✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Breast Worship 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

sweater weather

pairing: michael kinsella x fem! reader

word count: 1.3K

tuna-tober prompt: breast worship

summary: you’re michael’s first stop after he’s released from prison.

warnings: mdni 18+! swearing, reader has pierced nipples, breast worship, i have no idea how to write irish dialects, probably poorly edited, idk what else. 🙃

tagging: @yarrystyleeza

a/n: ngl, i struggled writing this one. just wanted to post it to maintain fidelity to the prompt posting schedule. thanks for reading?

The relationship you had with Michael Kinsella was unconventional. You’d been childhood best friends until he drifted towards crime. He always called you an angel because of your ability to always do the right thing. He admired you and wished he could have been more like you and led a simple, quiet life. 

When he went away to prison you would write him letters and visit when you could, you even started a monthly book club together. The time you spent in the visitation room at Mountjoy Prison was sacred to you. The quiet laughter, and smiles yielded to tender hand holding and tight hugs goodbye. You would forgo most things in your life for just one hour with Michael. You developed a deeper relationship through these one on one visits. In your delusional mind, they were like dates to you. Each visit left you craving more of him, more of his touch. Your friends and family all thought it odd that you hadn’t brought a guy around in this span of eight years. You knew it was crazy but you were half in love with Michael Kinsella and wouldn’t entertain the subject of other suitors. 

After a week spent running on empty you sought solace in your home. You had ordered your favorite takeout, read a book and drank some tea while some quiet music played in the background. The aroma of bergamot, mahogany, and musk enveloping your cozy sitting room. As you finally felt your tension melting away, you were ready for sleep. You just finished brushing your teeth you heard a sudden knock on your door.

You open the door without taking a peek and you’re stunned silent as you see Michael standing in your doorway. You heart skipped a beat and your pulse quickened at the sight. 

“Michael,” you say breathlessly. Completely in shock he’s standing before you, and you feel really underdressed for this unexpected visit. He might be fresh from prison, but he looks good in his sweater and jeans. You’re wearing pajama shorts and a tight white t-shirt, not exactly dressed for company. Nevermind the cool air making its way inside, making your permanently hard, pierced nipples, that much more pronounced. 

“Hey pet,” Michael says with a smile looking you up and down. When his eyes land on your hardened nipples he quickly refocuses his gaze back to your face as his cheeks turn pink.

“Didn’t realize ya got out. Come in,” you stand aside offering him permission to enter your home. 

He blinks, smiles, and crosses the threshold, “Just got out a bit ago… Nice place ya got here,” he says as he admires your house. 

“Thanks, I was just gettin’ ready for bed…” you say.

Michael bites his lip and you catch him staring. 

“What’s a girl like ya doin home alone on a Friday night?” Michael asks as his gaze roams your body. Despite his feelings for you, he always encouraged you to not get attached or wait for him. Which you completely ignored, much to his delight.

“Needed a night in to myself,” you say with a small yawn. 

“I just wanted to see ya, and thank ya, yer visits kept me sane while I was locked up. I appreciate what ya did for me while I was in there,” he knows he’s rambling but he’s turning into a blushing, stuttering mess. The sight of you in your tight pajamas with those nipple piercings is driving him mad. He’s half hard already thinking about what they look like and the pretty sounds you’d make with them in his mouth. 

His thoughts devolve quickly into a lustful frenzy, it’s been so long since he’s had a woman. He definitely thought of you during his lonely nights in his cell. 

“Michael, my eyes are up here,” you tease him as you notice his eyes on your chest. 

“Sorry love, I just can’t stop starin’. I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman, but ya look too damn good and I’ve been wantin’ ya for so long,” he sighs as your beautiful figure wears him down. 

“Oh… ya like what ya see, hmm?” You ask playfully. 

“I do. Yeah. When did ya do tha’?” 

“Probably four years ago. Did it on my birthday. Always wanted to.” 

“Never would have figured ya’d be the kinda girl to do something so naughty,” Michael is openly gawking at your chest. 

“Michael. A lot has changed since high school,” you shrug your shoulders with a small laugh.

“I can tell, I like it,” he says as his pupils are blown wide and his face is flushed with desire. 

“Ya want to see them?” You ask cheekily. 

“Can I? Ya’d let me?” He’s biting his lip and looks hopeful like a little boy about to play with his favorite toy. 

You life your shirt up, taking it off in one fluid movement, walking up to him with a smile as you gently push him down onto your couch. Once he’s seated you unbuckle his belt, and unzip his jeans, pulling them down to his knees. You see the outline of his hard cock through his boxers. 

“Can I touch ‘em?” Michael looks up at you pleading. 

You nod your head and say, “I think we’ve waited long enough, Mikey, ya can do whatever ya want tonight. Full consent. I know how bad we both want this. Only wanna make ya feel good and make up for lost time,” you murmur gently in his ear. 

Witt your consent, Michael’s fingers trace the barbells and the perimeter of your perfect nipples. He’s so focused on how utterly perfect your tits are. His thumbs brush over your nipples and you shudder. 

“They make everythin’ a lot more sensitive,” you say with a small moan. 

“Tha’ right?” Mikey asks as he continues to brush his thumbs over your nipples. “So perfect, pet, just like I knew ya’d be.” 

His hands are massaging your tits as he rolls your nipples with his fingers. It’s so pleasurable, and it’s Michael giving you pleasure, something you’ve dreamed about for the longest time. You find your panties are becoming soaked as you grind down on his muscular thigh. 

Testing the water, Michael licks your nipple which pulls the most gorgeous moan from your mouth. 

“Oh, you like tha’?” He teases. 

“Fuck, yeah, I do,” you groan as you grind on him more. 

Your words and noises push him to do more, his little licks turning into full blown sucking on your nipple as his other hand continues to play with the other. He alternates the attention paid to each, ensuring equal attention is paid to your gorgeous breasts. 

Grinding down on his thigh is no longer enough to relieve the tension coiling in your belly. Your hand dips into the waistband of your underwear. They’re soaked through and you’re positive he can feel your slick all over his thigh. You start to rub your clit and this sends Michael over the edge. He’s sucking your tit harder into his mouth, teeth grazing over the barbell, gently tugging to make you lose control. 

