#should get a stub toe for the rest of their life.

[loser-brain]

A little midnight rant (??) more of a ramble actually.

But anyway, I kept getting a lot of "Feminist" videos when they are actually Terf videos disguise as feminist videos or just flat-out Terf videos but don't want to use the word Terf because "it's a hateful thing to say." When really... no. It's not, it literally means Trans Exclusion Radical Feminist.

But anyway, I digress, my question, when did the word feminist lose its proper meaning?

There's a reason why I don't put feminist on my bio because many folks already (sadly) have come to the assumption that feminism/feminist means an all-women club aka "bio women" only.

When... no... feminism was started by women but only because in the working force women were really seen as stay-at-home wives. But because of the women's rights movement is when the law became more lenient in allowing women to work.

Feminist also means helping others such as men of different races as well to get proper jobs and payment as well. That sentence is gonna confuse someone sorry, to ramble more on what I mean. You have to understand the payment system. It's still a problem in today but way way back then, it was a lot worse. Many foreigners that came to America weren’t getting proper payment or not paid at all. But were really taken advataged at the fact they were aliens so their boss would make threats to them such as getting them deported or worse.

Because of the feminist movement, women realize they weren't the only ones getting mistreated by the system so we, feminist, would stick with them and fight a fight for equal rights. In which we won but obviously still need more work.

There is so much more history in which I can't really type all of that here because that would derail this post purpose on my question.

As a true feminist (ew, I don't like that I have to call myself a true feminist just so I don't lump myself with the falseys), knowing the history of what a feminist is... When did the word feminist lose it proper meaning?

I'm not chronically online as I use to be in my teen years (but knowing that bad habit messed up my mental and physical health). Please explain to me like I have been living under rock. Don't explain to me that undermine my intelligence (I've had people that done that to me before it's not fun) but in a way that is like high school teaching. Except take out the censoring bit. I wanna know the

✨d e t a i l s✨

[alrightieaphroditie]

wipe my tears away | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist | previous part!

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ6.6k  warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! talk of period pain, hormonal emotions, crying, kissing, some manhandling (if you squint), sad attempt at dirty talk, period play (lightly), fingering, maybe some degradation (not really sure), clit stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), squirting/messy cum, p in v penetration (not protected, do better!), one mention of blood… please let me know if i’m missing any major ones!  an *:·ﾟthis is for the girlies who get over emotional during their periods (they are me, i am them). this is a bit longer than intended, but once i got in the zone i literally couldn’t stop, so i hope y’all will enjoy it! kind of unedited, so if anything major jumps out feel free to comment lol. i also wrote this with correct capitalization, where all my previous fics were lowercase bc i couldn’t be bothered to turn on auto caps, so let me know if y’all prefer this format!  check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ joel comes home to find you laying in bed, crying because of period pain. he may not be a full gentleman, but he wouldn’t let you suffer when he has a trick up his sleeve to help sooth the cramps. 

The pain that begins in your lower abdomen, the feeling that radiates throughout the rest of your lower body with enough force to make you wince, isn’t entirely new. It’s a monthly occurrence, actually. One that you feel like you should be used to by now, considering it’s plagued you for more than half your life. 

But the outbreak had already happened when you first got your period as a teen, and for a while, your body wasn’t receiving the nutrients it needed to sustain that kind of function. It was a double-edged sword, the way you were appreciative that you haven’t had it this bad your entire life, while ruminating on the losses that occurred due to the infection. 

Because it was a different story, now. 

Now, you were eating more than you could ever remember before. Jackson was a thriving community, after all. And you were beyond blessed that you were one of the lucky ones who got to reside within its gates. Now, your body was properly fed and being taken care of for the first time in years, and that double-edged sword reared in your mind again; thankful for the safe space you’ve landed upon, but God, at what cost? Your period pain took you out for days each month, making you feel like a burden even though you physically couldn’t help it. 

Your toe stubbed against a chair in your living room as another cramp worked its way through your body, causing you to cry out for more than one reason. Tears filled your waterline, and a heavy sigh escaped past your lips. The rough material of your jeans was digging into your waistline, your hair felt heavy against your neck and each strand that brushed against your cheek made you want to cut it off, and you just felt so useless. Some logical part of your brain realized this wasn’t really you feeling this way, it was just the hormonal shift, but that didn’t provide any sense of comfort as the tears continued to glide down your face. 

In some ways, you were lucky, as today had been your day off from helping around Jackson. Otherwise, that sense of being a burden to everyone would’ve increased tenfold. You couldn't stop feeling like a burden to yourself, though. You had made a perfectly organized to-do list that was hanging on your fridge of things you wanted to tackle today. 

Your sheets needed to be washed. The floors needed to be swept and mopped, especially after the rain, as Joel and Ellie continued to trek mud through your house by accident. Maria had given you some of the spices that grew in abundance, and you wanted to make one of those simmer pots on the stove that she kept mentioning. 

But doing those chores was the last thing on your mind right now, as another cramp racked its way through your body. Now, you just wanted to go lay in bed wearing nothing but Joel's shirt that you had thrown on earlier and cry while hugging a pillow.

 And so, that’s what you did. 

Your vision was watery as your fingers swiftly worked to unbutton your pants, your feet carrying you out of the living room and into your bedroom before you really even realized what you were doing. Once you hit your bedside, you tugged the jeans down your legs, letting them pool at your feet and leaving them on the ground as you crawl into bed, feeling about as pathetic as you probably looked. Curling up on your side, you reach out blindly and grab onto Joel's pillow, tucking it against your body and letting it provide you a false sense of comfort. After that, the tears start flowing freely. 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, didn’t know how long the sound of your sniffles had filled the room or how long you pressed the pillow against your abdomen. The cramps were still relentless, and it wasn’t like you even had any medicine you could take; expired Tylenol did absolutely nothing anymore. You wish you were more used to this feeling, this pain. But it seemed like the longer you were at Jackson, the worse the symptoms became each month. You had yet to figure out the remedies that were foolproof for this feeling. 

Continuous tears turned into lonely, stray droplets as you held onto the pillow. The room was silent except for the occasional sniff. You had zeroed in on an undone thread on the pillowcase, not paying attention to your surroundings, so you didn’t hear the sound of the front door being pushed open, or the sound of Joel's work boots stomping across the wooden floors. In the corners of your mind, you recognized the voice that was muttering to himself outside your room, but your eyes stayed focused on that singular thread. 

The thought of it being lonely, being apart from the other threads holding the fabric together, made your eyes water again. You could put yourself in its position, the ever present fear of being alone daunting you even now, and that was enough to send the tears over your waterline, racing down your cheeks and onto the pillow once again. The hiccup that came from your inhale was the noise that had the footfalls move towards your room, and through your blurry vision you saw the outline of Joel standing in the doorway. 

“What's wrong?” Through your sniffles, you could sense his urgency, his rough voice filled with nothing but concern, and maybe a little worry. His gaze swept over your body, checking for any possible injury. This was the first time he’d seen you break down to this level, and the sight of you curled into a fetal position, tears streaming down your face with his pillow in your grasp… he prayed to God that another person wasn’t involved with making you feel this way.

It would be a shame to lose his good reputation amongst Jackson because he had to beat some fucker up. 

Your gaze swung up to his face, and you made yourself blink harshly to expel the lingering tears. His face came into focus, the worry lines on his forehead becoming more clear to compliment the frown on his full lips. He had a spot of dirt streaking across his forehead, and his clothes were dirty from spending the day working outside. For whatever reason, the fact that Joel had been out working in the heat for most of the day while you couldn’t even manage to get up and wash your bedsheets made your emotions spiral even more. What is wrong with me? you wondered, hugging the pillow tighter to your body. 

The sound of his work bag hitting the floor echoed through the room, soon followed by the shuffle of his boots being kicked off his feet. His hands were gently pulling the pillow away before you could even register that he was in front of you now, but you felt the bed dip under his weight as he perched himself at the edge. His broad hand rested on your elbow before sliding up your arm, gently caressing your skin until he reached the side of your face. The calluses on his thumb scratched against your skin as he swiped the digit under your eye, wiping away the tears that had pooled. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” his voice was softer this time, comforting you in a way that had you feeling alright for the first time today. You leaned up on your elbows, and Joel helped guide you into a sitting position across from him, your hands holding on to one of his while his other cupped your face, thumb swiping against skin. The action of sitting up had your cramps rearing their ugly heads again, and your wince was subtle but extremely obvious to Joel, evident by the furrowing of his eyebrows. 

“My uterus is what’s wrong,” the scratchiness of your throat had you coughing slightly, and you worked to clear it before trying again, voice nearly as weak as you felt. “I'm on my period.” Joel's eyes widened in surprise at your admission, but he quickly schooled his features.

This wasn’t his first rodeo; he’d been with you for awhile now, but noticed that each month your symptoms were different. Sometimes, your sudden anger at everything gave away the fact that it was that time of the month. Other times, it was your sweet tooth and your cravings that gave it away. Rarely was it your tears, though, and his heart lurched at this new response. 

When your hands went to wrap around your stomach, applying pressure lightly to help ease the throbbing, his free hand came up to the other side of your face. “‘m sorry, darlin. Know that ain’t the best feeling in the world,” his thumbs were doing a stand up job at wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and soon the only sign that you had been crying was the red glaze surrounding your pupils. 

And the occasional sniffle. 

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the surprising amount of comfort that you felt from a pair of hands. You always felt at peace with Joel, though, so you weren’t surprised that his hands had this effect on you. You focused on the rough pads of his skin against the smooth texture of your own, taking in big breaths of air through your nose as your crying spell passed through you. Now you were thinking a little more clearly and felt a little embarrassed by the fact that Joel had walked in on you crying over a thread on a pillow case. Not that he’d ever know that’s what you were crying about. 

“It's okay. I'm sorry if i scared you or anything,” you started, opening your eyes to meet Joel's dark gaze. You offered him a small smile. “I really just need to learn how to deal with these cramps without them taking over my day. They seem to be getting worse and worse each month.” Your hands trailed up to grip his forearms, squeezing them affectionately as a wave of exhaustion flitted through your body. 

Joel's eyes squinted slightly. “Cramps, huh?” he mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. In the far corner of his mind, he recalled a younger Tommy swearing by a foolproof activity that helped one of his girlfriends with her cramps when medicine didn’t cut it. He wasn’t sure he believed Tommy then, or even now, for that matter. But he knew how much you struggled with the pain, and he’d feel like a real jerk if he didn’t at least give this a go. 

“Think I know somethin’ that could help with that.” He pulled your head forward, pressing a chaste kiss on top of your forehead before dropping his hands and pushing off of the bed. You were slightly dazed, partly at the display of affection but also at the quickness in which Joel was walking to the bathroom. When he came back into the room with an old towel, you couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously. 

“Joel…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, tossing the towel on the bed and leaning down to look at you, eye to eye. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes shined with a hint of mischievousness, and the smirk on his mouth was nothing but trouble. It made him look younger, almost. Like the gray in his beard and around the temples of his hair was there prematurely. You wondered if he was like that more before the outbreak, and you reveled in this glimpse of his past self that he was allowing you to see. 

“Of course I do.” Your answer was absolute, eyes showing no signs of distrust or wariness as you maintained contact with Joel’s. He reveled in the sureness of your answer, in the fact that it didn’t even take you more than a second to respond to his question. The smirk became a full blown grin, and you couldn’t help but mirror it on your own face as you wondered what the heck this man was thinking. 

“Good. In that case, I'm gonna go clean myself up,” his lips pressed against yours in a swift kiss before he backed away, fingers stretching to the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re gonna strip out of those panties, spread that towel out underneath you, and wait for me to come back. Okay?” One of his eyebrows notched up, awaiting your response. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you teased, sending him off with a mocking salute. It earned you an eye roll, something he had been picking up more and more from Ellie's influence, no doubt. The sound of your giggle followed him into the bathroom, where he quickly worked to discard his dirty clothes and rinse off. The thought of you laying in bed with just his t-shirt on had him adjusting himself underneath the water stream. 

Meanwhile, you were working at a slower pace. 

You gingerly took the threadbare towel between your hands, kneeling up on your knees to place it where you thought would work best. You were starting to get an idea of what Joel was planning, and while you’ve never done anything like this before, you weren’t absolutely hating it. After you had smoothed the fabric out, you climbed back against the pillows, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down. The pad on the inside showed slight signs of blood, so at least you weren’t bleeding too heavily right now. Usually that came after a day or two of the cramps. 

You were combing your fingers through your hair when Joel walked back into the room, pausing at the threshold while you both took each other in. His hair was damp, droplets of water occasionally dripping on his forehead, brushed back at the edges and the tops to keep it out of his face. He had been growing it out a little longer, though you knew when summer fully came around, it’d be time to clip it. 

He’d changed out of a plain, gray t-shirt into another plain, gray t-shirt - clearly a staple in his wardrobe - and you had to admire the way he was filling it out. The sleeves hugged the middle of his biceps, straining against the pure muscle that had been building up. The shirt fit loose around his chest, but you could see the way it was snug around his tummy area, the small pouch of his stomach highlighted by the thin material. 

You weren’t the only one who had been eating better since arriving at Jackson; Joel was starting to bulk up and you were loving it. 

Having ended his workday earlier, and foreseeing spending the rest of the day in bed with you, he had pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants that clung to his thighs and offered very little to the imagination when it came to the thick imprint between his legs. The sight of him had your thighs clenching together automatically, heat racing through your body like a fever. 

And he knew it, too. You could tell by the smirk on his lips, the way his gaze strayed from your eyes to your legs. He loved having that affect on you, loved seeing how needy you became by just the thought of being with him. 

He walked to the other side of the bed, his eyes focused solely on you in his red shirt, the way your legs were crossed at the bottom, giving him just the smallest peak of bare skin underneath. You listen to him so well, he couldn’t help but admire. You gave him your trust so easily, and that was one of the few things that Joel considered to be precious in this world. He'd never make you regret that choice. 

Leaning up on your elbows, your body naturally turned towards him when he finally settled himself on his side next to you. One of his arms slipped behind your head, tucking you into his body as the other came up to guide your face to his. His lips were soft against your own, and all the tension you had felt from crying earlier completely disappeared. 

Your hands clung to his arm as he kissed you, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. Joel took the opening to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip before dipping it into your mouth. Your mind was growing fuzzy, and you simply let Joel manipulate you how he wanted, eagerly offering yourself to him. 

His mouth stayed on yours, your noses brushing against each other with every tilt of the head, but his hand strayed from your cheek. It paved a path to the collar of the t-shirt, where he fisted the material and tugged it towards himself, halfway pulling you on top of him with the movement. Your hands flung out to his chest to stop yourself from completely crashing into him, and a groan sounded against your mouth as Joel felt the tips of your fingers dig into the skin. 

He soon abandoned the collar, letting his palm slide down the expanse of your torso and bunching the shirt up a little before settling it right over your lower abdomen, fingers splayed out wide against your bare skin. The heat radiating from his palm on your skin was like your own personal heating pad; the soreness that ebbed from your cramps seemed to dissipate the longer his hand rested against your skin, the action making your head spin as you focused on breathing through your nose as Joel’s tongue traced along yours. 

Joel’s mouth trailed from your lips down to your jaw, down to your neck. The stubble growing on his face scratched at your skin when he nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck, causing a combination of a laugh and a moan to flutter past your lips. You could feel him smile against your skin before nipping at it gently, using his lips and tongue to ebb the slight pain away. You could feel him sucking at your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d regret the red and purple marks that would litter your skin, but right now, the feeling was absolute heaven. 

“Spread those legs for me, baby.” The words were whispered against your skin, accompanied by a quick tap to your thighs. You didn’t hesitate to obey; your left leg fell to the side while you rested your right leg on top of Joel's. His hand slipped from your stomach to your upper thigh, gripping the fleshy inside as he helped adjust it higher on his body. 

The cool air from the fan had you shivering as it made contact with your bare skin, emphasizing the wet slick that had formed between your legs. Joel's mouth found itself back on yours, his kiss turning punishing, almost, as his hand slowly moved down your inner thigh; his teeth were biting and pulling at your lower lip, his fingers were digging into your skin as he kneaded and gripped your thigh. 

“Joel,” you mewled, stretching up slightly to angle your hips closer to his hand. You were settled in the crook of his elbow, and his arm came up to bare against your throat ever so slightly. He essentially had you in a headlock, and you were helpless to anything he administered. Goosebumps prickled along your skin, and you whined once more when his fingers brushed against the crease of your leg. 

“Shh, s’okay, baby. Let me take care of you,” his words were soothing, soft. A complete contrast to the way he was handling your body, and it was all you could do but nod in response, eyes wide and trusting as they held contact with him. His pupils were so dilated that you could barely see the rim of brown, even this close. 

