#i spent like four fucking hours on this and im still not satisfied but WHAT ever im done with it for now

[ectopuppy]

ouughh animation........ poppy's got places to be!!!

also heres an upscaled turnaround of her static sprite:

[tteokdoroki]

saccahrine sundays | k.bakugou

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 5.3K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: katsuki can never find enough time to get some sleep. between being a full time pro hero, a father and a husband— hours of rest are hard to come by. unless it’s one of those sweet, sweet saccharine sundays.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to late twenties ), somnophilia, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), fingering ( female recieving ), tummy bulges, mating press, pregnancy!kink, daddy!kink, breeding!kink, light!exhibitionism, cumplay + needy bakugou has a praise!kink... <3

♡ author’s note(s): brrr hey guys! it feels like forever since i last posted a full fic, january was bleh so im happy to get this out !! special thanks to @greenchild for feeding me this idea and thank to all of you for your love, support and 2.8K. i love you all, enjoy <3

♡ masterlist | requests

katsuki bakugou couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full nights sleep. between being a pro hero and family life, the full eight to nine hours of pure rest wasn’t easy to come by— now he wasn’t complaining, he was far too grateful for the life he lead to whinge and whine about the finer details. bakugou was right on track to becoming the number two, he had a beautiful wife who loved him and supported him no matter how reckless he might have been and two little brats that he adored more than anything. he was miles ahead of his high school classmates, never letting up or resting so like he said, there was no room to complain.

but even as the faintest wisps of light slip through drawn curtains and a vermillion gaze settled on the old all might digital alarm clock ( reading 9:01 AM ), katsuki bakugou can’t help but feel grateful for the sleep he just had. no interruptions from wailing toddlers or infants who need changing, no late night call ins for patrols— none of that, just an arm around his wife’s waist and the soft sound of her breathing to coax him out of his sleepy state.

bakugou remembers now, a distant yet far from faint memory of where he and his wife spent two days of their honeymoon under slumber’s spell, having ravished each other the very night they arrived in paris for their honeymoon ( all mina’s idea, she had told katsuki it was the perfect destination for newly weds in love— and whilst the several districts his alien friend recommended did appease you, the blonde had promised to take you on a more luxurious getaway when he was hire up in the hero rankings ). of course that very honeymoon lead you to fall pregnant with your first little miracle— taiga bakugou, the very spitting image of her father except or the slight tilt to her nose and the sparkle in her eye that only her mother possessed.

raising her had proven to be both an enjoyable and exhausting experience for katsuki, with a matching explosive personality to rival even her daddy’s— there were many restless nights the pro hero spent butting heads with his daughter while his sweet spouse was away on missions and getting used to the field again. even during the pregnancy, full nights of rest were little to none— the cravings taiga gave you were almost unbearable for the blonde, not to mention the 2AM labour his little girl put you through...and yet he would repeat the last four years of lack of sleep all over again if it meant reliving every single moment with you. raising tatsumo was much better; however.

so as the weight of well deserved slumber lifts from katsuki’s shoulder’s he’s forced to deal with the memories of your sweet cries from the night (or rather, nights) he made you his wife. he stirs under cotton sheets, a familiar hardness pressing against his inner thigh as he recalls the way you tightened around him— “honey baby,” the desperate whisper tastes foreign, bitter across his tastebuds as he licks his lips. katsuki was usually much more composed when it came to sex, he could hold out for hours while you pleaded and begged of him to give you more. but this morning was different, very much so.

skilfully, the ash blonde slips a hand between your sheets, finger tips calloused with years of training and battle, dancing up your bare thighs from where you wear only his shirt and a pair of panties. the fingers trail up to your underwear, pressing them against your cunt as bakugou watches your face for any reaction— you twitch once before falling back into a deep slumber, letting your husband know that he can continue. he peels like orange silk away from your core and down your legs, half resisting the urge to sniff your undergarment like the dirty man he is but he decides that he can longer wait, already turned on by the feeling of your bare pussy against his hand.

the pro knows exactly how to turn you on, dragging is nails down your thighs just an inch from your wetness and his mind fogs with lust at the thought of the sounds you’d make for him if you were awake...not yet, he says to himself. his next move is to fuck your mouth, two of his digits sliding past parted lips from where you snore— gathering the drool that pools on the surface of your tongue. back and forth; move bakugou’s fingers until he’s satisfied with how wet you’ve made them with your spit. returning those very same fingers to your cunt, he parts your folds— already slightly sticky and hot with the nectar he’s used to savouring. if this were any other time, bakugou would be eating you out like a man starved of his last three meals but the rising sun tells him that his moments to fuck you are very few.

so now, he slides those lubed up fingers right into your tight little hole, shuddering under the sheets at how you automatically clamp around him— even while you sleep. katsuki’s vermillion eyes seek out your face in the warm light of the dusk, watching as your expression contorts into that familiar look of pleasure— lips blossoming into a cherry pout, brows furrowed as if you’re focusing on the way your husband makes you feel.

“fuck, honey baby, so good ‘n pliant for me even when yur fuckin’ sleepin’,” katsuki slurs against saliva that slips along his tongue, he’s hungry to fuck you, make you moan and scissors his fingers deep inside your obedient cunt in away that makes your slumbering body jump. pressing a thumb to your neglected clit, bakugou twists his fingers in search for your g-spot, pumping them into you with vigour. “gonna make you cum angel, baby, please cum while you’re like this s’you can take my cock.”

if there’s one thing pro hero dynamite knows, it’s that your body is a slave to him, no matter what state it’s in. your thighs part instinctively; giving your husband room to curl his fingers and press down hard on your pleasure spot— gummy walls sucking him in deeper. he makes you cum while you sleep, juices staining  your supple skin, honeyed from the warm light outside.

“atta girl, cummin’ for your husband like that even when you’re sleeping— so fuckin’ naughty...” katsuki grunts, locks of sun kissed hair beginning to plaster itself against his forehead. his body shakes with the desire to be inside of you, his internal temperature rising with every second that he’s not sheathed within your walls. pulling his fingers away from your twitching mound, bakugou slides them, cum soaked and all, into his mouth to taste your very sweetness. “would eatcha out like a starved man, honeybee, but we don’t gotta lot of time left baby...”

with that, bakugou shuffles his sweats down enough for his cock to spring free, tip bright red and leaking against his toned, scarred abdomen. with practised ease, he hooks your right leg over his waist and positions your dripping cunny right over the head of his length. it takes everything katsuki has not to plunge deep inside of you, to abuse your tempting cunt until it’s formed into the shape of his cock but for once he wants to take you slowly, enjoy his time with your limp body at his disposal.

pressing his girth against your slick entrance, your husband sighs, coating himself with the remainders of your delightful release. the mess you made just for him, makes it easier for him to guide his cock between your velveteen folds that take him so well. his free hand comes up to brush over your cheek and even in the depths of your rest you manage to nuzzle into katsuki’s palm and make his coo— what a precious little doll you are, so good for him and always so obedient no matter what state you’re in. fuck, it drives him so insane that he can’t even think straight.

“...suki....”

fucking hell. the way you sigh out for him so mawkishly whilst you dream makes him twitch, not even half the way inside you.  “c’mon honey baby, don’t go moanin’ my name like that when i haven’t even had a c-chance to make you mine yet—“ the blonde shudders, eyes screwing shut as he finally bottoms out inside of you. katsuki let’s out a choked moan, from deep within his chest while you welcome him into your lethally syrupy cunt. “ohh, fuck, that’s the stuff, good girl...”

bakugou’s thrusts start slow yet, forcing your limp body to jolt up the bed and your tits to bounce in tune with the rhythm of his hips— your little hole sucks him in so greedily, so selfishly, clamping down on him as if to prevent him from leaving your body as a whole. pro hero dynamite is shaken to his core, how can his precious baby take him so darlingly while she’s asleep, refusing to let go of him and keep his cock tucked away inside of you.

shit, shit, shit.

he wants to defile you, asleep or not, ruin how pure and angelic your body appears even after years of being together. it’s your fault he’s like this anyway, you deserve to have your pussy destroyed no matter the circumstances— ruby framed eyes threaten to roll back into his skull while bakugou picks up the swirl of his hips between your sticky thighs, you flutter and squeeze around the girth that’s stretched you out so many times before and yet you still remain a tight hole designed for your husband and your husband alone.

lips map their way up the column of your neck, committing every dip and scar and blemish to memory even though katsuki knows where each of them are. the amber colour of the morning sun highlights each of your marks, your husband giving you as many lovebites to match each one. “nn, suki...more..” you whimper, so quiet he almost misses it underneath the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin. could you feel how he deflowered you in your sleep? ruining such a good girl while you resting? he wants so bad to corrupt you from the inside.

static stretches across katsuki’s brain, crackling as his neurones fire and dopamine fizzes in his veins. cum. cum. breed her. it’s too soon but the blonde can’t help it, pent up and high on the morning sunrise— addicted to the taste of your skin licked with light perspiration. it’s been ages since he’s had you like this, can you blame him for not hanging on so long? bakugou lifts your thigh higher on his waist, using it as leverage to plough into the deepest parts of you, his precious wife, desperate to cream inside you before wake up.