“Fuck, Michael, yer mouth feels so good on me. I could come jus’ from this,” you moan as he continues to lavish your breasts with heated attention. 

“Mmm, pet, wanna go to the bedroom to find out what else my mouth can do to ya?” 

You’ve never agreed to anything faster in your life. Before you know it, Michael has you hoisted up, legs wrapped around his waist as he carries you to your bedroom for a night you won’t forget. 

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: READING TO EACH OTHER 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Reading to Each Other 🪻

day one of tuna tober y'all!! i'm SO fricking excited! :D

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: lots of LOTR, tobacco mention, riddles, kissing, cuddles

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. Rain pattered on your apartment's windows, the occasional roll of thunder booming outside. The spiced scent of your pumpkin candle floated through the living room air. Warm light shone from shaded lamps positioned on either end of your green-clothed sofa. A thick, soft blanket was draped over your lap.

You held your worn copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. Images of a dark cave filled with still water and an eerie sense of calm floated from the yellowed pages. Sounds of whispered riddles and shaking hands holding shining jewelry bounced around inside your head. It was nearly impossible to read Tolkien and not get entirely engrossed.

"How's your book?" Leo asked from the other end of the couch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your head snapped up from where you'd been hunched over your book, eyes wide, as you met Leo's amused gaze. A light laugh filtered through his bright smile.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to alarm you," he said, amusement clearly indicating that he wasn't sorry in the slightest. You shook your head and sighed at his antics.

"Uh huh. Sure," you groused with a growing smile.

Leo was equally curled up on his side of the sofa. Fluffy blanket draped across his lap, glasses fitted over his thin nose, copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen balanced in one of his hands. Hazel eyes trailed over the "grumpy" expression you'd forced over your face.

"Anything interesting standing out so far?" he asked, nodding to the book still clutched in your hands.

"I'm at one of my favorite parts, if that's what you mean," you replied as you burrowed deeper into the couch cushions. Leo tucked his bookmark into his novel, then set the book and his glasses on the end table nearest him.

"Care to elaborate?" he pressed with a cocked eyebrow. You bit your lip as you scanned over the pages again. Hisses and riddles and splashes of ground water leapt from the ink. Hmm. Riddles.

"Well, this part is about Bilbo bargaining, with a creature named Gollum, for his life. They're exchanging riddles as a sort of game," you explained, trying your best to not confuse a man who'd never heard of the Lord of the Rings.

"And what riddles are they?" Leo asked with a growing smile. He crossed his legs under his blanket to give you his undivided attention. You glanced between him and the book in your hands.

"You want to try and solve the riddles, or do you want me to read the whole part?"

"Just the riddles," he specified. You hummed in response.

"Alright, just know that they can get pretty tricky," you said in a singsong manner. Leo stared at you with apt interest as you turned to the correct page in your book. Inked words flew past your eyes, descriptions of swords and hobbits and tobacco and goblins filling your mind, nearly sucking you back into the story, before you found the first riddle. You cleared your throat and read, "What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?"

"Has to be a mountain, isn't it?" Leo guessed almost immediately. He seemed rather confident in his answer, dimples digging into his cheeks with how wide his smile had stretched.

"Yup. Mountain," you answered, already thinking of which riddle to do next. Do you be nice and keep giving him the easier ones, or kick it up a notch? He did invent the elevator, after all.

"Give us a harder one, love," he said. That decides it for you, then.

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt. Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, ends life, kills laughter."

Leo blew out a long stream of air, "When I said hard, I didn't mean that hard!"

You refrained from making the obvious joke brewing at the back of your throat. An involuntary giggle leaked from your lips. You tried to play it off by resting your chin in your hand, fingers digging into your lips, to keep yourself quiet.

The room was quiet for a few moments as Leo considered the riddle. Raindrops trailed down the window, rivulets chasing each other and creating long tails that winded up the glass. This Sunday, utterly serene in its quality, was one of many you'd gotten to experience with Leo. Something about him just garnered peace in your life.

"Do I get a hint?" he asked with a sigh. You grinned at him from under your fingers.

"If Bilbo doesn't get a hint, neither do you," you said. Leo groaned, leaning back on the sofa and throwing an arm over his face. You couldn't help the laugh that breezed between your fingers.

"You are undeniably cruel," he grumbled under his arm.

"You wanted a harder riddle," you replied with a shrug. Leo grunted in return, making you laugh again. You waited a few more moments, letting him agonize over the riddle, before you decided to take pity, "What is it when your eyes are closed?"

"The hell are you on about? Is this a part two to the riddle?" Leo groused.

The blanket in your lap pooled into a pile on the floor as you crawled across the couch. Your sweatpants-clad legs framed Leo's hips, your hands running up his sides, as you sat in his lap. He begrudgingly lowered his arm and met your eyes.

"That was a clue. What do you see when you close your eyes?" you repeated as you ran your palms up and down his forearms. Leo's expression softened slightly.

"A spot of mercy," he said, smile returning, "I was wrong in labeling you cruel."

"Yeah yeah, Mr.1876. Just answer the damn riddle," you said as you rolled your eyes. Leo's warm palms found their usual place on your hips.

"You can't see it, feel it, hear it, or smell it. And closing my eyes has something to do with it," he listed, tongue darting across his bottom lip. A few more moments filled with pondering passed.

"For god's sake," you breathed as you clapped your hand over his eyes. The two of you had been together for so long that the action had hardly surprised him. You waited for a moment in hope that this obvious clue would help. Being met with only silence, you said, "What do you see right now?"

"Your hand, for one," Leo quipped back. He flinched with a laugh when you pinched him with your free hand.

"Close your frickin' eyes, Leo."

Silence settled over the two of you. Warm, comfortable, charged with amusement at your situation. Only Leo's smile could be seen from under your hand. His thumbs tucked under the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's dark," he finally said. You gave him a few moments to connect the dots. A gasp shook his chest, "Dark! That's the answer!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" you exclaimed as you dropped your hand from his eyes.