Another sharp tap to your inner thigh had you gasping, and Joel's mouth formed into a smirk as his calloused fingers eased the spot. You’d like to blame the hormones fluttering around your body for the desperation you were feeling for Joel, but part of you knew that he simply just had this affect on you. You always grew so needy for his attention, for his touch. Being with him was the only time your brain truly shut off and allowed you to feel safe, relaxed. 

His fingertips were stroking the inside of your thigh like it was the strings on one of his guitars, a slow but firm sensation that had you humming; he was playing a different kind of instrument with you. You could feel yourself growing slicker, the bubble in your chest expanding as he teased you, touched you. 

“Joel, please…” you trailed off, turning your head to the side and bumping the edge of his jaw with your nose. His gaze had slipped to where his fingers were caressing your skin, basking in the suppleness of your skin that so vastly compared to the roughness of his. You felt like a dream. 

“Such pretty manners,.” he mocked, grinning to himself before meeting your eyes once more. “Since you asked nicely, though…” The kiss he pressed on your nose was soft, but your focus was on how his fingers were finally crossing over the crease in your thigh, finally trailing down to your core. 

The first swipe of his fingers through your folds had a small moan emit from your mouth, and a curse came from Joel’s as he felt how wet you were already. “Shit, baby,” he muttered to himself more than anything, watching his fingers as he lifted them up into the light to see the shine. Chest heaving, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, watched as he placed them on his tongue before closing his lips around the digits and sucking on them while he pulled them out. 

His fingers were now wet with his spit, evident by the thin strand of saliva still connecting his mouth to his fingers. The sight alone had your toes curling against the mattress, your mouth open slightly as you watched him bring his hand back down to your pussy. Your breath left you as his second swipe was firmer, the tips of his fingers passing along your clit for a brief moment before moving back down. 

His forearm flexed slightly against your neck, his free hand moving down to brush against the top of your chest. One of your hands moved to grip his arm, nails digging into skin ever so slightly as Joel’s fingers brushed your entrance, swirling around slightly to gather the wetness that had formed. A soft sigh left his mouth as he felt you, and the next moment, two of his fingers were swiftly pushing inside of you. 

“Joel!” You gasped out, back arching into his touch as he pumped his fingers into you once, twice, three times before pulling them out. Joel huffed out a laugh at your whine from the loss of contact, glancing down at you to see your reaction to him circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. He was rewarded with the softest of sighs, and the sight of your eyes rolling shut while your mouth parted open. 

He didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, his mouth against yours as firm as his thumb on your clit. The kiss was quick, and Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he pulled back ever so slightly. “Such a pretty girl, achin’ for me to fill you up. My fingers feel real nice against your pussy now, don't they, baby?” 

A short and snappy nod was your form of a response, as you were solely focused on the way Joel’s middle finger was circling your clit now. Your hips bucked up as waves of pleasure wracked your body, Joel’s expert fingers bringing you relief you so desperately needed. The action had Joel smirking above you, had his hips grinding slightly against your thigh in a sad attempt at getting some friction for his now hard cock. 

Joel pulled back from his admissions on your clit, sliding his middle finger through the center of you before slowly inserting it back inside you. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears, and he began moving it in and out, curling it up once it was fully inside your wet pussy. Head falling back against Joel’s arm, your legs widening even further as Joel picked up a steady rhythm with his one finger. 

“So good, Joel,” you rasped, voice breathless as Joel’s finger curled against the spongy part inside of you that had your body jerking in response. Licking your lips, you pulled the bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking in as the pleasure continued to build up in your body. Your right hand moved to rest on his wrist, while the other stayed gripping his left forearm. 

Basking in your praise, Joel withdrew his middle finger and, when he pumped it back inside, added his ring finger. The addition had you groaning, feeling his two fingers stretch you out slowly as he pushed them inside and pulled them out. You felt Joel’s lips press against your forehead as he worked to pick up the pace, and soon all that could be heard in the room was the wet sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers. 

“God, I could listen to you all night,” he mumbled, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion inside you and marveling at how drenched you sounded. “So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Haven’t even taken my cock yet, either, you needy thing.” 

His words only sparked the fire inside your chest even more, and soon you were moaning his name over and over again in some kind of sick prayer as he filled you with his fingers. Your mouth dropped open as his thumb moved to glide against your clit, pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

Your fingers dug half-moon indentions in Joel’s tanned skin as the waves of pleasure finally crested. 

Your body went rigid in his hold as your orgasm peaked, his fingers never ceasing in motion as your hips began to shake against his hand. He muttered soft praises as you came, moving his arm from across your chest and intertwining your fingers with his. You gasped for air as you came down, thighs twitching ever so slightly as you soon became putty against Joel’s body. 

Only then did he pull his fingers out from inside of you. He kissed your forehead once more, cupping your drenched pussy with the palm of his hand. Your chest was heaving still from the orgasm, body feeling tired once more but for a completely different reason. Resting your head back on Joel’s arm, you glance up at him, expecting him to move his hand away and maybe help you clean up. 

Instead, Joel’s dark gaze was solely focused on your pussy again. Instead of moving his hand away, he slowly moved it up your center, stopping only when his middle finger brushed against your clit. He moved his hand to the side slightly, letting the tips of his other fingers brush against the sensitive nub, before sliding it the other way. His action was slow, methodical even. 

“Joel,” you ventured, squeezing his hand that rested in yours. His jaw twitched, but that was the only response you got. He leaned up on his elbow, your hand moving up along the mattress as he did so. Now, your interlaced hands rested above you, on the pillow, as Joel’s upper body hovered on top of yours. 

Ever so slowly, Joel resumed the movement of his hand, sliding to one side before moving it to the other. His fingers all brushed against your clit, and the overstimulation you felt had your thighs closing together. 

“Keep ‘em open, baby.” Joel admonished, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. His free hand pushed away your left leg before returning back to your clit, and you swore you could feel the wetness lingering on your skin from him doing so. The roughness of the towel underneath you prickled at your skin as your hips twitched from the continued pleasure. 

“Joel,” you ventured again, this time more of a plea than anything. Tears formed on your waterline when he picked up the pace, his hand firmly rubbing against your clit each time he moved it. That bubble of pleasure formed more quickly in your chest, the feeling fiery and almost suffocating as Joel’s movements were relentless. 

“Give me one more,” his voice was rough, distant. “Just one more.” His hand dipped to cup your pussy once more, gliding up through your folds and moving the wetness from there up to your clit. The added lubrication and friction as Joel increased his pace had you crying out, body arching forward at the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your orgasm approached much faster this time, and you could feel your slick dripping down your skin onto the towel. “Oh my God,” you whimpered, your hand painfully holding onto Joel’s while the other, which had moved to rest on his hip, gripped his t-shirt. “Oh, God.” 

This time, when you came, the bubble dropped from your chest and to your stomach and your body went limp as soon as your orgasm tore through you. Your mind was a haze of euphoria, and if you were more cognizant you would have been embarrassed at the feeling of your wetness squirting out from you, would have felt heated at the way Joel praised your body. Instead, you were blissfully gone, basking in the sensation that only Joel’s fingers knew how to bring you. 

Joel’s hand slipped from yours as he pulled his arm up from underneath you, and before you were even aware of the shift, he was up on his knees, moving in between your legs and tugging his flannel pants down. “Gotta fuck you, baby. Jesus Christ, you came so good for me.” His hands bracketed your head as he leaned up against your body, the head of his leaking cock pressed against your wet slit. 

You hummed at his praise, wrapping your weak arms around his neck as you shifted your thighs a little wider to accommodate for his hips. You weren’t entirely sure you could handle another orgasm, but you knew you were desperate to have him inside of you. His head ducked down to yours, and you enthusiastically pressed your lips against his, enveloping his hips with your legs in consent. 

With a nip at your bottom lip, he slowly pressed the tip of his cock in between your folds, gathering the wetness that had accumulated near your entrance before moving his hips even further. The head of his cock pushed into your pussy, stretching you out even more than his fingers did previously. Joel groaned into your mouth as he pumped his hips slightly, pulling out of you before sinking just the tip inside you again.  

“Fuck, sweetheart. My fingers didn’t stretch out your pussy enough, huh? S’fuckin’ tight as hell around my cock.” One of his hands came to brush aside your hair, cupping the side of your face gently while his hips snapped into yours. You cried out against his mouth, the feeling of being filled so suddenly causing you to wince slightly. You welcomed this pain, however, as it quickly gave way to pleasure the more Joel rocked his hips against yours. 

Joel rested his hips against yours for a moment, his head falling down to your chest as he reveled in the tightness surrounding his cock. His breaths came out in short pants, the hand laying next to your head turning into a fist against the mattress. Your hips move up slightly, seeking out the pleasure even after coming twice before, and it brings Joel in further, causing you both to curse. 

“So desperate for me to fuck you,” Joel’s words are accented by short, quick thrusts up inside of you. He pushed up off of you, your arms falling to the bed beside you while your legs fall open as they untangle from his waist. His hands grip the inside of your thighs, and he leans his weight forward a little, pinning your legs to the bed. 

“I am, Joel. P-please fuck me,” you beg, gripping the sheets between your fingers as your hips meet his thrusts. Joel starts off slowly, implanting you fully on his cock before slowly pulling back until just the tip presses against your pussy. His bruising grip on your thighs holds your legs open while he works himself in and out of you, eyes cast on how your slick coats his cock, the occasional red streak coloring his flesh. 

A stray curl of hair falls from his previously brushed back hair, and you itch to swipe it back into place, but his pace quickens and your hold on the bed keeps you from banging against the bed frame. The sound of his cock entering your wet pussy fills the room, the indecency of it causing your skin to flush with heat. Joel’s groans start to find time with your whimpers, and soon the noises of sex are emitting throughout the bedroom, throughout the house. 

Joel’s hands move away from your thighs, traveling up your stomach and pushing up his red t-shirt to see your boobs bouncing with each thrust. He admires the peaks of your nipples, the way goosebumps arise on your flesh as it’s exposed to the cool air, before bringing both hands to grip onto them. His thumbs and forefingers pinch at your nipples, the pain mixing in with the pleasure seamlessly. 

Your eyes fall shut on a moan, body arching into his touch as you clench around Joel, causing him to curse. The familiar sensation of heat fills your body, that third orgasm floating slightly out of reach. You move one of your hands down to your pussy, resting it on your mound. Your fingertips brush against Joel’s cock every time he withdraws, and you moan at how slick he feels before bringing your fingers to your clit. 

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come on my cock,” Joel encourages, gaze focused on the way your fingers nimbly play with your throbbing clit. His hands squeeze your breasts roughly one last time before he leans up, gripping your ankles and bringing your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cock as he fucks you, adding in another level of pleasure for him as he fights back his orgasm. 

“Just like that, Joel. Just like that…oh!” Your cries fill the room as he pounds into you, your fingers increasing the pace against your clit. Your movements are shaky, not precise in the slightest, but you’re still sensitive and wound up from your previous orgasms that it doesn’t take much to get your third one going. With a few clumsy swipes of your middle finger against your clit, and Joel’s cock ruthlessly hammering in and out of you, your final orgasm floods through your body. 

Joel curses as he feels your pussy clench around him, making his movements stagger with how tight you become. He gives a few more deep thrusts, his own movements becoming shaky and less precise, and he soon slips out of you, rubbing the length of his cock along your pussy lips as you gush with your orgasm. With a grunt, he follows soon, his own cum spurting out of his red cockhead and on to your lower stomach. 

Your legs fall meekly to the bed again, and Joel’s body sags forward a little before he props himself back up with his hands. The sound of you both panting is all that can be heard as you both come down from your orgasms; you, eyes closed and mouth open. Joel, eyes open and mouth closed, nostrils flaring slightly as he regulates himself. 

It takes a moment before you both get back to yourselves, but when you do, you become increasingly aware of the wet feeling underneath your lower body, which causes you to giggle. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get around to cleaning my sheets today, huh?” 

A snort comes out of Joel, his head shaking slightly as he moves to brush back his hair. He takes in the sight of you, freshly fucked and thouroughly spent, and can’t help but grin. He might be older, but he relishes the fact that he can still please you like this. That you actually want him to do so. Makes him feel like a god among men. 

He sees the tears around your lash line from your last two orgasms, and he leans forward slightly to wipe them away with his thumb, triggering in his mind the conversation you both had before this all started. “Feelin’ alright?” His gaze moves around your body, checking to see if he hurt you in any way. He notes the red marks against the side of your neck, the cum on your lower stomach and the beginnings of many small bruises along the inside of your thigh from where he gripped them to keep them open. 

He’d be more worried about those if he didn’t know how much you loved having him mark you up. 

“Just peachy,” you grinned at him, propping yourself up on your elbows to take in the mess below you. Joel leaned in to meet you, his kiss soft and soothing as his lips slid against yours. After a moment, he pulls away again, awkwardly shuffling to the edge of the bed before standing up. Hiking up his pants, he moves to the bathroom to get a washcloth to start cleaning you up. 

After wiping away his cum and your wetness, he gently helps you off the bed, holding your arm as your legs fumble when your feet hit the ground. His pride grows then, and you smack his arm playfully when you catch sight of his grin. “Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against the side of your head before moving to gather up the dirty towel from the bed. He tosses it into the hamper before leading you to the bathroom. 

There, he draws you a hot bath, guiding you in the tub and before pulling his clothes off and joining you. It’s a cramped space, the bathtub not technically suitable for two, but you make it work. You lean your head against Joel’s shoulders, sinking into his body as his arms wrap around your middle. You know you should do something with your bedding soon, should make sure you have the guest room set up so the two of you can sleep somewhere remotely comfortable tonight, but for now, you bask in his presence. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Joel.” You say softly, closing your eyes and letting the hot water ease away any lingering soreness your body has. His arms tighten around you as you trace mindless shapes against his thighs. He tilts his head to the side, kissing your forehead before resting his on top of yours. 

“Anytime, baby.” His breathing evens out with yours, stubble rubbing against your forehead as he speaks. “I’ll always be here to wipe your tears away.” 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

[thelov3lybookworm]

Love Needs No Voice (Part 1)

Summary: The famous guy is a little too stubborn for Y/n's liking.

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A/n: The reader in this fic is mute. I just want to warn everyone, I have no experience or know anyone who has experience with muteness, so everything i write is based off of my research over the internet. If I write something that might offend anyone, please let me know so I can rectify my mistake. Its not my intention to hurt anyone.

That said, Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

The timer Y/n and Nesta had set rang, signalling the end of the hour, and some people from the table nearby looked over before returning to their conversation.

Finally. Y/n heard her best friend whisper from next to her, relief evident in the way Nesta cracked her back.

Y/n simply smiled at her friend from childhood, stretching her back as she clenched and unclenched her fist, sighing when her body relaxed after an hour of no movement.

It was saturday today, meaning most students of the university were either exploring London, sleeping in, or sitting in the cafe near the campus, completing notes and assignments.

Y/n had had nothing else to do, and she wanted to finish all her assignments, so she had planned to come to the cafe, and Nesta had insisted to come along.

And even though it had been her decision to tag along, Nesta had been fussy the whole morning, whining about wanting to do something else, but not wanting to leave Y/n either. They had both settled on studying for three hours and then going out.

Nesta stood up, bending this way and that before sighing. "Let's go get something to eat." She mumbled.

Y/n thought about it for a second, then shook her head as the image of the famous boy flashed in her mind. She glanced around a little, then gestured at Nesta to go by herself.

"You're not hungry?"

Y/n again shook her head.

Nesta shrugged. "I'll bring you something."

Y/n waved, then turned back to her book, continuing to scribble her notes across it.

Y/n watched her friend make her way through the crowd of students toward the line that led to the cafe counter, leaning back in the cushioned seat she currently occupied.

The scrape of a boot caught Y/n's attention, and she stiffened a little, hoping it was not who she knew it was.

Alas, the fates were not kind to Y/n on some days, and today was most probably one of those days, considering she'd stubbed her toe almost over five times now.

The handsome boy that all the girls from the university fawned over dropped into the seat next to Y/n, a huge smile on his face.

Y/n suppressed her sigh.

Y/n should have known there was a chance she would encounter him today, considering one of his friends worked as a barista in this exact cafe.

The violet eyed boy had never noticed her until a month ago, and Y/n had used to believe herself lucky to be out of sight of the boy that basically smelled of money, who wore clothes that practically screamed My father is rich, haha, you losers.

But then on that fateful day a month ago, Y/n had decided to stay in the library finishing up some of her literature assignments, and that had probably been one of the worse decisions of her life.

Nesta had her cheerleader practice that day, and then she had been too tired to study, so Y/n had told her to go home. To go and get some rest, that Y/n could handle by herself.

How wrong she'd been.

After two hours of study, the sky had begun to darken in the distance, rain clouds gathering, promising heavy rain. Y/n looked out the window, and decided it was time to call it a day. She gathered all her supplies and notebooks, placing them neatly into her bag. Y/n was never one for messiness, and her mother and Nesta liked to joke that her need for organising everything perfectly will bite her in the ass one day.

That day, Y/n understood what they meant.