“mm, know you’re close lovebug, won’t you cum for me suki?”

katsuki’s gaze hones in on you, vision blurred and hazy with lust from his impending orgasm. your own eyes are heavy with sleep but the soft smile on your face is filled with a familiar adoration and saccharine love that the blonde can never get tired of. he knows that you know your voice alone is another to send him speeding off of the cliff of release— your hole squeezing around him, beautiful hips that once brought his children into the world gracefully moving up and down to coax his girthy cock to its final release.

“honey baby,” katsuki whines like a broken man when you cup his face, hot puffs of air warming up the space between you.  his hips don’t let up though, driven by the way you move against him beneath the sheets, he’s so close he can almost taste it. “c-couldn’t wait for you to wake up, needed you so fuckin’ bad...”

your mouth hangs open in a quiet groan, getting lost in the claps of sweaty bodies against one another and katsuki latches onto your lower lips to swallow your noise— breathing it in and letting it spread through his body like oxygen. “oh, lovebug, y-you don’t...” you pause, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the angry tip of your husband’s cock grazes against your gummy spot, sending your walls into a flurry of flutters that make katsuki twitch. “ ...you don’t ever have to wait with me, d-don’t hold back, kay?”

you’re a breathless mess, a sight to behold and he can’t take not having you filled with his seed any longer. the lazy push and pull of your bodies smacking wetly against each other become erratic thrusts, heat pooling in the abdomen of the pro hero boiling him alive in feelings of desire for you and you alone.

bakugou quivers from his lips to his toes when he cums, filling your slippery walls with a creamy white and lining your insides with the claim of your man. your man. your husband. “fuck, fucking hell,  h-honey, gimme that pussy...gimmie that fuckin’ pussy,” his groans linger in the crisp early morning air, dancing with the static while he orgasms within you, endless bouts of white stuffing you to the brim. you kiss in an attempt to calm him, squeezing around his thick cock to ride out his high. you taste of orange liquor  and manuka honey, addicting while he sucks lavishly on your tongue and spares you the air you need to breathe. ‘cause at the end of the day call you need is him.

“did you cum, precious one?” ever the gentleman, katsuki has to ask but even you can see in his blood red ruby eyes ( no matter how tired they may seem ) that he’s gearing up for a second round, shallow thrusts pushing his own release  deeper into your fertile womb. there’s about thirty minutes until the kids wake up, but your lover can make you see stars in fifteen.

you shake your head once as bakugou rolls you onto your back— strong arms caging you into the prison if his love. large hands dance tenderly up the back of your thighs and you meet his eyes with such a saccharine smile his heart bursts at the sight of you. “you’re insatiable, lovebug,” the tingling notes of your moan caresses bakugou’s cheek as he manoeuvres your legs to fold you into a mating press, shifting his weight above you. “did you really need me that much, daddy bear?”

“think y’already know the answer to that, honeybee,” katsuki drawls, tripping over his words filled, oh so generously with blazing desire. he still remains sheathed inside you, a darling whine dripping from his cherry lined lips— the ones sore from kissing you— as he gives an experimental thrust into the tight heat of your core. you accept him willingly, opening up for him like a blossoming flower which makes katsuki’s hot breath stutter from the overstimulation. neither of you can look away, sharing the intimate moment of his length sinking into you— katsuki groans as you suck him in inch by inch before leaning over and attaching his lips to yours, licking at the seam of them in order to coax them open. his wife is a tease however; denying him the pleasure of sucking on her tongue...for now at least.

but it’s all worth it, for katsuki wants to burn the erotic sight of you beneath him into his mind forever. your skin shines like it was kissed by the setting moon, eyes hooded and holding a lust that only burns brightly for him while your chest heaves in anticipation of your husband claiming you for the second time that morning. “m-move suki, please—c-can’t...” the tail end of your pleas fall away with the fading night sky.

the man doesn’t need to be told twice.

save for a few shallow thrusts to get going, katsuki soon finds himself pistoning into you at an unruly, god speed pace. the blonde revels in the way one hand of yours twirls strands of his hair between your fingers whilst the other digs crescent moons into his blemished honey skin. helpless huffs and candied cries tickle bakugou’s ears while he presses your body flush against his and pins you down with his hips.

their movements don’t ever waver, cock catching on every ridge your damp pussy has to offer him, each thrust calculated amplify your pleasure that rolls in heatwaves throughout your body. katsuki’s mind grows blank, thick with the mirage you’ve cast over him from the way you push back against him, taking more of his inches into you.

“ngh, lovebug,” you say, high off of euphoria while katsuki’s leaking cock bears down harshly on your g-spot and you smile up at him deliriously— looking like the eighth wonder of the world. you grab the hand your husband uses to keep your thighs up and bring it down to your tummy for him to feel what you feel. “can feel your cock inside me, love, so big...makin’ my tummy bulge like a good daddy bear...”

something snaps within katsuki at the sound of your breathless praise; a feral blaze setting alight deep inside his chest— spreading throughout his body as his cock drives deeper and deeper inside your spongy, wet cunt— just about breaching the gates of your cervix. breed her. fuck her. make her swollen with your cum. bakugou can’t even think straight; intoxicated by the way you move against him, the way you look so full of him and his thick length.

he wants you to look full all of the time. so katsuki does with the only way he knows how. dropping his head to your neck, sharp attack your neck with blossoms of bruises forming under your skin in the name of love— you whine, a gorgeous symphony of his name against his ear while you tangle your fingers in the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. “y’can’t jus...jus say stuff like that to me, honey...” bakugou croons against your skin, screwing his eyes shut while his hips pick up the pace and plunging his length right into your womb. the sounds of your arousal wetly spill into the sex scented air— fuelling katsuki to thrust into you faster. “not if you...n-not if you don’t want me to fuck another one of those shitty brats into you.”

as stuttered as his words are, bakugou means every single one of them. a primal desire activates in the back of his mind, overriding every single of senses. just the thought of lining your womb with his pungent seed, making you pregnant once again and seeing you round and full with katsuki’s child is enough to drive him off of the rails. And the pro hero knows that you feel the same, he can tell by the way your heat clamps down on his cock and strangles him, as if to milk him of every ounce of his cum.

“yes, want you to make me pregnant suki, make me a mommy again, please—!”  you simper out loud, desperate tears springing to your eyes while the bed groans beneath you. visions of you round and swollen with a baby drives him to thrust into you harder, faster so that more and more of his precum spills into you. “know you want it, want it too...your cum, deep inside me—ohmygod suki—yes!”

bakugou slaps a hand over your mouth, watching as your sweet doe eyes brim with tears at the languid roll of his hips against yours. “careful honeybee, don’t want the kids to...fuckin’ hell... h-hear—“ he stutters, eyes rolling, limbs shaking violently. his other hand drops between your conjoined bodies, drawing vicious circles into your swollen clit to draw you closer and closer to the edge. star dust is littered behind your eyes, the bright white signifying the race to your high that only katsuki can give to you. “or do you want to be heard, you want everyone to hear how full you’re gonna become when i get you pregnant again. how you’ll whine and beg me to suck on your tits when you start makin’ that sweet milk for our baby. is that what you fuckin’ want, yn?”

you can’t help the way your pussy flutters around his cock that brutally grazes your g-spot— the dirty words your husband speaks like music to your ears. a symphony with his moans and the sounds of his balls slapping against your bare ass.  “oooh, shit baby, you must do with the way your lil cunny clamps down on me—just like that...”

