#I just. fuckin. love. entirely covering an area in something.

[ghosts-cyphera]

Solace

╰﹒from his lips you found solace; from the way that he backed you against the kitchen wall, something familiar. / playing house with pornstar!ghost.

warnings/content: 18+, mdni; fem!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, warm and fluffy domestic themes with a touch of bittersweetness, implied audience—but also filming porn so actual audience, lol. words: 2.9k.

the kitchen of the townhouse was warmly lit: dim lights above the cooking area created an inviting glow in the evening. the piles of dog-eared cookbooks, pots and spatulas, and a row of herbs reminded you that this time you were not on set.

you were home.

with your fingers intertwined with those of ghost, you slipped into the kitchen. on your faces played the warmest of grins, and you tried your best to bite back your laughs and your giggles.

simon's shushing was rushed as his hand cupped your cheek and led you into a deep kiss.

from his lips, you found solace; from the way that he backed you against the kitchen wall, something familiar.

to kiss with lips brightly smiling was not an easy job, the clanging of your teeth together only brightening your joys. 

"there’s no way they won't hear us," you managed through your laughs and kisses, your twinkling eyes finding him. "they know. they have to know—“

"if you’d come up with a better reason for us to sneak off—," his laugh was low, voice deep as he tried to keep it only slightly above a whisper. "'we need to check the a/c'? it's fuckin' freezin' out there, my love."

you laughed with a shake of your head. "you know I've never been able to lie."

"so maybe you should've told the truth," he raised an amused brow. 

"sorry friends, ghost wants to bend me over the kitchen counter while you dine in the next room ov—," his lips on yours cut your sentence short: a warm moan sliding from your lips as you felt your body submitting to him. 

for who were you to deny it, when your own skin was burning with your need for him? when his voice, his touch, his scent: his love for you was what fueled you? 

when ghost—you smiled only brighter as he forced himself to break the kiss—was all that you had ever wanted.

"I did not drag you with me to bend you over, my love," his chuckle was warm: the back of his hand caressing your cheek, and his eyes darkened with playful mischief. “no, darlin’. fuckbuddies get bent over. and—let’s see—girlfriends get bent over. maybe hookups from pubs, and—“

with a laugh, your hand moved to cover his mouth. “if you think I want to hear a list of everyone you’ve bent over in the past—“

"but you—," his fingers on your wrist were gentle, as he freed his grinning lips from your hold, “are not just a girlfriend or a casual fuck. no, you—,” he smiled against your lips, warm and bright, “are my wife, darlin’. and wives get fuckin’ worshipped.”

“even with our entire group of friends in the next room over?” not even the slightly nervous knit of your brows could hide the burn in your eyes as his thumb brushed against your bottom lip. 

teasing: his eyes dark, as he spoke. “if our friends think for a moment that I don’t fuck you every night, and wake you up each morning with my mouth on you—,” he planted a kiss on your lips. “it’s about fuckin’ time they get it right.”

god.

"ghost—," your laugh was warm as you watched him kneel before you on the floor of the townhouse kitchen—of your kitchen—the sight alone enough to coax a soft breath from your lips. 

it was the hunger in his eyes. the twinkle in them as his fingers rested on your ankles and he began to trace his way up, and up, and up your legs: his touches burning through your sheer stockings, held up by a garter belt.

each touch was getting you only more breathless: each of his kisses planted on your thighs full of adoration.

ghost knew it too: you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you, the man downright grinning between his kisses. "breathe, darlin'."

"stop teasing me and I will."

"stop teasing and do what, instead?" 

as much as you wanted to curse him for making you plead and beg, you felt the heat rising to your cheeks with your smile. "need to feel your tongue on me, ghost. please—"

"this tongue?"

yes, that fucking tongue: the tongue of which tip ran up your slit, covered only by the ridiculously thin material of your panties. the kisses he pressed on your heat were warm and soft: there for no other reason do but to tease you, and fuck, did it work.

"ghost—"

"that the tongue you want to come on, sweetheart?"

"yes, please—"

he laughed against your heat: the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine as his gentle hands guided you to spread your legs for him. 

and even as you felt the subtle squeeze of his hands on your thighs—impatient—he did not rush his movements. even though you knew him to fight back his need to taste you, ghost took his time sliding his hands to your hips and kissing your lower stomach.

chuckling as you gasped from the soft tickle. 

"that's it, darlin'. I wanna hear every fuckin' sound passin' 'em pretty lips of yours, eh?"

"what if they—"

"even if that means that our friends will fuckin' hear us," he laughed against your skin, lips pressing kisses sloppier and sloppier onto your skin. "they don't wanna hear me fuckin' my wife, they can leave."

and action.

"sounds a bit dra—" his fingers hooking around your panties drew the fabric aside, and your words got cut off by your moan as his mouth found your clit. "fuck, ghost—"

whatever patience the man had managed to muster for the moments that he had spent teasing you now flew out the window, as his hands on your hips drew you to him. he breathed in your scent, his tongue sliding between your lips from your clit to your entrance and to your clit again.

flicking and sucking, goddamn devouring.

and you lost it.

head tilting back against the cool wall of the kitchen, your eyes blinked shut as you submitted to his licks and caresses: his kisses and his groans.

his praises, as the sweetest of moans and gasps: of cries and pleas passed your lips.

"that's it, darlin'. good fuckin’ girl—"

from his tongue, you found the death of a single thought that had ever existed in your mind. from his fingers moving to circle and tease your entrance, you found the gates of heaven.

"fuck, sweetheart—," he laughed against your heat, "you're fuckin' clenching around nothing. that fuckin' needy for me, yeah?"

"ghost, please—"

"that all you have to say?"

god—

"I need your fingers."

"good fuckin' girl."

two of his digits slid into you. first knuckle, second knuckle.

by the time the third knuckle was pressing against your opening, your own fingers had tangled around his hair and his mouth found contact with your clit once more. 

you could hear just how drenched you were: your arousal surely dripping down his fingers and coating his hand, too, as he curled his digits inside you. 

knowing exactly how to touch you.

how to kiss you.

how to get your thighs to begin to shake on each side of his head, as his tongue continued its steady pace on your clit. its movements were exactly what you needed from him: the pressure and pace driving you closer and closer to your orgasm with each flick, lick, or circle drawn around it.

you were so close, so fucking close that all you needed was—"fuck, ghost!"

a third finger slid into you, yet this time it was not only the thickness and length of his digits that made you cry out. not only the pace, or the way he curled them inside you that made you buck your hips closer to him.

this time, it was the feeling of something cool at the base of his finger.

his wedding band: the one that showed his love to you, and you alone. his adoration, so visible in his eyes as you glanced down at him. so proud of you, so encouraging.

come for me, his eyes told. come on, sweetheart. I got you. I fuckin’ got you.

and that reminder—that promise was all you needed.

with a desperate call for his name, you stumbled over the edge: your thoughts clouding and your body trembling as you came shaking on his fingers and tongue, the man glowing from the sight.

from the sounds.

from the feeling of you clenching around his fingers as he made your orgasm last and last until you were squirming away from his touch, breathless yet glowing. 

"so fuckin' beautiful—"

to have him between your legs was one thing. to have ghost standing up just to draw you into the deepest kiss—to taste yourself on his lips and tongue—was a whole other kind of divine.

"did so fuckin' good, darlin'," his words were chuckled against your lips between his kisses, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. "made me so fuckin’ proud, yeah?"

in his eyes, you could see it all, and as you beamed from the sudden surge of happiness—from the adrenaline rush of your orgasm or the softness of his gaze, you did not know—ghost beamed with you.

happy.

“I fuckin’ adore you.” 

genuine.

"what d’you think, my love? think our guests are keeping themselves entertained?"

with a warm laugh, you slipped from between him and the wall, your fingers in his drawing him with you as you hopped on the kitchen island—glowing with your eagerness as your fingers moved to fumble with his belt. "fuck the guests."

"no," ghost chuckled against your temple, grinning lips kissing your forehead as he freed his cock, the tip glossy with his precum. "no, darlin', but I will fuck my wife."

your laugh was bright and the roll of your eyes playful. "smooth."

just as smooth as the flick of his wrist was as he drew your panties to the side.

just as smooth as the push of his hips was as he eased into you.

"oh, god, ghost—"

"fuckin' 'ell, darlin'—," his voice was a low rumble, his forehead leaning against yours. hands grabbing your hips to slide you closer to him on the counter. 

greedy.

so goddamn impatient, and not for a moment could you blame him. not when you were clenching around him, your lips parting in the deepest of breaths and moans just from the feeling of his weight in you.

"bloody hell, sweetheart—"

it's like you were made for each other. his length, his girth, the way he seemed to fill you up in a way no one else ever had. in a way no one else ever would, you were sure as he bottomed out with a deep curse and a breathless laugh.

one, that your own lips parted in as well. for you had learned to recognize the way that his cock was twitching inside you. you knew that his patience was being tested: the patience of ghost who you knew wanted nothing more than to—

his fingers placed on your throat were gentle, yet his lips finding yours for a kiss were everything but as he picked up his pace. 

no one.

each thrust of his cock, hot and heavy and fucking pulsating inside you coaxed moans and breaths and whimpers only more desperate than the previous from your lips.

no one could ever fuck you like he fucked you.

"ghost, please—"

"you're so fuckin' beautiful like this—," he grinned against your cheek, lips pressing sloppy kisses onto your skin as he fucked into you. "my darlin' hiked up on a fuckin' kitchen counter. pretty little dress messy from your juices, fuckin' stained when I come in you. gonna pull 'em panties back on and make you go back to the guests, yeah? entertain 'em like the good little host you are, with my fuckin' cum dripping out of you—"

his movements inside you were ruthless: his cock hitting the exact right spot to make you cry out his name again and again, so fucking fast and deep—

"gonna take you like this every day for the rest of our lives, my love—," his lips were brushing against your ear, his fingers bruising your hips through the fabric of your dress. "wanna be mine forever, yeah?"

please.

fuck, if it wasn’t the only goddamn thing you had ever wanted—

"yours," you managed, your brows furrowing as you felt the familiar heat building up and up at the pit of your stomach: your desperation for him audible in your voice. "I want to be yours. fuck, ghost—I fucking love you. I love you—"

the words passing your lips were all that it took for the orgasm to rush through the body of—

ghost.

with a deep call for your name and a breathless curse, ghost's forehead fell against yours as his cock twitched inside you: ropes of hot cum filling you up and coating your walls.

too early.

too fucking early.

trying your best to collect yourself: to bite down your surprise, you moved to arch your back in trying to keep the scene from falling apart. yet it was the deep and low laugh that rumbled from ghost's chest that made you stumble. "that goddamn fuckin' line."

"and cut!"

"the I love you? you knew it was in the script!" despite the audible amusement in your laugh, it was nothing but soft and warm: your gaze gentle as it found that of ghost.

"it not the fuckin' same to read it on paper and to have you lookin’ at me like—," ghost laughed, shaking his head as he blinked his eyes shut. "guys I’m fuckin’ sorry, yeah? just give me five, and I’ll be ready to go again—"

from the clap of price's hands, you turned to the director who was now shaking his head with a deep laugh. "just keep your position, yeah? they'll check the details for continuity. we'll go through the footage and—you both good to keep going?"

you nodded your heads with soft chuckles.

"good work," price called out with a grin. "can't blame you for the slip. it's an easy fix with a camera pan around the flowers, so no damage done. take a break and we'll keep going, yeah?"

and just like that, your domestic little bubble had popped. 

suddenly the cozy townhouse kitchen was filled with the sounds of your crewmembers talking and shuffling around. the boom mic above your heads was pulled back, and the camera crew—now calling out warm jokes and laughs to the two of you—moved out of the way as someone rushed to you to document your positions. the way the hem of your dress fanned around you, and the position of his hand on your cheek; the angle of your head, and the way his hair was pushed to the side.

yet not even after the perky woman had given a thumbs up for you to move, did ghost step away from you. it was something the two of you had agreed on beforehand: the consent given for him to stay inside you between scenes. 

to help you, and to help him. 

just work.

"you did so fuckin' good, love." ghost's gaze, warm, found yours.

the set around the two of you began to quiet down once more. somewhere behind your back, you could hear price and the writers going through the last minutes of footage scene by scene, yet suddenly it was just you and him again.

this time friends.

costars.

just costars.

"you too," you smiled at him. "I loved—," you laughed, soft. "this is a little stupid, maybe. but the way the ring felt inside me was—"

"oh yeah?" he grinned, a hint of something bright waking up in his eye. "is it a ring kink or just the idea of gettin' fucked by your husband that gets you goin'?"

god.

"probably a bit of both," you laughed. his fingers were caressing your cheek gently, and to feel him still inside you—

just work.

"wouldn't mind filmin' more shit like this with you," he then spoke with a smile. "domestic, y'know? it feels—real. I mean, bloody hell, that's why—" he laughed, the sound a low rumble, and the warmth of it only brightened your smile.

"I think we might be," you wet your lips. "they built this set for us. just you and I. it hasn't been used in any other production before, because they wanted it to feel more real. more special for the—"

"fans," ghost laughed. "right. fuckin' A. they include that library too you want so bad?"

you furrowed your brows. "why do you think I—"

“come on, love.” the twinkle in his eyes was playful as he quirked a brow. "with the amount of romance porn you read—"

"romance porn?" your laugh was breathless as your hands moved to push him gently. "it's not—"

"sweetheart, I've seen the fuckin' twinkle in your eyes. the way you squeeze your fuckin’ thighs when you browse away on your phone." his grinning lips planted a kiss on your forehead, the man now shaking with his repressed laugh. "you say it isn’t what I think it is and I believe you. but after all this time knowin’ you—"

his arms closed around your upper body to draw you into his embrace, his chest muffling your laugh.

he was warm, and he was familiar.

"you’re the worst,” you managed a gentle chuckle.

"thought you loved me."

he was safe.

"that was just a part of the script."

"no yeah, fuckin' of course," ghost chuckled into your hair. "as much as me lovin’ the idea of you bein' all mine was."

and there, in the kitchen of the townhouse that was built for the two of you and you alone, he was home. 

a/n: I am SHAKING so bad from my excitement and love for this part that trying to edit and format it has been the hardest thing I've ever known. I love them. that's it. I love them so much my heart hurts. oh and also, price is now their go-to director! we don't know 'greg' anymore. greg is now price, lmao. / pornstar!ghost masterlist / as usual, my inbox is open for all your ideas and thoughts about him, eek! 💌

[codtrashsammy]

Cute Meet?

Started as a kinda character study and idk what happened, i'ma be honest. I haven't written anything with length in awhile, so feel free to leave cc and let me know what you think <3 Just a cute meet kinda scenario, reader is an anxious lil thing and Simon 'Ghost' Riley is obsessed upon first glance. Love? No, not yet.. but obsessed, yes. Word Count: 1.3K Pairing: Simon Riley x Reader/You Warnings: No warnings, no use of y/n tho Enjoy :))

Ghost is the keeper. Ghost is stoic, cold, even apathetic. Ghost can kill a whole platoon without batting an eye, can be covered in the blood of his enemies and be entirely uncaring to watch it flow down the drain once he has enough time to scrub the caked blood from where it seeped through his clothes. He is in charge, able to control his emotions effortlessly, able to lead. He is everything he needs to be. And then there’s Simon. Ghost is the keeper. Simon is the man beneath the mask who needs one. Simon is more akin to a stray dog than a human at times. Face hidden from the world, yet teeth always barred and ready to bite. Hidden behind a mask, a carefully crafted mask that is Ghost. A man with more scars than flesh, a man with more trauma than peace, a man who simply longs for the normalcy of life without a way to reach it. And then came you.

Ghost couldn’t care less for you. The mask is on as he’s on leave, shopping in a grocery store to get something to eat on while he stays in that damned motel for the next couple of weeks before flying out once more. The mask stays in place, a protection, a show the keeper is in charge. You don’t mean to run into him, you’re definitely not the type to go looking for trouble- you’ve had enough of that in your life, and you’re just starting to get your shit together for the nth time. But as you’re both leaving, you stumble, bumping right into him and leaving a couple of his poor bags strewn about on the sidewalk rather than carefully held within each hand. “Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Ghost grumbles with a sigh, clearly not pleased by the circumstances while watching a can of beans he had bought simply roll off of the sidewalk area and into the road- promptly ran over by a vehicle looking to park. No beans and toast now, british man. “I am so sorry-” You immediately apologize, the sheepish and embarrassed look on your face obvious as you dust yourself off and try to begin gathering the mess that you had caused. Ghost is annoyed at you. Just one look and he’s annoyed. But Simon? Simon is enchanted. The sweet, sheepish smile on your face, the way you scramble to help, the heat to your cheeks in your embarrassment as you scatter around trying to fix the situation. The way your hair falls and how you’re clearly nervous, but you still act anyway. You don’t care of how he looks- all brooding and intimidating with his hoodie over his head and the black medical mask over the lower half of his face. You couldn’t care less of that- you simply want to make things better. Simon notices that though. Simon remains frozen for a few moments, hidden interest in his eyes as he watches you scramble about, resorting your things just to have an extra couple of bags for his things. And you just hand things back over to him, the sheepish smile still on your face, the embarrassment clear- but gods, you look like such a sweet lil thing, lookin’ at him like he’s a human, a person. “‘S fine,” Simon eventually spits out, taking the bags from your hands and glancing once more at the beans staining the roadway now, before turning to focus his attention back on you. He could let you leave now. He could, it’d be so easy. He could leave it at that and walk away, probably never hear or see from you again. I mean, hell, he’s only known you for all of 5 minutes, and it’s because you’re a clumsy little shit who fucked up his shopping. It’d be so easy so why does it feel so hard. “D’ya always ‘ave to make such an impression?” Simon quips out, readjusting the bags comfortably in his grip. You can’t even pretend not to notice his accent- it’s unusual for where you live, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything like it outside of the media you’ve consumed. It’s pleasant, rings around in the ears for a bit. You finally meet his eyes, and gods, they are gorgeous. Deep, rich, brown- like chocolate with golden flecks scattered. Especially in the sunlight- like they are now- pools of liquid gold swimming about a chocolate river. “Ah- No- Um-” You struggle to find the right words, now your cheeks are warmer, and it’s less from embarrassment and more from the pretty eyed stranger you just fucking throttled on accident. But at least he doesn’t seem angry, so there’s always that. “I’m so sorry,” You settle on apologizing again, one of your hands moving to nervously run through your hair, pushing some strands out of your face. “‘S fine. Really.” Simon says with a slight nod, and you can feel the burn of his eyes as they trail over you. You can’t decide if he means it or not, though, he sounds oddly monotone for such simple words. “Still, I feel bad, I uh- I’m kinda clumsy at best,” You blurt out, sheepish smile on your face despite its softness as you glance away from him before looking back once more, “I uh- just wasn’t paying much attention to where I was going- a real bad habit of mine, honestly- which is surprising cause you’re kinda huge and hard to miss-” 

What the fuck did you just say?!Your cheeks heat up further, hands moving to gesture with your words now. You’re rambling, you know you are, but god did not give you the ability to shut the fuck up. “N-Not that that’s a bad thing! You’re uh- very well-built!” what the fuck you’re making it worse- “I-I mean- You uh- You have lots of muscle a-and that’s a good thing! And you have pretty eyes- always a bonus!” Simon’s eyebrow slowly lifts, his eyes crinkling at the sides. Simon’s been called a lot of things in his life- but he’s realizing at this moment that no one has ever called his eyes pretty. They’re brown. He can recall Johnny referring to them as ‘shit brown’ more often than not.  And you just look so fucking adorable- continuing to ramble, but he’s hardly paying attention to the words now, watching your cheeks get darker, your hands gesturing with your words, nervously shifting on your feet as you try to ‘save’ the situation. Such a precious lil thing, too pure for this world.