Y/n meticulously stored everything away, arranging her books in the order she wanted, all the while glancing out the window and hoping it wouldn't rain anytime soon.

After she was finally done, she raced towards the exit, finding another student standing there, staring out over the grounds, now wet with the heavy rain that began pouring. He wore a simple black vest and grey sweatpants, his dark hair tousled, his neck gleaming with sweat.

Y/n skid to a stop, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. She was too busy wondering how she would go back to the small rented apartment she shared with Nesta, not realising the person next to her was none other than the Rhysand.

Y/n frowned when she felt eyes on her, and she glanced from the corner of her eye to find the boy staring at her. She turned her eyes to the small puddle quickly forming a little distance away, glaring at it, a blush climbing up her neck at the intensity with which he stared at her.

"Hey. I'm Rhysand." He waited for a few moments, and when it was clear Y/n would not reply, he continued awkwardly. "Is anyone coming to pick you up?"

Y/n blinked, looking at the guy. She stared at him for a moment, then glanced behind her, checking to make sure no one was standing behind her and that he really was talking to her. He rose a brow at her actions, and she quickly shook her head no.

"So... do you have an umbrella?"

She again shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself, her blush spreading down her neck when she realised that she was wearing the worst possible outfit ever.

Rhysand opened his mouth to speak again, but just then a sleek, shining black sedan pulled up, and he paused. A man in a full suit stepped out of the driver's side opening an umbrella, walking the few steps towards Rhysand.

The man said nothing, just stood holding the umbrella over Rhysand's head, who turned to Y/n with a cheeky smile. "And that is my very talkative body guard. Very cheery, that man."

Y/n stared blankly, wondering if she was supposed to laugh. His smile faltered, before widening as he stepped towards his car. This guy really was rich.

He made to get in, but turned at the last moment. "If you don't have an umbrella, how are you going to go home?"

Y/n simply shrugged, tugging her jacket tighter around her. A frown appeared on his face. He stood there, studying Y/n for long enough that she had to resist the urge to squirm. "I can give you a ride." He said, matter of factly.

When Y/n shook her head, he silently contemplated something, then turned to his bodyguard. "Give her the umbrella."

The man in the suit didn't even hesitate, simply waited for Rhysand to get settled before shoving the umbrella at her. Y/n stared at him, panicked. He stood unmoving, waiting for her to take the umbrella.

Y/n grabbed it, wishing more than ever that she could talk in that moment. She wished she could tell Rhysand to keep the umbrella, but he obviously would not have learned the sign language and there was no other way she could talk to him, and she didn't have the will to get out a pen and paper.

Rhysand rolled down his window, something like concern and curiosity swimming in his eyes. "You can return it to me tomorrow, if that's why you are so hesitant." Y/n nodded reluctantly, swallowing. He smiled. "Are you sure you don't want me to drop you home?"

Y/n shook her head, then ran off, knowing he would try to continue talking, and then eventually find out about her lack of voice, and then pity her. Then tell the whole university so everyone can make fun of her. That's what usually happened.

She didn't need anyone pitying her out bullying her. She did enough of that herself.

Someone nudged Y/n's shoulder, and she blinked out of her thoughts, turning to find Rhysand smiling at her.

Y/n swallowed, trying not to get lost in his beautiful violet eyes.

"How are you doing?"

Y/n studied him for a moment, then turned back to her notes. She felt him deflate next to her. "Why don't you talk to me? Why do you ignore me?"

Y/n fidgeted with her pen, attempting to block him out. It didn't work. His voice was just that hypnotic. "If you want me to leave you alone, just say the word." He mumbled, his voice sad.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, releasing a breath through her nose.

A tense silence descended around the two of them, and Y/n wondered if he had left. When she opened her eyes, she found him studying her intensely. This time, she held eye contact.

A few moments passed, and suddenly, he jolted, his eyes widening in shock. Y/n's brows furrowed, and she turned to glance behind her at the seats behind her, wondering if something was going on.

When she turned back to him, he still looked like he had seen a ghost, though now his eyes swam with emotion.

"You- you... you can't..."

His words did nothing to soothe Y/n's confusion, and she simply blinked at him.

"You can't, can you? I said if you want me to leave you alone, just say the word. You..."

Suddenly, it all clicked for Y/n.

He knew.

Y/n straightened, grabbing all her books and shoving them haphazardly into her bag. A book's cover even folded outward, but Y/n pushed it in, uncaring. All she wanted to do now was to run away, far, far from everyone that knew, from everyone that would soon find out.

Rhysand grabbed her hand as soon as Y/n stood and pulled her bag over her shoulder. Precisely at that moment, Nesta came bounding up to the two of them as he too followed Y/n up, a to go cup of coffee in her hand and a muffin in another. The muffin Y/n loved.

Nesta slowed down, raising a questioning brow at Y/n. Knowing everyone would soon find out, Y/n signed to Nesta.

He knows.

Nesta stiffened, then handed Y/n the muffin so she could sign back. Did you tell him?

Y/n shook her head, walking closer to Nesta and ignoring Rhysand as he called her name. He figured it out.

Nesta glared at Rhysand, then grabbed her bag from Y/n and dragged her best friend away.

Y/n felt eyes on her all the way until she reached the exit, and she turned to look back at the stunned boy once.

What she saw confused her a little, but she could not contemplate on it much as Nesta didn't stop.

He had looked guilty, but also...

Determined.

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Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe

[passcode58]

....

Not Requested |

Pure Fluff |

High school Gojo Satoru x Reader 

Warnings | spoilers

Cursing under your breath, you hobble your way into the school gym where the basketball court was located. You were going to meet your friends but got held up in a meeting, so time just slipped away. The thought of missing an opportunity to spend time with them hurt so you rushed off as soon as you could and finally made it. Upon entering you spot your best friend, Satoru, sitting alone on the floor, slouched over and looking somewhat defeated. It's a rare sight to see him like this, and concern immediately fills your heart. Gojo is undeniably attractive, with his silver hair and mesmerising eyes, but what you cherish most about him is your friendship. He brought something unique to your dull life, something to look forward to. He was a major part in your solar system, your bright and burning star, or rather the silver moon.

With gentle steps, you approach him, your heart racing with worry and your brows furrow in concern. "Baby, what's wrong?" You cooed. "Are you okay?" you softly inquire, crouching down beside him.

He looks up at you, a criminally adorable pout laced his face as his cheeks squished against the ball and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Nothing to worry about, beautiful. Just a little bruise, that's all," he replies but his eyes are solemn, his usual charm not fully masking the discomfort in his voice. He's like a kicked puppy.

You can't help but frown, "A bruise? What happened, angel? Should I beat someone up?" Gojo's pout solidifies at your concern. "Well, you know me, always getting into some trouble. It's nothing to worry about, really."

"But I do worry, Toru," you say sincerely, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. Your touch is gentle, and you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "You know I hate seeing you hurt. You're too precious for pain." it's probably not that deep but he was practically an angel to you. You would kiss his toe if he stubbed it— if they were clean that is…

He leans into your touch, basking the comfort you offer. "Well, it hurts just a little," he murmurs. He's so needy, he looks up at you with his baby blue eyes, pleading. He knows he can get his way with you, because you do the same to him. When your eyes meet they connect, and you stare at each other adoringly.

Just then, you notice a figure approaching from the corner of your eye. It's Geto. He rolls his eyes at the sight of you comforting Gojo once again, especially after he out— played him at basketball. But you're too focused on your friend to pay much attention.

"Gojo, you really should be more careful," you gently scold, your fingers tracing soothing patterns on his cheek, as you soothe his head.

He chuckles softly, "I know, I know. I promise I'll be more careful next time, just for you." He's not weak, neither are you— but he's addicted to this kind of attention.

Unable to resist the impulse, you lean in and plant a soft, tender kiss on the bruise, trying to take away some of his pain with your affection. Gojo's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly relaxes and closes his eyes, savouring the gesture. He loves you so much, he can't help but smile. His ego is inflated as he pretends to whimper, coaxing more kisses out of you and you soothe him some more.

Geto huffs disapprovingly, muttering something about you spoiling Gojo too much— I mean he was right, but you ignore him for now. Your attention is solely on Gojo, and you're glad to see him smile again when you pull l away. He's giddy, and cannot hide his joy.

"Thank you," Gojo says, his voice soft and sincere as he opens his eyes to meet yours. "You always know how to make me feel better, (N/n)."

You grin back at him, "That's what friends are for, right?" He puts the ball down now, looking up at you through his luscious lashes. Gojo leans closer, his forehead resting against yours, Shoko and Geto fading into the background. "You're not just a friend, you know. You're something more to me." Your lips parted as words failed to form. Your heart skips a beat, the proximity to him causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. "Really?" you whisper, breathless.

He nods, his eyes full of affection. "Really. And I hope that's okay with you." Holy fucking shit. He straight up confessed. You swallow hard, as a wave of happiness washes over you, and you can't help but smile wider. "It's more than okay, Toru. You mean a lot to me too." His grin is wide, and suddenly his bruise is forgotten as he quite literally tackles you. The two of you laugh bard, as he peppers your face in kisses. "Oh my God, get a room."

Hey I'm Passcode and I love to write and draw! 💖Thanks so much for all the likes and rebloggs, I truly appreciate it. I'll probably open up suggestions and requests soon.

[miracleonice87]

from uncle trav to killa dad

part of the kissing kelce universe

a/n: apparently she writes NFL fic now. no one is shocked. the first installment in the kissing kelce miniseries / universe! sharing the first 3,400ish words of the 8,100ish I already have written... "alright nah" 😈 hope y'all enjoy! (also, will make a masterlist for this universe specifically -- until then just use the "kissing kelce" tag)

warnings: swearing, sickness / vomiting, alcohol, mentions of menstrual cycles / unprotected sex / pregnancy / babies, allusions to not keeping a pregnancy / not being ready to have kids, basically don't read if pregnancy / having kids is triggering for you

word count: ~3,400+

___

February 2023

It was only the end of its second month, but 2023 was already one of the best years of Travis’s life. 

First off, this was the first calendar year he had ever begun as your husband, not your boyfriend or your fiancé, which still delighted him to no end, hence why he was constantly referring to you as “Mrs. Kelce,” both publicly and, his favorite, privately. Two weeks ago, he’d won his second Super Bowl after competing against his big brother and best friend, Jason – a literal childhood dream come true. And in one week’s time, he’d be hosting Saturday Night Live. Saturday. Night. Live. As in, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night.” As in 30 Rockefeller Plaza. As in who in the fuck was about to let him do that?!

Travis Kelce had the world on a string, you by his side, and he could not ask for more. 

Except for you to shake the illness that had been plaguing you for the last several days.

You’d always been an expert napper, but usually for no more than an hour or so; this week you’d been going to bed early, sleeping late, and napping for two or three hours at a time, and Travis was highly concerned. He didn’t like seeing you stub your toe, let alone seeing you struggle with such low energy. He had a growing feeling this was more than just you catching up on your rest after a jam-packed week of team festivities and visitors. 

This especially worried him knowing that the two of you needed to leave for New York City first thing tomorrow morning. For a normal event appearance, he’d be moving flights or changing dates, making any adjustments necessary to tend to you and make you as comfortable as possible, but he didn’t exactly have that flexibility with SNL, and he was beginning to panic a bit. 

After a Zoom call with his agents and the SNL producers walking Travis through the schedule for his upcoming rehearsal week, he flipped his laptop shut and immediately hustled up the steps to the primary bedroom, where he assumed you must still be sleeping, as he hadn’t heard any movement upstairs during his call – not even that of the dogs, who usually found their way downstairs to him when they heard his voice as he was taking calls.

Your husband couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was off. 

Travis made quick work of striding down the long hallway and sneaking into your bedroom, trying not to make the hardwood floor creak beneath his large frame as he sidled up to your side of the bed. Sure enough, he found both Rambo and Chauncey snuggled at your feet, popping their heads up when he entered the room, clearly on guard and ready to defend their sleeping mama should the need arise. He ruffled their fur upon his approach and made a mental note to reward them with treats for that later, then focused his attention back on you. 

Usually, you rested serenely on your back or side, with a single pillow beneath your head; today, you obviously couldn’t get comfortable, because you were curled into the fetal position with an arm flung between two pillows messily folded under your head, another pillow shoved between your chest and your knees. Even in your sleep, your brows were drawn together in discomfort. He hated to wake you, but his intuition was nagging at him to ensure that you were okay. As he slowly lowered himself to the edge of the bed and traced your bottom lip tenderly with his thumb, you stirred, blinking bleary eyes. 

“Hey, sweetness,” Travis whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “How’s my girl doin’?”

With his lips still resting against your skin, his hand cradling the back of your head, you groaned. You weren’t one to complain, but whatever this sickness was that you’d been dealing with was kicking your ass, and he knew it. 

“Mm, I’ve been better,” you admitted, grasping his forearm with both hands to keep him close, ever comforted by his presence and touch. “It is flu season — must just be some bug going around.” 

Travis hummed contemplatively, then broke away to peer down at you carefully. 

“Maybe, but if you’re not feeling better by tomorrow, we’re gettin’ you to a doctor, even if it’s in New York,” he announced, gently palming your stomach which had been uncharacteristically sour all day. The warmth of his touch soothed your whole abdomen like a heating pad. “Capisce?” 

“Yes, captain,” you muttered, hiding your face in his sizable bicep as he snickered. “I’m due for my period soon so that’s probably not helping either,” you added, a throwaway comment on any other day… 

But not today. 

Though you couldn’t see it, Travis’s eyes narrowed at that remark, flickering around the room wildly as his mind began to race. 

Nah, he mused silently. Couldn’t be.

But it seemed you arrived at the same possibility on your own, because seconds later, you gasped, exclaimed “oh, my fucking god!” and sat up straight, leaning your arms against his thigh for strength as the room seemed to spin around you, the dogs hopping off the bed, annoyed at the interruption of their own naps.

“Travis, what’s today’s date?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “It’s the 28th, baby,” he said evenly. 

And with that, you flung the covers off and ran for the bathroom once again, dropping to your knees on the marble and leaning over the toilet just in time. 

As Travis followed closely after you, he knew. He couldn’t believe that, in all of the Super Bowl hype and hysteria, he had missed it up until now. It was so obvious. Your monthly visitor always arrived on the 20th of the month – when you’d asked once how he remembered to bring home Diet Cokes and chocolate-covered pretzels, items you purposely didn’t keep in the house and only indulged in when you were PMSing, on the correct day, month in and month out, Travis often teased that you were so regular, he could set his watch to you. 

He hadn’t purchased those items this month, though. Hadn’t even thought of it due to all of the post-win, postseason pandemonium.

And apparently, neither had you. 

He hastily did the math. Today was February 28th, which meant that you were now eight days late. His pulse quickened at the realization, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The Chiefs had won the Super Bowl on February 12th, and unsurprisingly, the two of you had taken every single available opportunity since then to celebrate his big win behind closed doors – even if they were occasionally car or coat closet doors. And though the chances of getting you pregnant during that window were not exceedingly high, it was certainly far from impossible – plus, he thought immediately of the many times he had teased his brother Jason about his “super sperm,” having gotten his wife Kylie pregnant every other year since they’d been married. And it was a well-known fact that the two brothers shared many genetic characteristics, including their size and their athleticism.

Maybe this particular trait was no different.

Though you were busy actively being sick, you were doing the same calculations in your head. 

Shit. Shit shit shit. You were always so careful, so meticulous, so diligent about timing your intimacy with Travis, taking extra precautions during those prime times and consistently warning him verbally when you were ovulating, as you never wanted him to feel like you were trying to “trap” him, even though you’d now been married for nearly a year. He gently poked fun at you and playfully rolled his eyes in those instances, assuring you that he, first of all, would never question your intentions regarding your relationship and, second, would be absolutely thrilled if and when that time came for the two of you. 

But in other conversations, outside the bedroom and the heat of the moment, the two of you had mutually agreed that since you yourself weren’t 100% ready to start a family just yet, you would wait. You respected Travis endlessly for that, because anyone who knew him knew how desperately he longed to become a father. But if you didn’t want that right now, that was the end of the discussion – Travis was adamant that nothing was happening in that department until you made the call.

But these past couple of weeks… there had been so much emotion, so much energy, and so much alcohol involved that admittedly, neither of the two of you had given timing or protection a second thought. All that each of you wanted was the other, and nothing – not the calendar nor visiting parents nor the prospect of arriving late to the celebratory parade nor being in Travis’s Range Rover when the desire arose – was going to keep you apart physically. You’d thrown caution to the wind as you enjoyed being in your little fantasyland bubble together, and now, reality was sinking in.

As you finally finished coughing and sputtering, Travis broke from holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail in order to pour a small cup of mouthwash and offer it to you. You graciously accepted and swished it around generously before flushing it away. As you leaned back from the bowl, he gathered you into his arms with a quiet but firm “come ‘ere.” You both sat on the tile, backs against the glass wall of the shower beside you, and he rested his cheek atop your head, looping his long arms around your waist.