“oh god, lovebug please...cum...cum! need it daddy bear—can’t take it anymore,” you babble against katsuki’s hand, brain turning to mush at the unbearable pleasure. the knot in your tummy becomes tighter, close to snapping as the white light of pleasure clouds your view.

patterns drawn diligently against your clit speed up; turning to quick figure of eights to tease your orgasm. “‘course you fuckin’ do honey baby, my little breeding bitch. my sweet little wife who can’t wait to be a mommy again. take this cock, you dirty whore. take it and I’ll give you my fuckin’ baby.” bakugou slurs, losing all control as the pace of his hips begins to falter. you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, tip pulsing with the need to paint your insides.

your gazes lock within the frenzy, while your back arches and hips lift to take your husband deeper inside you. dynamite is feral like you’ve never seen before; an animal reduced purely back to instinct. unfocused red eyes become teary like your own with hot pleasure while they lock onto you but you know that behind lust; loved the adoration and love your husband holds for you. thats all you need to reach the edge and tumble into your orgasm,

it takes but a few more thrusts and a pinch to your clit before you’re cumming— release squirting out and splattering against bakugou’s toned abdomen.

the blonde never lets up while you cum undone on his iron hot rod, letting him pump into you with unrelenting feverishness. katsuki is desperate, needing an extra push even with you strangling his cock with your insides. “s-say you’ll make your daddy a daddy baby, say you’ll give me another fucking kid. fuck, fuck yeah...please honey baby—“ bakugou damn near sobs, trembling violently above you as his breath hitches with ever hiccup.

smiling gently, you pull his head to your neck, cradling your husband while his pace slows to circular grinds. “i’ll make you a daddy again, you can cum for me now lovebug...”

“shit, shit, oh god— cummin’...” thats all bakugou needs to hear before bottoming out inside of your abused hole—  screaming against your bitten flesh and forcing his cock into your fertile womb as he sprays with his thick, sticky seed. white coats every ridge and crevice of your pussy while impatient thrusts slow to sensual grinds. you feel the tears of neediness soak the supple skin of your neck, rocking your hips against katsuki to milk his cock for all it’s worth— even if slow waves of his cum seep down your folds and to the sheets below.

“g’morning, katsuki,” you sigh blissfully, fingers combing through your lover’s sweaty mop of sun kissed locks. the pair of you lie still, limbs still intertwined as you catch your breath under the orange hues of the light outside.

your husband shifts his head to look at you, eyelids heavy over blood red eyes with a satisfied look on his face. he’ll never get over having you all to himself first thing in the morning— katsuki bakugou will always consider that a luxury and as he looks to you, a great smile soon takes his features. “yeah...good fucking morning to you too, angel face,” bakugou doesn’t dare pull out of you, intent on keeping his word. “love you yn, you’re always so good to me...”

katsuk’s lips mould into a pout as you continue your earlier ministrations of brushing back sweat slicked hair away from his face before pressing a chase kiss to his lip and making his cock twitch from over sensitivity, inside of you. he was always a sucker for the romantic moments after a passionate round of sex, he was a domestic, love struck son of a bitch what could he say? “suki...lovebug, you know you can pull out if it’s too much,” you remind him, the sound of your voice pulling his attention back to you. as he stares; katsuki maps out every detail of your face, the way your eyes glitter in the mellow light that peeks from between closed curtains or the slight dip across your cheek in the form of a scar from where you’d been injured on the field— he spends time committing it all to memory as if it’s the last time he’ll get to witness such beauty. “you’re staring, bug.”

“nuh uh, not pulling out.” huffing, bakugou leans up for another kiss, which you happily provide him with as he curls up onto your chest like a kitten seeking warmth. “keepin’ you plugged full s’you can get preggers like i fuckin’ promised.”

“you were serious?” you question him first, earning yourself another grouchy huff before your eyes roll and a comfortable silence sweeps across your bedroom, periodically interrupted by the morning birds waking up and chirping. “always a man of your word, huh bug? don’t worry, we’ll make you a daddy bear soon, but i’ve got to clean up before the kids wake up.”

“don’ you fuckin’ move— leave the dumbass kids, they’ll be fine on their own.”

“not with taiga’s quirk coming through, now move, you’re heavy.”

with that, you manage to shove bakugou off of you and he only hisses lightly as his softened cock hits the cold air, already missing your heat. the banter between you both as husband and wife is always light and you always win; he wants to bite back but anything he says will be soft on his sharp tongue. damn you and you being the love of his life. bakugou watches as you fix his shirt over your frame and head to your en-suite bathroom to make yourself more presentable to your kids— mumbling something about how many times katsuki came inside of you.

sure there was a lot of it, but he’d only cum inside you twice and he was trying to give you a baby. again.

the shower turns on and he can hear the sound of water running but it doesn’t cover your sweet voice as you call for him. he could never miss that. “katsuki bakugou, you horny bastard, i love you, my daddy bear!” you sing for him; making the blonde smile.

“i love you more, honey baby,” he chuckles back, tucking himself back into sweats before settling back into the ruined sheets.

bakugou was so luckily to have you and you’re beautiful children— he wouldn’t trade any moment of his life for the world except for maybe more time with you. he swore, he’d spend forever loving you if he could.

“daddy?” sweet thoughts are cut off by the groggy voice of bakugou’s eldest daughter, taiga, who stands in the doorway of his bedroom rubbing her cherry red eyes.

the blonde grins, rising from his place in bed and crossing the room in three short strides. he quickly crouches down in front of his little girl and ruffle her unruly mop of matching blonde hair. “g’morning brat, what’s up?”

taiga clutches her shoto plushy tightly, the one uncle todoroki had gotten her for her first birthday ( the one that bakugou hated because it was his daughter’s favourite— kirishima hated it too because he had always thought he was the favourite uncle ), and pouts down at her father, scowling sleepily. bakugou knows if you could see the two of them now, you’d be saying she was the spitting image of him. “tatsumo woke up n wouldn’t stop whinin’, fink he’s hungry, daddy!” the little girl grumbles, clearly still reeling in the after effects of her sleep that got cut short.

“how about we go get him and make some pancakes then?” katsuki suggests softly, hauling his daughter onto his bare shoulders and being mindful not to drop her stupid fuckin’— i mean her plushy to the ground. “y’gonna help me mix up enough batter for ya ma n’ brother, you got that brat?”

taiga squeals as at the new found height, wrapping a singular chubby arm around bakugou’s head for support, making his heart burst at the tiny hand that grips his chin. fuck, he loved his life. “only if we can add choco chwips, daddy!”

“oi, don’t you push your fuckin’ luck with me brat, ya mommy might let you get away with eatin’ shit like that but not me—“ bakugou makes an attempt to scold his daughter while they make way towards his son’s room, but he already knows he’s going to give into her. he can’t say no to taiga.

“i’ll tell mommy you cursed at me!”

“why you little sh—“

“careful, katsuki, if you keep cursing her out i might have to put you on punishment later,” taiga bursts in to wriggly giggles on bakugou’s shoulders, making it harder to keep her in place as you brush past him to grab tatsumo from the nursery.

“daddy’s gonna get in trouble!”

the teasing tone to your voice lingers in the air while you fetch your son, who seems groggy and pouty when he comes into katsuki’s view— wrapped up in your arms while you wear a cleaner shirt of his. there’s that glint in your eye, similar to the one your children posses when they’re doing something mischievous. and  that alone tells the ash blonde he’ll be getting punished in ways that could lead to another little one rushing through your house.

bakugou can roll with that.

but for now; he reaches up and pinches taiga’s nose— telling her to stop running her mouth and sending you into giggles while you carry your children downstairs for breakfast. katsuki bakugou couldnt remember the last time he’d gotten a full nights sleep, but what he did know is that he’d always remember the very saccharine mornings he’d get to spend with you and your beautiful children after.

bonus:

“taiga, did you put chocolate chips in the batter even though i told you no?”

bakugou had turned his back for but a mere second to grab some milk for tatsumo; who played happily with smooshed bits of banana in his high chair— and suddenly, the batter was littered with the offending, tiny pieces of candy.

“no, it was mommy!”

“yn...”

you quickly throw your hands up in the air as defence, dropping the packet of sinful treats to the counter. “what? i’m having cravings, bakugou!”