Pure elation crinkled in the corners of his hazel eyes. He hugged you closer to his chest, a laugh shaking where your bodies met. You couldn't help but join in. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Do I get a prize for so effortlessly solving the riddle?" Leo asked with a hint of sarcasm after the two of you had calmed a bit.

"I'm deducting points for the use of a hint," you hummed, feigning consideration at his question.

"And those points, will they affect the prize I know I've earned?"

You answered his question by pressing your lips to his. Both smiling, both clinging to the other with absolute adoration, the occasional giggle buzzing between you.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. It was raining outside, your candle had burnt down to the wick, and you were cradled in Leo's lap as you both read your respective books. Your back to his chest, blanket draped over both of your laps, his cheek rested on the crown of your head. Every now and then you'd read a part of your book aloud, garnering the same in return from Leo.

AHHHHHHHHH this is so frickin cute i might CRY!!! happy tuna tober everyone!!!

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Playful Kiss🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 13 - Playful Kiss

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 636 Content: Fluff, Gojo being Gojo, some more of Gojo and reader at Jujutsu High together Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: I had a completely different idea for playful kiss, but that was only after I had finished writing this one. It still plays out the same, but it's a different situation. . . I might post it separately from the Tuna-Tober prompts 👀. Be sure to like, reblog and comment if you wanna read more like this!

You always had a set of rules when it came to sparring with Satoru Gojo.

He couldn’t use his infinity.

You had to stay within school grounds.

You couldn’t use your technique against him.

Fairly simple rules and you both stuck to it pretty well. You wanted to improve on your hand to hand combat and Gojo needed to be less reliant on his infinity to keep him safe. You keep reminding him of that but he always shrugs your concern off; he’s the strongest after all, he doesn’t need to improve.

You only needed those three rules. . . until the incident.

Gojo has you pinned down flat on the training grounds, a teasing smile on his face.

“And here I thought you wanted to improve,” He looks down at you, “But now I get to look at you pinned underneath me.” You flush and look away from him. He’s been flirting with you for a few months now but he never once acts on it. Embarrassment washes over you as you think about how easily his words have an affect on you even after all this time.

“One more round?” You mutter, still not looking towards him.

He stands up and reaches a hand down to you, “Only if you can handle losing to this pretty face again,” You smack his hand away and get up on your own.

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” You wipe the dirt off your face as you start to prepare yourself. 

He tilts his head to the side, standing in a casual position, not even bothering to put a single ounce into this fight. You run up towards him and he immediately dodges your attack, ducking down and moving to his left. 

“Come on pretty, I know you’re better than that,” He brings his arm up to block your leg from kicking into his face.

He tries to grab onto your ankle but you run past him before he has the chance. The only thoughts running through your brain are different strategies on how to catch him off guard.

Run up behind him? No, his six eyes tell him everything he needs to know about where you are. 

Maybe a black flash? You definitely don’t have enough cursed energy built up to do that yet.

You could always. . . kiss him. . .  

The thought enters your brain and you still for a moment. You turn around and Satoru is ready to pin you back down to the ground but before he can, your hands grab onto his collar and you kiss him.

His eyes widen before they close and he starts kissing you back, his hands wrapping around you. Before he can hold onto you, you push your arms against his, pull away from him and pin him to the ground.

Your face is a bright shade of crimson as he looks at you with shock.

“See I told you I-I’d win this time, I just-” you catch your breath, “I-I needed to-” 

He pulls you down to him and he kisses you again, more urgently this time. You stiffen, but as you keep kissing your body relaxes into his.

“You didn’t win that by the way,” Satoru says in between kisses. You pull away from him, his hands resting on your hips.

“I did win, thank you.”

“You cheated,” He says matter of factly, trying to lean you back down to his lips but you straighten up.

You bring your hands down on his chest, “I didn’t!”

“You kissed me, it doesn’t count!”

You argue about if you won or not and in the end Gojo decides to be nice and let you have the win. Now there’s a fourth rule between you two during sparring, no kissing each other.

You've both broken that rule more times than you can count.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Open your mouth." 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 9 - “Open your mouth.”

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 973 Content: Fluff, Gojo being Gojo (I think that’s a fair warning), a little taste of Gojo and Reader taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki after they graduated from Jujutsu High! Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: I definitely didn’t miss a day, what are you talking about??? (No I did and it was because I tried contacts for the first time ever. It gave me such a horrible headache, but I’m doing better today which is nice. I know I still need to complete day 3, 4 and now 8; I’m on it, don’t worry!)

October 2008

“Gojo, we need to go home.”

“The kids want a snack, don’t you guys?” Gojo looks back at Tsumiki and Megumi. Megumi just rolls his eyes at Gojo while Tsumiki trips over her feet. You quickly grab her hand before she falls over. You shoot a glare at Gojo as he gives you an embarrassed smile.

“We should eat though. It’ll bring back our energy!” Gojo mentions as you all come to a stop right in front of a cafe.

“How convenient.” You mutter, “Fine but we should get home soon, it’s nearing the kids bedtime.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Gojo smiles, “Bedtimes and all that- let’s eat!”

He practically shoves you all into the cafe, but you can’t complain. You were starting to feel hungry and you knew that your patience would keep getting shorter the longer you went without getting something to eat.

Gojo puts all of your shopping bags to a little fourtop and sits down. You bring the kids with you in tow and give him a look as the kids join him at the table.

. . . “What?”

“You’re sitting down,”

“So?”

“You wanted to eat here. You order the food.”

“What?! But I bought all of the clothes today.”

“And we didn’t even make a dent in your fortune.”

“Hmmmm,” Gojo looks into the bags, “I think we might have.” He nods his head. Tsumiki holds back a laugh while Megumi deflates in his chair. Megumi gets out of his chair and goes to hold your hand.

“I’ll help.” He tells you.

“Thank you Megumi, at least someone will help me out.”

Gojo’s face drops, “Wha-?” He looks over at Tsumiki who starts giggling.

“Maybe I’ll help you too!” She mentions through her fit of giggles.