“Better?” Travis inquired simply. 

You groaned, eyes falling closed as the now-familiar weariness enveloped you again. 

“Yeah…” he answered himself with a sigh, sensing your utter exhaustion. 

The two of you sat in wordless contemplation for what felt like an eternity. 

Finally, you broke the deafening silence. 

“Trav?” you croaked. 

“Yeah?”

“I think I need to take a pregnancy test…”

He tipped his head backward against the glass, guilt wracking his every cell. 

“I think so, too,” he echoed. 

After a long debate on the bathroom floor about how to go about obtaining the home tests – with Travis arguing “you wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me, so it should really be on me” against your “I’m way less likely to be recognized in the aisle of the drugstore” – you finally reached a compromise, which was to DoorDash a wide variety of tests straight to your door, avoiding the need for either of you to be seen out in public. Kansas City was a larger city with a small town feel, and most of the time, you loved that about your adopted hometown, but today, the prospect of being recognized sent your anxiety into overdrive. Photos of either of you purchasing pregnancy tests being splashed all over social media two weeks after the Super Bowl was truly the last thing you both needed, especially if it turned out to be all for nothing, a false alarm. 

So, instead, you had waited the fifteen long minutes until the bag full of tests arrived at your doorstep, peering through the blinds until the driver was completely out of sight before opening the door and retrieving the delivery. You grabbed a Solo cup from the pantry and quickly climbed the steps back up to your bedroom, where you found Travis sitting in a lounge chair, hands folded together, elbows on knees, chin to chest – obviously deep in thought. He didn’t seem to hear you coming until you purposely rustled the plastic bag. As you held it up weakly, his eyes met yours, and he offered a soft smile which seemed forced. 

Travis Kelce forcing a smile. A rarity.

“Secured the bag,” you said quietly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Literally.”

He nodded and slowly stood as you extended a hand, which he grasped in his as you headed into the bathroom together. When you reached the counter, you climbed atop it and shook out the contents of the bag, revealing half a dozen boxes of all shapes, sizes, types, and colors; contained in them were sixteen tests in total. You gazed down at them with pursed lips for a few quiet moments, then Travis cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him.

“Honey, before we do this, I just need to…” he swallowed thickly as his hands found the tops of your thighs, and you could tell that whatever he was about to say was weighing painfully heavy on him. You weren’t used to seeing him so serious, and you reached out a hand to rub his shoulder in support. “Listen… you know I’ve always been excited about the prospect of… well, not just having a baby, but having a baby with you, but… it’s really important to me that you know that we do not have to do this. Not now, not ever. Not if you don’t want to.”

The sincerity in his icy blue eyes was enough to make your heart skip a beat, and you hummed appreciatively, cupping his stubbly cheek in your hand. 

“Thank you,” you whispered as he turned your wrist to press a featherlight kiss to the inside of it. “And I can’t tell you how much I love you for that. But… one thing at a time, okay? Let me go take care of this, and we’ll go from there.”

Travis nodded, concern etched on his brow. It wasn’t an expression he commonly wore, and it certainly didn’t suit him. 

“Yeah… yeah, alright,” he said, sniffing. “You, um, you want me to stay in here with you, or…”

You shook your head, a small smile at play on your lips. 

“No, I’ve been peeing on my own since I was about two, so I’ll do that part myself and report back, captain,” you teased, and Travis offered a shy smirk. You rested your forehead against his. “Okay?”

He nodded, head still pressed to yours. 

“Okay,” he said, caressing your jaw before standing up straight to allow you to shimmy down from the counter. He took a few steps toward the door leading into the bedroom, then turned back. 

“Hey, one more thing?” he said solemnly. You stared at him expectantly. “No matter what the test says… doesn’t change how bad I fuckin’ love you.” 

You stood floored, forcing back tears. “I fuckin’ love you so bad,” you softly concurred. 

Then, your normal playful Travis was back at least for a moment as he winked at you, clucked his tongue, and pulled the door closed as he encouraged, “Do your thing, girl.”

You rolled your eyes, then “did your thing” as instructed. You returned to the counter with the plastic cup sufficiently full and opened different tests from four of the boxes that looked the most promising, meticulously following the instructions for each. You turned them all so that the windows were face-down on the counter, washed your hands, then took a deep, shaky breath before opening the door with trembling fingers to find a pacing Travis burning a hole through your bedroom floor. You said his name softly, then tilted your head in the direction of the tests, inviting him back into the bathroom with you while you waited. He met you at the edge of the tub, where he wordlessly pulled you into himself and held you there. You closed your eyes and breathed him in, more grateful than ever that you’d chosen this man as your life partner, and that he had chosen you. 

“How long we lookin’ at, sweetness?” Travis asked, resting his chin atop your head, gently swaying the two of you back and forth. 

“Longest one takes three minutes,” you answered. “Figured we’d just wait until then and check them all at once.” 

You felt him nod and check his Apple watch. He grew quiet again for a few moments, then he heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry for putting you – us – in this position, baby,” he apologized, immediately breaking your heart. “I should’ve been more responsible and mindful in the moment. I just got caught up in you and I… I just, I’m sorry.” 

You stood up straight, holding him at arm’s length, your brow creased ruefully as you realized how badly he was beating himself up over this. 

“Trav, honey, don’t,” you pleaded. “You did nothing wrong,” you assured, reaching your hand up to rest against his neck. “We both got us into this situation, and to be honest, I wouldn’t change how we got here. We could have been more careful, yeah, but… all I was focused on was being as close to you as possible. I mean, these past couple of weeks with you have been some of the best of my life. I feel closer to you than ever.”

He studied you diligently, rubbing his hands up and down your sides. 

“Yeah?”

You nodded, sliding your hand to the nape of his neck and bringing his lips to your level to kiss him softly. 

“Yeah,” you whispered in reply. 

He drew in a deep breath and squeezed your waist. 

“‘Bout ready to check?” he asked timidly. 

You nodded, arms falling back to your sides. 

“Do it together?” you requested hopefully. 

He nodded, too. 

“Just like we do everything else,” he replied with conviction, taking your hand in his and pressing a firm kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s go.” 

Hand in hand, you approached the counter, four eyes boring into the upside-down test sticks. 

“You take two, I take two?” he suggested. You nodded, biting your lip and grasping the two sticks closest to you as he did the same. 

“Ready? One…”

“Two…”

“Three…” 

Both of you flipped the cheap plastic tests at once, gaping silently down at the counter.

For the past hour since you’d realized you’d missed a period, anxiety, nerves, and even dread had been coursing through your body at the speed of light.

But as soon as you saw those test results, inexplicably, the fear, the worry, the anxiety, the anticipation… it all melted away. The little blue plus sign and the pink double lines and the blinking “YES +” and the word “Pregnant” all laid out in front of you unmistakably brought an unexpected swell of peace and joy to your soul. 

Travis’s hand flew to his mouth as he processed the results himself, and his fingers didn’t leave his lips as his eyes stayed fixed on you in quiet anticipation, refusing to react in the way that came naturally to him until he allowed you to react in your own authentic way. 

So, when you looked up at him with your chin quivering, eyes rimmed red, tears threatening to spill over at any moment, his heart flipped inside his chest, then sank into his stomach…

But then you smiled. 

“Looks like we’re having a Super Bowl baby,” you told him decidedly, starting to giggle. 

His brows shot to the top of his forehead, his hand slowly falling away from his mouth. 

“Really? You want to?” he asked softly, and you could tell by his tone that he was still focusing all his energy on suppressing his pure, unadulterated excitement. You nodded. “You’re sure this is what you want?” he confirmed, cocking his head as he surveyed you closely. You nodded again and stepped closer so that your feet were planted between his, leaning your body into him. 

“I’m sure, Trav,” you promised as he tenderly combed some of your hair behind your ear. “I honestly wasn’t sure until we flipped the tests over, but… I’m sure. I’m ready for this with you, Travis. It feels right. Let’s have a baby.”

At that, he allowed the floodgates to open. His broad shoulders began to wrack with quiet sobs as his arms folded you against his chest. You cried along with him, sharing in his relief, his elation, his bliss. 

“I love you so much,” he choked out between shuddering breaths. “Fuck, I love you so much. You’re everything to me. You always have been, but this… this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you.” 

You smiled into his pecs, sniffling. “I love you, too,” you replied, pulling away just far enough so that you could meet his eyes. He wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as you continued. “Thank you for the way you handled this. There’s nobody I’d rather do this with than you.”

Travis beamed and leaned in for a kiss, certain that he’d never received a more meaningful compliment, and certain that he had never been more in love with you.

[piscespetals]

summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. read part one here and two here

content: angst, more lesbian disaster

word count: 6k

Chapter 4 should be up next weekend!

Chapter Three

Apologizing is hard for you...

You have too much pride—too much ego.

Apologizing displays a depth of vulnerability that you've never quite been good at.

With Mel, it's easy. Because besides your parents, she’s the only other person that's been a constant in your life. Besides your parents, she’s the only person that has stayed—that has loved you—despite all of your flaws. 

You haven't known Sevika for long. In fact, you can argue that she probably knows you more than you know her.

From the very beginning, you made an effort to show her all of your faults. She ultimately gets on your nerves at times, the Monica situation excluded, with her being bossy and too clean and too nit picky. In the past, she’s voiced her opinion of you being slightly loud, and easily bothered, and easily distracted. There’s fundamental differences between the two of you—differences that you picked up on within the first week of living together. Differences that should make you want to chew each other’s heads off.

Yet she still wakes up every morning and eats breakfast with you.

She still listens to your endless rants about your workplace drama. 

She still shows you grace when you forget to unload the dishwasher, during the times you accidentally play your music a bit too loud, and during the moments you disrupt her sleep for an ice cream run. 

Apologizing is hard for you, but when it comes to Sevika, it's easy.

She makes a lot of things easy for you, even when you don't want to admit it.

Even when you know that you make everything so much harder for her.

That's why you're overcome with guilt for the rest of that night. 

Every atom in your body screams for you to march across your flat and make things right. After all, you've had many disagreements with Sevika but never this. Never something so hurtful.

So that's what you do. 45 minutes have passed since you’ve stormed into your room, and 45 minutes is how long it takes for you to wipe your tears and open your bedroom door. You're trying to calm your breathing and unblur your vision when you stumble through the pitch black apartment.

You stub your toe on a piece of furniture, which causes you to curse and halt your steps before you force yourself to limp the rest of the way.

It’s only when you reach Sevika’s bedroom that you realize her door is halfway shut, and her lights are off. Your knock is met with dragging silence. Then you knock again and there’s no reply.

Frowning, you crack open her door, “Sev?” Your voice echoes off of the walls. 

Switching on the lights, your heart plummets when you see that the room is empty. You check her bathroom—also empty—and her balcony with rising panic. But it's to no avail.

When did she leave?

You're usually able to hear the closing and opening of the apartment door from where your bedroom is located. You're certain that you would have heard her. There's never a time when you don't.

“Sev?” 

The answering silence makes your chest hollow.

And it's only when you're swallowed by soul-crushing despondency when you realize the true weight of tonight’s quarrel.

When you text Sevika, wondering about her whereabouts, she takes her time to reply. The message marks as read for 42 agonizing minutes before you receive a simple word:

Out.

Your stomach tugs and your heart drops, because you know that there’s not much else you can say before overstepping boundaries. 

Sevika is receptive to almost everything that you dish out, but you aren't quite sure she'd handle clingy as well as she does your other traits.

It’s barely been two months.

You don't want to suffocate her.

Similarly, sending an apology text seems low. Disingenuous. 

Not only is that cheap but it’s the last thing she deserves. You’ll apologize in person, when she’s home and (hopefully) in better spirits. You’ll make a whole ordeal out of it: order her favorite pizza, some beer and butter her up with nauseating kindness.

Yes—that’s it.

That’ll do the trick.

For now, you’ll allow her to cool off. You’ll give her the night. You’ll give her space.

And when dawn strikes, you’ll push away your pride and make it your mission to win back her good graces.

But the issue is that Sevika never returns.

When you wake in the morning, you're greeted with the chirping of birds by your window. Your bedside clock reads 9:16 AM; an hour that Sevika is usually awake for. 

After washing your face and teeth, you expect to see her hovering over the toaster while the kitchen television streams the morning news. You've grown accustomed to that kind of morning. During these past two months, you've caught yourself wondering how it's taken nearly two decades for you to find that kind of peace.

But today’s not that.

The toaster sits untouched and unplugged, kitchen lights off as well as the television, and apartment Sevika-less.

Your mouth twists as a low huff escapes you.

Okay. Maybe you were being unrealistic to think that she’d return first thing in the morning.

Lunch time is more practical.

Except noon rolls around and she’s still gone. You have to leave for work in a few hours, and you begin to feel uneasy by the shrinking window of Sevika’s arrival. You feel like you’re running out of time. You feel like you won’t be able to make things right if she doesn't return before you leave. 

You don't want to do this tomorrow.

You don't want to experience the agonizing misery of waiting for each hour of your shift to tick by tonight; wondering, hoping, that she’s already home.

And maybe that's a little selfish—because you shouldn't be apologizing for the sole reason of lessening your guilt. You should be apologizing because it’s the right thing to do. Because that is the least she deserves. 

So, you swallow your guilt and head towards your balcony. Maybe some fresh air will help clear your mind.

It’s 11:45 PM when you hear jostling from the entrance door.

You pause the movie on your laptop, craning your neck to get a better listen. 

That familiar click resonates through your room before you hear the creaking of the hinges. Your breath hitches, eyes widening and chills running along the hair of your spine. 

She’s home.

Suddenly, your pre-planned speech is thrown out the window. 

Your feet are taking you across the floorboards before you can fully register what is happening.  You think that you are about to throw up from the amount of anxiety currently flowing through you right now. You don’t believe you’ve been this worried about someone’s absence throughout your entire adult life.

“Sev?” You call.

There’s shuffling in the hallway, which spikes your heart to an unprecedented rate. 

There she stands, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and beanie on her head. She's toeing out of her boots, breathing slightly labored and hallway filled with her cologne. There’s a chilling presence about her, probably from the cold temperatures from outside, but it makes you freeze nonetheless.

The only indication that she’s heard you is when her movements slow upon your approach. But she doesn’t look up.

“Sev?” You call again, this time quieter. 

Where’s that impish smile that makes you want to roll your eyes and hug her breathless at the same time? 

She begins to shrug off her coat.

“I was worried.” You add. Tentative. Scared.

You watch apprehensively as she hangs her coat on the garment rack. Her back is facing you. It stretches upon movement; broadening and flexing through the material of her peach button up. 

You didn’t know that she had packed a bag. 

The thought creates layers of unsettling emotions.

“....Nothing to be worried about.” Sevika replies. But despite her reassurance, her tone remains unwelcoming. Your eyes fall shut momentarily as you fight off a wave of remorse. There’s the slightest bit of warmth that spreads across your shoulder. When you open your eyes, you realize that she’s brushed past you. 

Her footsteps travel towards the other end of the apartment, where the kitchen resides. 

You follow after her, desperate to say anything–to do anything that will relieve this tension.

“I’m sorry.”   

Your apology wavers; the crack of an iceberg. 

“I really am,” You continue, rounding the corner of the kitchen. Her arms are folded as she leans her weight against the counter. “...I was being so ridiculous. I mean truly, Sev. I don’t want…” You’re shaking your head. “I don’t want something like this to come between us.”

Her gaze remains planted on the floor. She purses her lips, expression purely contemplative. Then, “Why don’t you like her?”

“I never said I don’t…like her.”

That’s when she peers up at you, lips twisting into a scowl and eyebrows furrowing. 

Your hands raise defensively and you sigh. “Okay, okay.” You shift your weight, struggling to recover from the ice in her stare. “Sev, I’m sorry for how I acted. Truly. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t bring her around. I want you to feel comfortable. This is home. Your home.”

Her glare warms by a small degree. But she doesn’t relent. “Why don’t you like her?”

Your lips part. You’ve been backed into a corner.

You have to answer. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know,” She parrots, voice low and disbelieving. Accusatory. Her head tilts, grey irises inspecting every inch of your face. “I don’t believe you.” She shakes her head. “Try again.”

“I don’t know if I can tell you.” You rephrase. “If I should tell you.”

Immediately, she pushes off the counter and grows closer. Her hands fall into the front pockets of her jeans, neck hanging to look down at you. Your jaw locks shut, keeping you from speaking and saying anything more. Sevika stays that way for a long time, never really moving any closer but also never pulling away.

When you break your gaze, you notice that her hands are working their way in and out of fists. 

“Will you let me apologize to you first?” You ignore the bobbing of your achy throat and the burning of your eyes. You can't cry. That won't solve anything.

“You already did.”

“Well, I truly am sorry.”

“I heard.”

“And I’ve missed you.”

The corner of her lip twitches. “It’s barely been 24 hours.”