“you’re not even pregnant, yn!” the man himself raises his spatula at you accusingly with a scowl, biting down on his tongue to prevent himself from cursing again.

you smile up at your husband, knowing he can’t stay mad at you for long. “but i will be, katsuki, it’s the thought that counts.” your eyes flicker up as you wipe the melted chocolate on your finger tips off with your tongue before moving to settle your daughter down for breakfast. bakugou splutters, cheeks flaming with a reddish rose at the thought of your soon to be baby and all the activity that comes with making one which makes you laugh. “oh and lovebug? your pancakes are burning.”

with a jump, katsuki turns to flick off the flame and save his batch of pancakes while you tend to your kids— leaving him to contemplate over your chocolate chip breakfast, how lucky he was to have you.

“i crave chocolate, can i get a pregnant?” taiga squeals shortly after.

“not a chance in hell, brat.”

♡ taglist:

@ozzy-bozzy @bakugous-mamas @meg-mystic @runningon-5percentsleep @cyans-bliss @husband-to-tomura-shigaraki @paintedr0ses1 @69meggg69 @sapphoscolonoscopy @toshidou @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @candybabey @alrunemara​ @greenchild​

[typewrittenluck]

as the seasons change

C!Technoblade x gn!reader highschool!au

Word Count: 9.1k

Pronouns: they/them

A/N: this is literally so self indulgent, i spent a whole day writing this because im going through my techno feels rn. it basically follows the story of oblivious Y/N and Techno throughout the four seasons :)

Warnings: Underaged drinking, Swearing, Smoking, Drugs (very brief)

Suggested Songs: The State of Grace, Taylor Swift/ MEET ME AT OUR SPOT, THE ANXIETY, WILLOW, Tyler Cole/ that way, Tate McRae/ Falling, Chase Atlantic/ Compass, The Neighborhood

SUMMER------------

The August air was thick with the heat of the almost-setting sun. Her rays beat down on the backs of the group of teens, and mosquitos filled the silences between them with their incessant buzzing.

A small crack of static preceded the soft sound of music, accompanied by the sharp smack of Niki and Jack’s celebratory high-five.

“Didn’t you start setting up the speaker like an hour ago?” questioned Wilbur, who was sunk into a half-broken lawn chair that he had found in the garage. 

“Yeah, it would have been much faster if you had asked Techno” chimed Y/N from their place leaning against the above mentioned man’s leg.

His grunt of response was cut short by his little brother, Tommy, bursting into laughter.

“Because he’s TECHno! Get it?!”

Everyone groaned and Wilbur smacked Tommy upside the head, grumbling about “shouldn’t have let you come hang out with us”

Y/N giggled at that, but took sympathy on the boy. “Aww don’t be like that Wil, Tommy, I thought that was hilarious.”

“Don’t encourage him, Y/N” Techno leaned down to murmured to them in his low, monotonous voice.

There it was. The way he said their name! The way his calf felt under Y/N’s back! The way he whispered sentences directly to them, as if it was some closely guarded secret. It was enough to bring butterflies to their stomach as they praised whatever higher being was out there for the heat of the day covering their blush.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Fundy moaned, kicking Wilburs shin from his place lying facedown on the grass. “Can we go to the pool or something?”

His request was met with a spectrum of responses, varying from Tommy’s “YES, PLEASE WILL? PLEASE!” to Technoblades indifferent shrug.

Jack took note of Technoblades open response with a shout of laughter. “TECHNOBLADE IN THE POOL! I WOULD PAY GOOD MON-”

“I’m not getting in, dumbass.”

“Why? Scared you’ll ruin your hair?”

“No, he doesn’t want us to know he’s secretly jacked under the sixteen sweaters he wears.”

Technoblade picked up the hem of his sweatshirt, making eye contact with Niki. She has a point.

“How do you wear that in the Summer?”

“It’s n- TOMMY!!” 

Shrieks of laughter follow Tommy’s water gun assault on his brother. “When did he slip away to go get those?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“WHEN ARE WE LEAVING??” Tommy asked enthusiastically. 

---

A crowded minivan, a stop to pick up Tommy’s friend, and a raid of Phil’s linen closet for pool towels later, the group arrived at the neighborhood pool. The sun hung low in the horizon as people spilled out of Phil’s van and began dragging the pool toys and water guns towards the gate.

The air around the black metal bars barring their entrance to the pool seemed to quiver. 

“I think Wil has the pool key.” piped Niki in response to Fundy throwing his weight against the fence. 

Fundy, in turn, sprinted back to the car, where Wilbur was taking inventory of snacks (and probably hiding the best for himself). 

Technoblade looked down at the two younger boys and Y/N conversing in hushed whispers. All of a sudden, they screamed out in perfect synchronization, in equally high pitched voices,

“Let me innnn! Let me in pleaseeee!”

And promptly burst into giggles. Y/N almost toppled into Techno, both from laughing and the slight weariness from the heat. 

The pool noodles he was balancing beneath his arms (laden with tote bags of pool toys and towels) toppled to the ground, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Y/N’s hand steadying themself on his chest, and the way his face began to heat up almost unbearably considering the weather. 

“Oops, sorry!” they squeaked, leaning down to pick up the fallen noodles.

Technoblade was burst out of his daze by the return of his brother and Fundy, who triumphantly swiped the access card against the pad before kicking the gate wide open.

The clang of metal against the concrete pool clubhouse sent reverberating waves into the air, and everyone winced as the metal continued to drag. 

Pool entrances varied, Niki, on the one hand, took her time tip-toeing into the water by the stairs, while Tubbo and Tommy almost knocked each other out crashing over the edge to the deep end.

Y/N chuckled at their antics, but seeing as they had settled on not getting wet today, they picked out a chaise in the shade and pulled a book and pen out of the small bag they had brought with them.

Technoblade watched them with almost unwavering interest, unless someone happened to look his way, in which case he would quickly turn back to his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his home screen until they turned away.

From his spot under the little roof of the clubhouse, he had an almost unobstructed view of Y/N, and how they chewed at the end of the pen they used to annotate their book. Oh how he wished he could read the little notes they scribbled in the margins, or the drawings they would surround words with when they got distracted from reading. And the way that pen dangled from their lips, their tantalizing, soft lips. Taunting him, almost. And their jewel-like, bright eyes. Always so inviting and playful; like the way they were meeting his right now-

Shit

He hadn’t realized he’d been staring that intently. A small quirk of their eyebrow and a smirk on their lips was enough to make his heart give out. But not now. Not when they were waving their hand so intently to get him to sit next to them. Pretending to ponder the decision and gather his belongings, (when in reality he was just collecting his bearings), he walked over to them.

“See! You don’t always want to be alone, Mr. I’m so antisocial and I hate everyone!” they smiled, patting the adjacent seat.

You’re the only exception, he thought, his brain screaming and pushing to let the words leave his mouth. He couldn’t though, not when they could never think of him the way that he thought of them.

So he answered with a small smile and a chuckle. 

“What are you reading?”

“The Picture of Dorian Gray! Remember you said you thought I’d enjoy it?” they answered with enthusiasm, that sparkle still evident in their eyes.

It warmed his heart to know that they had taken the suggestion and committed to the book, which was admittedly a pretty tough read, because of him.

“How could I forget?”

Their smile widened and they buried their head back in the book, that cursed pen once again being squished between their plush lips.

Technoblade peered over their shoulder to see that they were nearing the middle of the book, where Dorian returns from his  theater date with Basil and Henry. Feeling satisfied enough that they were invested in the story, given their gasp and furious scribbling in the margins, he felt it safe enough to stare at them under the orange-tinged glow of the sunset. 

Of course, he forgot about the crowd of his friends who were nudging each other and whispering about his infatuation with you. The whispers reached Wilbur who narrowed his eyes in his twin's direction and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Once dark hit and the water began to run a little too cold for anyone's taste, they began to wrap themselves up in towels and raid Wilburs snack stashes. The snack distribution was cut off by Wilburs phone, screen lit up with a zoomed in photo of none other than Philza. 

DADZA!!! Read the contact name as Wilbur swiped the screen and held the phone between his shoulder and ear, continuing to hand out snacks.

“OI, where in fucks sake are you lot? It’s an hour past the devils ass why i…”

The rest of Phil’s screaming faded as Wilbur walked away to calm his father down. 