“But who will watch over me?!” Gojo asks exasperatedly, throwing a hand to cover his eyes in a dramatic way. You bring a hand up to your head and try to rub the oncoming headache.

“Tsumiki it’s alright, someone does need to look after Satoru after all,” He perks up, “Do you just want your usual?”

“Yes-”

“I was talking to Tsumiki, Gojo.”

“HA?!”

“Yes please!” Tsumiki responds. You nod your head at her and take Megumi up towards the counter. As you’re waiting in line you lift him up and have him sit on your hip, knowing how tired he’s been. He wouldn’t show it intentionally but you could tell it’s been a long day for him too. His eyes have been drooping and his head keeps snapping back straight up.

When you pick him up at first he goes stiff, unsure of what’s happening, but as you get him in a good position he relaxes, wrapping his arms around your neck and letting his legs go around your torso. Once you get up to the counter, you buy four hot chocolates, a few sandwiches, a slice of cinnamon coffee cake and a blueberry muffin (putting it all on Gojo’s card of course).

As you walk over by the waiting area you take a glance at Gojo and Tsumiki. She’s coloring something in one of the coloring books that Gojo bought for her a few weeks back and Gojo is sulking. You shake your head, he’s probably upset that you didn’t ask for his order.

Your name is called and you go to grab the order, “Ready Megumi?”

He nods his head as you put him back onto the ground. You both walk up to the counter, you pick up the tray with the four hot chocolates and hand it to him, “You got it?”

“Yeah,”

You smile at him as he carefully walks back to the table, careful to not spill any of the hot chocolate. You grab the food you ordered as well as some forks and knives and quickly follow behind Megumi. Once you both make it to the table, Gojo smiles seemingly done sulking. You place everything on the table and give both kids a hot chocolate and their sandwiches.

They thank you and start eating quickly. You hand Gojo the cinnamon coffee cake and you start to eat the blueberry muffin. Before Gojo takes a bite of the cake, you quietly moan, covering your mouth. You didn’t mean to moan but with how delicious the food is you couldn’t help yourself.

It was utterly decant and just what you needed for a snack.

You see Gojo open his mouth in shock, nearly dropping his fork but quickly grabbing it again. You give him a confused look and he gives you a smirk.

“Here~” He holds out the fork with a bite of the cinnamon coffee cake.

“What are you doing? You never share.”

“I want to this time. Come on,” He tilts his head to the side, his smirk getting wider (if possible), “Open your mouth.”

He brings the fork closer to your mouth and against your better judgment you do as Gojo says. You bite down on the fork and he takes it out of your mouth, waiting to see your expression.

You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, but your eyes go wide and then they close as you savor the flavor. It wasn’t like anything you’ve eaten before, just pure and utter bliss. You sigh contentedly and open your eyes to see Gojo looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No-

Tsumiki and Megumi look at each other knowingly as you and Gojo continue to avoid talking about what’s really going on between the two of you.

Maybe one day Gojo will actually admit to himself that he had feelings for you, but for now he’ll keep teasing you until you lightly hit him. Because you’re never truly that mad at him, because maybe you have feelings for him too.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: INSOMNIA 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Insomnia🩸🌧️

some lore for vampire!!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 2.0k

Warnings: angst, nightmares, PTSD struggles, cursing, alcohol mention, Logan is a Flirt (i guess?)

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You woke with a start. Heart pounding against your ribs so hard you swore they would crack. Sweat dripped down your forehead and the back of your neck. The pale blue sheets draped across your bed were tangled with every limb they could wrap around.

Wooden walls and antique furniture met your frantic gaze as your eyes darted around the room. Your room. In Charles Xavier's mansion. Where you'd lived for several decades at this point.

The concrete walls of your cell in Washington, DC were a thing of the past. Rust-colored blood stains splashed across the floors, slivers of light leaking through the metal door, spiders making a home in the upper corners. You were free of that life.

So why did you still dream of it?

The muscles in your neck groaned as you sat up against your headboard. You were tense, anxiety oozing into your blood. Your head made a thunk when you let it fall back against the headboard.

Nightmares weren't a foreign concept to you. Almost every night, your mind would be filled with your past. Flashes of pain and terror and blood. Scenes replaying over and over, night after night, tormenting you with long claws digging into your mind and scratching your sanity away.

You needed to walk. To clear your head, to calm your pulse.

Unwinding your legs from the sheets was like pulling the limbs from a nest of angry snakes. You tugged at the fabric in near desperation. It clung to your clammy skin, restricting you, restraining you, keeping you captive.

Breathe.

The memory of Charles's calming voice gave you pause. Your eyes fell closed, a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Air blew from your pursed lips as you released the tension from your shoulders.

You were safe. Nothing could hurt you here. Your friends were here, your kids were here, the life you'd built with bloodied fingernails was here. Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Charles would never let anything happen to you.

Now that the shaking in your fingers had subsided, it was quick work to pull your sheets away. The damp fabric fell away like clouds on a windy day. You pushed yourself to your feet. A tremble ran up your legs, unsteady feet finding purchase on the hardwood floor. You gave yourself a few moments to find your balance.

The cold of the untouched floor seeped into the balls of your feet, grounding you. Bringing you back to the present. You were in the mansion. You were safe. The mantra repeated in your mind as you scooped up your sweatshirt from the end of your bed.

Grey cotton filled your hands. Soft, comfortable, familiar. You wore this sweatshirt nearly every day. Finding solace among the plush fabric that shielded you from your own mind. The fleece interior tickled along your arms as you pulled it on. Like securing a piece of armor, you tugged at the zipper until you were completely encompassed.

You made for the bedroom door as you pulled up the hood. Fabric cradled your head, acting like horse blinders and centering your focus, while your fingers wrapped around the brass knob. Cold metal caressed your palm like a frozen kiss.

Another strained breath forced itself through your lips as you pulled open the door. Empty halls decorated in plush carpets, large vases, and dimmed sconces met your tired eyes. All of the wooden doors lining the hall were shut tight. Made sense, given it was the middle of the night.