“Still missed you.”

She hums. Acknowledgement. That’s a good sign. 

“I have a tendency to, uh, overreact sometimes.” You clear your throat. “I was being really fucking ridiculous. An idiot. I mean, really, I realize how unnecessary this all was and that we’re too old for this.”

Another moment of hesitation lapses into the conversation. It’s not as heavy as before, but still intensifies the standstill that you two have reached. 

“I’m sorry.” You add. 

Those words, a cry in your throat, have been haunting you all day.

You’ve never been the sort of individual to apologize easily.

But right now, as you stand in front of Sevika, you realize that it’s as effortless as blinking. 

You’ll apologize for the rest of the night if she asks you to.

“You’re an idiot. You know that right?” There’s a smile playing at Sevika’s lips. She reaches forward and pinches your nose; something that she likes to do to annoy you. You groan as you try to breathe through your mouth. 

“I’m the worst idiot ever,” The tone of your voice is now disgustingly nasally. “Who's incredibly sorry and will do anything to ma-”

“If you keep apologizing, I’ll burn your toast tomorrow morning.”

“Oh no. Burnt toast. How frightening.”

In the morning, your toast is warm and spread with butter. Your tea is sweeter than usual too. 

The 9 o’clock news plays on the kitchen television.

You hold onto your mug tightly. Sevika is beside you, the sound of her even breaths reminding you of the beauty in sweet, suspenseless mornings. 

You blink through heavy eyelids, muscles still fatigued when she turns to you and says, “Will you apologize to Monica too?”

And you’re slightly gutted by that. 

It’s a question that you knew she’d ask. 

It’s a reasonable thing to want.

But still…

You’d be lying if you said that this entire predicament didn’t make you feel sick.

But you have no one to blame other than yourself. 

This is the sensible solution.

“Yes,” You respond, giving her one short nod. “I’ll apologize to her.”

And you do.

The first half of the apology begins with a terrible pot of Chili that you try to make as a peace offering. You manage to botch it half way through. 

Sevika ends up helping. Everytime she peers at your face, she snickers. At one point, you catch her muttering that she, “Doesn’t know what to do with you.”

When Monica arrives, it’s awkward. You stand off to the side as Sevika hugs and kisses her. Then, when Monica turns to you, you give her a small smile and wave. Her greeting isn’t nearly as cordial, which says a lot. But you figure that you deserve it. After all, you haven't been very welcoming to her.

When Sevika leaves momentarily—to buy some beer from the store—you take that as an opportunity to apologize. Monica is scrolling on her phone silently, sitting in one of the dining room chairs.

She peers up at you with large eyes when you approach her. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, which is mostly my fault. And I’m really sorry for that. Do you think, maybe, we can start over?”

She regards you for a few moments, jaw clenching and unclenching before she says, “I accept your apology.”

Your smaller smile stretches into a bigger one. 

“But,” She adds. “I think that it was truly unfair that you didn't give me a proper chance to know you. At first, I thought it was me. I realize now that it has everything to do with Vika, and I think that's sad. I think that she probably shouldn't be staying with someone who is willing to impede on her happiness so much. But I also think,” Her lips tug into the ghost of a smirk. “That if I was in love with my roommate and had to watch her find happiness with another woman, that I too would become bitter.

“So, yes, I accept your apology.” Monica continues. “But I hope you can understand that I have no desire to be friends with you. We can be cordial on Vika’s behalf. But only that.”

Your thumb absentmindedly fiddles with the plate of your belt. You wonder, for the umpteenth time, how you've gotten yourself into such a predicament. And it almost feels like a flock of self-wallowing birds are surrounding you at that moment. You bear through the pitiful feeling nonetheless and give her a curt nod.

“Okay,” You respond. “Cordial is fine with me.”

Later in the night, when Mel has left and Sevika bolts the door shut, she asks, “How did the apology go?”

You hesitate for a moment, brain replaying all of the words that Monica spewed. You feel a familiar weight press into the center of your chest, and your skin prickles as realization dawns on you. 

But you can't allow Sevika to pick up on it. You can allow her to see you like this. So you clear your throat and blink through blurry vision.

“It went well.” You pull your blanket up to your chin, stretching your legs out on the living room recliner. “She accepted it.”

The fridge opens. You hear shuffling.

“That's great!”

Yeah.

Great.

“You know I love you,” Mel begins. “But what the fuck.”

You wince, bracing yourself for the reprimanding that is sure to come. This is the very reason why you’ve been avoiding telling Mel everything that has happened. Usually you are able to talk to her about dilemmas that you’ve put yourself in. But something about this feels different. Besides the fact that you almost royally fucked up your friendship with Sevika, there’s another emotion lingering within you–something heavier–that’s been making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

You take another bite into your pizza, allowing your silence to be an answer within itself.

“I think we need to address the elephant in the room,” Mel says. 

You're shaking your head before she can even finish her sentence. You already know where this is going. 

“There’s nothing to address.”

“From the first night I introduced you to Sev, when you were giggling with her on the couch like a schoolgirl—”

“Oh my god.”

“I spotted it from day 1, that you two being roommates would either end really great or…really badly.”

“Mel,” Your eyes squint shut once more as you grimace. “No. It’s not like that.”

“How else could it be? You put two lesbians that want to fuck each other in the same apartment and all hell breaks loose.”

“She has a girlfriend.”

“Which just makes it worse!” An incredulous chuckle leaves her as she begins to rub her temples. She’s sitting in the recliner chair in the corner of the living room while you’re sprawled out on the loveseat.

Sevika is at work, which has given you the perfect opportunity to catch up with Mel. And despite the fact that you hate how candid Mel’s being, you know that you need to hear it.

She’s always been your voice of reason.

“Are you going to say something to her?” You mumble, gazing up at the ceiling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her shift in the chair. She hugs her knees to her chest. 

“Of course not. You need to figure out whatever the hell this is without any meddlers.”

You shrug. “I wouldn't mind a little bit of meddling.”

“You're doing that thing where you ignore your emotions until you absolutely can't anymore.” Mel sighs. “Unless you want shit to blow up in your face for real, I suggest you come to terms with your feelings towards Sevika and find a way to deal with them. Healthily.”

She’s right.

A huff leaves you. “I prefer my way, you know…”

She snorts. “Your way will have you roommate-less and heartbroken.”

“...You really think Sev would leave? Permanently?”

“Well, I don't know.” She feigns shock, palm sprawling across her chest. “It's not like I haven't known Sevika through the in’s and outs of her parents death and real estate issues, and divorce. No—I totally have no idea that she’s been through enough—”

Your body shoots up. “Wait.”

“...You're right. You should asolutely continue to terrorize her girlfriend and be, quite possibly, the worst roommate that could ever happen to her. For fucks sake babe. Wake up! I mean, truly, after everything she’s been through, don’t you think she deserves—”

“Mel.” 

“...If I was her, I would have packed my bags too. I love you. But do you realize how infuriating you can be? I thought I psychoanalyzed you enough in our friendship but clearly it hasn't been very eff—”

“Mel!” Your voice cracks, embarrassingly so, which causes you to clear your throat. 

Your brain begins to short circuit as you try to hold onto the remnants of all the information she's just fed you. It processes and processes, and your world spins around you. You feel like you’ve just found the last wedge of a 500 piece puzzle; the full picture is finally complete.

“Sevika’s divorced?”

You never would have thought that Sevika was a romantic. Not romantic enough to be married, at least. And surely, not a divorcee. She’s tight lipped about a few things, her past relationships being one of them, but you always chalked it up to the possibility of her being reserved. 

It's a weird feeling to be shocked by such a revelation. It's merely a divorce. 

But you feel like that piece of information holds weight. 

Because Sevika has told you a lot of things, including the intricate details of her parents death, yet has seemed to leave out the entire fact that she’s been married.

For some reason, she hasn't wanted you to discover that part of herself.

That's all the more reason why you feel guilty. Because, not only have you found it out, but Mel is the one to have told you. Surely, that wouldn't make Sevika feel the best.

“You didn't know that?” Mel looked at you with an odd expression.

“No,” You were feeling self-conscious under her scrutiny. 

Mel’s response was delayed. She gazed at you further, eyebrows furrowing and lips frowning, before she muttered, “Oh.”

Then she dropped the subject, probably because she didn't want to accidentally spill any more of Sevika’s secrets to you.

Later that night, Alicia is invited over for dinner. She walks in with two bottles of wine and a cheeky grin. She hugs you obnoxiously tight.

“I see that you and Sev finally made up!” She exclaims. This calls for a celebration! Hip! Hip-”

“Ugh,” You groan. “Really, A?”

“Yeah, seriously, hun.” Mel interrupts. “The energy’s a bit too much. Can you lower it a few notches?”

Something bad must have happened.

There’s that feeling in the pit of your stomach materializing again; a horrible mixture of panic and existential dread.

And that feeling spikes when a loud horn sounds. It's painfully close; close enough to split your eardrums in half.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Hello? Oh my god. Are you okay?”

For some reason, that question isn't enough to alert you. You're too focused on the blur of colors you're seeing. 

“Hello?”

You lean back against your seat and the blaring horn comes to a halt. You had been laying on your steering wheel.

Then you remember it all at that moment.

You were supposed to be going to the store. You had convinced Sevika to stay home because she had been doing the bulk of the chores lately and that was making you feel guilty. It had only been three weeks since the two of you made up, but you found yourself still wanting to apologize to her in the smallest ways.

You were driving with your window down and had come to a four-way stop. A butterfly fluttered towards you and perched itself on your nose.

It was a vibrant orange butterfly, with bold black stripes and white dots. After that, everything began to grow fuzzy. Were you supposed to be moving? Your foot was on the gas but you hadn't remembered moving it there. You must have been moving. You weren’t paying attention. You should have been, but you weren’t. The butterfly had distracted you.

Pretty soon, a car was hurtling towards you on your right, too fast to be able to slow down. The both of you crashed.

Now, the driver is standing right outside your vehicle, trying to gain your attention.

“Are you okay?” They call again.

You blink once more. Subconsciously, you try to bring your right arm up to your face. Nothing happens.

You lift your left hand to your face, sighing in relief when a pair of callused fingers fall directly onto your eyes. You’re still alive.

“Are you alright? Please answer me.”

Another knock.

“I’m calling 911.”

You don’t like hospitals.

One time, your mom had taken you to the ER due to severe stomach pains. You were 12 years old. It felt like someone was trying to slice your belly open with a machete. You spent hours in the waiting room doubling over and clutching your stomach. Your mom sat beside you, lips permanently pulled into a thin line. She went on about how much of an inconvenience this night had been; that she was tired from working a 12 hour shift and was hungry. She also threw in a comment about how much this ER appointment would financially cost.

The longer you both sat in the waiting room, the more agitated she became.

“I can't catch a break.” She had muttered. You struggled to understand if she was angry at you or anxious for you. Or maybe she was projecting due to the long day she had at work. You didn't fully know. All you could recognize was that she was in some kind of distress. “I just hope nothing serious is going on.” Then her hand fell to your back, lightly rubbing circles into it.

Your eyes prickled with tears during that moment. But you didn't know if it was due to the pain or the immense guilt you felt for incurring a hospital bill.

The stomach pains eventually began to subside after that. Once a health professional was ready to see you, the pain was quite tolerable. You even struggled to push away the fit of giggles you felt every time the doctor skimmed her fingers across your tummy; feeling for “tenderness.”

After being questioned by her, she told your mom you had trapped gas and dismissed you.

Your mom had been angry. It took a few weeks before she stopped berating you about the amount of money her and dad would have to pay the hospital for “something as simple as trapped gas.”

You weren't sure if she was mad at you or the hospital. Your mom often grew upset like that but you could never quite understand who she meant to direct her feelings to. After those weeks passed, you began to assume yourself as the fault for most of her moods.

The following month, you dealt with really bad stabs of pain in your legs. Everytime you wanted to open your mouth to tell your mom, you were instead flooded with memories from the night you had trapped gas. Then you would close your mouth and count to 50 to try and block out the pain. 

Any health concern after that was something that you tried to ignore. Whether it was illnesses or crying spells, you often hid in your room until you could collect yourself. Then you would re-emerge in the living room where Mom and Dad often were.

By the age of 14, it took you a while to notice your body cues. It was sophomore year of highschool when Tasha Koshman, one of your classmates, accidentally broke your left ankle during the soccer unit of P.E. She was 6 foot and 2 inches.  Tasha had one of the strongest bodies you had ever seen—pure muscle—and was one of the star players on the varsity football team. During the soccer game, she tried to kick the ball into the goal. But instead, she missed and her foot slammed right into your ankle. You heard a snap. There was a sharp pain—and then nothing at all. You fell to the ground.

Tasha carried you–bridal style–to the nurse’s office. She wouldn't shut up the entire time. Her eyes swimmed with worry, and a combination of sweat and tears dripped from her chin and onto your shirt. 

You supposed it was a bit freaky for her to know that she could do such a thing to another human without even trying. She apologized profusely during that 8 minute walk across campus.

“There, there.” You mumbled. You used your left hand to pat her shoulder reassuringly. This was how you often saw TV characters consoling one another on shows. “Don’t worry. The bone will heal back together eventually.”

The creases in her forehead deepened.

Tasha cried harder.

You knew it was bad that you didn't feel much of the pain. But finding out the reason for that meant another healthcare visit and therefore another bill. 

Your parents definitely wouldn't appreciate that.

You were 22 when you met Mel. She worked at the same elementary school that you were volunteering at. She was one of the administrators in the front office.

The work relationship between you two developed into a budding friendship, and then a perfect roommate dynamic.

Throughout the ten years of Mel being your roommate, she never made fun of you for crying. In fact, you have her to thank for identifying your emotional constipation.

Mel also was the one who’d take you to the doctor whenever you’d fall ill. She was annoyingly maternal the entire time and probably lectured you a bit too much. It was something you were skeptical of at first. But you soon grew to be fond of it because you knew that it came from a place of love.

She'd usually never leave your side until you felt better.

You never told her, but gestures like that meant the world to you. 

"Does this hurt you at all?" The doctor asks you. She's staring at you with big and round brown eyes. Her eyelashes are coated with electric blue mascara. Pretty.

Outside the room, there’s a rush of loud screaming sounds. The word intubate gets passed around by a pair of voices. The interruption fades just as quickly as it comes.

You hum unintelligibly. Your blinks are slow as your gaze drags down to the way her pudgy fingers delicately feel for injuries.

"Hm." You pause, thoroughly thinking through her question. Are you hurting? "I'm not sure."

There’s a couple of cheesy posters on the walls about the importance of mental health. A bottle of soda sits on a countertop beside the sink. 

"Okay." The doctor stares at you for a few more seconds. “Well nothing is broken. All of our scans have come back with no results of serious trauma. Your body is in shock right now. Sometimes I have patients that feel absolutely nothing during a crisis. The brain is able to block out the signals that the body sends during those moments. Isn't that remarkable? Anyways, the adrenaline will probably wear off soon. Victims of car accidents usually encounter some fatigue and muscle aches for a while afterwards. You'll need to have pain medication for then."

When Mel comes flying through the door, she’s sporadic, seemingly out of breath and frazzled. 

Tears stream down her cheeks as she rushes towards you. "Oh my god!" 

“I’m okay.”

Despite your reassurance, she wraps her arms around you and pulls you into a bone crushing hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m okay,” You parrot, this time gentler. You can’t blame her. 

You had called her on the way to the ER and briefly told her what happened. You couldn’t say much because you were still so shaken up, so she was only able to understand a generalization of the car accident. If the roles were reversed, you’d be just as frantic.

“Nothing’s broken,” You continue. Your voice wavers but you figure that’s a normal reaction in a situation like this. “I’m waiting for the doctor to come back. She had to get something… I can’t remember. It was so much information.”

Mel pulls away, cradling your cheeks with the palms of her hands. Her eyes are bloodshot and her bottom lip is split from being chapped. “You scared us so badly. Do you have any idea what Sevika is putting herself through right now?” Then she grimaces and stops herself, gaze unfocusing from you.

Your breathing falters. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…’ You struggle to blink away the tears. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I wasn’t in the right state of mind when I had called you. I just knew that I needed to reach out to someone in case it was serious, I didn-”

“I know, I know.” She pulls you in for another hug. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry. You just,” Her voice grows thin and she tightens her grip around you. The squeeze almost knocks you breathless but you don’t have the heart to say anything. “I was scared.”

“I get it.” You swallow thickly, hoping that it’ll help to dissolve the lump at the back of your throat. 

The door opens and an ivory-white lab coat comes back into view. The doctor smiles at the pair of you, greeting you by your full name once more. She’s carrying a clipboard in one hand and a ballpoint pen in the other. She mutters a small hi to Mel when she reaches your bed, then she begins jotting something down on the clipboard. “I’m going to send your paperwork over to your GP so they can review everything. I want you to do a check up with him next week, just to make sure everything is okay.” Swiftly, she places the pen back into her coat pocket and sets the clipboard on the edge of the bed. “If you start to feel any excessive sleepiness, confusion or troubles with balance, please come back immediately.”  