“AN HOUR PAST THE DEVILS ASS” Y/N screamed with laughter, sending the entire group into raucous peals of giggles.

“Yep, mhhm, we’ll be there” Wilbur walked back towards the group, motioning for everyone to get in the car.

“Yes dad I know, yes, okay we will drop him off. Okay, bye” Hanging up the phone, he ushered people back into the car, holding Tubbo back by his upper arm so that he could sit with easiest access to the door.

After dropping Tubbo off, and then doubling back and driving around town to drop people off at various houses, Technoblade, Tommy and Wilbur were alone in the car with Y/N. 

“Here. Here. WIL! Pull over!” 

The van screeched to a halt as Y/N clambered over Tommy’s long legs, almost falling out onto the pavement. They leaned against the door of the passenger seat, thanking Wilbur and bidding farewell to the brothers. Just before they stepped away, Technoblade leaned down and kissed the crown of their head where it was leaning against his open window. Their stunned expression was lost in the dark and the window slid shut as Wilbur slammed the gas pedal to make it back in time before his dad’s curfew.

“What the fuck was that” 

Technoblade gave him a glare, which lost its effectiveness when paired with the burning red blush flooding his face and neck, highlighted under the harsh white lights of the car. He turned his face away and resigned to staring out the window, the night air filtering through the small crack giving his face a little bit of relief.

“Okay at least tell me, are you together?”

“No.”

“But he likes them!” piped up Tommy from the back seat, looking up from his phone where he was playing a game.

“No I- I don’t” Damnit The crack in his voice gave it away.

Wilbur, sensing that it seemed to be more of a sensitive topic than he thought, decided to drop the subject for the time being, and Tommy was already absorbed back in his game.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence as they raced against time and the rules of Philza Minecraft.

AUTUMN----------------------

School started a few weeks after the pool night, which was followed by many late nights and summer fun by the friends, the knowledge that half of them would be away to college next year heavy in the atmosphere. To say the least, Junior year was not treating Y/N well. They were almost always working on homework, if not doing SAT prep, and they rarely went out with their friends. The only time Technoblade got to see them was during his AP Lit class, and because of it, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world. Ms. Ren’s Literature classroom was the only place Technoblade seemed to see the old Y/N, the one from over the summer who got enthusiastic over books and gave him playful punches when he was a little too mean to their friends. Now, the only Y/N he saw was a stressed, tired person who was always carrying an energy drink in one hand and a stack of homework in the other. Except for in Lit. Y/n’s eyes would brighten as they discussed the reading from the previous night and their legs would jostle Technoblades from under their shared table to show him an annotation they had made. Technoblade assumed they were just rejuvenated from the literature, never once letting the thought cross his mind that maybe, just maybe, he was part of the equation too.

On the rare occasion that they would hang out with their friends, they would be easily prone to tears and every conversation would be redirected to how tired and stressed they were. Of course, Technoblade wanted them to be happy, and felt enormous empathy for his friend in the harshest year of high school, but he had suddenly become hyper-aware that the clock was ticking on his time left with them. He was a senior this year, and while Y/N still had a year left to go, Technoblade would be on his way to college, perhaps out of the country, in less than a year. It wasn’t wrong to want to make the most of his time with them.

It didn’t help that this internal time bomb was also counting down the opportunities he had left to tell them how he felt.

-----

He decided to get to them when they were in a good mood, and more likely to say yes. After Ms. Ren had finished assigning the reading due by Monday, he turned to the beautiful person who sat next to him and muttered in a low voice, 

“How’s your weekend looking?”

They looked up with a bright smile and whispered back

“I have tons of homework but I should be able to knock it out with a good day of work. Why? What do you have in mind?”

He knew this was the right time to ask you. 

“Just be ready by 4pm on Saturday.”

----

Technoblade sat on the edge of his usually neat bed, now strewn with almost every sweater he owned. He was picking a stray piece of lint from the sweater nearest to him when he saw his brother walk past, then backtrack out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s got you all indecisive?” Wilbur asked, gesturing vaguely to the sweaters and random articles of clothing adorning his room.

“Wait! Is today your date with Y/N?”

“It’s not a date.” grumbled Technoblade.

“Then why are you so stressed about what to wear?” he replied with raised eyebrows.

Technoblade groaned and threw himself on top of the pile of wool on his bed. “I just need this to be perfect. Y/N needs a break, and they deserve everything to be just right.”

“And you want to impress them” sang Wilbur, now nudging Techno aside to sift through his sweaters.

Technoblades noise of indignation was muffled as Wilbur threw a cream colored sweatshirt at his face. 

“What about this?”

“I couldn’t find what to wear it with.”

Wilburs sigh rang through Technoblades room as he opened the closet, now in his proper mindset as the family fashion consultant. Garment after garment was thrown in Techno’s general direction, and he leaned and reached to grab them all. 

“Try that”

Technoblade walked out of the bathroom to find Wilbur rummaging through his jewelry. 

“When did I say it was fine for you to go through my stuff?” asked Technoblade, shoving Wilbur away. Wilbur shrugged in response, motioning for Techno to open his hand so that he could drop his selection of rings and necklaces into his open palm.

As Wilbur walked out the door, he thought he heard a faint “thank you”, and smiled to himself.

-----

“This is elaborate”

“I’m a dynamic man Y/N.”

Y/N laughed at his response to the back seat of Technoblades car, which was filled with “supplies” for the evening.

“That outfit sure is dynamic.”

“Why?” Technoblade asked nervously, drumming slightly on the steering wheel. “Do you like it?”

“I love it! I didn’t think you could get any hotter but you somehow pulled it off!”

Realizing what they said, Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep red and they began to pick at their flannel. As soon as Technoblades surprise wore off, and the butterflies faded back to the dull sensation that always seemed to linger when he was around them, he let out a snort of laughter. That sent both of them into a fit which continued until Technoblade hit a pothole from laughing so hard. 

Y/N’s momentary fear only made them laugh harder, but Technoblade attempted to quell himself before he no longer had four functioning tires.

“Do I get to know where you’re taking me?” Y/N asked. They had driven a little ways out from the city, to the vaguely familiar areas that one only drives by when they’re leaving town.

“Yes.” He replied, slowing the car into a small parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

The pair entered the small bookshop and a bell rang overhead. The store smelled of dust and books and Technoblade saw Y/N breathing the scent in like a breath of new life. Of course, this ended up in a small coughing fit which he pulled them out of with a few pats to their upper back. 

“Okay we are on somewhat of a schedule, so I need you to go get a book. Any book, and meet me back at the register in 10 minutes.” He said, grabbing them by the shoulders and making direct eye contact. “Okay, Go!” 

And they both got lost in the mazes of words.

At 4:30 sharp, Y/N found Technoblade waiting for them at the register with a stiff red hardcover. He reached out for their book as they reached for their wallet. 

“Tech, no, you don’t have to buy me books I can get it myself”

If for nothing else, the way they shortened the already shortened version of his name made his heart stutter, and he was overcome with the sudden urge to buy them every book in this store. But he wordlessly nodded his head ‘no’ and paid for their two books. 

As they walked back to the car, Y/N admired the way his jewelry glistened in the sun. The gold necklaces contrasting against the black turtleneck he wore under his sweatshirt made them think of the summer, when his rings would shine under the sun and in the light of their almost nightly group bonfire. Technoblade opened the door for them when they got to the car, pink hair flying in his face because of the wind. Before getting in, Y/N threw their arms around his neck in a hug.

“Thanks”

They mumbled into his neck.

He blamed his pink cheeks on the cold.

-----

“Let me carry something!” Y/N argued as Technoblade led them down the path of a park a little ways away from the bookstore.

“No.” he answered, a basket and three bags dangling from his arms. 

The argument continued as they made their way down the paved path, leaves crunching underneath their feet. A little ways into the walk, when the conversation had faded to discussing the latest reading assigned by Ms. Ren, Technoblade stopped Y/N by throwing a tote bag-laden arm against their chest.

“Here.”

He parted the branches that covered a small, unpaved path that led deeper into the trees.

“How do I know you’re not trying to lure me here to kill me?” mused Y/N, already a few steps ahead of the pink-haired man on the pine-straw path.