Bare feet padded along the patterned carpet as you walked. You kept your focus zeroed in on the design woven into the fibers. Spiraling leaves and floating flowers chased each other across the artwork. Faded reds and golds braided amongst one another. You remembered buying this particular rug. In spring of 1983, when you and Charles had been decorating the mansion together.

The fond memory of your shopping spree with your closest friend kept your thoughts comfortable. You clung to the feeling, holding it close to your chest, as you followed the routine path to your destination. Framed paintings of stretched landscapes passed in your periphery not covered by your sweatshirt's hood.

Moonlight shone in gentle rays through the balcony's glass doors. Silver bounced off the polished hardwood and gave the surrounding space a comforting glow. You grabbed one of the iron door handles and pushed out into the night air.

It was cold. Nearly biting, the breeze blowing across your face in brief nips over your sensitive skin. Barren trees spotted along the vast lawns of the mansion. Just barely green grass flowed in an ocean of waving blades under the moonlight. The empty duck pond was still, the water calm, where it sat far off to your right.

Directly beneath the balcony was the dried-up vegetable garden Jean liked to maintain. The tomato plants had withered earlier in the month, with the green beans and peas following closely after. Winters in New York were not to be trifled with when it came to gardening.

You leaned against the metal railing. Chilled metal dug into the fabric of your sweatshirt and leeched the cold into your skin. Though, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was grounding. A reminder of where you called home now.

There was a special sort of peace to be found on this balcony. Especially since during the colder months, it often went untouched. The small table and chair off to your left remained vacant for the vast majority of fall and winter. Not many students preferred the view from the balcony over the comfort of the common areas.

Crisp air filled your lungs as you took in your first deep breath. It poured down your throat like cool water, pooling in your chest and spreading through your body. Tendrils of gentle water ran under your skin. Telling you that you were safe, that you were home, that you were loved. The night air often was the exact thing you'd needed to calm your mind.

It seemed easy to forget your past, now that the comforting chill coursed through your body. Days spent locked away from the world were distant memories. Like glimpses of another life through a thick fog. Flashes of chains and blood were tucked safely away behind a wall of moonlight.

"Mind if I join you?"

You spun on your heel to face this intrusion. This brutal slash through the comforting silence you'd so carefully cultivated.

Logan stood in the open doorway. Sweatshirt that matched yours clinging to his chest, jeans hung low on his waist, dark hair styled in those two points that reminded you of cat ears. A playful smirk tugged at his lips.

"Why?" was all that could escape your throat in your startled state. Your palms dug into the rail as you squeezed at the metal behind you.

The smirk remained firmly in place as Logan sauntered through the doorway. His hands were clutched behind his back, the top of his sweatshirt unzipped to expose his bare chest, hazel eyes catching in the moonlight as he looked at you with faint curiosity.

"Figured you could use some company, seeing's as you're out here on your own an' all," he replied easily. He kept a healthy distance from you as he approached. Long fingers trailed over the table's surface, dragging freshly-formed drops of dew in their wake.

You chuckled lightly in an attempt to mask your wariness, "Trying to make friends on your first day?"

"Something like that," he said softly, stepping up next to you near the railing. Thick arms rested on the iron as Logan mimicked your earlier position. One leg crossed over the other, chest leaning on bent elbows, half-lidded eyes surveying the landscape.

Mirroring him, you turned back to the vegetable garden. Wooden stakes jutted up from the earth like small saplings. Dry brush and long-rotted vegetables lay strewn inside the dirt beds.

An easy silence rested between you, disturbed only by the wind rustling the barren branches of nearby trees. Undeniable warmth spread from the man next to you. Like he was a furnace placed on the balcony to make anyone taking in the view nice and cozy. You could nearly feel the heat spreading from his arms and into the railing beneath you.

"You get nightmares too, huh?" Logan finally asked after several quiet minutes. It wasn't unkind, they way he phrased the question. It was more curious. An offering of relation between the two of you.

"Most nights," you answered simply. A low hum of recognition rumbled deep in his chest.

"Every night, for me. Can never remember them, though," he said with a sigh. You noticed the repetitive tap of his pointer finger on the back of his hand. Nervous tick, maybe.

"Seems we're both pretty fucked up," you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Logan barked a quiet laugh.

"You could say that again."

The kinship you felt with him was like nothing you'd ever felt before. From what Jean had discovered earlier, Logan couldn't age. Neither could you. Logan had a troubled past he couldn't fully remember. You had a troubled past, but one you remembered all too well. Logan was the product of experimentation and years of heartache. You were the result of decades under the thumb of the U.S. government, forced to torture POWs during WWII.

Maybe there was finally someone who could understand you. Understand what you've been through.

Charles did the best he could. He was the only one in the mansion anywhere near as old as you. Unfortunately, you still had 27 years on the great Professor X.

"Do they have alcohol in this place?" Logan grumbled with a tired groan. His head fell to rest on his forearms. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Not readily available to newcomers, bud. Play your cards right and you may be shown the secret stash," you said with a dramatic whisper. Logan's shoulders shook with a chuckle, shaking his head where it laid on his arms.

"And what cards would those be? We talkin' blackjack, poker, or go fish?" he replied as he straightened his back. Hazel eyes connected with your own. A spark of familiarity flashed in your mind.

Conversation flowed so damn easily with Logan. It was like talking to your reflection. A male, ruggedly handsome, 6'2" without shoes reflection. The sense of relaxation you felt around this man you'd met this morning wasn't a fact to be taken lightly.

Was this part of his mutation? Getting others to trust him? It wouldn't be too far out of left field. Hell, you could pop people like balloons with your mutation. Manipulating others' emotions wasn't that strange of an idea.

"Y'alright, doll? Suddenly got quiet," Logan asked softly, breaking you away from your swirling thoughts.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, I just... Zone out sometimes," you explained quickly in one breath.

You jumped as a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Strong, heat bleeding from the large palm into your skin. An involuntary shiver rocketed up your spine.

"Seems like I ain't the only one needing a drink," Logan said with a small smile. The effortless kinship that emanated from him was nearly intoxicating. Reeling you in on an invisible fishing line. Clouding your judgement with a haze of quickly developing trust.