When you’re released, Mel helps you walk back to the waiting room where Alicia and Sevika are apparently waiting. 

You’re grateful to have a friend like her by your side. You don’t quite know what you’d do without Mel; you don’t know how you would have gotten through life if you hadn’t met her at all. 

Her arm around you is firm as she guides you through the hospital traffic. Nurses are rushing back and forth between rooms. Curtains are being drawn unexpectedly and there’s even a distant screech from someone. The air reeks of bleach and despair. 

You want to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Just down this way.” Mel croaks. Her voice is hoarse from crying so hard. 

“Mel,” You begin. “I want to thank you.”

“Not here.”

“You know I don’t have anyone else. You’re my family. You know that, right?”

The door squeaks as she pushes it open. Her eyes are swimming again, gaze avoiding yours, and throat bobbing from swallowing thickly. “I know.” She squeezes you once more. “You’re mine too.”

You rest one of your hands over hers and return the gesture. 

The waiting room is filled with people who display similar variations of distress. Alicia is the first one that you recognize. She’s wearing one of her trademark flannels, leaning against the wall while staring up at the ceiling. Her foot is tapping exceptionally fast; hands balled into fists. That’s when you realize that this is the first time you’ve ever seen her look so…grave.

Sevika sits beside her in a chair. At least–the figure looks like Sevika. It’s hard for you to know for sure. The woman is hunched over, head in her hands, and body cloaked by a black trench coat. The coat is familiar. Her hands, which cling to the roots of her hair, are what stand out to you the most.

Alicia see’s you before Sevika, and pushes off the wall with a heavy exhale. “Thank God.”

Mel let’s go as the two of you draw closer to them. Sevika’s head shoots up upon your arrival, eyes locking with yours instantly.

They’re bloodshot red. 

Just that sight alone causes something to unwind within you. The knot between your shoulder blades loosen and that ache around your ribcage dissipates. That nagging feeling of danger withdraws and is replaced with unbearable tugging. 

Your eyes flood. 

Sevika reaches for you, as if she knows, as if she senses the tugging herself. “Fuck.” Her lips barely move, voice laced with sickening horror and relief. “You-” Her breathing stutters.

She stands to her feet, hands wrapping around both of your wrists and pulling you towards her. Your heart refuses to calm down. 

Her voice is so quiet that you barely notice it, “You’re here.” When she embraces you, your ear presses against her chest. She’s firm. All firmness.

“I’m here.” The burning in your eyes return and the tears threaten to spill over.

This time, you let them.

Chewing your tongue, you hold your breath and fiddle with the material of your comforter. 

You’re hanging on the edge of panic. The air around you feels too thin. 

Your forehead gathers with pools of sweat, as well as the back of your neck. And a shiver runs through you, despite feeling pure heat all throughout your veins.

“What the fuck, Vika!”

“It just…” Sevika mumbles. There’s a small lapse of silence. Then, “It’s just not working out.”

Your nerves are shot.

You want to bang your head against the wall. Not that it will help. But you want to do something–anything. This is not what you expected to hear when Sevika told you that Monica would be stopping by for a brief visit. She had slipped into your room to tell you, barely giving you a chance to respond and barely looking you in the eyes, before leaving and closing your bedroom door. 

It’s only been a day since the accident and you've never seen Sevika so frayed. She barely left your side last night. And when you finally went to sleep, you’d wake to the sound of her occasionally peeping into your room before she’d subsequently head back to her own.

Sevika is a pretty caring friend.

But she never hovers.

Well–not until now.

“What has changed?” You hear Monica ask. Her voice is muffled from the thickness of the walls. But you’re still able to pick up on how rigid it sounds. “Have I done something wrong? Is it because of what we talked about the other night? If so, I was just joking. Kids are only something I’d want if my part-”

“It’s…” Sevika’s voice is lower than Monica’s. Quieter. You try to crane your neck to hear better. “I would like to explain it all. There’s a few reasons why-”

“Is it because of her?”

Your blood runs backward at the accusation. 

Shuffling happens from the other room.

The sound of footsteps draw closer to your room.

“Don’t.” You hear Sevika say.

“Is she here?”

“Monica–”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me, Sevika! I can’t…I won’t do this with her here.”

More shuffling. 

The footsteps direct their pace away from your door. You hadn’t even realized that your muscles were tensing until they relax.

“This is unbelievable,” Monica adds. Her voice has raised several decibels, borderline yelling. “Are you fucking her?”

“I’m not–Jesus Christ. I’m not sleeping with her. Let’s talk and I’ll tell you all the reasons–”

“I’m not talking with her here.”

“Then let’s go somewhere else. I’ll drive?”

There’s no reply.

“I’ll explain it all, I swear.” Sevika continues. “I just…I need to be honest with you.”

Dust swirls the air around you as the sun shines through your window. It’s only 10 A.M. It’s only a Tuesday morning.

Two days into the week and so much has already happened.

You sigh, pulling your blanket over your shoulders some more, as you try to register everything that you’re hearing. Sevika wants to break up with Monica? So suddenly? 

You’d be lying if you said that you aren’t surprised. 

If you were Monica, you’d be gutted. 

You jump, completely startled, by your door barging open. Sevika stands in the doorway, dressed fully in her coat and boots. She’s clipping her carabiner to one of her belt loops, brows furrowed and eyes searching yours desperately. Words have run out.

She knows that you’ve heard it all.

“Sev,” It’s a broken mumble since you’re still groggy. 

She shakes her head. “I’ll explain when I come back.”

You watch her slip her phone into her back pocket. It makes no sense, the way that life has seemed to flip upside down for the both of you; the way that this past month consisted of more chaos than you’ve ever experienced before.

And yet that tugging from yesterday still remains. But this time, tenfold stronger. So strong that it’s a separate being within itself. Rather than a feeling, it’s become second nature. It takes every fiber in your being to ignore it.

“Why today?” You find yourself countering.

Her lips part, irises burning a silver-fire. The kind of silver that you’d bury yourself in forever if you could. 

“I’ll be back soon.” This response is all that she can give for now.

It’s the respectful thing to do.

Monica deserves to hear the answer first; she deserves to hear it without you there.

You understand. “Okay.” 

She hovers again. For a few more seconds. “Okay.” She echoes.

You can only stare when she leaves.

And when the apartment door slams shut, you're left to sit there and ponder over what the fuck has just happened.

[outsidersandlostboys]

Chaos vampire boys 4

I love and appreciate all of you! Sorry for this being late, I meant to post it earlier but life’s difficult. ♥️

-

Y/n: Eat my ass fucker

Dwayne: if you insist

Y/n: wait no

-

*Paul, Y/n and Marko standing on the couch*

David: what the hell are you guys doing?

Marko: playing the floors lava!

David: a spider crawled under the couch didn’t it?

Paul: nO

David: you guys are idiots…

Y/n: says the guy standing in lava

-

Marko: what about that guy?

Y/n: oh no he’s wearing khakis Marko he’d taste terrible

David: and the girl there?

Y/n: She’s with an old man, she’s got her life sorted out, she’ll be missed by Mr. Moneybags over there, I take back my comment eat the rich man

Dwayne: did Y/n just help us calculate a person to feed on based on looks?

Paul: yup.

-

Y/n: can I sue the government? Or am I just gonna have the CIA or FBI show up and be like, nah bra.

Dwayne: sometimes I think your thought process is wonderful and promising, this is not one of those times.

-

David: I have officially drank all the wine in this random wine cellar I found

Y/n: ok Barbara, how’s the divorce going?

David: Don’t mock me, and for your information it’s going grand motherfucker

-

Paul: *crying*

Y/n: what’s wrong?

Marko: he found a ladybug and accidentally crushed it

Y/n: oh shit *starts crying* that poor ladybug

Paul: I know! We should name him to remember him…

Marko: how about George?

Paul: perfect, *still crying* rest in peace George…

David: do they know that they’re drunk or?

Dwayne: just let it happen David…

-

David: *being gripped by his collar from a surfer nazi* I feel kinda threatened.

Paul: I wonder where David gets his attitude from

Marko: I don’t man..maybe Max?

Paul: nah…

*later*

Y/n: *gets cornered by skateboarders* *laughs* I’m in danger.

Paul: never mind I found out where David gets it from…

-

Y/n: pardon my French, but what the absolute fuckery fuck is going on in this piss poor shit box of a cave we call our home?

Paul: Never before have I heard such beautiful words escape your mouth Y/n

-

Max: did you hear about the Crab who wouldn’t share his shell with me?

Y/n: was he shellfish about it?

Max: you stole my joke!

Y/n: how shellfish of me…

Max: you can’t repeat the same punchline Y/n

Y/n: wow, how shellfish of you to think so

Max: I’m done with you, I’m going to go watch transformers with Laddie

Y/n: ok, Octopus Prime.

Max: I hate everything!

-

David: I just saw Y/n stub their toe on the fountain

Paul: were they okay?

David: I’m not sure, I was going to ask but then they started violently sobbing and I was just standing there awkwardly watching

-

[theplacewherewipsgotodie]

So I made a wip regarding this post.

I don't know if its good or not considering this is basically the first ever idea I've actually written for this phandom so, constructive criticism would be appreciated, both for this and dialogue cause idk how to write conversations lol.

---------

It wasn’t often that Danny got to rest like this, surrounded by ice and cold in one of the deepest, secluded parts of the Far Frozen. His tail flicked lazily behind him as he rested.

Becoming the Ghost King – more like half king – was not what it was worth. Not that he even wanted to become the Ghost King, it sorta just. Happened. As does most things in his life. If it weren’t for that fruitloop he wouldn’t even be in this mess in the first place.

Becoming the Ghost King and then four weeks later waking up as a dragon was not in his to-do list thank you very much. At least the whole of Amity park was affected and not just him, minimises the chances of it being a personal strike against him.

But whoever made that wish should stub their pinkie toe.

(Weasley Weston sneezed, then screamed out loud as he stubbed his toe.)

Danny stretched, letting out a sigh of contentment (more so just blowing cold air out his nose) as he could hear the bones popping. He then laid back down, ready to recharge, relax and ignore whatever thing that’s happening in the outside world that doesn’t need his immediate attention.

Something is going to ruin this, isn’t it-

“Daniel!” The familiar voice of the other Ghost King’s – the other half – scream reverberates inside the room that Danny decided to hold up in, the area noticeably getting hotter as well.

-aaand there it is.

Danny keeps his head down, not opening his eyes as his tail lashes in the general direction of the phoenix-

“What do you want, Fruit Loop?” Danny’s voice was tired and exasperated, with a bit of aggression mixed in as well. 

-based on how he couldn’t feel a weight at the end of his tail, nor the squawk Vlad would let out if he managed to land a hit, he could say he missed. A pity.

Vlad scoffed, staring down the dragon at the end of his beak as he flew back a bit to avoid his tail, the temperature rising ever so slightly in the face of his irritation.

Luckily, this is the resting grounds of a Ghost King, so it wouldn’t be melting anytime soon. Unless he actually tries, of course. Vlad shuffled in place for a moment, turning the words over in his beak before taking a deep breath.

“Just spit it out already fruit-”

“The Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep is missing.” Predictably Danny did not take that news well, he quickly got up to his full height, his eyes wide open as cold mist leaves his mouth and his tail swishes in agitation.

“WHAT!?” Vlad huffed, “Calm down little badger. Panicking will get us nowhere.” Vlad then turned around, gesturing with his wing for Danny to follow before he quickly left the area, taking off in flight soon after.

------------

Hahah here it is, idk how good it actually is, though.

[ace-of-zaun]

Drunk Mind, Sober Hearts: pt. 3

young silco x gn!reader - SFW, 2.3k words

Warnings: jealousy, possessive behaviour, teasing, drinking, established relationship, suggestive 

A/N: For the lovely @kikiiswashere who is not only such a kind person, but also an incredibly talented writer! Please go and read their story ‘Children of Zaun’, it’s honestly such a brilliant story, and is so well written. Kiki is genuinely a master of characterisation and worldbuilding, 100% recommend all their works! -el x

Part 1 | Part 2

-

There was no doubt about it. You absolutely adored the days where Silco would shower you in affection, making his love for you abundantly clear with each little action and word. 

But, whilst you loved the soft side to Silco, there was just something so delicious about teasing him until he couldn’t help but ravish you. 

You and Silco had been together for a few months now and honestly, you couldn’t imagine how you ever lived your life without him in this way. 

It was like he unlocked a better version of yourself. 

One that loved freely. Openly. And with all your heart.

Even life as The Children was better. More recently, Vander and Silco had managed to intercept a shipment of scrap mechanical parts that would easily sell during the new trend of people augmenting their bodies.

As such, with the rest of their pilfered stash, the boys had finally succeeded in setting up their new black market in The Lanes, meaning there was a sudden influx in cash from the sales. 

And of course, in true Zaun fashion, they’d decided that the only way to celebrate this new-found success was to throw a party and drain all of the newly-stocked booze in the bar by themselves…

It would appear their logic only went so far when alcohol was involved. 

Entering the bar after a quick bathroom break, you stand and observe the loud partygoers, leaning against the wall for a moment to get back into the swing of it all. 

It takes only a few seconds to locate Silco, who is waiting for you patiently at the other end of the bar. You smile to yourself as you watch him absentmindedly take a sip of his drink, completely lost in his own world. 

Honestly, he probably should be helping Vander serve at the bar, but he never does, considering himself to be the brains of the operation, and therefore far too clever to do such menial tasks like serving customers.

(Although, you’ve seen him stub his toe on his desk enough times to void that particular assumption of his…)

You shake your head at him lovingly, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

Your little rebel even amongst rebels. 

By the way he sways a little bit on his feet, you can tell he’s slightly tipsy, but he’s definitely not drunk. Neither of you are. 

It had taken you a few weeks of dating to realise that he hadn’t been drunk since the night he’d accidentally confessed his love for you. 

When you’d questioned him about it, he’d quietly admitted that he no longer felt the need to get wasted, because being sober with you was far better than any single buzz he might get from alcohol.

You’d almost burst into tears on the spot. 

Despite only dating for the better part of three months, you know without a shadow of a doubt that you both love one another. And it was only made more certain in all the little ways you showed each other everyday.

Like how you were always making sure Silco ate enough before going out on missions, or how his fingers would idly draw constellations on your leg during group meetings. 

Or how you missed each other like crazy, even when you were only apart for bathroom breaks. 

It was like the boy had a permanent, constant place in your mind. 

Almost like he’d heard your wistful thoughts, Silco glances up at the door and spots you immediately, a gorgeous little crooked smile taking over his lips at the sight of you.

You return the smile easily and tilt your head at him demurely instead of making your way over to him. 

It takes him a few seconds, but at the realisation of the new game you’re playing, his smile melts into a sinful smirk as he raises one finger and beckons you over with a simple motion.

You grin and shake your head playfully. 

Crossing your arms, you’re just about to make a series of gestures to inform him that he should come over to you, when a figure steps in your line of sight, effectively blocking your view of Silco. 

“Hey.”

You make eye contact with the person and recognise him as one of the newer, younger recruits that had joined The Children a couple of months ago.

Rian. 

Even though you’d only known him a short few weeks, you’d already decided he was a nice lad, who had taken a bit of a shine to you after you’d shown him how to pick a lock with a knife. So you don’t mind the brief interruption to your game. 

“Hey Rian, how are you doing?” you say with a kind smile, entirely different to the one you’d just given Silco. 

“Good thanks,” he says, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. 

You decide not to mention it. 

“Yeah? You enjoying the party?”

“Yeah,” he says nervously, putting you on edge until he speaks again and reveals exactly why he’s acting so timidly, “Let me buy you a drink?”

Oh. He really had taken a shine to you. 

You’re just about to tell him that you get drinks on the house because you now live here with Silco, but two things happen at once.

Firstly, your all-time favourite song begins to blast through the jukebox speakers.

And secondly, you spot Silco frowning at you over Rian’s shoulder from across the room.

And with the culmination of those two factors, an idea suddenly pops into your head.

A terrible, wicked, villainous idea. 

You instantly develop a plan to get him back for all those soul-wrenching nights you’d watched him get drunk and flirt with everyone else, despite both being secretly in love with one another.

Deep down, you know that a little harmless prodding isn’t going to hurt.

In fact, you know Silco pretty well after growing up with him and now intimately sharing your life with him, so you have a pretty good feeling that you know exactly how he’s going to react.

And it will no doubt be very good for the both of you. 

“No, thank you,” you tell Rian, watching as his face falls in dejection, “But I’ll take a dance?”

It’s almost comical how quickly his mood shifts once more as he nods eagerly in agreement. 

You grin and carefully take his hand, leading him onto the ‘dancefloor’ (aka. The only space in the bar that’s not currently filled with tables or warm bodies). 