Simon was enchanted at first glance.

Ghost decides he could be, too.

A pretty thing like you? In this world? Oh, love, that’s just not safe. You’re a lil bundle of nervous, clearly. How’d ya make it this far? Who made ya like this? Unsure, rambling, nervous? Ghost wants to learn you. Wants to figure out what events molded you into this cute lil thing. You clearly need someone- he won’t judge, Simon needs him, too.

Ghost decides he wants to know you. Simon has made that thought known.

“You know what? I’m gonna shut up!” You finally say, voice a higher pitch and the heat being felt in the tips of your ears at this point as you take a step away from the masked man, who you know you’ve done ruined the chance to know with your inability to shut the fuck up.

“Tell me yer name before ya do,” Simon says, voice smooth like it’s the easiest and most casual thing in the world.

He’s so… quiet. He let you ramble and make an absolute fool of yourself- but now he’s actually wanting to know your name?

After you manage to knock yourself out of your stupor, you finally offer your name to him, cheeks finally cooling down a bit. Only to heat back up once he repeats your name in that voice of his, all low and gruff- says it differently than anything you’ve ever heard before- like it’s something important, something that matters.

“Simon,” He supplies, adjusting his bags in one grip as he offers a hand to you.

Simon and Ghost are two very different people who share this skin suit.

But they both decide you’re theirs.

[laiiaaa]

MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE — CARMEN BERZATTO 1. BUTTERSCOTCH — you finally say hello to a familiar face in the city after a little girl bumps into you. (2.7k) masterlist | next | taglist

Carmen keeps track of the running grocery list in his head:

Green onions? Check. Shallots? Check. Rolled oats? Check.

“Alright,” he huffs into the phone, a stupid thing tucked snug between his shoulder and jaw.

“Carm, I’m serious—”

“Nat, I got it, alright? I’ll call the fuckin’ guy.” Strawberries? Check. Eggs? Check. “I’m at the store, ‘n I’ll be back, ‘n then I’ll call him. It’s fine.” Dino nuggets? Check. That way-too-sugary cereal Sofia likes—? Even though he wishes Richie never gave it to her—? Check, check, check, so fuckin’ checked. “Now, do you wanna talk to—”

He looks to his side, where Sofia once stood with chubby little fingers hooked on the cart, that raggedy old stuffed animal always caught in the other fist. Gone. Carmen’s heart stops and catches in his throat. 

Natalie’s voice again, much quieter now that the phone’s not at his ear. “Hello?”

He doesn’t even hear his sister, doesn’t process her words.

He turns around. “Sof?” But she’s not there.

He tries again, facing forward, a little louder. “Sofia?” Nothing. “Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, ending the call without a second thought. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—” 

He shoves his phone into his pocket, abandons the cart altogether, pokes his head into the aisle over. “Sofia.” Nothing. “Shit—”

He can’t breathe. A closed fist shoots to his chest to try and soothe the droughted ache. The ceiling’s closing in from above, every aisle looks the same, his feet are too heavy to carry him fast enough through the store.

Where’s his fuckin’ kid?

You’re spooked out of a fatigued trance by a clumsy little girl at your feet in the produce section. 

She can’t be older than four, her chubby little face framed by golden brown curls, dressed in a cute little black dress and pink tights, ballet flats to boot. By her hand is a well-loved stuffed animal: an orange tabby cat with lint fuzzies along its body, teetering on the edge of the display about to fall into the lettuce.

“Well, hello,” you start.

She peeks up at you through stray curls with a grin. “Hi.”

You do a quick scan of the immediate area but spot nothing other than a worker stocking bananas twenty feet away, another pushing a cart of mangoes. “Where’d you come from, hm?” You perch down next to her and try to offer a warm smile to keep her calm.

“I’m here with my daddy.”

“Yeah? Where’s he at?”

Her lips, shiny with drool, puff into a pout. “I…” Her little voice wobbles, and you know that fucking wobble, that precursor to something uncontrollable and wretched, and for a split second you consider letting her cry, just on the off chance her dad hears it.

But you come to your senses: it’ll take all but five, no more than ten minutes to cover the entire store ground. You graze your hand by her back and offer her the sorry excuse for a cat. “Hey, don’t worry, it’s alright. I’ll help you.”

“B-But…” Those pretty brown eyes of her turn glassy, ready for tears, and her lip quivers, her cheeks puff out.

“I’ll help you find him, okay? We’ll wait right here, and I promise he’ll find you. We won’t leave this spot til he does.”

She hesitates before she nods, gives you a warbled, “Okay.”

You give her your name—something you read or heard from word of mouth, how putting a name to your face makes you more trustworthy. “What’s yours?”

“...Sofia.”

“Sofia,” you repeat. “That’s a very pretty name.”

The dimples that come through with her smile have you swooning, your chest filling with something sweet. A supercut you’ve long since abandoned flits through one of the best and worst years you’ve endured: kisses at the door for hello and goodbye, chilly Chicago mornings spent in someone else’s sheets, serving coffee in thick handmade mugs and being thanked for it with lips pressed to your cheek. But that was a year ago, and it’s long gone. You’re better off now—occupied with work, and running a business, and trying new things, and finding comfort in the solitude of an apartment that’s filled with nothing but the smell of coffee grounds.

Your pointer finger lifts her toy’s head: “And who’s this?”

“Butterscotch,” she says, Butter sounding a whole lot like Buttah.

“Yeah? Where’d you come up with that name?”

“My daddy’s a chef, he teached it to me.”

A chef, you hum, No wonder he’s here at seven in the morning.

And you do just about everything you’d want someone to do if this were your kid: you keep her right where she is like you promised her, you listen to all her stories she has with Butterscotch, you answer the silly questions she asks while she holds your finger in a squishy hand and bears a gummy smile.

Until—

A man wrought with stress approaches. Fitted white tee, loose denim on his hips, beat up Nikes that’ve probably seen better days. Golden brown curls like the little girl’s, only thicker, darkened with age, and half-straightened, probably from the way he runs his fingers through them like he does as he walks toward you and the girl. Buff arms, built shoulders, and they’re littered with tattoos…

Not what you expected. And he looks so fucking familiar, yet you can’t put your finger on it—

“Sofia,” he huffs, and she scurries over to him in tiny yet quickened steps and jumps into his arms, his eyes closing and brows furrowing with a relief that’s palpable as he tucks his nose into her swirling hair. “What’d I tell you about comin’ to the store w’me, huh?” A veiny hand with the letters S O U inked on the fingers cups the back of her head as he sways her from side to side, failing to give her much of a stern look at all despite his frustration. “You gotta stay by my side, I told you, you’ll get lost.”

“But I wasn’t lost, Daddy,” she pouts, “I was right here, and—and I had to find Butterscotch, and you—you weren’t there—”

“Okay,” he soothes, rubbing his hand along her back before he thumbs away budding tears from her fleshy cheeks. “Okay, hon…” He props her at his hip. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You just scared me ‘s all, alright? Didn’t know where you were, had me lookin’ all over for you.”

“...I’m sorry,” she mumbles, clearly upset, nuzzling into her dad’s shoulder as he presses a sweet kiss to her head.

He looks to you, then, and you lend him a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about her, she’s, uh…” He peeks at her, so lovingly— “She can be a handful sometimes.”

“No, don’t apologize, she was great.” Your eyes drift to his hands. They’re big, strong, like he knows what to do with them around the house, with a baby girl...with her mother, too, though you wonder where that stands. You try not to. “She’s talkative, makes for a fun conversation. A great storyteller, too.”

He smiles, and it’s hearty, with a twitch of a brow as he draws just a bit closer—it’s slight, so slight you almost think you’re imagining things. “Think so? She doesn’t usually, um…doesn’t usually wanna talk to people, y’know?” He hikes her up again, and she turns so that she’s facing you. “Get all grumpy, don’t ya, Sof? Like with your Uncle Richie?”

“But she’s nice,” she chimes in, lifting her head from his shoulder and leaving the cat’s head peeking through. “Not mean like he is.”

Again with that smile, he looks at her with raised brows, bobs her up and down as he holds her tight, like she’s his entire world. “Yeah?” He shoots you back a look, half-impressed. “You don’t wanna see him today, huh?”

“No,” she grumbles, face smushed into his tee. “Can she come to work with us instead?”

“Sof…” He scoffs, cocking his head to the side, and his eyes dart between you and his girl. “That’s not—we can’t just—”

“Pretty please, Daddy…” She pouts at him, pulls on his neck with her arms looped around it, starts trying to lean back to stir up trouble but his hands hold her firm to his torso. “You said Eva and Vivi can’t play today…”

“I—I know, hon— . . . It’s just— . . .” Kissing his teeth, he contemplates for a moment. “She probably has work to do, y’know? Just like I have to work? And how sometimes you can’t come with me?”

“Where does she work?”

“Uhhh…” In an awkward pause, he seems to realize the dilemma. The expectant glance your way is almost painful. “Shit,” he hisses, holding Sofia with one hand to run fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry, I should’ve—I should introduce myself, right?” The pained look on his face makes you think the question is genuine, and he offers his right hand to you— “I’m Carmen, but, um, most people just call me Carmy.”

It clicks: He’s Carmen Berzatto. Not just some guy or some chef in the grocery store you’ve happened to meet, but the guy. The guy who owns the fine dining joint across the street from your cafe; the guy who showed up to the city a few years ago only to revamp his family-owned sandwich shop in its entirety; the guy you’d heard so much about from the gossip around the block between vendors; the guy who left his roots to be something so much bigger than anyone could’ve imagined; the guy who came back with a reputation with none to rival and a shattered family in its shadow. The prodigal son of Chicago. You heard of him but never met.

“Y-Yeah, right, right,” you nod, stumbling for the right words. “I thought you looked kinda familiar.” You take his hand graciously as you give him your name. His handshake is firm, solid, sure of himself, with a callused palm and dry skin and cracked knuckles, an inked-on hand with a knife through its palm on the back of his hand. “You own The Bear, right?”

“I do.” Sheepish, like it’s embarrassing to be successful.

“Cool, cool, I’ve, um, I’ve heard a lot of good things about it, but I’ve never been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Something warm in your belly comes to the surface and you try to drown it. “I own the cafe across the street—? Just a, uh, a smaller place—” You shake your head as if to dismiss the thought of him even knowing about it. “I dunno if—”

“No, no, yeah, I know that one, a few doors down—” he nods, fervently— “Etta’s, right?”

You smile. He knew of it so quick, with so little detail you want to think it means something. “Yeah, that’s the one.” For fuck’s sake, the guy probably just likes to support his local businesses. Get a grip.

“My sister loves that place, goes there all the time. But I, uh…” A soft smile at his girl. “I don’t usually have much time to go myself…”

“Yeah, I can imagine you’re pretty busy with her.” Unless her mom is in the picture…?

But he doesn’t take the bait—he only smiles, hums with a subtle nod, gives Sofia a pat on the back to get her attention, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hey, cub, guess what?”

She comes to only slightly, with pale blonde locks like angel’s hair tickling Carmen’s neck. Grumbles something akin to a Hm?

“You know those chocolate chip muffins you like? The ones your Aunt Natalie gets for you?”

Her curls are already caught in her eyelashes. “With the sparkles on top?”

He gives you a knowing look: sugar, not sparkles. “Yes, with the sparkles. Did you know our new friend here runs that shop?”

Her head perks up with a gasp. “What?” Her excitement is so soft, and she can’t even stave off a smile now, tiny teeth shining through to show the dimples in her cheeks again.

“You heard me.”

From her mouth is only a whisper, a doe-eyed look targeted right at you. “No way.”

You smile at her. “Yes way.”

She puts on those puppy dog eyes, looks at Carmen with a pout as she tugs on him again. “Daddy, can we please—”

 In one fell swoop, his hand whisks her hair out of her face. “Uh-uh. Nice try.”

Oh, but she’s a stubborn one. “But please—”

“Not today, baby, we gotta finish shopping, hm? Then go to work?” His eyes dart to meet yours in a knowing glance, a silent apology and excuse to leave. “Maybe I’ll ask Aunt Natalie to get them for you tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

She huffs and buries herself into his neck again, turning away from you now that she’s in a surly mood.

“Okay,” he sighs, smiling to himself, and you can’t deny the comfort in seeing his little girl so cozy with him, like he’s either the only parent around, or he’s really just that good of a father—and husband, or fiancé, or boyfriend, or whatever he might be. You don’t know if you should feel guilty for wanting to pry.

The conversation lulls to a hesitant stop, like neither one of you is sure how to bid farewell—or whether you want to do so at all.

“Y’know,” he starts, with a finality to his tone, “I’ve still gotta—”

“Yeah, me too—”

“And I left the cart in the other aisle—”

“Right, right, of course—”

“And they need me at the—”

“Same here, I need to, uh—”

“Right, yeah, so um—”

“Yeah—”

“I guess I should—”

“Probably—”

“And, uh—…”

“It was nice to meet you, though,” you finish, maybe a little too enthusiastic for only having just done so minutes ago.

But if it were, Carmen doesn’t show it. “Yeah, it was nice to meet you, too. I’ll, uh…I’ll see you around.”

You offer a softened smile. “Guess so.”

And he leaves you with a curt nod before he turns around with Sofia’s face smushed into his shoulder, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck to leave Butterscotch hugged to the nape of it. That’s all you see, then: just a beaten up stuffed animal and springy golden curls as Carmen rounds the corner of the aisle, your breath gone short and face gone warm by the end of it.

Half of it, you’re sure, is the simple brevity of it all: consoling a lost child, to chatting with her father, to finding out he’s a business neighbor. And against your better judgment, the other half of it is a twinge of attraction to him.  Even though he has a kid, and he may very well be married, or at least in a relationship, and by the looks of it, stressed out of his goddamn mind…

But there’s just something about him.

The way he was worried about his daughter like he’s supposed to be, the way he holds her and dotes on her and rubs her back like it’s nothing but natural to him, the heartwarming smile that reaches his eyes just by looking at his precious girl. The hard-earned strength in his hands and arms, the symbolic imagery of his tattoos that you’ve yet to dwell upon in late night hours, the awkward demeanor about him like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to talk to you—or if he even knows how. And all this, you see in a man working down the street, a man you’ve never spoken to until today, who could be the worst person in the world for all you know.

You don’t, is the thing. You don’t know his middle name, or his favorite color, or favorite food, or where he’s even worked, really, other than here in Chicago. You don’t know if Sofia’s mother is still around, or whatever happened to her if she isn’t, or if it’s a topic he breaches freely or not at all.

You don’t know enough about him yet to judge. You don’t know much at all. You don’t know if you want to, whether it’ll send you head first into a mess of pasts not unlike the one you’ve been trying to crawl out of alone for the past grueling months, if it’d upturn all the good you’ve tried to make stick.

But if there’s one thing you do know, it’s that you want to see him again. 

And that you’ll have to make a batch or two of muffins first.

masterlist | next | taglist

@knight4xmas @ajourneyforjoy @penguin876

[its-time-to-write]

Hi, first off I want to say that I love your writing. It always makes me smile 🙃🙃.

As for my request, I was wondering if you could please write about Jamie soft launching your relationship on Insta and starting to bring it up in the press. You haven’t met the boys and they are trying to figure out who it is based on his comments and Insta posts. (I may have a Pinterest board with soft launch ideas so…use the screen shots on my page as u wish).

If you don’t have time to write this then no worries. Have a nice day!!!!!!!!!

🫲😇🫱

I listened to “Not All Those Who Wander,” by Miss Lana the whole time I wrote this. 10/10 recommend

it’s just wanderlust

“You’re gonna want to hold off on touching me,” you say as you haul your bags into the house. “Kid fuckin’ spit all over me today and I didn’t even have time to change.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose and takes a step back. “Ew. Fucking gross, that. Is that why you were late coming home?”