You should pull away. Nothing good could come from falling into friendship this fast. Decades of being a mutant had taught you that intentions weren't always what they'd seemed. A person could be offering you a hand only to shove you into oncoming traffic.

"Know what? A drink sounds great right now," you murmured as you stepped back. Logan's hand fell from your shoulder like a dead weight. You turned on your heel to lead him inside.

Maybe if you pumped this guy full of liquor, you'd be able to tell where his head was at. Why was he being so nice to you? Especially after you'd heard how he'd acted around Scott? You hugged your rapidly chilling sweatshirt closer to your body.

Logan Howlett. "The Wolverine." You'd get to the heart of what made him tick soon enough.

and she doooooes >:) i LOVE my babies so much. exploring their relationship in its entirety is SO FUCKING FUN!!!

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: WATER GUN FIGHT🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 5 - Water Gun Fight

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 646 Content: : Fluff, no use of y/n, Reader is the second year teacher at Jujutsu High, I kept using the word splash so many times so I apologize in advance, this takes place about a week after the Exchange event so sometime in September 2018 Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: And here's day 5's entry. . . 30 minutes before the day ends haha. Enjoy!!

“KUGISAKI DON’T-!”

“WE HAVE THE HIGH GROUND ITA-ITIOT!”

“no, don’t, stop, come back-”

“You’re not helping Fushiguro!”

Watching Nobara sprinting out from their hiding spot, followed closely by Yuji and Megumi, you smile to yourself, “Glad to see they’re having fun.” 

“I know; I have the best ideas, don’t I?” Gojo grins, spinning a water gun around his finger. Your smile quickly vanishes and you give him a look. “What?!” He responds.

“Uh-huh. . .” Your attention goes to the three second years, who are perfectly setting a trap to get the first years.

Gojo somehow convinced Yaga to allow them to do a water gun fight before the weather got too cold. He claimed it would help with their teamwork skills but you knew how Gojo felt about teamwork and jujutsu; it was pointless bullshit. Regardless, the kids needed a break, and what’s more fun than a water gun fight.

It was decided that this fight would be treated like a paintball fight. The first years have water that’s colored red while the second years’ water is colored blue. You set a charm on their water guns that would keep them refilled so they won’t worry about running out of water during their battle. It also saved Ichiji from having to recolor a new batch of water every time. 

You notice Toge moving his uniform away from his face, “Don’t move!” There he goes.

“SHIT!”

“Fushiguro?!”

“I got him!” Panda yells, pointing his water gun towards Fushiguro who’s stood frozen in place.

His face is contorted in anger, his movements are short and stiff. The more he tries to move the faster he’ll be able to have a full range of motion again. . . Right?

But doing that risks Yuji and Norbara getting hit too-

SPLASH!

“Panda you’re out!” Gojo calls out.

Panda groans, “It’s gonna take forever for this dye to get out of my fur!!” 

Yuji stands proudly, grinning at Megumi, “I’ve got your back Fushiguro!”

SPLUSH! SPLASH!

“Yuji! Megumi! You’re out.” You yell, leaning up against a tree. 

“Why is it sticky?” Megumi asks.

“I mixed in something a little special~” Maki teases.

“Salmon roe!” Toge adds, and Megumi makes a face.

“What is it?” Yuji asks and Megumi shakes his head, “You don’t want to know.” He mutters.

“Now where’s Kugisaki-?” Maki starts but then- SPLASH!

“Toge you’re out-“

“AH- HA!” SPLASH!!

“HA?!” Maki exclaims. You and Gojo look between each other, unable to tell who hit who first. Both are covered in purple dye and they both look like they’re gonna kill each other.

You try your best not to laugh at the two of them but a snicker does escape from your lips. Gojo is too busy laughing his ass off to give them a clear winner, which only makes them more pissed off.

“If there’s no clear winner then. . .” Megumi starts, “then you guys have to fight for us!” Yuji finishes.

“Huh?”

“I’m not doing that-“

“It would be too easy of a fight-“

“WHAT?! Maki hand me your water gun!”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you hon~” 

The blue water just floats around him as he just smiles at you. Stupid infinity.

“Water is harmless!”

“Why would I want to get wet? So you know how expensive my clothing is? Are you gonna buy me new-?”

He stills as you appear suddenly in front of him, you lightly touch his arm; he always puts his infinity down around you. . . You’re not sure why he does, but it helps you out now though.

SPLASH!

“DAMN IT!!” You cry out, drenched in red liquid.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t take Nobara’s water gun? She threw it at me earlier when she was mad. Maaaaaan, you really don’t pay close enough attention sweetheart-“

You punch him with a black flash, throwing him halfway across the school’s campus. Damn him.

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: Sharing an Umbrella🐟✨

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Sharing an Umbrella🪻

leo my love...

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 499

Warnings: cursing

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

The New York City streets were bathed in swathes of neon lights, refracted by rain pelting the asphalt. Deep puddles lined the sidewalks like coursing streams. Small waterfalls leaked off rooves and gutters onto the pedestrians going about their business on this dreary day.

You and Leo were walking, hand in hand, from your shared apartment to your favorite bakery a few blocks down. A royal purple umbrella was held in Leo's hand to shield the two of you from the downpour. At one point your head had landed on his shoulder, the two of you huddled under your shelter.

Easy banter flowed between you. Talk of which coffee is the best, the correct way to cook an egg, and other menial discussions passed in clouded breaths. A dull chill had settled amongst the raindrops. It clung to your jackets in gusts of humid air. The cold burrowed through the wool material of your coat and started to seep into your bones.

Luckily, the bakery was in sight, the comforting glow from the windows shining on the pavement just on the other side of the road. You and Leo waited at the corner while the crosswalk sign flashed red. A small crowd of disgruntled New Yorkers gathered around the two of you.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Leo asked a shivering woman to his right. She threw him a squinted glare, crow's feet deepening as she narrowed her eyes. Her disdain was met with Leo's signature, bright smile.