“Yeah hold on, let me just get my axe out from this basket real quick” deadpanned Technoblade, earning a giggle from Y/N.

A few moments later, the path opened up to a clearing with a few fallen logs and a small brook trickling near the edge.

“This is beautiful Tech! How did you find this?” they asked with an awestruck expression.

He hid the way that his ears flushed with his hair and busied himself laying out the picnic supplies he had dragged all the way out here, mumbling something unintelligible.

Once he was done, he looked up to find an empty clearing, Y/N nowhere to be found.

“Y/N?” he called

He received a response in the form of a small yelp and a rather loud splash. “Over here!”

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, sprinting over to the edge of the stream. Their giggles calmed him a little bit, but didn’t absolve him of all his worry as he subtly looked them over for any injuries. 

“I thought the rock would be steady enough to hold me” they pouted, gesturing vaguely at the rock in question, now shiny with water.

Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at their antics, but hoisted them up nonetheless. Once they were back on solid ground, he curled his finger around the back of his sweatshirt's neckline and pulled it over his head, almost knocking off his glasses in the process. He missed the way Y/N’s eyes narrowed and focused on the way his black knit turtleneck hugged his figure, tucked into the dark brown trousers Wilbur had dug out of his closet just hours previously.

“Are you warm?” asked Y/N with an incredulous look, teeth slightly chattering.

“It’s for you, dumbass. You’re almost sure to get sick in those wet clothes.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered at the gesture, and at the way Technoblade shushed them when they tried to argue.

He turned away as Y/N shed their dripping flannel and replaced it with the sweatshirt, warmed by his own body heat. 

When he turned back, he almost lost his breath again. Seeing them in his sweatshirt, the sleeves dangling past their fingertips and their hair a little tousled from pulling the garment over their head, messed with him just a little bit. He ignored the way that his cold-nipped nose was turning redder and redder and instead gently picked up their hand to guide them over to where he had set up the picnic, next to a towering tree with a thick trunk.

Both of them were hyper-aware of the way that his fingers held theirs, and the warmth that seemed to radiate from their touch. Neither one of them wanted to let go, but as they plopped down onto the picnic blanket sitting on the ground, their grip fell apart.

The loss of contact made the October day seem colder.

The muffled crunching of the leaves under their butts filled the air as they settled into a comfortable position and began digging through the picnic basket Technoblade had brought with food. The tension in the air slowly faded as they began to eat and the atmosphere filled with the joyous conversation of the two painfully oblivious teenagers. 

When they had both finished eating, Technoblade pulled out the bag that he had brought from the bookstore and handed Y/N their book. The smile that graced their lips as they mumbled out another ‘thank you’ brought another wave of butterflies down Technoblades stomach. He pulled out his own book and made himself comfortable against the thick tree trunk behind him. Y/N reached into their back pocket and pulled out a ballpoint pen, the cap of the pen riddled with chew marks. 

The damn pen.

They stuck it between their teeth and let it hang off of the right side of their mouth. Technoblade felt his chest heat up as they nudged him over to share his spot leaning against the tree. He opened his phone and hit play on a mix of Arctic Monkeys and Gang of Youths, before leaning back to where his shoulder was pressed with theirs and opened his book.

Time seemed to forget its rules in this quiet little forest, with just Y/N and Technoblade lost in their separate worlds of words. The peace was only ever disturbed by Y/N occasionally scribbling something down in the margin of their book, to which Technoblade would demand to see, and they would fall into a small discussion about the topic.

These occasions slowly began to wane off until Technoblade felt Y/N lean their head against him with a thud. He looked down to see them fast asleep, half leaning on his shoulder with the pen still clutched between their fingers. He took note of the way the pen was balanced like a cigarette and the small puffs of air following their cold breath resembled smoke. Ignored the way his heart was almost convulsing on itself, he chose to wrap his arm around them and savour the moment.

Because he was aware that before he knew it, it would be over.

WINTER---------------------------

The student media center had a hushed atmosphere to it, as people took advantage of their last afternoon to study for semester finals. Winter break would let out the next day, but for the overwhelmed Juniors and Seniors now crowding the library, the excitement would not set in until they quelled their nervousness over the last final of the semester.

One of the study rooms situated in the back was now crowded with the notorious friend group as they crammed for their last final. Fundy, Jack and Niki were trading around their history notes, Wilbur and Minx were arguing over the proper situation of a unit circle, and Technoblade was flash quizzing Y/N on the Polyatomic ions. Their frantic studying was interrupted by their friend, George, who had gotten bored of watching his two best friends during their last football practice of the semester. He quietly walked in and took a seat in the corner, pulling out a notebook and studying something or the other. 

“Why aren't Dream and Sapnap here cramming with us?” Minx asked George.

“They have their ‘weightlifting’ final tomorrow” seethed George, most likely jealous of his friends’ somewhat pointless final.

Everyone laughed, and some groans of similar jealousy rang through the air right before the cracking loudspeaker of the school crunched to life, announcing that the doors would close at 6:00. Y/N looked down at their watch face, which read 5:45.

“Fuck, I’m never going to learn these charges! Don’t even get me started on the fact that I don’t have the solubility rules memorized!” squeaked Y/N in frustration. Everyone gave them a sympathetic look, knowing the rigorous emotional and mental demands of taking AP Chemistry.

“Don’t worry, you still have the whole night to study!” consoled Fundy.

Technoblade felt his heart break at the way their eyes filled with tears of frustration. 

“My siblings scream way too much, I can never concentrate at home”

“Come study at our house!” exclaimed Wilbur. “We can kick Tommy out so he won’t bother you!”

Wilbur sensed their hesitation and cut in before they could say ‘no’

“Come on, Dad won’t mind, he loves you! And it gives us an excuse to send Tommy out!”

Y/N turned their head in questioning to Technoblade, who grunted and nodded his head.

“I mean, if you’re sure”

Eager nodding.

“Thanks so much Wil!”

---

It was 11:50 and Phil’s living room resembled something closer to an FBI clue board, with flashcards and chemistry notes strewn on every possible surface. Wilbur had retired to bed after reviewing his Calculus notes one last time, and Tommy was spending the night at Tubbo’s. Phil leaned against the doorway and watched his son coach his best friend through the last few chapters of the textbook with a smile on his face.

“Make sure not to go to sleep too late! You need enough sleep for your final!” he called, retreating up the stairs.

Y/N checked their watch and sighed at the time. “I should get going soon.” they mumbled, beginning to collect their notes.

“Stay the night” suggested Technoblade, pulling a blanket over their shoulders to protect them from the December chill that seemed ever-present, even with the crackling fireplace illuminating the room. 

“I can’t-” A yawn cut their sentence “I can’t stay, I don't have anything and I’ve wasted enough of your time already”

Technoblade took them by the shoulders and looked them in the eyes, albeit having to lean down. “You can never waste my time”

Shivers ran through Y/N’s tired body and they offered him a weak smile.

He plucked the pen that was hanging from their mouth out and feigned disgust as he wiped it on their shirt, before throwing it in the pile of stationary by his feet.

“How about you stay for a hot chocolate?”

The invitation was too hard to resist so they gave in, as long as it was “only ten more minutes”.

Technoblade filled two mugs from the pot of the beverage that Phil had left on the stove, and topped it with marshmallows and whipped cream.

Y/N took the mug from him with a ‘thank you!’, and led the way back to the living room to nestle under the warmth of the fireplace. The pair were both exhausted from the day of studying, and chose to sip their beverages in silence. Before either of them knew it, they were both asleep under Y/N’s blanket, cuddled up against the cold of the night.

---

They woke up to the banging of Wilbur running down the stairs. 

“Shit, you two are still asleep?”

Y/N jumped up, knocking over their empty mug in the process. “Fuck, what time is it?” they asked, urgently rummaging around for their bag.

“8:00”

“What time is your final?” grumbled Technoblade, still half-asleep with no intention to get up until his final later that day.

“8:20” they whined, almost breaking down. 

“Hey, it’s fine, go get clothes from my room, take anything you want. I’ll drive you.” said Technoblade in a calming voice.

Y/N looked at him with desperate eyes and thanked him before retracing the familiar path to his bedroom.

Technoblade cracked his back and followed Wilbur into the kitchen, intending to make Y/N a nutritious breakfast and pack them a lunch, but was met with Wilburs smirking face.