You nod, shucking your shoes by the stairs. “Uh huh. Had to talk to the parents post-session. Do a little debrief thing. Thing is, they swore their little angel would never do something like that and next time I should just give him what he wants. Only problem,” you continue as you wash your hands in the kitchen sink, “is that my entire job is not giving him what he wants when he’s displaying inappropriate behaviors. I love that kid, I really do, but his parents are complete twats.”

Jamie nods agreeably. “Was it like projectile or spray?” 

You grimace. “Both. Kid’s got mean aim, but decided to switch it up to cover more surface area.”

You look over at the table, which is set neatly. “I know dinner’s ready and I’m already late, but I really need a shower. I can feel like three inches of grime on my skin.”

“Don’t worry about it babe,” Jamie says. “Takeaway reheats easy.” He hesitates for a moment. “Did you want to shower alone, or..?”

You laugh. Cheeky fucker. 

“Give me three minutes to scrub really well, and then you’re welcome in. You sure you’re good eating late?”

Jamie grins. “Babe, I-”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, finger pointed at him. “Don’t say it. I know where you’re going, and you don’t need to finish that sentence.”

Jamie opens his mouth again but you’re interrupting before he can get his next sentence out. “And if you’re about to make a pun with the word ‘finish,’ I can guarantee it’s nothing you haven’t said before.”

Jamie looks dejected, but his ego obviously isn’t bruised too much because he’s still is on your heels the whole way up the stairs. 

—

You’re showered and back downstairs, the both of you eating dinner in pajamas like proper adults, if proper adults decided that they were allowed to sit on the counter in Jamie’s kitchen. You’re not saying much, just swapping stories about each other’s day. It’s never a dull moment between his time at Nelson Road and your time at the behavioral clinic. 

“Who do you think sees the grossest shit?” you had asked one time. 

“Oh fuck love, it’s gotta be you,” came Jamie’s response. 

“You sure? Because you have like, gross men and stuff. Half of them don’t even know how to do their own laundry.”

Jamie had laughed. “I’m fucking sure. Yeah they smell nasty and shit but like, they’re traumatized by some of the shit you have to deal with.”

He’s got a point. 

Neither of you have a whole bunch to say though, and anyway it’s nice to be in a house that’s quiet. 

Jamie’s the one to break the silence. “What if we started telling people about us?”

You give him a look so he hurries on. “I know you said you weren’t ready, especially with all the press and everything, but what if we just like soft-launched it? Y’know, take a couple photos without seeing your face.”

You chew your dinner thoughtfully. Is this a good time to start carefully introducing your relationship to the world? You’re indispensable to your company, although they may decide to place a higher value on their anonymity than what you bring to the table. It’s not easy providing behavioral therapy to clients who prefer their children to remain unknown. But at the same time, you can’t keep quiet forever. It’s not fair to Jamie. It’s like you’re saying this is only temporary. I’m keeping it a secret because it won’t last so it’s not worth sharing. It’s not true. Jamie is worth sharing, and you have the tiniest spark of hope that this thing you’ve kept going for the past six months is going to last.

Well, maybe not so much a spark of hope as a sneaking suspicion. The kind you feel as a kid when your parents swear they didn’t get you want you wanted for Christmas, but you have the vaguest sense that they’re lying. You don’t want to hope, because what if you’re wrong, but then again, there’s a part of you that can just feel it. 

You’ve been silent for far too long because Jamie says, “Babe? If you don’t want to, it’s ok,” except you can see in his face it isn’t entirely ok.

“I was just thinking,” you reply. “I think- I think I’m good with it. You know, letting people know you’re off the market. Plus it’ll be fun to take more pictures together, My mum keeps bugging me for more.”

Jamie grins. “Mint. The lads are gonna be so fucking psyched.”

—

Ah yes. The lads. Or as they’re better known, the AFC Richmond team. It hasn’t been easy sneaking around them, especially because Ted seemed to Know. Jamie came home one day all spooked because he swore Ted knew he was dating someone.

“Stared straight into me soul, he did,” he said. “Fuckin’ told me he’s surprised I haven’t found a girl yet.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious, Jaim,” you reply, to which Jamie shakes his head vehemently. 

“You weren’t there, that’s what he said, but he meant somethin’ else. He fucking knows.”

You’d laughed and told him it was fine, even if Ted did know, you didn’t mind. 

After that encounter, there had been vague rumblings that maybe Jamie did have a girl somewhere, or possibly several girls at one time, which prompted a very serious conversation with Isaac and Sam.

“Jamie, you have said that you have changed. You are acting like a better teammate. And yet, dating more than one girl at a time is just wrong,” Sam told him.

“That shit’s sleazy, bruv,” Isaac said. “You can’t be playing around like that.”

So they had gotten Jamie to admit that no, there weren’t multiple girls, just one girl who he had met at a café of all places because he was cheating on his meal plan and she was trying to finish some assessments for work.

You wanted privacy and of course you knew exactly who he was the moment he walked up to your table and said, “hey,” so yeah, it was never going to be easy.

But the way you had wavered ever so slightly when he asked you to dinner was enough to make him realize that this was going to be something different. Something real. Because if the allure of dating national football star Jamie Tartt wasn’t enough for an automatic yes, you must be looking for something deeper. 

Jamie wasn’t sure he was looking for that, but hell he’d give it a go if it meant he got to kiss those soft lips even one time.

So fuck him, he’d fallen for a pretty face in a café on a fucking Sunday and now he has to go home and tell you that people know you exist. That a little bit of your privacy bubble has burst.

You didn’t really care though. You’d been pondering the ethics of a secret relationship for a good long while, so maybe it was good that his teammates knew you existed. 

That was a month before Jamie broached the subject of the soft-launch, so you think maybe you can ease into this. It’ll be fine.

—

The first picture is relatively easy. Just a regular mirror pic, cropped of course, with Jamie’s arms wrapped around you from behind. It’s easy to tell it’s him because his tattoo sleeve is in full view. The caption reads, “soft launch,” with a heart emoji.

The like count is through the roof.

You like it too, because what notice will your account garner in a sea of Jamie Tartt fans?

The Greyhounds lose their minds a little bit, commenting fire emojis and heart eyes and trying to figure out who could possibly be there with Jamie. He comes home after training that day to tell you that there’s a rather convincing conspiracy that he’s dating this famous model they’re all obsessed with.

You’re flattered they think you look like her. Even if they can only see your arms and torso.

“This is gonna be fun, babe,” you say, standing on tiptoes for a kiss. Jamie grins. Anything to torture his team.

—

The second picture is posted two days later, with the caption, “date night.”

You’re sitting at his dining room table, candles and wine glasses strewn about, and Jamie’s kissing you at an angle where you can really only see your hair.

For fun, you comment, “omg, I wish that were me.” Richard Montlaur responds to it, “omg same,” so you show Jamie. He rolls his eyes. 

“Lad thinks he’s funny, don’t he?” he asks.

You grin. “You’d never leave me for Richard, would you?”

Jamie shrugs. “Dunno babe, he is kind of fit.”

You smack his arm playfully and say, “Fuck off, I’m better looking.”

—

You’re almost caught before the big reveal. You’re on a coffee date in a small town, miles from Richmond or Manchester or anywhere Jamie could be easily recognized. It’s a sleepy town, mostly old people, which is why you both decided it’d be safe.

You’re sitting at a table with your coffee while Jamie’s up to grab his, when you see someone go up to him and tap his shoulder.

“Jamie? What are you doing here?” Sam asks.

Jamie jumps a little and places to where you’re sitting before he can stop himself. 

“Oh, um, just getting coffee. You know.”

Sam gives him a quizzical look. “Do you know someone here? This isn’t close to home at all. Are you meeting someone?”

Sam glances around the room and Jamie’s grateful that his gaze does not linger extra long on you. 

Jamie decides the best way to answer is to deflect. “Oi, what’re you doing here? It’s not like this place is fucking famous or some shit.”

Sam shrugs. “I like to try a different coffee shop every weekend. Sometimes I bring Dani, but after last time, I think I’ll have to find someone else.”

Jamie risks a glance at you. You’re hiding behind your latte, suppressing a grin. He’s positive you can hear every word they’re saying.

Sam’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Would you like to sit with me? It looks like there’s only one table left. Unless your mystery girlfriend is here.”

He laughs and Jamie joins in, just a little too loudly, but he can’t think of an excuse to join you at the table so he follows Sam and tries to send you a subtle I’m sorry with his eyes.

You pull out your phone and send him two laughing emojis, then reach into your bag for your book. Might as well get some reading done.

You let Jamie sit for a good half hour before you decide to do something. You put your things back into your bag and walk over to where they’re sitting.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Obisanya? I’m a huge Richmond fan.”

Sam grins at being recognized, while Jamie lets out a small, “Oi!”

“Oh yes, wonderful to meet a fan! I’m just here with my friend.”

You smile and say, “I just wanted to let you know that you played so well last game. I think you’re the best player on the whole team.”

Jamie snorts and Sam says, “Would you like to take a picture? My friend here would be happy to take it for you.”

Score. “That would be awesome!” you reply. “Then I’ll get out of your way. Don’t want to interrupt your coffee.”

—

“Can’t believe you just did that,” Jamie says, shaking his head mournfully another half hour later. “Fucking acting like you didn’t know who I was. Any self-respecting Richmond fan knows who I am.”

You knock into his shoulder lightly as you walk to the car. “Lucky for your ego, I was just acting. And anyway, I’m hilarious. That’s like, my number one quality.”

“Number two,” Jamie interjects, “It’s your number two quality.”

You ask, “Number two? What’s number one??”

Jamie zips his lips. “I ain’t tellin’, babe. Not good for your ego.”

You giggle as he grabs your waist so he can press a kiss to your neck.

—

Posts three and four go off without a hitch. There’s one of his hand on your knee and a timer picture of you twirling under a streetlamp. You both decide that as far as social media goes, this is as much as they’re going to get. But as far as AFC Richmond goes…

“Babe, you left your phone in the car,” you say as you stroll into the locker room casually as ever.

Jamie takes it from your hand and kisses you before he says, “Thanks babe.”

The locker room is silent, frozen. Colin’s body spray slips from his hand and clatters to the floor, and Beard’s just standing and pointing with his mouth open. 

Roy breaks the silence as he growls, “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Sam follows. “You’re the girl from the coffee shop.”

You grin and say, “Guilty.”

Jamie wraps his arm around your waist. “Lads, this is my girl. Babe, these are the lads.”

There’s silence for a moment longer before the room explodes into a flurry of questions. Neither you nor Jamie can get a word in until Beard yells, “QUIET! Don’t be fuckin’ weird!” 

They all mumble, “Sorry coach,” while Jamie whispers, “You can go if you want. I know you’ve got work and shit. I’ll handle them.”

You squeeze his arm gratefully and slip out the door. You know he’ll take care of things.

[ink-n-shadowfiction]

Just stumbled across your blog and I’m in love with your writing!! Especially bodyguard!Simon? Cmon the tension is DELICIOUS

If I may submit a request/put an idea in your head: if Simon thinks rockstar!reader is hot in leather pants, imagine Simon being around her in a bikini!!! Maybe they’re on vacation somewhere, idk. But I could only imagine his lack of self control LMAO

Sunscreen and Stolen Glances | bodyguard!Simon "Ghost" Riley

thank you sm :') i appreciate the kind words AND especially appreciate this request because i'm: feral for it (also pls send more for this au! or any other au you'd like to see)

pairing: bodyguard!Simon "Ghost" Riley x rockstar!fem!reader (link to all works in this au)

genre: suggestive??? somewhere between fluff and angst and smut

word count: 936

warning: basically Ghost putting sunscreen on you and losing his mind a little (minors—DNI just in case)

You finally had some downtime in your busy schedule. From concerts to interviews to red carpet appearances, you felt like you were being pulled in every single direction imaginable. That was why as soon as you found out you'd have an entire week off, you jumped at it.

"C'mon, hurry up. I wanna go check out the pool, Ghost." You huffed out a whine as you stood in the middle of the beach house you had rented for the week, arms crossed over your chest.

Ghost shot a glare in your direction as he set your suitcases and bag down on the tiled floor next to his one singular duffle bag. "Jesus, dove. Give me five fuckin' seconds to put the bags down, yeah? What, y'need me to hold your hand out there? Go check it out yourself."

You rolled your eyes at Ghost's words as you padded towards the sliding glass doors and expansive windows of the living room, pulling the door open and feeling the midday heat outside hitting your skin.

The patio and pool area outside was all white marble, a glass fence separating the patio from the pool desk. It was luxurious, sure, but most of all, it was private—covered in thick trees and bushes to shield from any prying eyes. No fans, no paparazzi, just you and Ghost.

You didn't bother waiting for Ghost as you stepped out onto the patio, feeling the breeze sweeping across your skin and the sun beating down on you. Your fingers made quick work to unbutton your jean shorts.

"Dove, which room did you say was—" Ghost stepped out onto the patio, eyes growing a bit wide as he watched you stripping off the clothes you'd worn for the plane. His gaze immediately focused on the black bikini you had on underneath, the way it hugged the curves of your body and left very little up to his imagination. He cleared his throat as he turned his head away to stare at the pool in front of him.

A soft giggle rolled off your tongue as you noticed the sudden shift in Ghost's demeanor, your lips stretching into a teasing smile. "What's wrong, Ghost? Cat got your tongue or something?"

Ghost let out a scoffed breath, arms crossing over his chest once more and making the muscles of his biceps strain against his black t-shirt. His eyes remained off into the distance, jaw tense under the balaclava still stretched over his face. "You're insufferable. Y'gonna be like this all week?"

"Like what—wearing a bikini? Duh." You brushed past Ghost to head down the wooden stairs towards the pool desk, body stretching out across a lounge chair with a soft sigh. You knew Ghost was still fighting to look anywhere but your body glistening in the sun. "Grab the sunscreen for me? I think I left it in my pink suitcase."

You heard Ghost grumble something under his breath before disappearing for a few moments, only returning once he had the tube of sunscreen in his hand. He held it out to you, keeping his eyes locked on your face. If he looked anywhere else, he knew he would explode. "Here. Now tell me which room's mine before I take the bigger one anyway."

"Wait—can you get my back for me?" You pouted softly as you turned over onto your stomach, cheek laying on your bent forearms and squishing your face a bit. "I don't wanna burn, Ghost."

A muscle in Ghost's jaw twitched at your words, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the sunscreen back into his grip. "For fuck's sake, dove...can't do one bloody thing for yourself, can you?" But he complied, pulling the leather gloves off of his thick fingers and letting them fall to the pool deck below.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you listened to Ghost squeezing the suncream out of the tube, lathering it between his palms before gently brushing his sunscreen-covered hands along your back. A soft sigh fell from your lips.

The gentle touch was a stark contrast to his calloused hands—the same hands you knew had killed many men back in his military days. Those same hands were now caressing your skin like you were made of porcelain, as if one sudden rough touch and you'd splinter into millions of little pieces. The thoughts alone made your head spin.

You didn't need to see Ghost to know that he was this close to snapping. You could feel it in the way he massaged the sunscreen into your skin, blunt nails scraping and the pads of his fingers pushing deeper against the flesh of your spine. "Don't forget the shoulders." You giggled softly as you let your body relax, focusing your attention on how good his hands felt against you.

"Don't fuckin' push it, dove." Ghost snarled softly as he moved up to your shoulders, making sure they were covered in the soft sheen of sunscreen before taking a step back. He tossed the tube of suncream onto your lounge chair and picked up his discarded gloves. "Do the rest yourself. You're not completely helpless."

You peeked your eyes open and let out a playful whine. You could see the tension in his body, the way his black slacks were a bit tighter in the front. "C'mon—you don't wanna get the back of my thighs?"

Ghost let out a shuddering breath as he turned away from you, marching up the wooden stairs with a stern shake of his head. If he put his hands on you again, he knew he'd lose any shred of control and professionalism he had left. "Get 'em yourself. M'not touching you again."

[anincompletelist]

“Don’t make it into a big deal.” FirstPrince

xoxo MJ/kiwiana-writes

HI FRIEND! :D

+

Mornings have quickly become Henry’s most favorite part of the day. 

He denotes ‘most’ because there are a lot of favorites now that they’re both fully moved into the brownstone and Alex is here full time, stealing his covers and talking through his favorite television shows. But the early mornings, before either of them have any obligations, when Alex’s hair is all smushed to one side of his head, his cheek red from resting against Henry’s shoulder all night and his words soft and slow, might just top the list. After being gone the entire week prior to London, Henry’s extra eager today. 

Alex makes it downstairs to the sitting area first, curled up in his armchair with their knitted blanket draped over his folded legs when Henry emerges from the hallway. He stops in the kitchen to grab the freshly made mug of Earl Grey that Alex had left him moments ago, still steaming as he brings it to his chest and moves to the den to take up his seat across from him. 

Unlike Henry, Alex is decidedly not a morning person. He grumbles more than he speaks pre-caffeine, a pinch between his brows that Henry has soothed many times with his lips and his hands. He steps forward to do it now, accustomed to the smell of coffee beans and cinnamon like muscle memory at this point, and pauses beside the chair when it’s noticeably absent. He glances down at Alex’s mug in his lap, a familiar cup of Earl Grey staring back at him. 

“Alex, that’s— are you drinking my tea?” 

“Your tea?” Alex scoffs, reaching under his glasses to rub the sleep from his eye. “Oh, so when you said ‘what’s mine is yours’ I guess you were just—” 

“Alex.” 

His lip drawn up between his teeth, Alex avoids his eye. “So what if I am,” he mutters, running a fingertip around the rim. “Started making it when you were out of town last week out of habit. Wasn’t gonna waste it. I’m sure I’d never hear the fuckin’ end of it.” 