Green illuminated the gloom as you dragged your partner away. You sighed, shaking your head at his antics. He knew exactly what he was doing. Leo just relished in messing with people in inconsequential ways.

"I think she liked me," he mused, rainboots splashing in the curb's puddles. White stripes lined the crosswalk between you and your destination.

"Uh huh, yes dear," you returned with an air of sarcasm.

Leo answered your remark by dumping the rain that'd collected on the top of the umbrella over your head. You squealed, darting away and across the street, now thoroughly drenched. His boisterous laugh followed you as you hopped up onto the curb. Rainwater dripped from the hem of your coat onto the slick pavement.

"Asshole!" you called over the crowd. A few sideways glances were directed your way at the shout. It was only a few moments before the much drier Leo joined you on the sidewalk.

"Apologies, my dear. The handle must've slipped," he said through a knowing smirk.

"You're buying me coffee for that," you grumbled, not truly mad at him. How could you be? Even just being in his proximity made your brief annoyance leak from you into the puddles. And he knew it, too. That mischievous glint never left his hazel eyes whenever he was near.

"I'll even throw in a pastry," he added lightly. His warm hand brushed a trail of rain from the side of your face. You leaned into the touch, every trace of tension sapped from your body.

this is short and sweet :)

taglist: @just-a-nightdreamer @www-interludeshadow-com @lemurianstarship @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @amphitrite-5 @yarrystyleeza @theestorm @being-worthy

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✨🐟PROMPTS FILLED: "Are you blushing?" + Love Bites🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Day 4 - Dusty Rose

Prompt: 4 - “Are you blushing” + 6 - Love Bites Character: Matt Murdock Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader Word Count: 728 Warnings: Referenced sexual activity, swearing, teasing Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Dusty Rose

Matt just wanted to surprise you with breakfast.

It seemed like his plans were going off without a hitch. He had left you sleeping, naked and sated, in the bed while he dressed himself and silently slipped out of your room. He left no note, confident in his ability to return before you woke up. While Nevermore wasn’t the closest coffee shop, it was usually less busy at this hour than the Coffee Crab.

His first clue that something might be gone awry was the number of girls who giggled when he walked past them. A few wasn’t unusual but it seemed like every girl he passed ended up giggling and whispering to her friends comments like ‘true facts’ or ‘absolutely agree’. 

And he had no idea why.

It was a little tempting to stop someone and ask what was so funny. But he had a limited time to complete his mission so he decided to ignore it.

As predicted, Nevermore wasn’t too busy. The giggling continued to follow him but he continued to ignore it. Right up until he heard Foggy’s familiar heartbeat walked into the cafe and immediately began to snort like he was trying not to laugh. He had almost regained control of himself when he joined Matt at the back of the line. Only to immediately struggle again.

“Hey buddy,” Foggy said, throwing his arm over Matt’s shoulder. “Have fun last night?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, attempting to sound nonchalant. “Got a lot of studying done while I was sexiled from our room.”

“I’m sure,” Foggy said, his tone extremely skeptical. “Didn’t know you were taking biology this semester.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Dude, you’re wearing your girlfriend’s sweatpants,” Foggy said.

“What?!” Matt felt the pants and realized that Foggy was right. He had been so concerned about not waking you that he grabbed the wrong sweatpants out of the drawer . . .

“Which sweatpants?” he asked, having a sudden horrifying suspicion.

The grin spreading across Foggy’s face was clear as he answered, “Bright pink with ‘hot stuff’ written in red across the ass.”

Matt felt the blood flooding his face and knew he was blushing.

“Also . . .”

“There’s more?!”

Foggy couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “Foggy!”

“That vee neck you’re wearing is showing off those hickies running down your neck. Didn’t know your girl was such a vampire.”

He hadn’t been unaware of those little bruises forming last night but he had been rather . . . distracted. “Oh . . . didn’t realize they’d be so visible.”

“Curse of that pale Irish skin, buddy,” Foggy said with a mixture of real and pretend sympathy. “Hickies are the most vivid purple on the planet. And you all but glow in the dark when you blush.”

This only brought more blood rushing to his cheeks. “That bad?”

“Your face is almost as red as the lettering on those pants.”

Foggy was momentarily prevented from further teasing by them reaching the counter. And thank all that was holy and good, the barista was utterly professional the entire time. Matt was able to get his order and walk back to your dorm with what little dignity he had left.

That you had woken up before he could return only added to his disappointing morning.

“Hey Matty,” you called out. He knew when you had spotted the sweatpants mishap by the quickly stifled laughter.

“You can laugh, sweetheart,” he said with a sigh. “Everyone else has.”

You immediately took him up on that offer. Managing to say between giggles, “Can’t say I disagree with those pants.”

Matt grumbled a little as he held out your coffee.

“Matty, are you blushing?”

“No,” he immediately denied.

“I don’t know, Matty,” you said, pretending to be thoughtful. “That dusty rose looks an awful lot like a blush to me.”

“It’s your imagination.” Which only made you laugh at him again.

“What woke you up?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

“E-mail notification,” you said. “Our morning class was canceled.”

“Really?”

“Yep, nowhere to be until noon.”

“Darn, I could have slept in.”

“You could get some more sleep, if you want,” you said. “Or . . .”

“Or?” he asked huskily, feeling his cock swell as your scent of your arousal began to fill the air.

You let your robe drop to the floor. Leaving you naked once more. His mouth watered.

“Or you can fuck me, Hot Stuff.”

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✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: FALLING ASLEEP AT THE HOSPITAL 🐟✨

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Day 1 - Why?

Prompt(s): 1 - Falling Asleep at the Hospital Character: Frank Castle Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader Word Count: ~600 Warning: Injury, blood, referenced canon character deaths, implied PTSD Tags: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist

Why?

Frank was sitting, your hand clasped tightly in his.

Unlike previous occasions, the chair was uncomfortable. Made of that hard molded plastic that numbed his ass within ten minutes of sitting in it. And too small for his long legs. It felt like his knees were level with his ears. But worse than the chair was that your hand wasn’t holding his back. It was limp.