“What’s the deal?” said Technoblade in his monotonous low, pulling things from out of the fridge.

“Are we going to ignore that you and Y/N slept together?”

“Gross you perv, we just fell asleep studying”

Wilburs smart-ass response was cut off by the arrival of the person in question, clad in one of Technoblades sweaters and sweatpants and ripping their fingers through their hair to attempt to tame it.

Technoblade ignored the all-too-familiar flutter of his heart at seeing them in his clothes and handed them a yogurt bowl he put together. “Let’s go, you can eat it in the car.”

They definitely broke laws driving at breakneck speed, but they pulled into the school parking lot at 8:15 and jumped out of the car, Technoblade following them to make sure they made it to the Chemistry classroom on time. With a minute and a half to spare, they arrived at the door to the classroom, earning a sigh of relief from both of them. 

Dr. Yachtrong ushered Y/N into the classroom, but not before Technoblade placed a kiss on their forehead and wished them good luck. They entered the classroom in a daze, which they quickly shook off when the tests were passed out.

---

The final bell rang for the day and the cheers rang around the school, drowning out the crunchy loudspeaker announcements to “have a good Christmas” and to “make good decisions”. Y/N had headed off to their last few classes following the Chemistry final, which had gone as good as one could expect a Chemistry exam to go. They were fairly sure they had passed which at this point, was a major win. As they left the History hallway, they saw their friend Karl leaving the art classroom. 

“Karl!” they waved him down.

“HEY! Y/N!!!” he giggled excitedly “Schools out!”

“I know!”

Excited chatter filled the hallways and they bumped into Sapnap, Punz, and Dream leaving the weights room. 

“How was your weightlifting final?” snickered Y/N

Punz answered with a slight push to their head. The group was shot out at the front courtyard, where almost all of their other friends were waiting.

The celebratory mood was punctuated by Karl inviting everyone over for an “Epic School Sucks Party” at his house later that night.

Y/N looked around, searching for the pink-haired man that had been flooding their thoughts more than usual lately.

He had been acting differently, nervous even, since the day they fell asleep on him at the park. Y/N was only scared last night's incident would make it worse.

“He’s probably finishing up his Latin stuff” murmured Wilbur, leaning down to their ear.

Y/N’s ears burnt a bright red upon knowing that Wilbur knew who they were looking for. They looked up to answer, but he had already gotten immersed in a conversation with Quackity and George. 

The man in question came out of the front doors of the building and made a beeline for their cluster of people upon seeing them. Y/N couldn’t help but admire the cuffs he wore on his slightly pointed ears, and the way his long pink hair fell behind his-

“Oi Y/N is that Technoblades sweater?”

Screw you Minx

“Y/N spent a surprise night over last night” snickered Wilbur, wiggling his eyebrows.

“It's. Not. Like. That.” screeched Y/N, punctuating each word with a smack to Wilbur, somewhat drowned in the laughs and gasps of everyone in their group.

“Why are we hitting Wilbur and can I join?” asked Technoblade once he integrated himself into the tangle of people. The laughs hushed as everyone turned to look between Y/N and Technoblade.

“What?”

-----

The heat of Niki’s curling iron sent warm shivers down Y/N’s neck, a grateful contrast to the harsh December chill plaguing the outdoors. She blew gently on the warm hair before letting it all fall back, tousling it to break up the curls.

“Thanks Niki!” said Y/N gratefully, examining themselves in the mirror. “You’re going to have to teach me how to do this someday.”

Niki laughed, already standing in front of the bathroom mirror to apply her eyeliner. With one eye closed, she spoke to the person now standing behind her, checking their outfit from different angles. 

“So really, what’s going on between you and Technoblade?”

She knew of their intense crush on the pink-haired boy, which had started somewhere between 8th grade and freshman year, but she also knew that Y/N tended to be more closed off about their deep personal life.

Y/N sighed, almost in disappointment. “Nothing. And that’s the problem.”

Due to Niki’s sympathetic look thrown their way, they fell down a rabbit hole of ranting which led them to where they were now; on the floor beside Niki’s bed with Y/N’s head in her lap.

“He always acts so weird around me. One minute he’s  holding my hand or kissing my forehead, and the next he won't even look at me, or only answers in short sentences. And it stresses me out because I think he hates me, but then he does shit like buying me books just to go read in a forest with him, or staying up all night with me to study for my Chemistry final, and I just-” They took a deep breath, containing their rambling.

“I just get more confused.”

----------

 Karls party was in full swing by the time Niki and Y/N got there. They were met at the door by Sapnap and Quackity, who for some reason were handcuffed to each other, and were both giggling and flushed. Y/N and Niki hung their coats on the rack by the door and walked into the festive atmosphere of the house, seeing familiar faces in every corner.

Despite the rowdy environment and the deafening noise, the party was relatively small, consisting of only 20 or so of Karls friends.

They followed Quackity and Sapnap into the living room where a semi-circle of people was lounging on various couches, passing around a blunt and playing what seemed to be truth or dare.

Ah. That’s where the handcuffs came from.

Niki and Y/N decided to play, Niki offering to go fetch them both drinks in the kitchen as Y/N found their place in the circle. To their surprise, Technoblade was there, seemingly uninterested in the game and more invested in something he was doing on his phone. Upon seeing Y/N, he gave them a smile, cheeks flushed with alcohol, and gestured to the small spot between him and the couch armrest. All eyes followed Y/N as they perched on the armrest, mumbling a small ‘hi!’ to Technoblade.

Niki returned with two drinks in hand and shared a knowing glance with Y/N, as well as a miniscule smile, before handing them their drink and taking a seat on a cushion next to Jack and Minx.

“Okay okay, In honor of our new guests arriving, Y/N, truth or dare?” 

Y/N knew by the looks everyone was giving them that choosing truth would not be the best option.

“Dare.”

A small sigh of disappointment left Karls lips before a mischievous light came into his eyes and he perked up again. “I dare you to sit in Technoblade’s lap”

Snickers echoed across the group as Technoblade looked up at the sound of his name. He looked up to where Y/N was balancing themself on the edge of the couch, and with some burst of courage, that was probably induced by the alcohol, he wrapped his arm around their waist to tug them into his lap with a squeak of surprise.

After recovering from their initial embarrassment, Y/N turned to the man whose lap they were in. “Techno, truth or dare?”

He huffed but quietly breathed out “Truth”, suddenly very aware of how close their face was to his. After a few brief seconds of eye contact which seemed to last an eternity, they stuttered out

“Umm, do you,- actually, how did, how did they get you to play? This game... I mean?”

“BOO! WHAT A BORING FOOKIN QUESTION!” called Minx from the cushion she was on.

His response of how he didn’t mean to get dragged in to this “stupid middle schoolers game” was slightly slurred as he took a big chug of whatever liquid was floating around his red solo cup.

This worried Y/N. They never saw Technoblade drink more than enough to get him slightly tipsy, but they brushed it off on end-of-the-semester excitement. In any case, they would confront him when they got the opportunity to talk to him alone.

---

Said opportunity arose after the Pizza arrived, and most people began to file into Karls movie room to watch whatever garbage show he decided on running. Y/N stayed back, intending to have full access to the pizza and Technoblade, noticing this, stayed with them. Y/N hopped up onto a counter and pulled the pizza boxes to them.

“Hey Tech?”

“Heh?”

“Are you okay? I haven't seen you drink this much before?” they asked, running a concerned hand through his hair before pressing it to his forehead to check how hot he was.

His eyes closed and he nuzzled into their touch.

“I guess I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous? What do you have to be nervous about? It’s winter break” they answered, a small smile on their beautiful face.

This was his chance.

“I have to start applying for colleges.”

Fuck, he missed it.

-----

The food brought a new bought of energy to everyone at the party, and by 3 in the morning, the celebration was still heavy in the air. Everyone thanked whatever brought Karl’s parents to buy a house far removed from any close neighborhoods, so the noise wouldn’t earn them a police visit.

Loud music blared from the speakers in the living room, which had been cleared of furniture to make space for the energetic teenagers.

Y/N took turns dancing with Niki, Minx, and Jack before being stolen away by Sapnap who spun them around until they almost threw up. Eventually, Y/N ended up on the outskirts of the dancefloor, where they saw their favorite apathetic pig-boy leaning against a corner, snickering at everyone who was embarrassing themselves in their drunken haze. 