Henry’s heart stutters inside of his chest. “You made it while I was away?” 

Chin dipped to his chest, Alex inhales, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Smells like you.” 

“Oh, love,” Henry sighs, finally bending down to smooth his lips over the wild curls at Alex’s forehead. 

“Don’t make it into a big deal,” Alex warns, pushing him toward his own armchair with his foot. His thick glasses do little to hide the flush blooming on his cheeks in the morning sunshine, Henry’s own beaming grin a fixture between his ears. Before he sits he leans across and seals their mouths together, just to taste it on his lips. 

“I love you,” he says. He goes to pull away, only to be drawn back by the front of his sleep shirt. 

“Love you too,” Alex presses into his mouth, bergamot and citrus and happiness thick on his tongue. 

+

[on ao3 here]

[send me a line of dialogue and I'll write something fluffy!] :D

[charmixpower]

Issue Twenty-One: The Shaab Stone

They can't even color Riven's uniform right on the cover, dear lord, call that foreshadowing

On that note I'm just gonna pretend that this Riven is show Riven for all of our sanities, because if I point out how Riven is usually much more chill and cool headed in the comics we're all gonna get annoyed

I have so many questions. Implying that Magix is like a university city, but the entire PLANET

I love how Griffin gives a negative amount of fucks

If you smoke in her office she'll blow up your cigarette or cigar XD

....I thought these were highschools??? He is like a balding adult and he can enroll????? What???

This confirms that in the comics witch philosophy is a very using fire to fight fire

You know after so many evil witches you'd think people would accept this is a terrible idea but nope

Comics Tecna is so lame, me and show Tecna are entranced by a model crane

OH MY GOD AN ACTUAL REASON WHY SO MANY RANDOM PLACES ON MAGIX ARE A NO MAGIC ZONE!!! AMAZING!!!

Tbh the comics never let a plot line hang

Spy Helia, doing spy Helia things

Hey isn't having a bunch of private military in a protected/enclosed area like super illegal???? Can't we tell the authorities that the Winx comics and show decided on a dice if they exist this ep

WAIT THEY ACTUALLY THOUGHT OF TELLING THE FUCKING AUTHORITIES AND DECIDED TO SEND TEENAGERS???? THIS IS ALL YOUR DUMBASSES FAULT

I swear nothing in the Winx show is more annoying than all the authorities shoving their responsibilities on teenagers, I know the Winx need to be doing things, but still

Stella. No magic.

What are you going to be able to do???

Comic artists said purple eyed Riven supremacy

Also "at the fortress of light"???? Like principal is a political role in the Winx world????

"and see how good he is" So this was a lie

That's actually a really smart idea from Helia

We love to see it

"Let's head back!" HELIA HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND??? AND LOSE SIGHT OF IT????? YOU WERE DOING SO WELL!!

You do not need to LEAVE to call backup!!!

God I hope this just a mistranslation, bc that is so fuckin dumb gjsbfjsjs don't let the evil people with the important rock leave where you can't find them

Riven, please stop being annoying and contraction

....Sky, what the fuck. How did you get to murder??

You people have sent on a mission to get the rock.... Like am I interpreting this wrong?? But aren't they technically a branch of the law???

Also bless you Helia for realizing that leaving is a incredibly stupid ass decision

He is planning on surrounding the private army with RF people, and he's also saying to wait for authorities in Magix

I need the writers to explain what the fuck they are trying to communicate

A business man taking over magix would have a much larger affect than how you act, so it really depends on who the has the most power but I understand where ur coming from girlie

"our powers" tho??

Helia once again is doing amazing sweetie, please don't let them out of your sight

Riven no

RIVEN NO!! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IF TIMMY IS GONNA HELP YOU!!!!

Ugh fucking dumbass, I definitely understand where he's coming from. It's right there, we should do something. But the squad is like right there too, at least try to get more than Timmy to come with

Tbh I would of liked it more if Riven got into an argument and him being loud got them found

It would of been really funny as well

See if Riven didn't ask Timmy to join him he would have just jumped out of the plane

No hesitation, no fear

And that would have been hilarious

Omg look at Helia's face 🥺 poor boy

This is part of Helia's and Saladin's 100 IQ plan together, did he know about it this far out???

I have so many questions about when they came up with that plan????

Is Tecna saying that about Riven or Timmy I cannot tell

If it's about Timmy, girl why

[wjehfshs]

I forgot to take my meds so I’m gonna do some silly short imagines/scenarios with COD and DBH characters x reader

Warnings??: swearing. Cringe and uncreative :3, but I’m having fun so… reader being chaotic and silly

Mentions of smoking/cigars at one point and blood at one point but not too bad

A really fucked up looking cake made by reader and Connor

Somewhat Connor x reader

Price being basically the dad of everyone

Hank and Connor being the best father son duo

Hank kinda being a father figure overall

Hank also creating an abomination

OOC Connor??? Sorta??? Idk if headcanons about Deviant Connor count as OOC we don’t really see much of Deviant Connors personality.

COD imagines

Reader: who’s got their hands on their favourite food and they’re devouring it (may or may not be inspired by me at dinner earlier today)

Everyone else: looking on in fear and awe, their food basically untouched as reader is basically oblivious to the world

Soap: “Jesus fuckin Christ lad/lass, could ya slow down?! It’s givin’ me a stomach ache just looking at ya”

Reader: who stops dead in their tracks, food stuffed in their mouth as they are mid chew, fork with more food on it held up in midair as if they are about to take another bite. And they start slowly chewing again as they slowly descend back into their episode of shovelling food down their throat

Soap: “that’s fuckin it, bloody hell im eatin in my room” as he picks up his plate and walks off

Reader: walking back inside with a plastic tub that seems to be wet and heavy.

Price: “what have you done this time.”

Reader: “noooothing” they smile a little to themselves as they try to conceal their laughter

Price: “let me look in the tub. Now.”

Reader: backing off not wanting to make him angry.

Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Rudy, Alejandro, and Graves: All siting peacefully in the main area.

Price: in the background “Why the fuck did you bring a fucking baby Shark inside?!”

Ghost: covered in glitter, absolutely pissed beyond belief “would you like to tell me why there was a bucket of glitter sat on top of my door?!”

Reader: “well that’s actually a funny story you see…” starts booking it in the opposite direction

Ghost: chasing after them at full speed, still covered in glitter, leaving a glitter trail behind him.

Everyone: very confused as to why there is a glitter trail eventually leading to a locked door with a glitter covered Ghost banging on it with reader crying/laughing behind it out of both fear and it being the funniest shit they have seen all day

COD headcanons

I like to imagine Gaz really likes Beyoncé so if he’s ever put on cleaning duty he will wait until everyone’s asleep and he’ll listen to Beyoncé with his headphones on while cleaning, he’s definitely been caught a couple times by Price or Graves or something. He never lived it down but it still didn’t stop his love for Beyoncé.

Soap really loves olives, like, REALLY loves them so much so to the point where every time they get a supply of Olives they have to lock them away so Soap doesn’t take them too his room and eat them all in one sitting (side note: I hate olives, I really fucking hate olives)

Ghost likes hello kitty because it reminds him of the softer things in life (which he doesn’t really get to see much I can imagine) so back at home he has a bunch of hello kitty stuff such as plushies all placed neatly on his bed along with some other stuff like bed sheets, but he refuses to take any of it with him on missions even if he can keep it in his room in the Barracks because he’s just so scared that if the Barracks get attacked his plushies will either get dirty/bloody or straight up “injured” and he just loves them too much to let that happen, just quietly he thinks if that where to ever happen his entire world would fucking crumble in front of him (self inserting myself a bit bc I love my plushies this much too and I love hello kitty)

Price although he smokes cigars he knows how it can make Gaz worry (worried son moment frfr) so he’s trying to stop so he’s taken up chewing a shit load of gum. He will sneak in an occasional cigar if he gets too stressed out on a mission. He just needs that relief for a second but he swears he’ll stop next time (he doesn’t).

Soap likes to collect bath toys, ever since he got his nickname “Soap” he’s taken a liking to collecting bath toys (specifically rubber ducky’s) whenever he’s back at home.

Graves is a full blown homosexual but he’s too scared to admit it so he denies it every time.

DBH imagines

Hank: getting home after reader and Connor (deviant Connor, sorry I really only write deviant Connor bc he holds a special place in my heart and any kind of Connor hurts me) get a day off “Hey im homeeee…”

Reader: covered in flour and butter

Connor: the ends of his fingers are charred black a bit from the oven and he has icing bits in his hair

Reader and Connor collectively: “We made you a cake! :D”

The cake in question:

Hank: literal fucking tears in his eyes out of pure terror and stress. “…Thanks guys, I’m not. I’m not hungry right now but I’ll eat it later” as he slowly shuffles to his room with a shell shocked look on his face.

Connor and Reader: Looking at each other with the stupidest and biggest smile on their faces.

(This is inspired by a tik tok audio)

Connor: who’s deviant but is still used to being a machine so he analyses every single little thing. He walks up to reader. “You’re hair smells different today, did you use a different shampoo?”

Reader: slowly turning around with a scared smile on their face. “That’s actually really… creepy”

Connor: (in his head) “creepy? Am I. Creepy?” But on the outside he looks like he’s on the verge of tears

Reader: who sees his expression and immediately hugs him just to assure him they’re not mad just giving him a heads up that it’s kinda weird, they still love him tho (either platonically or romantically)

Hank: in the kitchen making something

Connor: “Hey Hank, what are you making?” As he makes the mistake, the traumatic life changing mistake of looking in the pot

Hank: who’s boiling fucking raw chicken with nothing but hot water. “Chicken.” He says bluntly as he cleans up and puts the chicken on the plate and eats it while it’s completely unseasoned and practically raw

Connor: from the sheer shock of the encounter he goes into overload and he’s getting warning systems all over telling him sometimes wrong

Reader: who has to sit Connor down as they try not to gag from Hanks creation he dares to call a “meal”

DBH headcanons

Neither Hank nor Connor can cook for shit so 90% of the time it’s either microwaveable food or take out for Hank.

Since Connor turned Deviant he developed social anxiety but when he’s around people such as Hank or reader he’s so silly, he gets so stupid and funny it’s so cute to see him like that (I want to squeeze him and put him in my pocket then have him surgically inserted into my heart permanently I love him so much)

Connors autistic

Hanks Bi

Connors Pansexual

Connor and Hank so father son activities such as play catch outside and walk Sumo (with reader ofc)

Hank had his house renovated to have an extra room put in for Connor (and if you also want to live there an extra room for you but if your romantically in a relationship with Connor you would probably just have a bed put in Connors room and Connor, although he doesn’t need sleep, he’ll go into sleeping mode with you on the bed as you two cuddle)

Connor saved up enough money to buy a phone so once he got it all set up the camera roll is just filled with pictures of Sumo, other dogs he saw in public while out, him and Hank taking selfies, Hank who once got drunk and stole his phone and took pictures of himself, you and Connor selfies, (if you two are romantically together, sometimes just pictures of you, many, many pictures of you) and, you, Hank, Sumo and him all in a photo together. Maybe a couple of photos with his other friends too such as Markus etc etc but it’s mainly those.

Connor love’s physical touch, platonically, romantically, all of it. Every day he gives Hank a good morning hug, and a good night hug (best son ever fr) and every time he sees you he squeezes you into a tight hug and won’t let go for a good minute (if you two are in love he’ll also pepper your entire face with kisses for that entire minute finishing off with a smooch on the lips)

Ok that’s all for now, I love Connor fr he’s my favourite I would die for him.

I know this was super cringe but I had sm fun doing this.

Ok it’s like 2AM I should go to bed

Bye bye!

[robinhqs]

the trinity of the bench

originally posted on ao3 under the user turpentineseas.

trinity of the bench

trinity (n., \ tri・nə・tē \ ) - the state of being three.

or, three times tommy pretended to hate ranboo, and the one time he didn’t.

no. 1) the argument 

In Tubbo's defense, Tommy was never supposed to touch the bin. There was a reason that the side of the Sterilite container was labelled DO NOT FUCK WITH in huge block letters. And red. Honestly, how could Tommy not have seen huge, bright red letters? 

 “Honestly, Tommy, how could you have not seen the huge, bright red letters? They aren’t that hard to miss! Even he remembers they’re there, and he forgot what color his eyes were yesterday!” Tubbo gestured wildly in the vague area of Ranboo. 

Tommy steepled his hands and worked his face into a very strange expression. “Tubbo- Tubs, Big Man, you know the importance of words is not lost to me! However, these words were useless. Besides, what’s the harm in touching the bin?” 

Ranboo stared at him. “Tommy, you exploded an entire apartment complex. Our apartment complex, in case you were curious on why we were sleeping on the ground tonight-”

“Ranboo, Ranboob, nobody cares. It is in whole, not my fault I used the nukes!” Tommy shot finger guns at Tubbo. Tubbo stared back blankly, looking slowly at Ranboo as he started speaking.

“TOMMY, YOU WERE THE ONE THAT OPENED THE BOX.”

“It was calling to me! The little pin was saying Tommy, Tommy, Big Man Innit, if you touch me your many girlfriends will love you! Who am I to say no to my ladies, mm?”

Tubbo slowly slid down the wall and covered his face with the sleeves of his hoodie as he listened to Ranboo and Tommy bicker. He sighed. It was going to be a long week.

no 2.) the theft

“Fucking Ranboob , always stealing my shit.” Tommy kicked a rock down the road, catching up with it, and kicking it farther. “He just can’t let me have nice things, you know? He stole my fucking- fancy chocolate yesterday, and had the nerve not to balls up and admit it.” 

Tubbo took a lick of his ice cream cone. “Tommy, firstly, it was Hershey’s- that’s not exactly fancy . Secondly, how do you know it was Ranboo? You can’t just blame him for everything.”

Tommy looked at him. “There are two people who could have took it, and one of them is Ranboo, and one of them is you. And I seriously doubt-” He narrowed his eyes. “Tubbo, how did you know it was Hershey’s? Did you- TUBBO-”

Tubbo sprinted away, cackling the entire way down the gravel road.

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

Tubbo let out a contented sigh. Laying in the soft grass, cloud-gazing with his best friend, well, he hadn’t done this in a while. Something was eating at him, and he finally knew what.

“Tommy, why do you hate Ranboo?” Tubbo looked over at Tommy. “You used to be a little okay with him, and then he moved in. And since then, you’ve just been fighting and blaming each other for everything.”

Tommy sighed and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“It’s not- well, I just- it doesn’t matter. It’s not really like- a thing, you know?”

Tubbo’s gaze softened. “You know, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay! Just, please, resolve it with him? It’s making me feel weird.”

Tommy mumbled into his hands.

Tubbo lifted an eyebrow. “What was that? You want to say it to my face?”

Tommy rolled his neck back and turned to look at him. “ Finnnne , I’ll have a good manly heart-to-heart with fuckin’ Ranboob . Also, you’re short.”

“FUCK YOU!” Tubbo shrieked and leaped for him. “You’re going to regret that!”

Tommy just laughed.

no. 3) the crash

Tubbo sprinted into the shabby living room. “What the hell was that crashing noise?” His eyes swiveled from Tommy to Ranboo, both standing over a broken computer monitor.

“Which one of you broke this?” He demanded, already knowing the answer.

Without hesitation, Tommy pointed his finger straight at Ranboo’s chest. “It was him! Tubbo, you know I’d never do something like that.”

Ranboo looked at Tommy incredulously. “ I did this? I just watched you-

“-you have to believe me, it wasn’t-”

“-COMPLETELY smash it-”

“-he dropped it on the floor, I swear-”

“STOP IT!” Tubbo finally screamed. “I- I don’t care who did it. Just please, please stop it, and- I don’t even- whatever. Just go back to whatever you were doing. And be quiet, please, I have a headache.” He walked out of the living room, back to their bedroom.

Tommy watched his friend retreat. The moment Tubbo was out of sight, he turned to Ranboo and let loose. “C’mon, Ranboo, why’d you have to throw me under the bus like that in front of good old Tubso?”

Ranboo glared at him and angrily whispered back. “I don’t know, maybe because you smashed the monitor and you tried to blame me ? Why do you always push the blame for your crap onto me? If you’re trying to push Tubbo away from me, it’s having the opposite effect- Tubbo just thinks you’re more of a dick then usual- Tommy?”

Tommy took two steps backward, wiping the welling tears from his eyes, and dashed out of the apartment. 

+ 1) reconciliation

Tommy softly crept into the bedroom. “Um- hey guys? Are you still awake?”

Tubbo whispered back. “Tommy? You’re back? Ranboo told me what happened, are you alright?”

Tommy sat on the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. “I-um, I just wanted to apologize. For, you know, being a huge dick to Ranboo.”

Ranboo sat up. “Thanks, but are you alright-”

Tubbo interrupted. “And why. No offense, but why?”

Tommy looked blankly back at him. “Why- why am I sorry?”

Tubbo sighed. “No. Why were you being a massive dick?”

Tommy dropped his head into his hands. “So- I- I don’t really know how to phrase it, but Tubbo’s been my best friend since- forever, I guess. And, I don’t know, but when you showed up, I was kind of afraid you’d take him away, I guess. I don’t know. It’s just that he was all I had, and then- I don’t know.”

Ranboo crawled over to Tommy. “I think I know what you’re trying to say. I just want you to know that I’m not trying to take away Tubbo, or anything. I’m going to absorb you into the friendship blob, and this time you’ll know.” 

Tommy sniffled slightly into his elbow. “Thanks, Ranboo.” he whispered back, leaning into the older boy’s hug.

“Aww,” Ranboo cood, hugging him closer.

“Okay, this is nice and all, but I can’t see shit, guys. Can you maybe bring the lovefest over here?” Tubbo glared into empty space as Tommy laid on the ground, laughing his head off.

