feels safe.

You reach your hand out and touch his face. There is a little stubble, you enjoy the feeling under your fingers, it's calming, familiar.

As your eyelids grow too heavy to keep open, you curl your fingers in bringing your nails to his cheek, grazing the skin.

"Hey, Kitty, stay awake." He near begs.

You bring his hand to your face and nuzzle. As a wave of euphoria passes through you.

You dig your nails into the skin of his hand at the intense sensation until you no longer have the strength and let go.

Leaving the imprint of your nails in his skin. Leaving that one final scratch.

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