Feeling a thrill rushing through you at both hearing your favourite song and enacting your mischievous little plan, you have to hold yourself back from watching Silco’s reaction. 

No, you had to wait until just the right time, otherwise he’d know it was all a ruse.

Reaching an adequate space in the room, you turn to Rian and throw your arms around his neck, linking your fingers together securely. 

You make sure not to press your body against him because you don’t want him getting the wrong idea. Really, this was all just a bit of platonic fun and you weren’t about to cruelly lead somebody on just because you were teasing your boyfriend. 

Rian must realise you’re deliberately putting space between the two of you because he doesn’t try to pull you any closer. In fact, his hands remain safely in the middle of your back, not even attempting to inch them any lower.

You grin at him and begin to happily sing along to your favourite song as you dance.

As you slowly make a turn, arms still around Rian, you finally spot a furious looking Silco in the same place you’d left him by the bar. 

You make brief eye contact with him, and with just a simple little smirk in his direction, his expression turns from quiet seething to absolutely thunderous. 

It’s a struggle not to snort when he all but slams his drink on the bar top, liquid spilling onto his hand. 

But before you can visibly laugh at how easily he’s playing into your trap, you’ve turned so your back is to him.

Instead, you look up at your dance partner and decide to set the record straight. 

The last thing you wanted to do was accidentally hurt one of your colleagues when you were secretly just playing a game with your boyfriend. 

“Rian, you do know I’m dating Silco, right?” you tell him gently. 

He stiffens slightly in your arms and almost seems a little bit panicked, like you’ve just told a child you caught them doing something they shouldn’t.

“I know, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he says nervously, “I just think you’re nice is all.”

“It’s fine, Rian, I just wanted you to know that I’m taken,” you say, and out the corner of your eye, you see the man in question begin to stomp over to you.

You ignore him and continue speaking. 

“Although Harley has been staring at you all night, maybe you should offer to buy them a drink?” you suggest.

Harley was another new recruit and you know for a fact that they have a bit of a crush on Rian. Honestly, when you think about it, they’d be perfect for each other, so you don’t mind setting them up. 

At least it’ll give Rian somebody else to turn his attention to. 

Rian looks surprised at your suggestion and turns to look over his shoulder at Harley, who is watching him from across the room. 

“You think?” he asks thoughtfully. 

“I do,” you say with a firm nod. 

He turns back to look at you and if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost say he looked excited at the prospect. Like he’d never even considered it before and you’d just opened his eyes to a whole new world. 

“Okay,” he returns your nod with a wide smile, “Thanks for dancing with me.”

“No problem, Rian.”

The very second that you’ve let go of each other and Rian has stepped away in the direction of Harley, he’s replaced by a very angry, very sour-faced Silco.

You bite back a smirk and open your mouth to tease him when he grabs your hand and half-drags you through the bar, towards the door that leads to the hallway. 

He’s not rough with you, but he’s definitely insistent as he pulls you along. 

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing? I haven't finished dancing!” you cry out in indignation. 

“Something more important has come up,” he replies curtly, not even looking back at you. 

You allow him to continue pulling you through the crowd because you know it’s all part of the game.

And gods, it was turning out to be a fun one. 

When you finally reach the back hallway, he lets the door slam behind you both and wastes no time in pulling you towards the stairs.

Now that you’re alone and away from prying eyes, you try to tug free from his grasp, planning to tease him just a little bit more. 

“Silco, what are you-”

You’re cut off by Silco slamming his lips into yours, pushing your body up against the wall in one smooth move.

It’s by far the most demanding kiss he’s ever given you and by the gods, you love it. 

With his body pressed firmly against yours, he pushes his tongue into your mouth, and accompanies the determined movements of his lips with bordering on desperate sweeps of his long hands all over your body.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s everything. 

Eventually, you both have to pull back for breath, but Silco doesn’t let you stray too far from him, almost like his lips are magnetised to yours.

“You’re mine,” he says against your lips, in that deep gravel that shoots heat right through you. 

Gods, you just knew that a little bit of envy would make him even hotter. 

“Feeling a little jealous, are we?” you tease him coyly as you weave your fingers through his hair. 

Silco responds by kissing along your jawline, down your neck, and across your collarbone, following a path set by him and him alone. 

“I only want you to dance with me,” he tells you roughly, in a delicious little streak of possession.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” you smirk, giving his hair a little tug. 

He pulls back from you and looks down at you in awe. 

Then, he rolls his eyes with a sigh through his nose, clearly only just figuring out that you’d been playing with him this whole time.

“But you know, Sil, if I’m yours, that also makes you mine,” you say, tracing a finger down his cheek gently. 

He leans in close again, so your noses are almost touching and his breath dances across your skin. 

“If that’s the case, what was all that back there?”

“I just wanted to see how green those beautiful eyes could get,” you say coquettishly, “Think of it as payback for all those times you flirted with absolutely everyone but me.” 

You think you start to see a hint of remorse cross his features, so you decide to move on quickly. Making him feel bad wasn’t your aim. And besides, it was all in the past.

What you were really focused on right now was your immediate future.

“I’d say we’re even now, wouldn’t you?” you continue, raising your eyebrow with a smirk. 

His hands begin to slowly travel down your body, resting firmly on the swell of your ass while he presses himself against you.

“Oh, not in the slightest,” he drawls, as his eyes darken, “No, I think I’m going to require a little… compensation after that little stunt.”

He punctuates his salaciously implied words with a sharp pinch to your ass and you squeal in surprise, trying to squirm out of his grasp.

Silco grins and presses one last delectable kiss to your open lips before pulling you towards the stairs, a promise of imminent pleasure radiating in his eyes. 

Note to self: tease Silco more often.

-

Taglist: @pinkrose1422 @anotherromanticpoet

[pregnant-piggy]

Uhm, can I send this one too? cherry - send me a song and a character and i'll write you a little blurb!

With George Weasley and the song when i fall in love by michael buble. Please? Thank you 😌

i am so sorry this took so long, jacky! i enjoyed writing this, but it took a loooong time before i had any inspo to write (anything at all) hopefully you like this! <3

When I fall in love

The air was still warm and humid even after the sun had set. It was a cloudless night, thousands of stars spreading out in the heavens above. There was a light wind, but it was warm, like a lover’s hand brushing your cheek each time it blew past.

The garden was silent. Birds had gone to sleep an hour ago, which should have been a sign you should go to bed too, but with George’s arms around your shoulders and his hot breath travelling over your skin, you’d been content staying where you were. And now it was an hour later, temperature down a little, but after the hot day you’d had it felt nice.

The fairy lights in the tree provided a soft yellowish light that fell down on George’s face, catching every soft curve and strong angle, creating stars in his eyes when he looked up, a starry heaven even more beautiful than the one overhead.

He was perfect and perfectly yours. And maybe that thought should have worried you, but there wasn’t a single fibre in your body scared. You had given him your heart completely and one nights like these, when there was just you two, just his arms, just his smile, you knew that it had not been given in vain.

He turned to you, his blue eyes dark now there was no sun out. His entire face seemed to lit up when he found your gaze and you were sure you must be dreaming. What did you ever do to deserve this?

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just do it, please.”

You did as he told and as your vision turned black, your other senses came alive. His deep, pressing scent, the dark tones but the always lingering hint of mints from the sweets he was always  eating. The taste of the peach tea you’d had after dinner. The press of his arm on your shoulder, the heat of his skin on yours, so familiar but never ever tiring.

And the sound of the garden came alive. The soft rustle of the leaves being moved by the wind. The low humming of the house and its appliances. Far away, the softest tunes of music. His breath, that even rhythm that had brought you to sleep many, many nights.

Then came the sound of his deep voice. The sleep laced in his vowels. The smile from his lips.

“What do you see?”

You frowned with your eyes closed and heard him chuckle close to your ear. It set your body on fire.

“Obviously nothing,” you said.

“Try harder.”

You squeezed your eyes, tried to see on the inside of your eyelids, but no matter how you tried you couldn’t get your eyes to focus to see anything. There were smudges and sparkles, but nothing discernible.

“I don’t know, George,” you sighed. “It’s giving me a headache.”

You sensed his smile even before you opened your eyes. He looked down on you with a wide grin. “Now ask me.”

You raised one eyebrow, but got nothing more from him. “Close your eyes, then.”

George shut his eyes. His smile stayed on his lips, like he was already enjoying whatever it was that he expected to happen. You resisted the urge to just forget about it and kiss that gorgeous smile, but he seemed too excited.

“Okay. Now, what do you see?”

His arm fell from your shoulder to your waist. You were snugly stuck in his embrace like it was your home, which, over the past year, it had become.

Never could you have imagined being where you were now, but there was no place you’d rather be. You had found comfort and peace and love in the person you wanted to share the rest of your life with. It was a wonder and if you hadn’t stubbed your toe that morning and felt that pain was still real, you wouldn’t have believed it wasn’t a dream. But this was your reality, your life. A miracle.

George still had his eyes closed, but he easily brought his face closer, like just by feeling he could tell where you were. He smiled even wider, opened his eyes, a dark blue galaxy staring back at you, and finally spoke.

“You.”

You had fallen in love. And it was forever.

- - - - - - -

hp taglist: @kingalrdy @missswriter @awritingtree @ananad1 @secretsthathauntus @izzyyy-1 @nyotamalfoy @xxinvisiblexx @idli-dosa  @lacunaanonymoused @kitkatkl @d22malfoys

[whump-me]

Whumptober Day 31: Setbacks

This is a standalone story in my original Mind Games universe, a modern-day sci-fi/fantasy thriller setting about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. Full description in my Whumptober masterpost, which is linked in my pinned post.

This story contains: recovery, aftermath of torture, emotional whump, suicide mentions, interrogation mentions

Words: 2300

---

The bedroom where they had stuck him to rot—to recover, they kept correcting him—wasn’t even that big. Jonah knew rich people with closets bigger than this. He gripped the bedpost, tried to ignore the trembling in his legs, and took a deep breath.

One wall to the other. Only a few steps. He could do it. He had managed it yesterday.

He let go of the wall. Pain shot up his right leg. He gritted his teeth and breathed through it.

One step. He fought the urge to windmill his arms as he wobbled. Another step. Another.

Past the foot of the bed. Toward the beat-up dresser with the small stack of worn out paperbacks piled at one end. Probably everyone who had recovered in this room before him had read those same books, lying in bed and endlessly turning pages in a futile attempt to distract themselves from their weakness.

But he wouldn’t let himself be weak.

Another step. The bolt of pain was stronger this time. He closed his lips tightly on a cry of pain, refusing to let it escape.

Another step—and the pain stole his breath. It shot past his knee, up to his hip, and into his right side. He buckled like he had been stabbed. The sudden motion robbed him of his balance, and he toppled.

He clutched at the dresser, but wasn’t close enough to grab on. He landed hard on the floor with an undignified yelp. The rough carpet scraped at his palms.

Other half-healed injuries woke at the impact, stirring with a chorus of growls like a family of angry bears. When he tried to push himself up, their voices rose in warning. The pain locked up his muscles until he gave in and sank to the carpet again. He wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.

Damn it. He had done it yesterday. Why not today?

The door opened with a creak, because of course he couldn’t just marinate in his humiliation in peace. He looked up to see the round-faced, chipper volunteer he had grown to hate. Lauren, her name was. Lauren was relentlessly positive. Lauren insisted he was getting better every day, which clearly wasn’t the case. Lauren had clearly never endured any pain worse than a stubbed toe in her life.

“I don’t need help,” he said before she could offer him a hand. “Just give me a few minutes.”

“You may not need help, but that doesn’t mean you should have to go without it.” There was her bright smile, right on schedule. “It’s what I’m here for.” She held out her hand to him.

He weighed which would be the greater humiliation: taking her hand, or lying here at her feet while she extolled the benefits of thinking positive. He took her hand, gritting his teeth against the pain to come.

For someone so small, she was remarkably strong. She didn’t even wince as he braced himself against her arm with close to his full weight. She kept right on smiling.

“You worked yourself hard yesterday,” she said. “You should have stayed in bed today. You need the rest.”

“Like you know anything about it.” Embarrassment turned his voice sharp as she helped him to the bed one hobbling step at a time. “You’re not a doctor. You’re not even a nurse. No one here is. This isn’t a hospital.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “You’re right,” she said. “But I’ve helped plenty of people like you. People who are recovering from what PERI did to them. None of them have made a full recovery in days, or even weeks. You shouldn’t expect that of yourself, either.”

He sat heavily down on the side of the bed. He nearly wept in relief as the weight came off his injured leg. She saw it—he could tell she saw, because her face softened, like she was so goddamn proud of herself for helping him out of his own stupidity.

He scowled up at her. “Don’t put me in the category of the lifelong lab rats you rescue. I was only there for a couple of weeks. And only for interrogation. They never sent me down to the labs.”

She sat next to him, too close for his comfort. But then, anywhere in the same house would have been too close for his comfort. “Torture is its own kind of trauma,” she said gently. “Physical and mental. You shouldn’t minimize either one. Give yourself the time you need. Please.”

“And who says I need time? You? No one here knows what the fuck they’re doing.”

She still didn’t look the slightest bit angry. He wished she would. “We learned on the job,” she said. “Same as you. The only difference is, you fight PERI by rating their facilities and rescuing the Enhanced they capture, and we fight them by caring for the people you rescue.”

“Yeah, well, who says I know what I’m doing?” If he had, maybe that last mission wouldn’t have gone so wrong. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in their hands.

Maybe he wouldn’t have—

His brain skittered away from the last thought before he could complete it.

Her smile grew softer. She placed her hand palm-up on the mattress between them, like an offer. “Do you want to talk about it? About that mission—or anything else?”

He left her hand lying where it was. “I think I need a nap.” He didn’t. He was tired of being told to rest. But seeing as she was the one who kept telling him to take more naps, that would get her to leave if anything would.

From the look on her face, she didn’t buy it for an instant. But she still smiled at him as she nodded. “All right. I’ll be back in a couple of hours with your lunch. Or earlier, if you need me. All you have to do is call.” She nodded toward the intercom on the bedside table.

He had never once used the intercom. He never would.

When she was gone, he realized she hadn’t helped him lie back down. Probably trying to let him preserve a small piece of his dignity. He almost wished she had helped him without giving him a choice in the matter. He would never have accepted the help, but now, without it, it was up to him to grab his leg in both hands and heave it onto the bed. He gritted his teeth to hold in the screams.

And then he was back where he had started—lying in bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. He knew all those cracks by heart.

Was this what his life would be from now on? Bored and useless and in pain? Lauren kept telling him he would recover. Her and all the other volunteers. But what did they know? They weren’t doctors. They couldn’t risk taking him to a real doctor, someone who might actually know what they were doing, because PERI had eyes everywhere.

Yesterday, he had almost believed her when she had said he was getting better. Yesterday, he had crossed the room on his own, all the way to the far wall. Yesterday, the pain in his leg had almost been faint enough to ignore.

He had let her use that minor fluke to build up his hope. Now he felt like a sucker.

Lauren would probably tell him tomorrow would be better. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe there was no point to all this effort at all. Maybe he should just lie here in bed and let himself rot little by little, counting the cracks in the ceiling and pretending to read the dog-eared books.

Better yet, maybe he should just end this now.

Don’t you dare, came a familiar voice in his head.

This time, when his breath caught, it wasn’t from pain. A bright spark of a forgotten feeling lit in his chest. Something like happiness. Something like hope.

“You’re alive,” he breathed.

He couldn’t speak to Matthew inside his head like Matthew could speak to him. He wasn’t a telepath. But if he spoke aloud, it made his thoughts strong enough and clear enough that Matthew could hear them, even though Matthew was much better at sending thoughts than receiving.

Yes, I’m alive, Matthew answered. His mental voice held a slight chuckle, like it amused him that Jonah had ever doubted it.

“I thought I heard you when I first got out,” said Jonah. “But those first days were a blur. I barely remember any of it.” Mostly, all he remembered was the pain. “Afterward, when I could think a little more clearly, I thought I had imagined it.”

No, that was me, Matthew answered. I was there for you then. And I’m here for you now.

“Where? Where are you?” He had to be close, if he was in telepathic range. “When can I see you?”

When you’re better.

“I don’t know when that’s going to happen,” Jonah admitted. “Hell, I don’t know if that’s going to happen.”

It will, Matthew promised, as if he knew it for a fact. For some reason, that kind of confidence wasn’t as irritating coming from him as from Lauren.

“Can’t you come see me earlier?” Jonah asked. “They’ll let you in. I’m sure of it. You’re one of us.”

I can’t.

“Why not?” If he knew Matthew was coming, he wouldn’t even complain about lying in bed staring at the cracks until then. Hell, he’d even try to take that nap, just so he’d have enough energy to sit up and kiss him later.

I’ll explain later, said Matthew. Not yet. For now, just know you have something to look forward to. When you’re better, I’ll be there. So you need to rest, and you need to heal.