“Aww, I love you too,” Ranboo teased.

“I BETTER HAVE HEARD A SLASH P IN THERE, RANBOO. I’M GOING TO TWITTER HARD BLOCK YOU IF YOU DON’T-” Tubbo cackled.

“Oi, shut the fuck up and let me have my hugs in peace .” Tommy pulled the three into one final hug.

[the-trans-dragon]

I just remembered this game exists and that I spent SO many hours playing it as a kid. I’d take my laptop with me when we went to town so I could open the game, and then keep the tab open for weeks playing it at home

[dienamights]

Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s):  Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date. 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.” 

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to- 

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?” 

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now. 

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her. 

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week. 

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No!  He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.” 

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario. 

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,” 

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-” 

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.” 

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight. 

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it. 

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?” 

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high. 

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a  shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly. 

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you. 

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed. 

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[hotwings0203]

GOD I JUST READ UR BAKUGOU FIGHTER ONESHOT AND LAKSLAKSSKKAKAA

im in love, its soooo good😭😭😭😭 and i just wanted to ask, maybe if there is a possibility of u writing the second part w smut!👉🏼👈🏼 🥺

u r so talented!!! i love u💕💕💕

Wow fun fact: I actually love you anon

JUST FOR YOU, I SHALL INDULGE!!👆🏽

Pt.1

Tw:noncon, implied death

He was inside you.

He was grunting.

You were the mortar, he was the pestle.

“Fuck,” he pants inside your mouth. “You get turned on this much by watching dweebs like him get slaughtered out there?”

You sob and try futilely to once again lift his weight off of your pinned body, but he merely slaps your bouncing tits.

“Stay still. Don’t fucking move unless you want me to bruise your cervix. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little masochist? Isn’t that why you didn’t try as hard to push your boy toy out of the rink, huh? ‘Cause a slut like you gets off on watching a man like me show everyone whose boss?”

You cry out muffled against his palm after he gives a particularly rabid thrust, making sure to grind his tip against the sides of your gooey walls.

In a moment of savage triumph, Bakugo lets his slobbery tongue lather itself all over your cheeks. He tastes the tears that collect at the sides of your mouth, he tastes the sweat that gathers on your forehead and he swears it tastes like heaven itself.

He pulls back while continuing to pound you into the mattress, and he takes a good long look at you mere inches away from your face.

You’re a mess. Your eyes are rolling to the back of their sockets while your hair is strewn across the pillows, your hands pinned behind your back in an uncomfortable twist from his meaty hands.

He looks rabid almost. His eyes are everywhere, on your red eyes, on your bouncing tits, on the connection from his body to yours.

Your mouth forms an ‘O’ against his sweaty palm, consistently kept open from your moans and pained whimpers.

It’s true that he’s good with his dick, unfortunately all that talk wasn’t just for show. He had something to prove to you, and prove he did.

Or, is currently doing.

“Answer me, slut. Did you like watching me send your little boyfriend to the hospital?”

He uncovers your mouth and permits you to take a wild gasping breath. The rhythm of his hips cease as he waits for you to gather yourself momentarily, but he doesn’t pull out. You are just a pretty cockwarmer for him right now, no need to think that you deserve any more mercy than he’s already giving you.

“‘D-didnt like it. ‘Wanna go home, lemme go, get off of me,” you sob and weakly pull your wrists out of his hold to push him, but with a mean laugh he flips you over so that your face is smushed agains the pillows and your ass is in the air.

He yanks your hair back and you shriek at the feeling of strands being ripped from your head. He pulls you back up until his mouth is right next to your ear and your spine is lined up with his chest.

“No? You didn’t like it baby?” He hisses mockingly in your ear, and roughly fondles a bruised tit.

“I didn’t like it when you were licking lips with him in front of me either, but I guess we can’t all get what we want…well maybe you can’t. I’ll take whatever the fuck I want from you though.” And with that he lets go of your head and lets you unceremoniously fall back onto the downy covers.

Bakugo grabs your hips and pull your ass back until it’s flush against his dick. He rubs the wet tip up and down your ass, and traces it down your slit, letting it press in a little further when in contact with your entrance.

He doesn’t push it in though. No, he goes lower and lower until the member in his hand parts your lips open and it brushes against your clit.

When it does, your body shudders and jerks at the sensation of his tip swirling in your juices around the little nub and prodding at the sensitive flesh. He thrusts slowly and lets the sensation build at your throbbing clit before pulling back abruptly.

You fist the sheets and try to ignore the way your legs shake. It’s humiliating, you know you can’t even shift to your side lest he props you back face down ass up like a fucking animal.

And he was treating you like one, too.

He panted like a dog when he let your juices drool and collect around his girth, and he clawed and teethed on your neck and tits as if he were some kind of mutt.

It scared you how badly he wanted you.

You feel a soft tapping against your clit and you unconsciously arch your back and mewl when the area buzzes with need.

It almost physically hurts the winding coil in your stomach to hold your hips back from chasing Bakugo’s dick as he pulls away, the fucker knowing that you wanted more no matter how terrified you were of him.

“Aww, what’s wrong kitty? No more bitchy attitude and claws? Don’t worry, I’ll soothe your other kitty pretty soon,” he snorts at his own unfunny joke.

You don’t laugh. In fact, you tremble with indignation and horror when he begins pushing back into you as if it were the only place for his cock to be.

“Fucking shit,” he hisses in pleasure as he slowly sheaths his entire length around your dripping cavern. “Maybe I’ll bring in his broken body and set him up on the chair right there-“ he pushes your head to the side so you can see the armchair he points to. You don’t really care about the stupid chair though, not really when you can feel yourself stretch painfully and ingest every vein that scrapes against your insides.

“I’ll take his broken wrists and snap ‘em back to their normal state just so I can break them again when I cuff him down. I’ll make you look at him right in his pathetic eyes when I’m balls deep inside your slutty cunt.”

You let out an embarrassingly loud moan when he pulls out just to grab onto your hips and slam your ass against his groin again. He watches as your cheeks clap around his dick and spreads your gooey substance around his thighs and stomach.

“Baku-“

Smack

“Katsuki!”

“The fuck did I say about calling me by my name? You want me to bring him out of the morgue and light his body up too? Didnt realize you hated him that much, fuckin’ whore.”

All of a sudden you feel a heavy weight leaning forward and draping itself on your back, suffocating you with feeling filled everywhere. Your sweaty bodies mash, fluids mixing as he grabs your hair like reigns and slaps his hips against yours. The mattress shakes with the force of his thrusts and you swear you can feel him poking through your stomach when he suddenly lets out a loud groan.

He doesn’t give you any kind of indication that he’s cum, you only feel hot ropes of his seed shoot into your poor, wounded pussy. It stings with the mixture of blood that seeps out of you, the clash making an almost cute pink color coming out of your hole.

Bakugo unravels his hands from your hair and peels himself off of you, but when you try to shakily follow pursuit he leans an elbow into your spine, successfully making you squeal in pain and flop back onto the bed.

“Stay down. Teasing sluts like you don’t deserve to move off their natural habitat.” He sneers and uses a thumb to pull your asscheeks apart, inspecting his cum.

He whistles and lightly slaps one cheek, passing the view off as satisfactory.

“Please,” you rasp, opening one bleary eye to watch him pull a shirt on. “Please just tell me if you got him help.”

Katsuki smiles and lights a blunt. He takes a long drag and peers at your wrecked body.

“You didn’t hear what I said earlier?”

Your heart seizes and you slowly pull your head up from the pillow, eyes as wide as the moon.

“Who says he’s even alive?”

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

The Gang Finds A Backroom Baby

Here we have my fic for the @sandersidesbigbang !

Thank you to my lovely beta reader @threecrowsinatrenchcoat for their help (and for their comments which were hilarious and an absolute mood)!

I’ll be updating with additional links as I have them! I hope you all enjoy!

-

Walmart AU: (almost) everyone works at walmart and they’re all gay and stupid.

Word Count: 10K ~

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety, Logicality, Dukeceit, and Remile (mentioned)

Content Warnings: Remus being Remus, swearing, mentions of dermatillomania, implied and outright child abandonment and neglect, there’s probably innuendos in here too tbh, brief spider mention

Summary: When the gang finds an abandoned baby in the backrooms, they are given the task of taking care of it until the proper authorities can arrive. Despite initial trepidation and anxieties, saying goodbye proves to be much harder than everyone anticipated...

~~

The wind and hail came pouring down as Patton and Remus turned up to work that morning, both nursing their freezing hands and drying their soaked hair as they headed towards the employees area of the backrooms. Remus all the while was animatedly regaling Patton with a story from his college days that had the latter contemplating requesting for Logan to schedule the former in for a psychological evaluation.

“So I’m just sitting there, shirt off, fuckin’ barbecue sauce on my ti- the fuck is that?!”, Remus queried, nudging Patton in the ribs. 

The shorter man yelped and nudged him right back, “Remus! Don’t do that! Your elbows are so pointy-!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got sick knife ‘bos, whatever! Look!”

Patton followed Remus’ pointed finger towards a box placed rather haphazardly in front of the back rooms' fire escape doors. It didn’t match any of the other boxes, missing the store’s logo and bearing corners that were worn and crushed. Damp patches and ripped seams implied it might’ve been moved inside sometime in the very early morning when the weather had begun to get violent. 

The thing looked like it’d been through some real shit, and Remus was more than ready to investigate. 

Patton was a little more hesitant despite the allure of the mystery box, “Shouldn’t we wait for Logan and the others? What if it’s something dangerous?”

“Good, might spice shit up around here!”, Remus cackled, kneeling down to excitedly give the box an experimental poke. Nothing.

Patton joined him, ready with his phone poised to call 911 if it was indeed something dangerous. Like a rabid raccoon. Or a tiny crocodile. Or … god forbid… a spider's nest. The thought alone made Patton shudder down to his core. He literally shuddered when Remus ripped open the top of the box, only for his eyes to widen and his smirk to drop into a startled O shape.

Pat peered into the box and…. Oh.

--

Virgil, Janus, and Logan all managed to get inside the store before the weather outside soaked them to the bone. Whoever had pissed off the almighty Thor was surely about to receive a hefty complaint from Virgil in the form of a shiny new black eye if Janus was reading his downright infuriated body language correctly. 

“I can’t believe we have to fucking work today,”, Virgil groaned and ran his hands down his face, probably praying his make up was as waterproof as advertised, “You’d think rampant capitalism would take one fucking day off.”

Janus rolled his eyes. He swiped at the water droplets lining his wide brimmed black hat while lamenting the inevitable dampness he’d be sure to feel later. He fished his beanie out of his long coat’s pocket, musing flatly, “As long as consumers are willing to brave this weather, the higher ups will send us out here to suffer. You know this as well as I do, it was the first bullet point covered in employee orientation.”

Unimpressed but visibly unable to entirely disagree with Janus’ sarcasm, Logan simply closed his umbrella and shook off the water and hail stones, “Be that as it may, let’s just hope this shift goes by smoothly. And preferably with little to no customers.”. 

The darker gentlemen at Logan’s side gave a harmonious grumble of agreement when they were interrupted by frantic footsteps quickly gaining on them. Janus recognised the squeaks and heavy clunking of Remus’ favourite thick black combat boots, confirming it was him as a rubbery skid and clatter was followed by a rather colourful expletive.

“Oh Lord give me strength...”, Logan groaned as he, Janus, and Virgil watched Remus try to hop the checkout to reach them instead of taking the extra ten seconds to go around it.

“Remus, what on Earth-?!”

“A BABY!!”, he wildly squawked, his expression halfway between excitement and bewilderment as he flopped over the checkout and face planted the tile floor. 

“A what?!”. Virgil narrowed his eyes, Janus helping Remus to his feet while Logan was still in the phase of working out what the hell Remus had just said, “The fuck do you mean ‘a baby’?!....... Have you been feeding the fucking raccoons out back again, I swear to god-”

Once Remus was helped up, he gestured to the backroom so quickly he nearly took out Janus’ eye, interrupting Virgil in the process, “NO, I MEAN IT’S A FUCKIN’ BABY, VIRGE!!”. Remus grabbed Janus’ arm and began hauling him towards the backroom while Virgil and Logan were left to follow them, “This is so fucked up, holy shit-!!”

Remus kept babbling as they went, but Janus couldn’t make out a word of it; his brain was still trying to catch up to his reality. They were just past the door to the backroom when Janus’ brain finally let what Remus had been yelling about sink fully in.

“WAIT WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU MEAN “A BABY”-?!”

His echoing exclamation was cut off as a tiny wail resounded and Janus broke eye contact with Remus to search for the source; Patton, stood there with a crying honest-to-god human baby in his arms. In the moment, you could’ve bowled Janus over with a leaf.

“.... Holy fucking shit, it’s an actual baby.”, was all he could utter in disbelief. He looked frantically between both Remus and Patton just as Virgil and Logan caught up.

“Why is there a baby, what the emphatic FUCK, Remus?!”

Remus shrugged, “Fuck if I know-!”

Patton shushed them both as he tried to calm down the child in his arms, “Language!”

Remus rolled his eyes at him. Virgil seemed utterly lost for words, and while Logan was much in the same boat, he stepped forward to approach Patton and the child. From a cursory glance, it couldn’t have been more than a year old, clad in an oversized child’s onesie that was in good need of a proper cleaning. Thankfully, it’d stopped crying, simply whimpering instead while Patton tried his best to keep it warm and settled in his arms.

“Where did you find it?”, Logan finally managed to ask.

Patton gestured with a nod of his head to the cardboard box still laying at the exit door, “Inside the box, poor lil thing... There wasn’t much else, just a blanket really. Oh, and a note but it’s too soggy for me to read the ink.”

He handed the child to Logan who stiffened immediately, awkward and obviously having never been handed a baby before in his life. Or perhaps he was just worried he’d somehow manage to drop it. Either way, Patton made sure to be quick in picking up the soaked note and handed it to Virgil before taking the baby back.

Wincing at the cold dampness of the paper, Virgil began deciphering the writing, scrutinising whatever was left among bleeding black smudges and gross clumps of dirt. 

“I think it just says “please take good care of her”? I can’t make out anything else...”

Janus couldn’t mask the twitch of rage that crossed his features. Leaving a baby out in the cold and hoping - or presuming - strangers just might be kind enough to take it in... that was a cruelty he was far too familiar with. He hadn’t realised he was so tense until Remus’ hand gently wrapped his own in a firm, comforting grasp. Janus reciprocated it with a soft squeeze, letting the fluttering feeling in his chest kick the unpleasant emotions out of their footholds.

“So, what do we do now?”, Janus exhaled, leaving the question open despite all five of them knowing Logan would be the one to make the final call.

With a sigh, Logan crossed his arms, “We will obviously need to inform the authorities, most likely the police considering this is a far too obvious and unfortunate case of child abandonment. After that, we really can only hope for the best; that she will be given to a family who will care for her.”

The atmosphere in the backroom still felt heavy and unpleasant in spite of their mutual agreement. Thankfully, Patton Morales-Hart was not about to let the day start off so spectacularly gloomily. He gave a bright smile, doing his best as always to find the bright side, “Well! It’s a good thing we found this lil ray of sunshine! Now she can find a happy home, and until then we get to keep her safe and warm!”.

He held the baby in front of him adoringly and gave her that winning smile, “Isn’t that right, kiddo? Yeah! We’re gonna keep you company all day ‘til we can find you a new mommy or daddy! Or two, or three-!”.

To no one’s surprise, the infant let out a gurgle of delight, instantly grabbing for Patton’s glasses. Janus could feel the weight of the situation lighten unanimously; Patton’s upbeat attitude was infectious, though Logan somehow managed to coax himself back into his usual stoic headspace. 

“That was far more fanciful than required, but I do agree; the least we can do for the child is keep her safe until the proper authorities arrive.”, he gave Patton an affectionate but firm glance, “Be that as it may, we ought not get too attached. Lest some of us have trouble saying goodbye once she’s taken into protective care.”

Patton frowned, but it was obvious Logan was just trying to prevent what was likely inevitable heartbreak, especially on Patton’s end. A sentiment the fatherly man seemed to come to a sad understanding of, “Boo, you’re no fuuuun...”

Logan rolled his eyes, and if Janus wasn’t such a perceptive person, he may have missed the sparkle of infatuation in Logan’s eyes. He made a note to tease Logan about it later when Virgil piped up, “So, who’s making the call then? You can count me out, obviously.”

Remus flicked the back of Virgil’s hoodie, “Duh, we all know Logan’s gonna do it. It’s pretty much his job.”

Logan bristled a little, but he seemed to shrug it off, “I suppose I must. For the time being, please see to it that the child is given the utmost care and attention.”.

He turned to Patton, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard, however Janus was never one to miss a chance to listen in.

“If you require anything from the parenting supplies aisle, I will cover the necessary costs. Just please be considerate, alright Pat?”

Patton’s cheeks flushed a little at Logan’s rare informality. He gave Logan a tenderly genuine smile that was sure to set the latter’s heart racing, “Thanks, Logan. I can cover it myself, y’know...”

Logan shook his head, sporting a fond smile, “I’m your manager, it’s my responsibility to see that this matter is dealt with properly by the most responsible of staff-”

“Are you two gonna get a room or what?”, Remus interrupted and Janus could see Logan had to bite back the urge to smack him upside the head. Instead, he cleared his throat, “Don’t be crass. I’ll be making the call now, so please see to it that our temporary charge is kept safe.”

--

“Jan, can you pass me that Cream of Corn next to you?”

Janus nodded, picking up the baby food jar and handing it to Patton who gratefully popped the lid off. The baby sat strapped into a baby carrier Patton had picked out from the motherhood supplies while he scooped out a small spoonful of the paste. With a classic ‘here comes the choo choo train’ and a couple of crude train noises, Janus watched the infant gleefully gulp down her breakfast.