Warm and limp, thankfully. The soft beep-beep of the heart monitor was reassuringly steady. The docs had said you should recover just fine. Frank hadn’t really understood what the surgeon had said but he understood the bottom line. That the bullet hadn’t done as much damage as was initially feared. You had lost a lot of blood but you’d live. Just a scar and PT to help keep your damaged shoulder as mobile as possible.

You were lucky.

It didn’t feel lucky. What would have been lucky is you not getting shot in the first place. What would have been lucky was Frank noticing that fucking bastard pointing a gun at him before you did. Once again, he swore viciously as himself for not seeing the danger until it was too late. Too late to stop you from pushing him out of the way. Always too damn late. It was his curse.

Frank blinked. Sleep was dragging at him. He had been awake for well over a day by this point. But he fought it. He knew what awaited him.

The vivid crimson blossoming across your white shirt like a gruesome flower, that soft ‘sorry’ as you lost consciousness, feeling your pulse slow under his hands . . . it would be joining the image of Maria so horribly still, her hair so black against that green-green grass . . . . the feeling of his son’s brains splattered across his chest . . . that gaping maw where his little girl’s face should have been . . .

Another pair of dead eyes staring accusingly at him, bloody lips demanding Why? Why didn’t you protect me? Why didn’t you save me from this? Why?

Why? That was the question that kept running around his brain. Why? Why did you do that? Why did you sacrifice yourself for him? Almost died for him? Why? He was a killer. A monster. A monster who hunted other monsters but still a monster. Nobody should be giving their life to save him. 

Especially not you. Not you. Not for him. Not for anyone.

He shook himself and made a silent vow. Never again. You were never taking another bullet for him. You were never going to bleed for him again. He didn’t care what he had to do to accomplish it but you were going to outlive him. 

He wasn’t burying anyone else. He refused. He’d fight God if he had to.

Just like he’d fight sleep. You had almost died. He wasn’t leaving you unguarded.

He almost ignored the notification chime on his phone. But so few people had that number, he ended up looking at the text message.

Red: Go to sleep, Frank. I’m standing watch.

He scowled. Tempted to tell him to fuck off. But practicality won out. He couldn’t stay awake forever. And he knew just how persistent Red was. Anyone coming after you would have to kill the bastard to stop him. And that was annoyingly difficult to do . . . Red was like the world’s worst cockroach. Not even a building collapsing on him could get rid of him.

Another chime. Red: Frank, sleep. Now.

“Bossy,” Frank muttered as he shifted into a - somewhat - more comfortable position in the chair, knowing full well that Red could hear him.

Red: K will be by in the morning with fresh clothes for you both. Goodnight, Frank.

He glared at the phone. Smug little . . . he made a mental note to kick his ass. Later. For now, Frank closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.

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✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: "Why? Why do you love me?" + Flower Crowns 🐟✨

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You’re My Red Rose

Description: After years of hiding his feelings, Slash admits them to Axl with the help of flower crowns.

Relationship: Axl Rose x Slash

Prompt: “Why? Why do you love me?”, Flower Crowns (Day 2)

(Axl and Slash are both 18 years old in this fic and seniors in high school)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1980

Axl was lying his head on Slash’s lap, smoothing his hand through the wet grass of the meadow. The sun was starting to set. He admired Slash’s strong jawlines and sweet, brown eyes while Slash was doing something with the flowers they had picked earlier.

Life was getting hard to live. Slash’s kindness and beauty ade it worth living. He wouldn’t be able to handle a universe where he would be without his chocolate eyes, his sweet voice, or his smooth skin. From the very first day they met two years before in the 10th grade, Slash always made him feel at peace.

“Look what I made you,” Slash announced, lifting his creation up to show him.

Axl sat up. It was a flower crown made with twigs tied together and bits of daisies, roses, dandelions, and lilies. Slash placed it on top of Axl’s head. It was a perfect fit.

“How do I look?” Axl asked.

It didn’t take long for Slash to answer. “Cute.”

“Cute?” Axl furrowed his eyebrows.

Axl’s face went hot. He always thought Slash was attractive, but he didn’t know if the feelings were mutual. During school hours, Slash and Axl barely saw each other due to their conflicting class schedules. Whenever he did, a girl was always hanging from his arms. He was a ladies’ man. The girls loved him and he never rejected them, so calling him cute surprised and confused him greatly.

“Yes, cute. Beautiful actually.” He caressed his cheek. “From the first time I saw you, I always thought that. It’s probably way too early to say these very strong words, but I don’t care. Life is short to dwell. I love you.”

Axl’s heart pounded in his chest. “Why? Why do you love me? What about all those girls you were drooling over?”

“I was putting on a show because I was still figuring out who I was. I love you because you brought out the real me. I love you because you’re not afraid to be you around me. I love you because you’re Axl. Do you love me? You can say no. I won’t be upset if you do.”

Axl pulled him close, bringing him into a kiss. Before pulling away, Slash licked his lips.

“I do love you, Slash. I don’t have that many words to show it, but I do.”

Axl straddled his legs around Slash’s waist. They pressed their foreheads together, enjoying this moment between them. There was this weird feeling that someone was watching them. Axl moved back and looked in the distance. A dark and tall silhouette was standing next to a tree about 30 feet away from where he and Slash were.

It was his older stepbrother, Andrew.

His heart dropped into his stomach. His stepbrother most definitely saw everything that just happened.

“I-I have to go. My parents would be worried.” Axl stood in a hurry.

“See you tomorrow.”

Axl nodded. He didn’t want to go home. Their stepfather was there. Andrew would tell him what he saw without any consideration for what would happen. But he had to go. Axl met up with Andrew, who stared at him with a smirk.

“Is that your little boyfriend?” Andrew asked in a teasing tone.

“No, he’s just my friend.” Axl kept his head down as they walked to their trailer.

“That’s not what I saw. You know Dad will blow a gasket when he hears about this.”

“Please, don’t tell him. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Nah, Dad doesn’t like when we keep secrets.”

Tears streamed down his face as they walked home. There was no convincing him. Andrew was a miniature version of his father. He loved seeing him in pain.