“And if I don’t get any better?”

None of that, Matthew said gently. Again, it didn’t sound obnoxious coming from him. Rest. Heal. Will you do it for me?

There was only one answer he could give. “Of course.”

I love you, Matthew said in a mental whisper.

“I love you too.” But the presence at the back of his mind had already vanished. Matthew was gone.

Jonah slammed a frustrated hand halfheartedly down on the mattress. “Why the big mystery? Just tell me where you are. Hell, just come see me. I’m not too weak to talk to you in person for a few minutes.”

Matthew couldn’t hear him anymore, and he knew it. But the lack of an answer still left him hollow inside.

He breathed out sharply through his teeth. “Fine,” he bit out. Fine. He would take that nap, even though he hates hated naps. He would lie in bed and count the cracks. He would keep trying to walk across the room, and try to listen to Lauren when she said a setback didn’t mean anything. Even though she didn’t know what she was talking about.

He would do it if it meant seeing Matthew again.

Especially after he had thought—

He squeezed his eyes shut until that last thought disappeared. He breathed slowly and rhythmically, trying to convince his own brain he was asleep, until the pretense became real.

“I love you too,” he repeated just before he drifted off.

Out in the hallway, Lauren eased the door shut the final crack. Her face was sober, but she didn’t cry. Early on in her time here, she might have. But in the past three years, she had watched enough tragedies play out that the tears no longer came easily, or at all. She had seen enough that she could keep up a constant stream of encouragement, and never let her smile waver. It used to feel impossible. Not anymore.

“Who was he talking to?” asked Cass, the new volunteer who had paused to listen.

“His husband,” Lauren said in a hushed voice, just in case Jonah was still awake and could hear. “The husband is how he got involved in fighting PERI. He was a telepath. PERI found him and took him to the labs. Jonah tracked down a team down somehow—he’s some kind of ex-military. He said he’d use all his skills to help them for the rest of his life if only they’d help him get Matthew out.”

“So this… Matthew… is here too, and they’re talking telepathically?” Cass asked. “Why not put them both in the same room? Wouldn’t it help their recovery?”

Lauren let out a long breath. “No. Because Matthew isn’t actually here. Jonah gave his team up under interrogation. Matthew hadn’t made it to us yet. PERI raided the safehouse where they were keeping him. None of them made it out. Jonah knows—PERI showed him the pictures. He told us when we first got him out. He was really out of it then.”

She looked toward the closed door. “I suspect that’s a big part of why his recovery keeps hitting setbacks. Some part of him knows that once he gets better, he’ll have to face the truth.”

Cass’s face creased in a frown. “This isn’t right. Someone should tell him.”

Lauren nodded. “And I will. But not yet. He’s a lot more fragile than he looks—and a lot more fragile than he thinks he is.” She stared at the door with a troubled frown of her own. “For now, I’ll let his brain gives him whatever he needs to recover.”

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @gala1981

Ask to be added or removed from my Whumptober 2023 taglist.

[playedcrowd5610]

Resurrected? -Chapter 6

he team is on a routine mission when Phantom gets blasted by one of the goons wielding experimental tech. Unable to keep his ghost form intact he transforms back into his human form. Causing the rest of his teammates to think the beam had somehow brought him back to life!

The team starts to try to protect Danny and make sure he doesn’t die again, always checking around every corner for a possible threat. How long will he last?

Wattpad: Here.      FF: Here.      Ao3:  Here.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

---

OH MY GOSH, GUYS, @2000dragonarmy made this amazing fanart of Conner and annoyed Danny.

I love it so much!<3 I almost fell off my chair when I saw it, It is so amazing thank you!  You guys should check them out XD

Fanart <3

---

The Mall, a place where teens hang out on a daily basis. They go shopping, hang out with their friends, and eat food at the food court. And also apparently a place where Danny needs to be shown the joys of the human world so he doesn't kill himself again, or something. Why the place of the peak of humanity is a mall Danny would have no idea.

Danny glances around at the team surrounding him as they walk towards the only mall in Happy Harbor. Conner had put him down a little after Danny's second escape attempt. He keeps carrying him around like a little kitten and it is getting on Danny's nerves.

And now it seems like they have made a protective barrier around him. Some on the sides, behind, and in front of him. Whether it was on purpose or not, it was getting really annoying.

He is not some child! Even if all the other ghosts call him that. Honestly, he is very responsible for his two-years-dead age. He has been able to fight some of the most powerful beings in the zone and won, on multiple occasions!

Others say he could probably beat Superman if he tried. But nooooooooo, his very fragile human body can keel over at any minute. For crying out loud half of this team is human! Or at the very least close to the fact. He rolled his eyes.

He just needs to figure something out. Maybe he could convince one of the ghosts to come over and 'kill' him or something. (not really, but they could make it look real enough). And he is sure there would be a bunch who would be happy to do it. But he doesn't want to traumatize his new friends and team by having him murdered in front of them.

He still doesn't even know if he could transform at this point. He is pretty sure he can, he could feel his core thrumming angrily in his chest at the prospect of being protected and not being the protector. But he still needs to check, just to be sure.

He still feels very weak after that blast, and it doesn't seem normal. Now he just needs to get away from his babysitters for one minute. That's if he could get past an entire SUPER HERO TEAM that is guarding him right now from stubbing his toe.

There was a blur next to him and an arm wrapped around his shoulders. "Come on stop moping around Phantom," Wally said.

"What am I supposed to do? I feel like you guys would get creeped out if I walked around with a bright smile on my face at this point." Danny raised an eyebrow at the speedster.

Artemis bumped his shoulder. "Come on, we are just going to hang out like we normally do, only this time it's at a mall instead of a cave."

"A very homey cave!" Megan butted in, a cheery smile on her face. "And I have only managed to convince Conner to come to the mall with me once before, so this is going to be great. And we can get you some new clothes too!"

Danny grimaced. "I'm wearing clothes already, why do I need new ones?"

"That's the same thing Conner always says." Megan pouted. "You only wore black and white before, and the clothes you are wearing don't match your eyes now. The red doesn't work."

Danny looked down at the clothes he was wearing, it was normal for his human form. His red and white T-shirt and his dark blue jeans. He raised his eyebrow up at the Martian. "But red's my favorite colour."

Robin perked up. "I thought you said it was blue?"

Danny shrugged. "It changes."

"Come on Phantom, Please just let me pick out oneeeee outfit. Only one, I promise." Megan pleaded. Danny looked at her eyes which was a mistake. How were they so big? Probably using a bit of shape-shifting or something. She probably learned the begging tactic from Wally asking for cookies.

"Fine, okay. Just one."

Wally leaned over to him clapping his hand on his shoulder. "Rest in peace man."

Danny grumbled. "That was supposed to be the plan."

Wally chuckled nervously and sped over to his best friend who was closer to the front. He wrapped his arm around Robin's shoulders. The redhead was taller than the acrobat so it was easy. He leaned down to Robin. "You think your old man would be open to adopting another kid who also has a death wish and wants to fight crime?" Danny tilted his head to the side at Wally's comment. He still had some of his enhanced hearing.

He didn't see what expression Robin made, but he kind of shrugged. "I doubt it, I think I was a one-time only thing. B's not much of a kid person. I would be very surprised to see him adopt another one."

"But he looks just like you. Black hair blue eyes."

Robin tilted his head up to Wally. "What would that have to do with anything?"

The speedster waved him off. "Ah fine. I'll figure something else out then. Maybe I can talk to uncle Bary." He put his hand on his chin.

"What? You trying to get him adopted or something?"

Wally threw his hand to the side. "Someone needs to take care of our baby."

Danny ran his hand down his face with a groan.

---

Notes

Beta read by: BrokenBlueHeart

Head cannon, Danny Fenton's favorite colour is Red while Phantom's favorite colour is blue. They don't know why, it's just a slight personality difference.

Thank you all so much for all of your amazing comments on this story, you guys give me so much inspiration and I am always so overjoyed when I read your thoughts on this story! If there are any scenarios that you want to see in the future please comment them! I was stuck with some writer's block for this that's why it took so long to update. I love ya’ll :3

I also hope I didn't get anyone too out of character but we will see, I was kinda having an off time with Megan. But then again this is supposed to be a crack fic, So...

---

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

[lizzywrites1]

Julieta- play the part- so like Julieta pretends to be sick and Agustin helps her get away with it lmao 😁

play the part: [character] pretends to be sick.

Hmm... okay, this may be hard... BUT I'M DETERMINED!!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was all Agustín's idea, so Julieta really only wanted to blame him. Since Casita had been rebuilt, the whole family had been better about not putting so much pressure on themselves when it came to using their gifts. Julieta was very proud of her girls, with Isabela expressing herself how she saw fit, and Luisa spending more time for herself and spending less time wrangling donkeys. Mirabel still helped wherever she could, but she spent just a little more time with her Abuela Alma, rebuilding the relationship that they lost so many years before. All was good, except for the fact that old habits do, in fact, die hard and the healer couldn't take her own advice.

She couldn't find it in her heart to say no. To anyone. Broken arm? She’ll whip something up quick. Stubbed toe? Have an arepa. She was working on straightening up after making breakfast when Agustín walked in.

“You’re still in here? Mi amor. Please. You have to stop at some point.” he stepped up behind her as she only just started washing the dishes and wrapped his arms around her waist. His head rested on her shoulder as she spoke, “Let’s go for a walk, hm? It’s a beautiful day out.

Julieta sighed, “Agustín, you know I can’t leave this like this I-”

“Julieta!” Pépa’s voice range through the courtyard.

But before the healer could answer, her husband put his hand over her mouth. “Follow my lead,” he whispered in Julieta’s ear. Agustín loved his cunada, but he wasn’t about to lose time with his wife to her sister. “Casita,” and with just a word, the water stopped flowing into the basin and a small barrier was put up between Julieta and the dirty dishes.

“Agustín Wilmer Rojas Madrigal, what in the-” but she was caught off guard when Agustín’s hand went to her forehead.

“Julieta, I... are you alright?” Pépa walked into the kitchen to see... just what she saw. Her brother-in-law’s hand splayed across her sister’s forehead. “Do you have a fever?” 

“No, I-”

“She’s warm, but she doesn’t have a fever,” Agustín interrupted his wife again. He really seemed to have a death wish this day. “I was just about to take her upstairs.” Placing a hand on the small of her back, Agustín essentially dragged his wife toward the door. 

“Oh, I was just going to see if you wanted to go to the market with me. But if you aren’t feeling well then you should rest.” Pépa nodded, “Good work, hermano,” she said to Agustín.

He gave Pépa a singular nod before he and Julieta were in the courtyard, but rather than the stairs, he aimed for the back door, leading to the river that flowed behind Casita.

“Okay, first you suggest a walk, then I’m ill, and now we’re headed outside.” she dug her heels into the ground, halting them both. “Tíno, I’m not complaining about spending time with you, but what is your aim here?” 

Agustín took her chin between his forefinger and thumb, turning her face up to his and touching his lips to her own. Her eyes fluttered shut, leaning into him, her hands moving on their own accord and coming to rest on his chest. She nearly whimpered when he pulled away, “I just want you to take some time for yourself, mi conejito...” he looked into her eyes, “And for me?” His eyes seemed to sparkle.

Julieta bit her lip and looked back at Casita... then at her husband... then back to Casita...

“Let’s go before they realize we’re out here.”

Agustín laughed as he was dragged away from the house by his wife. There was no question of where Luisa got her strength from. All of their girls for that matter...

If anyone had looked for them, they didn’t know. After all... she was under the weather and resting in bed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sorry, this took so long! With work and life and things, it took forever. I hope you like it! I really did struggle with this because I can’t see Julieta pretending to be sick. But Agustín taking the brunt of it and lying for her? Heck yes!

[dimmadoome]

I genuinely love Tears of the Kingdom but to the person who thought that we should do shrines AGAIN. I hope you stub your toe every single time you get near a coffee table, I hope you are late to work every day, I hope your coffee's lukewarm and tastes tike the bottom of a toilet, I hope you have a bad time at every party you attend for the rest of your life.

[insomniakingdoom]

Random out of context conversation I had in mind (Yup, it’s happening again)

Wario stubbing his toes: Oh fuck Waluigi gasping and covering Baby Luigi ears: Not in front of the kid! Baby Luigi: FUCK! Waluigi:  Wario: ... run for his life

Waluigi: If anything happen to baby Luigi, I’ll kill everyone in this room and then myself Wario: wtf bro Mario: Just give me back my brother Waluigi: NEVER

Luigi: Oh hey Waluigi: I know what you’re about to say, shut up Luigi: Thanks you Waluigi: uh?  Luigi: You’ve been great with me during this predicament, I don’t know if I would have survived without your intervention Waluigi sight: You were just lucky I was in a good mood Luigi: Awh, uncle, I thought you loved me Waluigi: I’M GOING TO MURDER YOU

Wario: Why do you care about kids that much? Waluigi: Childhood is precious, Wario, it’s an important part of life that will affect you for the rest of your days Wario: And? That doesn’t means you should bother that much Waluigi: ... I didn’t really have a good childhood to be honest, I guess this is just my way to make up for it. Making sure that no others kids suffer the same as I did, yanno?  Wario: Oh... I get it. 

Waluigi: Why the actual fuck is Baby Luigi at the top of the big wheel? Wario: Oh, he wanted to climb Waluigi: And why did you let him? Wario shruging: You said to keep an eye on him, you didn’t specify that I should keep him out of trouble

[galaxythreads]

Asking about the ‘cats’ thing from Stygian to give you an excuse to rant. 😁

thank you. both of you. for giving me the excuse I needed.

OKAY.

strap in. You're now going to learn a Tale. TM.

So. waaay back in the day when I started writing fic in 2016, I was still very much a conservative christian. One of the things about my sect of religion at the time was that swearing is viewed as one of the most disgusting things a human could do. My family would get into lengthy rants about how swearing showed you were an uneducated fool who couldn't come up with a different way to express your frustration. (Because everyone is going to loudly yell "by George stubbing my toe here hurt!" instead of "SH*T!")

So. With this in mind, when I started writing fics, I knew that there was no way under any circumstances, that I would EVER, EVER swear, because I wasn't like the lowly sinners. (sarcasm). I knew how to use language.

Unfortunally, for me, humans are humans. And humans yell things when they're frustrated or scared or hurt, and humans swear. And to write an authentic human in modern-day, you kinda need to accept that otherwise it starts to come off as a little weird. Especially if they're not your characters. Or not religious (but even then).

In some cases, I think I did really well. I was pretty good at using alternatives and it didn't sound too strange when I filtered the language, in others...it stuck out. Badly.

Anyway. I digress. So I had this previous account that I was harassed/bullied off of on ff.net where I wrote about 60 HTTYD stories, and HTTYD has more norse god swearing than anything else, so that worked out great. I wasn't using my god's name in vain and it was a kids show, so why would they be with other curse words???

But then. Well. I started to get more experienced as a writer and I realized that I was lacking in things for the characters to yell beyond "oh THOR" and it was starting to show badly. So you know what I did? I was like "oh! instead of looking at the culture this is based around and find something that would make sense in that context, I'll find a NEW word for them to yell out. That'll sound MORE normal."

So with that I started my Quest TM. (it lasted like five minutes, i really didn't think about it that hard) My parents own this really grumpy, mean cat that I'm allergic to and she caused me a lot of frustration when my eyes would water and my nose would run or just, in general I'd be tormented by allergies when she was in my room. I kinda had a thing against cats in general. SO! That sounded great. But now I needed an in-universe explanation for WHY the characters would be using cat as an exclamation of a curse. So the solution I came up with was that one time--ONE TIME--Hiccup tripped over a cat.

That was it.

No grand drama. No murder, no trauma, nothing. It was LITERALLY just that Hiccup had tripped over a cat one time an OBVIOUSLY this meant that he should spend the rest of his life using it as a curse word BECAUSE WHY NOT, RIGHT?

IT IS SO STUPID.

like the STUPIDEST explanation I could have come up with, period!? And why didn't I just move onto OTHER norse gods if i was so frustrated with only using Thor? There's PLENTY of other ones?????????

SDFLKJSD:FLKJDSF.

Anyway, so I did this for a really long time. It became a habit to use cat instinctively as a curse when I was writing and I didn't think that much of it.

(Really though, I was harrassed/bullied off of my other account for entirely unrelated reasons, but THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN WHY)

When I moved to MCU, this started to sound ridiculous. Why would grown adult men post 2010 be using cat as a curse word? Eventually, it faded out, but I'm 99% sure this was a problem up until 2019. THREE YEARS. For NO REASON. i was angrily lashing out at small cats.

Anyway, so I actually really enjoy swearing now? Like a heathen (sarcasm). My family would shame me if they knew, but sometimes, I have learned, the best word is actually just "sh*t" at the top of your lungs. Not cats.

Thanks for letting me get that out of my system. One day I will go through a03 and delete this stupid, stupid curse with something else, because it's ridiculous.