“I’ll never understand how babies can stomach that crap.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose as he sized up the jar from behind the café’s counter, “It’s like mulched wet garbage.”

Janus deadpanned back at him, leaning on his chair with his feet on the cafe’s table, “And you would know exactly how that tastes because...?”

Virgil glared at him. He came out from behind the cafe’s counter and swiped Janus’ feet off the table, pointedly ignoring the question, “Shut up, and keep your shoes off the furniture. My tables aren’t a goddamn footstool.”

Janus glared at the server, only stopping when Patton gave him a stern, fatherly warning glance. He sighed and sat back in his chair properly, letting the silence lapse as Patton went back to cooing and feeding the baby. Thankfully, the store was still empty of any customers and the hail storm seemed to be going strong so Janus gladly accepted the prolonged break for as long as he could. 

A soft hiss of steam caught his attention as Virgil cleaned the coffee machine. Despite how often the two butt heads, Janus felt a little better noting that Virgil looked far less tense than he had been earlier. Of course, about the only way you’d get him to admit that he gave one iota of a damn about said barista would be upon pain of death. And even then, Janus preferred to take his chances with the reaper.

“Oh.”, Patton gasped quietly, interrupting his happy babbling at the content infant, “I just realised, the little angel doesn’t even have a name.”

He didn’t need to clarify. Virgil and Janus shared a conflicted glance; they both knew naming her would be a mistake. Logan had warned them not to get attached, and for a good reason, but Patton was giving them both the most pitiful Patented Patton Puppy Dog Eyes…

“.... Well, it can’t hurt to give her a name if it’s just to make our lives a little easier.”

Janus tried, and failed, to sound disinterested. Patton’s expression lit up and even Virgil couldn’t help but smile along, “Sounds good to me. How about we go with Sally?”

“Absolutely not,”, Janus scoffed at the emo, while reaching over to softly boop the child’s nose and earning him a delighted gurgle, “She’s not some ragdoll, she’s a classy little lady. Marceline is much better.”

Patton frowned, “That sounds so old fashioned though! I was thinking maybe we could call her Lucy-!”

Virgil and Janus both wrinkled their noses at that, “Absolutely not-!”

“Goodness, Dr Buzzkill and Mister Snyde agreeing for once? I believe I may be witnessing a miracle.”

The trio let out a startled noise, so wrapped up in their squabbles that none of them had heard Roman approaching. His shimmering golden umbrella was sopping wet, as was the burgundy leather jacket and red hoodie underneath that replaced his usual letterman and t-shirt combo. 

In the single least subtle way, Virgil’s eyes roamed over Roman’s change in attire; if the dusting of rose pink settling along his cheeks coupled with the way his eyes dilated near instantly were anything to go buy, safe to say Roman had well and truly activated Virgil’s Fight or Flirt Response with the win enthusiastically going to Flirt.

Once Virgil apparently remembered English was a language he could indeed communicate in, albeit perhaps not well at the moment, he managed to get out, “Oh shut up- Wait, why are you even here?! You and Emile don’t bring the kids around this early ever-”

“Roman!”, Patton interrupted, his mortified expression a contrast to his earlier smiles and sunshine, “Did you bring those adorable lil kiddos all the way here, this early in the morning, during a hail storm!?”

Roman immediately threw his hands up in defense, “Come now, Padre! I would NEVER do that! Besides, I’m not due to take care of my tiny army of rambunctious hellions until about four-”.

He stopped and stared at the tiny baby girl gazing at him from the baby carrier on the table. He pointed to said baby girl who immediately grabbed his finger. Not that Roman was all too worried about that.

“What the heckity heck, how long has this been here?!”

Patton sighed, not so much at Roman, moreso at the situation, “Since we found her in a lil cardboard box cradle in the backroom, poor thing. Logan’s making calls right now so we’ve gotta look after her til then.”

Virgil leant his head on his right palm while he rolled the dish towel in his left hand idly, “Considering we can’t even decide on a name right now, I’d say we’re doing just peachy in the parenting department.”

Patton winced, glancing hopefully at Roman, “Well, maybe you can help, Roman? You’re way more creative than all three of us combined!”

The trio turned to face Roman who looked more than a little put on the spot. He nervously ran a hand through his wet hair, clearly about to speak up when Virgil cut in, “Pat, it's not fair to dump this on him! How would you like it if-!”

“It’s alright, Penny Dread-Filled, I really don’t mind naming this radiant little princess!”, Roman assured him, his previous unease disappearing. And so sue him, if Virgil melted a little at the soft smile Roman shot him? That's his business.

With both care and attention, Roman gently lifted the child from the baby carrier and gave her a comically over-acted look of befuddlement, clearly trying -and succeeding - to make her laugh while he thought things over.

“Hmm, did you all have suggestions?”, he finally asked, giving a bright smile as the as-yet-unnamed baby girl began gleefully patting his face with her tiny hands.

“I wanted to call her Sally,'' Virgil shrugged.

“I liked Lucy!”, Patton added excitedly.

“I prefer the far more elegant Marceline.”, came Janus’ smarmy reply.

Roman hummed, letting the child sit in the crook of his arm while he adjusted her little bib that Patton had picked out. Neither Pat nor Janus missed the way Virgil seemed mesmerised by how gentle and natural Roman looked with the child in his arms.

The moment of soothing calm was utterly shattered by Roman’s declaration, “Yes, I’ve decided. Those names? They’re …  all terrible, frankly. I love each of you dearly but seriously..”

The trio let out a groan of united frustration. Janus inhaled sharply, annoyedly drumming his fingers on the cafe table, “Well, what would you name her then? Given you’re to be our naming expert.”

Roman huffed but gladly gave his input, “Simple. I believe this tiny maiden of the Oh-So-Pointy-Baby-Nails,”, he began, still smiling even as he un-clawed his chin from her little hands, “should be called Alice.”

Surprisingly, it did give all three pause. Long enough for Roman to continue, “Clearly we want something classic, slightly vintage, and a little gothic, correct?”

From his expression, Virgil hoped he wasn’t imagining the wink Roman shot him at the last remark. The way Patton and Janus fixed the two with a knowing grin must have reassured him it was very much not imaginary because suddenly the dish towel on the counter was the most interesting sight for miles.

“Besides”, Roman continued, “She’s just as curious as the wonderfully bizarre Alice who braved wonderland! …. IF the way she’s trying to climb into my jacket is any indication. Might one of you lend me a hand actually-?”

Patton carefully took the baby- Alice, back from Roman, making sure to get her settled in the carrier despite her tiny noises of protest at losing her climbing tree. To keep her placated, Roman stayed and sat at the table, cooing and fawning over Alice like she was his own child. 

Had Virgil not known Roman for as long as he had, he may have believed it. 

She had tanned skin and rounded upper cheeks similar to Roman’s. Her hair was still thin and barely present, but the shade looked roughly the same if a little darker, and the way she scrunched her tiny face up in laughter was so adorably Roman, it was uncanny. Of course, she wasn’t exactly a coincidental exact copy of Roman; her eyes were a similar green that matched Virgil’s left eye and her nose was similar to his too…

In any other situation, she’d pass for our daughter-

Once Virgil could flusteredly dislodge the gay clogging his throat, he managed to pose the question to Roman, “So, what are you actually doing here, Princey? It’s storming outside and you said it yourself, you wouldn’t have to be here til four so...”

Roman looked back up at Virgil from his game of making funny faces at Alice only to send Virgil a delightful smirk that he would most certainly not be thinking about for the rest of the day, no siree, “Oh, I woke up early thanks to the endless assault of the hail on my window. And I thought that, since I cannot sleep, perhaps I ought to check in on my favourite barista while the roads weren’t so treacherous.”

In spite of how much his heart was trying to burst out of his ribcage and beg Roman to elope with it, Virgil covered his gay crisis with a snort and a sardonic retort, “Didn’t know you felt so strongly about Remy.”

Virgil wondered if he was hallucinating the way Roman’s smirk faltered. 

“Come now, Misery Bitchness, you and I both know I wasn’t referring to Captain Caffeine Addiction next door.”

Damn him. Damn Roman being so goddamn charming. Virgil feigned deep thought with a hum.

“Hmm, nope, can’t say I have a single clue who that barista of yours is then, sorry.”

Virgil added jokingly, “But hey, he’s probably pretty good at taking care of himself. No need for any stupidly charming princes to come to the rescue.”

Roman rolled his eyes in slight annyoance, but levelled the darker man with another smirk that Virgil was 100% certain could murder him in the night and he’d be absolutely fine with it, “Oh, really? So this same barista wouldn’t want a dashing, handsome prince to come rescue him every once and a while-?”

“I hate to interrupt this absolutely nauseating display of flirtation, but I need to have a word with these two.”

Virgil and Roman both nearly leapt out of their skin as Logan stood behind the latter, gesturing to both Patton and Janus. Patton was about to protest, clearly invested in the banter between his obviously pining friends, but Janus got there first, “Oh no, such a shame, I was having so much fun watching Beauty and the Beast try to so spectacularly hide their obvious sexual tension.”

Janus didn’t need to look at Virgil to know he was flustered and bristling like a feral alley cat. 

Good, serves he and Roman right for being so sickly sweet this early in the morning. He let Patton hand the carrier holding little Alice to Roman as the three of them left him and Virgil to awkwardly make small talk.

--

By the time the trio had reached the backrooms, Remus was already waiting for them. By which that meant he was clipping all of Logan’s paper clips together in a chain. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply, “Unclip them. Now.”

Remus huffed, “I JUST finished-”

“NOW.”

Oh boy. Remus grumbled about it but he began unclipping them while Janus took a seat next to him and Patton slid into the chair next to Janus. Judging by Logan’s snippy tone, the news they were about to receive was anywhere from Not Great to Abysmally Bad.

“I contacted the police,” Logan sighed, frustration seeping into every inch of each syllable, “Who told me to contact child services. And upon doing so, they have helpfully informed me that due to the current weather conditions, they will not be able to collect the infant-”

“Alice.”, Patton interjected.

“Right, yes, they will not be able to collect Alice for a good few hours- I’m sorry, did you name her?!”

Janus and Patton shared a split second glance of panic.

“No.”, Janus lied, “Technically, Roman was the one who named her.”

Patton could tell Logan would be screaming into a pillow right now if he had one. Remus, who had no idea his brother had waltzed in and named the baby already, gave a similar annoyed grumble, “Why does Roman get to name her!? Pat and I found her-!”

“I told ALL of you specifically NOT to get attached!”

Logan hissed through grit teeth. “What part of ‘Do not get attached to this infant’ did you all have such trouble understanding?!”

Remus shrugged, his tone comically bitter, “Hey, don’t look at me, I didn’t name her after all-.”

Janus elbowed Remus and the trashy man gave him a toothy grin in return. Logan looked like his frontal lobe was about to combust with all of this stupidity condensed into the one room. With a guilty little smile, Patton spoke up, “Well, on the bright side, we can just use her name now, right? It’s a little less awkward than just calling her ‘the baby’ all the time! And besides, not naming her felt kinda… wrong.”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Logan nodded slowly, “Fine. I may not be entirely pleased by this outcome, but if it will help communications and general morale, I will let this slide. For now.”

Patton let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding as Logan continued, “Anyway, as I was saying, the proper authorities cannot make it here to pick up Alice and thus we will need to accommodate her for the next few hours. In that time, I will ask you all to rotate between caring for Alice and fulfilling your duties. Am I clear?”

The trio nodded. Janus and Remus headed out immediately though Patton couldn’t help but stay behind. He watched as Logan rested his head in his hands and decided that he didn’t want to leave Logan like that.

“Logan, when’s the last time you took a break?”

Logan snorted dismissively, though Patton could see him try to play it off.

“That’s of no concern-”

“It very much is, Logan. You’re exhausted, buddy..”

Patton sat back down and scooted the seat closer. He gave an apologetic wince with each little squeak of the chair legs on the wooden floor. Logan very clearly minded - Patton could see his jaw tense - but he didn’t address it.

“Let us say, hypothetically, I may be in need of recuperation. Where would you suppose I’d find the time to do so, Patton?”

Patton frowned, “Don’t you relax on your breaks?”

Patton was always far better at reading microexpressions than reading a room. If he hadn’t been so good, he might’ve missed the slight twitch of Logan’s facial muscles, missed the way he went to avert his eyes but forced the eye contact. Patton’s concern tripled, leaping straight over the doubled mark.

“... You’ve not been taking breaks, have you?”

He hadn’t meant to sound accusatory. Or perhaps hurt was more appropriate. Logan sat back in his chair, less casual and far more of a retreating gesture.

“I don’t require breaks. I have work to-”

“Of course you need breaks, Logan!”, Patton scolded, each note in his voice more worried than the last, “You’re stressed as it is, and now we’re dealing with this important situation and you still won’t rest?!”

Patton got up and sat on the edge of Logan’s desk, making sure not to impale his rear on any of the pens and paperweights Logan had accumulated.

“Logan, really, this isn’t healthy.”

“That is just your opinion-”

“What, like it was ‘’just your opinion’’ that I needed to stop picking at my skin when I got anxious? Like it was “just your opinion” that my fidget bracelets would save me coming into work with hands covered in bandaids?”

Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line and Patton knew he’d feel bad using this against him later, but right now his dear friend was working himself sick. Pat could handle a little guilt in exchange for Logan practicing a little selfcare.

“Logan, I’m saying this because I care about you. I don’t wanna see you work yourself until you collapse.”

Patton didn’t like how sombre the air felt, so he smiled and gently guided Logan to look at him. 

“What’s the point of being the manager of a Walmart if you can’t manage ‘er?”

Logan snorted, unable to hide his affectionately disappointed grin. And Patton felt his chest swell with joy. It wasn’t like he could say it aloud all that often, but sometimes Patton would let his mind wander through the library of things that made him happy; Logan’s genuine laughter was right there at the top, without fail.

Said manager met Patton’s smile with a tired - but no less genuine - one of his own.

“Your puns are atrocious.”

Patton chuckled and Logan continued, “... but thank you. I apologise if my lack of personal attention has caused you stress in turn, Patton.”

He shook his head, “You’re good, Logan! Really, it just made me a little sad is all.”

Logan gave a quizzical look at that, “How so?”

Patton’s fingertip drew anxious little circles on the desk as he tried to sum up how he felt without telling Logan how he felt.

“It’s just, well, I can’t stand seeing my friends unhappy is all. And you’re one of the bestest friends I have, Logan!”

Obviously startled, Logan did a wonderful impression of a fish trying to gasp for air. Patton stamped down the overwhelming desire to outwardly comment on Logan’s adorable bewilderment.

“... ‘Bestest’ is not a word. But I appreciate the sentiment. I concede that I too hold you in the highest regard, Patton.”

Patton thought the creeping blush caressing his cheeks was warranted; the soft smile Logan gave him was so warm he felt like a cat sunning itself on a summer’s day. Patton wanted to photograph that smile and keep it right next to his heart. Alas, he had a job to do, so he stood up off the edge of the desk, intending to go and check on the others. However, Logan took his hand, causing Patton a massive gay internal crisis.

Seemingly unsure of himself, Logan took a second before finally speaking.

“Thank you, Patton.” he began, “Your encouragement and support help me feel like I’m actually appreciated around here.”

Weighing the pros and cons of spontaneously kissing his best friend, Patton decided that right now, all he could manage was a quick nod and an “anytime, Logan!”. Once he’d made it back to his greeter’s station, Patton let out a soft screech into his palms and tried his best to calm down his racing heart..

--

“Buh.”

“Close enough, Roman sure is something that begins with a Buh. And it ends in an Itch.”

Virgil snorted at Roman’s gasp of offense, “Virgil! You can’t teach our little Alice such language!”

Oh Lord, give him the strength not to read into that use of ‘our’ too deeply.

“Whaaaat? It’s not like I said it out loud. Besides, she’s too busy trying to eat those baby keys for the last five minutes, she doesn’t give a shit what I say-”

Roman reached across the table and pressed his finger to Virgil’s lips inciting another wave of homosexual hysteria to take over his brain.

“That’s it, you’ve lost speaking privileges. Blocked, banned, and reported!”

“Blocked from what? Life itself? Cool, lemme go yeet myself into the next conveniently open grave-”

“Ah, ah, ah! What did I say? You’re banned from speaking!”, Roman chided, “Meaning no threats of throwing yourself into the eternal dirt nap, Pete Wince!”

Virgil felt his cheeks flush a little. He can recognise Roman’s I care about you so don’t joke about offing yourself tone anywhere by now. Perhaps the fact he was used to it was a bad sign, but part of him wanted to do it more often if it meant getting the reassurance that Roman cared that much.

Won’t stop him being a little shit at every given opportunity though.

Virgil began signing at little Alice, the baby enthralled by his hand movements while Roman shot him a perplexed glance. 

“What in the name of Athena are you doing?”

Virgil shrugged, staying quiet until Roman realised he was being deliberately difficult. “Alright, alright, you can talk. Now what’s all this Naruto jutsu bulls-sugar?”, Roman corrected at the last second.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re talking shit about you in ASL.”

With a gasp, Roman looked from Virgil to Alice, then back to Virgil. 

“Betrayal!”, the lovable dramatic idiot wailed, clutching his heart. “Betrayal, too overwhelming for words!! How could you both?!”

Meeting Alice’s perplexed stare with his own deadpan gaze, Virgil rolled his eyes and gave her a more exaggerated look of ‘can you believe this shit?’. He was about to calm down the drama queen but instead, a familiar feral trash mammal swooped in and scooped up Alice out of her baby carrier.

“Jeez, which one of you is the baby here?! Lookit you, being all quiet while Roman’s bawling his eyes out!”

From just behind Remus, Janus soon followed, “Now, now, Remus, let’s not be rude. Even a baby isn’t that loud and obnoxious.”

Virgil snorted and once more Roman held onto his heart as if he were worried it’d fall out.

“Am I to be slandered and mocked by ALL of my loved ones?!”

Virgil met eyes with Remus, both focusing back on Roman to deliver a unison nod and a “yep.”

However, Roman had no chance to retort. From within Remus’ hands, Alice gave a tiny gurgle and spat out a tiny “yeb” noise, clearly copying them. Virgil’s face lit up along with the twins’. Janus was more subdued, but Virgil could see his delight through the mask of disinterest.

“She spoke!!!”, Remus cackled.

Janus sighed, but his smile was still decipherable, “She made a vague gurgle that could pass for ‘yep’, sure.”

Virgil swatted his arm, “Don’t be a dick, I doubt you could talk at like, one year old.”

He fought back the urge to sock Janus in the arm again as the smarmy asshole scoffed, sarcastically retorting, “I’ll have you know I spoke at six months.”

“Do I even need to point out that that’s obviously bullshit?”

Remus cackled at the two of them with a gleeful bounce in place, pointing at Virgil while addressing Alice, “Ooh Alice, can you say ‘bullshit’-?”.

Roman gasped, “REMUS NO!”

Wielding Alice like a giggling meat shield, Remus spun with her in his arms, his voice songlike.

“Remussss Yeeeeessssss~!”

Eventually, Janus was able to carefully remove Alice from Remus and put her back in the baby carrier. The latter huffed and Virgil noted that the former also seemed a little more mopey too. Maybe she was tired? Virgil wasn’t sure; he’d never had a younger sibling, not to mention he was always the baby of the family among his cousins. He had no idea how to read baby language, but as her little eyes landed on him and gave him a tiny smile, Virgil figured that was her way of telling him he was doing alright just being there. 

Virgil smiled back, gently tapping a finger to her nose and softly uttering, “Boop. Now you’re cursed to be happy and healthy forever. Truly a tragedy.”

In the middle of cooing quietly at a happy, babbling Alice, he became suddenly aware that the chatter had quietened, and to his horror, the others were standing there watching him with smiles on their faces. Janus and Remus shared a look Virgil assumed was a mutual expression of “what a dork”, while Roman…

Roman was looking at him with such a soft, borderline longing expression that made Virgil’s heart flutter like a caged butterfly within his ribs. All at once just being there was too much for him. Virgil muttered an excuse and got up from the table, muttering an apology as he swerved around an approaching Patton. He barely heard Patton’s greeting for the blood pulsing in his ears and the thrumming of his heart…

-

Remus was about to return to his game of Aeroplane with Alice when Patton arrived to spoil his fun and take her for a nap.

“Boooo!”

“Remus, she needs her sleep.” Patton scolded lightly, picking up the baby carrier and heading away to let her rest in the employee lounge. “She needs to rest her lil head so she can let her baby brain have a break.”

In spite of his eye roll, Remus understood. Babies needed the time to let their mushy lil squish brains absorb everything. He understood. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be a petulant little shit about it. 

Janus softly swatted his arm, “Stop pouting, hopefully the CSA agents will take hours to get here...” Remus could hear the tiniest hint of something in Janus’ tone. He wondered if the whole situation hit a little too close to home; Janus rarely shared insight into his past, Remus knew that he and Remy were afforded far more leeway than most people could hope to know. But Janus had only ever told him about his birth parents. It was probably a mistake considering they were both more baked than a sixteen layered cake, but Janus had insisted that if anyone was to ever know about his childhood, he’d wanted it to be-

“Remus?”

Janus’ voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“What?”, Remus responded, eyes darting from Janus to Roman who gestured with his eyes to Remus’ hand. Whose fingers were softly threaded with Janus’. He didn’t say anything for a second, giving Roman an opening to cover for him, “Nico being loud again?”

Remus snorted, but rolled with it, nodding along; who knew Roman could be cool sometimes? Janus eyed him suspiciously.

“Nico?”

Roman explained, “The voice in Remus’ head that gives him the not great thoughts. He named it that so he could ‘yell at somebody’ next time he needed to blow off steam.”

Janus nodded, furrowing his brow, “Alright, but why Nico?”

Remus shrugged, lying immediately, “I picked it out of a baby name book-”

“It was his first crush’s name.”

Okay, he changed his mind, fuck Roman. He kicked out and toppled the chair Roman was sitting on. He gleefully watched Roman try to right himself only to watch him eat shit and kiss the floor tiles. Remus cackled obnoxiously, leaning to the side as Roman got up and threw a couple ketchup packets at him.

Janus caught one in his hand and, like it was nothing, perfectly tossed it back onto the condiment basket on the table. Remus figured he was justified in thinking it was hot.

“Now, now, Roman, let’s not make a mess of Virgil’s tables.”

Remus smirked to himself while Roman’s cheeks tinted a perfect tomato shade. Janus always knew how to get through to people without having to be overt or obvious. He knew how people worked and how to be in control of almost every situation. Remus admired that. Not to mention it was just another feature of his best friend that Remus found utterly enticing.

“And you are going to fill me in on this crush of yours.”

Remus wanted to protest but all it took was one look at Janus’ folded arms and unyielding eyes and he knew he’d have to tell him about it.

-

Logan wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d started, but finally all of his paperwork was sorted and the schedules were rotated for the next two weeks. 

He ran his hands down his face. Perhaps Patton had been right; he needed to take a break.

Retiring to the employees lounge to enjoy his lunch, Logan took note of Alice sleeping soundly in her baby carrier. Logan hadn’t needed to wonder who had seen to her care. The small pile of blankets and plushies neatly tucked around the carrier and keeping her warm were all the clues he needed to deduce that Patton had been the culprit for this adorable display.

It was a heartwarming sight, only dampened slightly as Logan mentally calculated how much he’d have to spend to cover all of it. He’d asked Patton to be considerate, but then again, he could just picture poor Patton being utterly torn for choice, opting to go with each option instead of making a single choice.

Thinking of it that way, Logan couldn’t bring himself to be upset.

“How can I be mad when you look so peaceful?”, Logan mused aloud to Alice. 

He retrieved his snacks from the mini fridge; a jar of crofters and some homemade biscuits he’d prepared the night before. It’d been a while since he’d found the time to bake recently, but thanks to a frustrating altercation between two of his neighbours keeping him awake, Logan had taken his sleeplessness and made it productive.

With a practiced precision, Logan halved four of the biscuits and slathered on the crofters with a small spoon, using the back of it to smooth out the thick layer of jelly. Once he was satisfied, Logan took a bite and began to wonder why he had forsaken breaks for so long.

The sweet taste of mixed berries had entranced him so entirely, he had forgotten he was sharing the break room with a sleeping infant. Until he had locked eyes with said infant while he was busily attempting to lick the jelly from off his hands. 

Utterly embarrassed, Logan cleared his throat out of habit, startling Alice for a moment. He had anticipated having to comfort her if she began bawling, but instead, her little eyes caught a glimpse of the jar of Crofters. As if asking Logan to feed her, she made eye contact immediately after.

Logan, unsure of what to do, simply replied, “Ah. I see the confusion. I am afraid this is not baby food. This is a delectable fruit spread that I am almost positive an infant like yourself should not have.”

“Uguu!” came Alice’s counter argument. 

At least, that’s what Logan assumed that was.

“I’m sorry, but ‘uguu’ is not an admissible counterpoint.”

Alice made a series of tiny, perhaps irritated babbles at Logan until he finally was forced to google “Can infants have jelly/jam?”. The list of results were… inconclusive, none specifying whether a small spoon tip was alright or not. In the end, Alice began to fuss, and for fear of her crying, Logan relented. He found the baby spoon Patton had used to feed her earlier, thankful that it was clean, and scooped out a tiny dollop of Crofter’s onto it. He felt a little ridiculous, but so sue him; Alice looked so excited to try it, how could Logan say no?

Trying to remember what he’d learned of Patton’s time with her, Logan held the spoon in a wand-like motion. How did that childish babble go again? It took him a second to remember, releasing a sigh as he spoke and carefully swerved and swished the spoon.

“Bippity boppity food.”

Despite Logan’s trepidation, he held the spoon out for Alice who gleefully ate the jelly. He watched as she seemed to consider the flavour only for her little face to scrunch up at it. 

He could hardly stifle his chuckle. How adorable. 

Alice made a small grumble of displeasure that quickly turned into a whine. Logan immediately felt a little out of his depth. Does that whine mean she’s hungry? No, she just ate- Did that count as eating?! Maybe she’s tired?! No she JUST woke up-

Logan’s panic increased tenfold as Alice began to cry.

Shit shit SHIT-

Acting on instinct, he gently picked her up and held her how he’d seen the others do so. Supporting her head and making sure her body was cradled properly against his own for stability. That was step one. Step two was to work out why she was crying. 

Maybe he needed to burp her? She had hardly eaten anything but perhaps it might work all the same. He gently patted her back, being careful not to use too much strength. It didn’t seem to work at all, her crying only getting more agitated. 

Logan considered texting Patton for help, but part of him was too proud to let it show just how awful he was with children. 

He wondered what Pat would do, how he would solve the problem. With a calming inhale, Logan weighed the options; it was obvious she didn’t need changing, she had just laid down for a nap, so the problem was clearly either food or milk. Weirdly, he became aware that Alice’s crying had become a steady whining. He turned to see her making grabby hands at her bottle behind him. Well, that settled it. Of course, he’d have to keep her happy while her bottle warmed; once Logan had prepared the formula and let it heat up, he took a seat on the sofa with Alice. He set her on his knee and wondered just what to do. What did babies like? Toys were the logical answer, but when Logan offered her the plushies Patton had acquired, she seemed to refuse them. Instead, Alice made whimpery little noises and Logan felt utterly useless.

“I’m sorry Alice, I wish I were able to make you smile.”

She made a sad little gurgling noise, as if she could feel his misery. 

Then she made tiny grabby hands at him. Did she want him to lift her up? Logan gave it a try, lifting her up and-

She giggled.

Logan’s eyes widened; she wanted to play? He could manage that! With a small confidence boost, Logan met her smile and gently bounced her on his knee. Each happy noise that came from Alice made Logan smile wider in return until he found he was laughing with her. So much so, he nearly forgot about her bottle until the little beeping noise caught his attention.

Bashfully, Logan cradled Alice in his arms, making note that she seemed far more comfortable now, “Come on, it’s time for your milk. Lest I forget and be scolded by the others. Trust me, Alice, I will not live that one down, I assure you.”

The only response he got was a half attempt at a syllable and an adorable head tilt. Logan took the milk from the heater and tested the temperature. Once he was sure it wouldn’t be too hot, Logan offered it to Alice who gladly began to drink. It was at that moment - holding Alice protectively in his arms like she was his own child - that Logan realised that maybe he just might be cut out to be a parent after all.

He had just put down the empty bottle and burped her when Logan heard the door to the employee’s lounge open. Turning to face who it was, his smile fell to match Janus’ expression.

“Child Protective Services are going to be here in about ten minutes. They’re letting us know to have her and anything of hers ready to go by then.”

Logan tried to remain stone faced as ever, but even he could tell Janus would see through the way his shoulders slumped and his frown faltered. “I see. Then please help me pack her things.”

Janus nodded and silently helped an utterly heartbroken Logan load her into the baby carrier for the last time. Once they were done, Janus put an understanding hand on Logan’s shoulder, “We’re all going to miss her. She has quite the way with people, hm?”

It was impossible for Logan not to agree when her little green eyes were staring up at him so gleefully.

--

The handover was relatively quick, albeit a bittersweet affair. 

Roman and Remus had both gotten teary saying their goodbyes to Alice. Though he’d deny it, Janus was also clearly devastated as he booped her tiny nose as a goodbye gesture. Patton was holding it together surprisingly well as he gave her a tiny forehead kiss as a goodbye present - despite the fact that they all knew he’d be sobbing later on.

Logan had remained professional, staying focused on making sure the handover went well even though there was a distinct sadness in his eyes.

And Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Or say.

This would probably - no, almost definitely - be the last time any of them saw little Alice. He was lost as she was handed to him for a goodbye. Feeling the pressure mount, Virgil committed her face to memory. Maybe someday in the future he could hope that she might visit them all. Remember their faces and swing by to say hi. 

Virgil could feel his eyeliner drip a little and fought back the urge to cry. Instead, he smiled, softly booping her nose like he’d done before, “That’s your going away present. Another curse so you won’t be allowed to forget us, okay?”.

It was hard not to sob hearing her bubbling laughter just as the CPS worker took her carefully to put her back in the carrier.

With a last wave as the vehicles pulled out of the parking lot, Alice was gone. 

Off to a new life, with a new family who’d love her. Hopefully, just as much as they all had. 

Everyone returned to the store aside from Virgil and Roman, both standing staring out onto the road Alice had taken out of their lives. Virgil tried to slyly wipe his tears away but if the hug Roman gently wrapped him in told him anything, he hadn’t done a great job of it.

“This sucks.”, Virgil sniffed, “I mean, she had to go sometime but..”

Roman nodded, “I know, Virge, I know.”

He felt Roman sigh, only pulling back from the hug enough to give Virgil a sweet smile, “I’m sure our little princess will find a perfect home with wonderful parents who treat her like she should be.”

Virgil nodded, ignoring the overthinking he’d be doing later about the exact use of that ‘our’. “They better, or I’ll feed their knees into a woodchipper.” Roman laughed and for maybe just a moment, everything felt a little better.

--

It had barely felt like a full six months since Alice had come and gone, but here Virgil was the same as always; running the cafe and catering to Roman’s hoard of little gremlins.

Okay, maybe he’d started to love their ramblings and questions as of late, so sue him.

Emile sat with some of the club going kids as they finished off the snacks in their lunchbox and on the other side of the ‘cafe’s patio area’, Roman handled the ones who got lunch at the cafe. 

And Virgil was bravely taking on the task of listening to little Eduardo who wouldn’t stop babbling about his pet hamster. 

“He’s so fluffy, and he eats sunflower seeds, and he makes these funny little noises!”

Virgil gave an exaggerated gasp, adding the final touches to the hot chocolates he was putting aside for Emile and Roman. “Woww, he sounds like the coolest hamster.”

Ed nodded, looking as proud as a baby peacock, “He is!! Sir Squiggles is the bestest friend in the whole UNIVERSE!!”

Virgil smiled, “Now that’s impressive.”

Once the hot chocolates were done, Virgil picked up the strawberry milkshake Eduardo had ordered and handed it to the eager young lad, “Here, it may not be as cool as Scribbles-”

“Squiggles!”, Ed laughed.

“Okay, okay, it may not be as cool as Squiggles, but it tastes nearly as awesome.”

The young lad took a big sip and Virgil could practically see him buzzing with delight.

“Thanks, Vee!! You’re the coolest!!” Eduardo bounded over to one of the tables his friends were sitting at and Virgil only slightly lamented having to clean up the spills later. How could he ever be annoyed when the after school art club was visiting? It was utterly impossible. 

“Oh my sweet Aphrodite, stop the presses; Virgil Knight is smiling! What a scoop-!“

Virgil slung his hand towel at Roman, smacking his arm, “Oh shut up, Princey. I always smile.”

Roman gave him a look of ‘yeah that’s utter bullshit’ and thus it was Virgil’s turn to make an offended noise, “I do so smile!”

“Yeah, every full moon after a blood sacrifice perhaps, Nine Inch Wails. I don’t think I’ve seen you so jovial in many months!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, handing Roman his hot chocolate, “And you wonder why I poison your drinks.”

Emile’s hot chocolate in hand, Virgil snickered as Roman’s expression went from playful disbelief to somewhat fearful. Good, serves Roman right for picking on him. 

At the table, Emile was animatedly recounting the contents of an episode of Gravity Falls to the children; all in various stages of engagement from vivid enthrallment to utter disinterest. Virgil placed the hot chocolate down and Emile finished their retelling to have a chat, most of the children greeting Virgil and disappearing to other tables to chat with their friends. 

“Thanks Virgil! It wasn’t too much trouble was it?”

Virgil shook his head, “Nah, you’re good. If anything, asking for Lucky Charms marshmallows in your hot chocolate is pretty genius really.”

Emile gleefully agreed, taking a satisfied sip, “Good to hear it!”

They seemed conflicted for a moment, like they weren’t sure if they should ask, but Virgil could tell Emile wanted to ask something so he sat down next to Emile, “Alright, Doc, what’s eating at you?” 

Virgil could see Emile start to protest but they sighed, “Okay, it’s gonna sound really dumb-”

“Can’t be dumber than the time Remus tried to train Danny DeCheeto to steal people’s wallets.”

“... You know what, yeah, that’s actually pretty reassuring.” Emile chuckled, “Well, I’ve been thinking and, not to be a traitor or anything, but I’ve wondered if Remy next door might um… also indulge my… eccentricities?”

Virgil squinted at them for a second, “You’re… wondering if I think they’d make you your special ‘Lucky Hot Chocolate’? I mean, why wouldn’t he?”

A flustered whine left Emile, their hands bringing up their hot chocolate as if it’d hide their obvious blush, “I don’t… wanna be a burden.”

“You’re literally the furthest thing from a burden. I don’t think you could even be an inconvenience if you tried.”

They gave a small smile in response despite their tinted cheeks, “You’re too kind, Virge.”

Virgil snorted, his tone light, “How dare you, I’m a bastard with a blackened heart as dark as my eyeliner.”

Emile swatted his arm lightly and sipped more of their hot chocolate, “Says the guy who’s apparently super great with kids. And babies.”

The addition had Virgil groaning in annoyance, “.... Roman told you, didn’t he?”

“Implying he’d ever miss the chance to gush about you to me.” They chuckled, voice softening as they continued, “He told me you were pretty attached to little Alice, huh?”

Virgil’s frown must’ve spoken for him when Emile added, “It was a wonderful thing you all did, y’know. That little girl will get to grow up and have a happy life with parents that love her thanks to you all keeping her safe.”

In theory, Emile was right; Virgil knew it was most likely she’d be matched with parents - or maybe a single parent - who’d love her and dote on her and give her a good life. Anxiety, however, didn’t work like that and it’d been driving Virgil crazier than he’d care to admit. 

“I know, I know, I just can’t shake the panic that.. That maybe they’ll be bad people, or they’ll ignore her, mistreat her and never give her the love she deserves. That maybe they’ll make her miserable, or- or that she’ll miss us too much and never be happy-!”

“Breathe, Virge.”

Emile’s voice was calm, a gentle hand prying him out of his anxiety.

“‘Maybe’s are like fireflies; it’s tempting to keep ‘em in a jar to keep looking at them, but you should really just let them go.”, they gave him a reassuring smile, “It’s alright to be concerned, but I think you’ll find Alice is gonna be more than okay.”

Virgil didn’t seem convinced, slumping in his chair, “You say that like I’m ever gonna know for sure...”

Emile’s gaze drifted, smile widening while they gestured for Virgil to look over at Roman, “I think he’s calling you over, don’t let me keep you from Prince Charming.”

Virgil rolled his eyes instead of swatting Emile in the arm lest they spill their hot chocolate. He got up and made his way over to Roman, stopping dead in his tracks.

Said Prince Charming was merrily gossiping to Eduardo’s mother, Clara, both too focused on the conversation to notice Virgil approaching.

And there in a baby carrier, dressed in a cute little yellow sundress and happily playing with a plushie Virgil recognised from the pile Patton had bought, was Alice. 

Roman spotted him standing there staring in awe, excitedly gesturing for Virgil to come and say hello. It was a miracle that his legs obeyed him, but he made it over, giving Clara a polite greeting, “Hi Clara, and… Hi Alice.”. He caught himself, realising that she might have been renamed, “Wait, sorry, um-”

Clara shook her head, sweetly assuring him, “Don’t worry, Marina and I settled on calling her Alicia. You’re welcome to call her Alice.”

Virgil visibly relaxed, looking at Roman with amazement as he explained, “Clara and her wife were looking to adopt again. When I saw how utterly devastated you and the others were at having to say goodbye to her, I decided to inform Clara that there might be an adorable baby girl who needed a home.”

“Inform he says. As if he didn’t all but hand me the adoption papers himself.”, Clara chuckled, playfully teasing Roman by stage whispering to Virgil, “Don’t let him fool you, mijo, Roman was just as emotional. He practically begged me to adopt her.”

Virgil snorted, taking joy in seeing Roman blush as red as his flannel shirt. His gaze, however, was stolen by Alice softly bopping him with her rabbit plush to gain his attention. Virgil knew he was smiling like a sentimental idiot, but he couldn’t care less.

“Hello to you too.” 

Clara gently took Alice out of the baby carrier and handed her to Virgil. He held her carefully, making sure to support her as she let out a delighted squeal. 

Roman joined him, cooing at Alice who in turn coo’d back in her own babbling way. Virgil joined in, “That’s right Alice, tell him what a dork he is.”

She gurgled merrily and Roman clasped his heart, “Once more I am betrayed! Oh how cruel!”

Roman slung his arm around Virgil for drama, careful to not startle him, “Oh mercy, I beg of you-”

“Alice, can you say ‘overdramatic’?” Virgil deadpanned.

“Aba bah.” came Alice’s attempt.

“A+ for effort.” Virgil smiled, and even Roman couldn’t help but drop the act to admire how cute she was being.

Clara’s chuckling broke them out of their little bubble, “Are we having fun?”

Virgil blushed, clearing his throat while Roman tried to hide his smile. Eduardo, who’d been preoccupied with his milkshake til now, blurted out, “You two should keep her, you look like a family!”

It was a damn good thing Virgil’s brain was in safety mode, otherwise Roman would have had to make a hasty catch while he fainted. Clara hid her snickering and ruffled Ed’s hair, “Mijo, don’t tease!”

“Sorry mamaaa.” he groaned, going back to his milkshake.

Deciding to draw attention off of themselves, Virgil cleared his throat, “Uh, do the others know Alice’s back for a visit?”. Clara shook her head, “Roman wanted it to be a surprise, so he asked me not to let anyone know beforehand.”

Speaking of Roman, Clara nudged him with her elbow, speaking hushedly to him. Virgil wasn’t too fluent in Spanish, but going by Roman’s expression and stammering retort, she was probably teasing him as usual.

While he was curious to listen in on their hushed conversation, Alice let out an excited screech, baffling Virgil until he followed her gaze. Remus, who was similarly excited, was making a beeline for the two of them while Janus and Patton, who’d been accompanying him, both lit up upon seeing her. Patton turned to call someone over - probably Logan - and Virgil huffed a fond sigh.

Virgil looked down to a happy Alice, “Can you believe these guys? It’s only been a couple of months.” 

She looked up at him with her sweet little smile and Virgil couldn’t help his own widening at the sight, “Okay, okay, I missed you lots too..”

[End]

-- Bonus --

“You should ask him out already, you two work so well together.”

Roman’s cheeks flushed bright pink, averting his gaze, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Clara levelled him with an unimpressed gaze that immediately called bullshit on that claim, “Roman Prince, you are the worst liar I’ve ever met, and you’ve met my ex girlfriend.”. She softened a little, “What’re you so afraid of? He clearly likes you.”

Roman frowned apprehensively, “And if he doesn’t? I mean, yes, he’s probably my closest friend there’s no denying that but… ”

Clara rolled her eyes, “Buts are for short shorts, not for matters of the heart, Príncipe Nervioso.”

She gestured over to Virgil, now surrounded by their friends as he held Alice with all the love and protection of a parent, making sure to occasionally coo and babble with her when she wanted specifically Virgil’s attention.

The sight ignited a strong longing within Roman’s heart; a desire to see Virgil happy like this every second of every day. His enamoured heartbeat momentarily lulled him into a semi trance, and all he could think about - not that he often thought of much else some days - was Virgil and the future he wanted with him. Going on dates, living together, perhaps getting married and adopting their own child. 

“Eduardo was right, you know.”

Roman shook out of his daydream and met Clara’s knowing gaze, “You two would make good parents someday.”

He shyly rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to really respond to her unknowing echo of his thoughts, “Calm down, Clara, we haven’t even gone on a date yet.”

“Yet.” she retorted, “Come on, I best get going soon. If I’m going to have to break their hearts and take her home, I’ll need you to cheer them up.”

Roman chuckled, “Well, tis a prince’s duty to soothe all that ails his people.”

Clara rolled her eyes, playfully poking him in the side, “It’s also a prince’s duty to be brave and invite his future husband on that first date.”

She took Roman’s offended, flustered gasp as a win. ~~~~~

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment. 

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly. 

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches. 

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.” 

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest. 

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement. 

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room. 

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up. 

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently. 

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric? 

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends. 

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back. 

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.” 

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school. 

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High. 

Cut all ties now. You have two days. 

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.” 

“It’s none of your business, Zara.” 

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders. 

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle. 

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left. 

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand. 

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to  catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning. 

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door. 

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

@immadatmostthings  @thaticecreambish  @hee-hee-haw  @dearnataliealoveletter  @wasteofspacze  @dcml04  @bbigbbrainn  @dirtydiavolo  @vanhakirja  @rinzyx05  @misselsbells06  @ialexabsuniverse  @im-a-depressed-gay  @energy-drinkk  @mothra-main  @i-need-hugs  @dragons-lurk-here  @katj733  @m4r-s  @vievi  @dykeragee  @waterstrawberry  @aplaintart  @kakamiissad  @myunfinishedsymphony  @nagitokinnieissad  @autumnpleaves  @justanothergirlwithdemons  @zachariethememerie  @moon-asia  @m0on-blue  @strawberrysodababy  @akikko-yataro  @haikkeiji  @shiningsunrises  @cinnamonmochi  @queen-turtle-boiii  @imanewsoul  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelicaschuyler-church  @vixenfoxpup  @ella-ivanov  @shio-yuki  @mosstea-png  @ijustshatbricks

[osamiiya]

Taking them bra shopping

Characters: Kita Shinsuke, Ojiro Aran, Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu, Suna Rintaro

Warnings: Suggestive, gender neutral pronouns but reader has boobies, like one or two swears.

a/n Why did I write this? idk honestly. Watch my mental state degrade throughout this

Kita Shinsuke

---

Very polite

You think you see him blushing a bit at the more risque lingerie but he isn't

"I think that the other colour complemented your skin tone better."

Dosent try anything funny in the changing rooms, he simply peeks his head through the curtains, makes sure no one else sees. He waits in the hallway :(

Gives his honest thoughts about the style and color

Won't outright ask you to buy any lingerie but he's not going to object.

Pays for it all bless his soul </3

"I think the other one was better. This looks too tight."

You hum and move to put the other one on and Kita makes a sound of approval that accompanies his small smile.

His hands politely hover over the bra to fix it's positioning, waiting for your green light to put his hands on you.

"This one looks the best."

"It's $45 I think." Kita just nods and slips away from the curtain when you mutter something about being done.

He's holding the bras you decide to get in one hand, wallet in the other, and as the items get scanned, he dosent even bat an eye.

At your thanks he just raises an eyebrow.

"You need them don't you?"

Ojiro Aran

Respectful but also down bad

He walks with his eyes cast downward bc his mother raised him to respect women. He can't help that his eyes wander sometimes and then widen at the linge racks.

Aran holds your stuff and lets you wander off, following and giving his opinion when asked for it.

He says everything will look good on you so he's kind of no help

Again waits in the hallway, but if you have multiple to try on he'll just wait in the fitting room with you and comment nice things on how you look that day

"This one or the first one?"

You do a turn for him and he just smiles.

"They're both nice."

Rolling your eyes you run to the mirror, not missing the way Aran's eyes wander on your body.

"I don't want to get both though."

Your hands run over the material, pushing and pulling at it slightly to see which one was more flattering.

"Just get both, I'll pay."

Your smile grows in the mirror as you ask if he's sure, and he is.

So you get both, and wander to the check out, picking up things and asking Aran's thoughts.

Aran however, didn't think that bras would be that expensive, it's a small piece of fabric,the same as a bikini top, why was the price so high?

He swallows his pride and hands his card over with shaky hands, it's nothing he couldn't afford, he was just shocked that two bras easily went over $100.

Miya Atsumu

Don't take him please

Brings you lingerie that he thinks will look nice on you.

Has his own basket of stuff he thinks will look nice on you.

Finds the whole ordeal extremely hot and enjoys watching you send an embarrassed glare when he asks to get sized

Waits in the fitting room with you the entire time, putting on the bras after you and giggling to himself.

Wants to touch. Do not let him touch.

Likes all boobies big and small, very much a boob man and will be caught drooling at you trying on lingerie and push up bras

"You should get this."

There's less that'll be covered than the others, but Atsumu's dead set on how "Fuckin' hot" you'd look in it.

A quick look to the price tag has Atsumu's eyes going wide as saucers, and you can almost see the mental debate he has going on, whether he wants to get the lingerie along with your other under things or get the nice knee pads he's been wanting.

Miya Atsumu sulks when he puts it back, sending it a solemn look as he whispers that it would be a shame to spend that much money for a one night event, knowing how he'd ruin it and rip it off at first opportunity.

Like Aran, he watches you try on different styles and colours and decides they're all nice, really nice.

The price tag however? Not so nice.

He goes on a Twitter rant while you're talking to the store owner.

Miya Osamu

You would think he was a good person to go with

But remember, he's still a Miya

Snorts when the lady has you put on a bra over your clothes to see the cup size

But somehow he's still hyping you up?

Swears in ~awe~ and wolf whistles when you ask for his opinion

He loves going undergarment shopping with you

Likes it when you allow him to pick out lingerie, hands smoothing over your skin and the lace with awe

Genuinely thinks you look prettiest in the bright fitting room lighting, clad in a pair of pants and no top

"Wow."

Osamu can't help that his eyes wander everywhere, and you're right in front of him and God, you're so pretty.

"Look ok?"

Osamu's nodding before he realizes what he's doing.

"Let's buy the whole store, doll."

Unfortunately he dosent have the budget of a professional athlete but he's still got some money that he's more than willing to spend if it makes you feel pretty.

"The whole store?" You cant help but laugh at the firm nod Osamu gives you through the mirror, and Osamu's eyes sparkle.

His eyes however, don't sparkle when the poor teenage girl rings up the items, and Osamu sweats as he hands over his card, promising himself it was for a good cause.

And it was, especially when you show him again at home.

Suna Rintaro

Asks why you can't just use his hands as a bra

Smack his smug grin

Dosent mind going shopping with you or holding your bags

Just goes on his phone until you ask him something

Thinks you're pretty whenever, and dosent get the point of getting a pretty bra when nobody (but him) will see it anyways

Gives good advice on what styles look better than others

Makes sure they're comfortable and that you tell the lady if it isnt

He couldn't care less, will walk around the mall afterwards holding the bag

"Just tell her your size is my hand."

"Rin, please shut up- Hi yes I was looking to get a bra."

Suna wandered around the area, not letting you out of his peripheral vision, texting Atsumu and feeling the different laces and silks.

He's almost scared out of his skin when a worker approaches and asks if he needs anything.

When he wanders back, you're getting sized and Suna's scanning your face for any inckling of uncomfort, and when none if detected his eyes go back to his phone, the Schweiden Adlers going into their second set after taking the first.

"Babe can you come see if this fits properly?"

Suna blinks for a moment, whipping his head around a couple times before spotting your face peeking out from the fitting room curtain.

He sends a sheepish look to the ladies in line and slips behind the curtain with you.

"I think it's good- here." His fingers are cold against your skin as he loosens the straps a little.

"Looks nice, I like the colour." Suna's face is soft and he rests his chin on your shoulder as you admire yourself.

---

Bonus; The colour bra they would pick for you

Kita: Something practical, white or a skin tone

Aran: I feel like he would like something a bit lacy? If you were comfortable with it. That or a basic colour like black.

Atsumu: Red!

Osamu: "Dosent care" but also soft colors

Suna: Like an emerald green? He gives me emerald green vibes

[caroldantops]

inspired by the ask game i just did, here’s a little compilation of my favorite and the funniest comments ive received on my fics this year, from both tumblr and ao3 

is this bragging? no, im simply posting reviews as if i am making a trailer for my blog.

i could be your favorite girl 

“this was so freaking good. and i think it’s become one of my favourite wanda fics ever. the way it was written was just so incredible, especially with how you built up the sexual tension. i also enjoyed how the tension was attempted to be alleviated by darcy’s quips too. truly amazing”

“Fuck, I’m in love with Milf!Wanda...”

“Holy shit, that was smoking! I really love your writing style, second person perspective isn't easy and you frickin kill it.”

“God I am so deep into the mommy kink it’s not even funny”

please don’t go (i’ll eat you whole)

“To be fair, anyone who's reading this fic needs therapy, so we're all in this together at the very least.”

“I love how this progressed and how you didn’t make it seem like anything wrong was happening until Monica said something. Honestly that’s how I felt despite knowing how this was going to end darkly, there weren’t any serious line crossing red flags that came up until she said something. And it was a shocker when things changed so abruptly. I loved this.”

“also,, is it bad that i really want agatha as my therapist now? 😰 she seems everything i’ve ever wanted in a therapist (and I don’t mean her different..... methods....., i promise)”

“okay... WOW. i loved this. i have a therapist, she’s lovely, but if agatha was offering therapy lessons... phew, i may have to switch!"

“maybe i should take my friends advice and see a therapist....”  

“haha funny i commented this cause my mom put me in therapy. i hope my therapist is hot?😭”

“As excellent as it is fucked up. Five stars.”

hot milfs in your area

“how did i know it was you caroldantops.”

“YES THE GENDER NEUTRAL PRONOUNS IM DROOLING. but also the good girl? only hot milfs can misgender me and ONLY when they’re railing the absolute SHIT out of me.”

“…”

“hey silver what’s it like to own my entire ass asking for a friend”

“don’t mind me just suddenly gaining handywoman abilities to service these women to the best of my ability 🤧”

“pornhub bout to be bankrupt after this”

girls on film

“Who needs pornhub when this is happening. Well done.”

“Cheese and fuckin' rice”

“bitches bros and non-binary hoes we have a new winner for the hottest content on this website”

lemonade stand

“This title is definitely GOLDEN”

“I don't have a piss kink, but this was still hot.”

“I am literally going to punch you in the face for giving me a piss kink. Fuck you.” 

“someones getting scalped. Not gonna say who, but we all know it’s the person who gave me a piss kink.”

“Im really dramatic- i dont mean any of it!“

infect me with your lovin’, fill me with your poison

“This is not nasty - this is a GEM! Sweet and sexy, you made an extreme tag somewhat romantic - I mean, what even! So good!!! And I can hear her voice as I read and just... shivers! I never imagined I'd read a kidnapped reader breeding fic and actually wish that would happen to me! I mean, Agatha is so kind and caring, and reader is living the life!“

“ummmm ummmmm ummmmmm ummmmm”

“maybe i WILL let aliens experiment on me....”

“touching some grass won't help me anymore”

“HELLO?!?!?!? I WOULD SELL AN ORGAN FOR THIS!!!! ALL MY ORGANS, I DON’T NEED THEM.”

“I think you might have an Agatha-in-office-chairs kink?“

this isnt even close to covering all the comments in tags and in my inbox that ive gotten that i love as well ❤ all of your comments make me laugh or make my heart grow 3 sizes and going thru all these again made me so happy. thank u all for supporting me thru the year i hope i can write more fics that send u all to therapy in 2022 💕💕