“WANNA DANCE?” asked Y/N leaning towards him to enunciate over the music.

How could he say no? When they were looking up at him with those big, bright eyes and a slight sheen of sweat over their face.

-----

The party began to dissipate nearing the hours of dawn. Around 5, people began trickling out. Except for the select few who had decided to just crash with Karl.

Technoblade and Wilbur parked a little ways away from their house, walking the rest of the way and ushering each other up the tree by Wilburs bedroom to sneak back in. 

It was locked.

“You dimwit, didn’t you unlock the window?”

“Of course I did you arse, where do you think I snuck out from?”

Their bickering was interrupted by a small tap on the glass by none other than a smirking Tommy. 

“Leave it to him to only wake up when he wants to annoy us”

“Tommy, let us in.”

Tommy made a rubbing motion with his index finger and thumb. Looking at Wilbur and sighing, Technoblade pulled his wallet out and held up a 10. 

Tommy made a ‘more’ motion

20. Then 40. Then 50.

“So generous of you lads, come on in!” he giggled, snatching the money from his brother and leaving the window open for the two to clamber in awkwardly.

Technoblade snuck back into his room, stripping off his sweaty clothes and falling onto the mattress. Before he blacked out, he saw two notifications come in.

BitchBur: I took these pictures tn, thought u might want them ;) (8 images attached)

And

Y/N <3: I hope you figure out the college situation! <3 let me know if you can hang out sometime :D

He opened Wilburs text to find a collection of candid pictures Wilbur had snapped over the course of the night. One of Y/N in his lap, a few of them laughing together over pizza, a few of them on the dance floor, and what had to be his favorite: a picture of them kissing his cheek as a ‘good luck’ for his arm wrestle with Dream.

A smile creeped onto his face and he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his brother. He set the last picture as his wallpaper before turning off his phone and falling into a realm of blackness.

SPRING------------------

“That was my very last AP Exam!” exclaimed Y/N, walking through the door of the coffee house where all their friends were lounging. 

The small shop erupted with cheers as they celebrated everyone finishing their school year. The cheers eventually died out, though, as the realization sunk in. Tomorrow was graduation.

The seniors in the group, Wilbur, Technoblade, Minx and Fundy were all going off to college. 

Wilbur to England, Fundy to the Netherlands, and Minx to Ireland. The one person who hadn’t decided on a college yet was Technoblade.

“Why do you all have to leave the country?” whined Y/N.

A chorus of similar sentiments left the other juniors who were scattered around a few tables that had been pushed together. 

As the conversation descended into dorms and expenses, Y/N received a text from Technoblade. The shock of the ‘ding’ made the pen that had been balancing between their lips clatter onto the floor.

Apathetic pig-boy: come outside

Y/N looked around, not having noticed that Technoblade had disappeared from the table. Taking advantage of the conversation everyone else was immersed in, they quietly snuck out, but not without avoiding Wilburs keen eyes, which narrowed upon realizing his brother was not at the table.

They wandered outside, finding Technoblade sitting at one of the outdoor tables covered by the awning. 

“My Yale email came in.” he said as soon as he saw them walk outside.

They jumped with barely contained joy. “What did it say?”

“I wanted you to be here when I opened it.”

Everyone knew that Technoblades dream college was Yale. He had talked about it ever since he was a little kid, screaming about Greek mythology on the school playground. Y/N knew that it was Technoblades biggest ambition to study literature at one of the most renowned colleges in the world, but they still felt a twinge of sadness. On top of losing half their friends, they couldn’t lose the one person that meant the most to them too.

“Open it!”

Y/N leaned against the back of Technoblades chair, almost falling over his shoulder as they watched the loading icon on the college’s website.

Technoblade clicked on the notification and they both read it together

Congratulations! We are glad to inform you…

“THAT YALE UNIVERSITY HAS DECIDED TO ACCEPT YOUR APPLICATION! TECH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Screamed Y/N, wrapping their arms around his shocked figure. They placed a million kisses all over his face, gushing about how proud they were of him, ignoring the gut wrenching feeling inside of them.  

“What’s the screaming about? Did you two finally get together?” Asked Wilbur as the group flooded out of the coffee shop to see what the commotion was about. 

“Yale accepted me.” mumbled Technoblade, just loud enough for them to hear.

The cheers that followed his announcement almost made their small hometown collapse. Congratulations were exchanged and backs were pat, and in the mess, Y/N managed to sneak off to the side. The only person who noticed was Niki, who followed them to the corner of the parking lot where they were kicking at the asphalt with their converse. She sat down, and the two rested in silence, the April wind blowing their hair all over the place.

“He’s leaving.” He’s leaving me. They wanted to say, but they didn't.

Niki gave her friend a small side hug, somehow interpreting the sentence accurately. “He’s pursuing his dreams Y/N, you know he doesn’t want to leave you.”

“How do I make him stay? It’s selfish and I’d feel like a bitch but Niki I don’t think I can live without him.”

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“You need to tell him how you feel.”

----

The next day brought sunny skies and the enthusiastic atmosphere of graduation. They had all managed to snag themselves some graduation tickets to see their friends finish high school.

Jack, Niki, and Y/N were sitting in a Wendy’s parking lot, waiting for the clock to hit 11:45 so they could start making their way to school. It seemed empty without the Seniors of the group, as they were all at school getting ready for the ceremony. Y/N voiced this concern aloud, to which Jack responded, “We’ll have to get used to it. This is how it’s going to be next year.”

And the three fell into silence, sullenly dipping their fries into their frostys.

----

Jack, Niki, and Y/N let themselves be jostled into school with the crowds of emotional parents and kids who were already bored of the event. They found decent seats, near the front aisle and set their belongings down. 

Not a moment later, they were greeted by Philza, who filed in with the rest of the boys extended family to sit beside them. 

The dimming of the lights led to hushed whispers erupting from the previously rowdy crowd. 

Procedure came and went, the salutatorian and valedictorian giving their respective addresses to the crowd, the speech of the somewhat bored principal, and finally, 

“Without further ado, presenting the Graduating Class of 2021!” 

Cheers erupted from the crowd as names began to be called. 

Within the first five minutes, the boredom began to set in and Jack began a game pigeon game, which Phil demanded to be added to. The four played the digital card game until they were pulled out of their concentration by a familiar name being called. They erupted into cheers as Fundy walked across the stage to pick up his diploma and shake the Principal’s hand. The process was repeated until Minx, her eyes shining as she shook the principal's hand earnestly, then flipped him off quickly behind his back, which sent the auditorium into a fit of laughter.

Person after person was called up, until...

“Technoblade Minecraft”

Philza almost cried. He stood on his chair, screaming in excitement for his son which made the boy in question flush as he collected his diploma and took a rather rushed leave off the stage, but not before seeing the heart that Y/N made with their fingers in his direction.

The same general act happened  during Wilburs announcement, except that he laughed and gave his dad a cheering motion with his hands.

---

The group spilled out onto the lawn of the school, congratulating people they knew when they saw them. Technoblade and Wilbur joined their family, receiving hugs from a very emotional Tommy. Y/N, Niki, and Jack waited behind for their friends to finish up with their families before tackling them in hugs. Screams and whoops came from the puddle of people on the floor, everyone yelling things to each other. The atmosphere was charged with happiness, and relief, and one couldn’t help but feel elation despite the bittersweet nature of graduation.

“Alright mates, party at my house!” boomed Philza over the noise.

The infamous graduation party. They had planned the two-part party in middle school, when they had had their first sleepover at the group's “hub”, aka Philza’s house. Since then, the party had become a reality and the first part would be executed tonight. The next being, of course, when the remaining half of the group graduated.

A marquis was set up in Phil’s garden, now uncluttered and full of spring blossoms. It was such a different atmosphere than it had been last summer, when their bonfires would stretch out into the early hours of the morning.

Food laden tables were scattered around the marquis, and to everyone's delight, a chocolate fountain rested on one of them.

After collecting food and gifts from various guests, the group found themselves sitting under the shade of a large tree with a rickety old treehouse balancing on it, which Tommy and Tubbo were attempting to devise a plan to get into with the help of their friend Ranboo, who didn’t seem as enthusiastic about the idea as the others.

“My flight leaves next week.” sighed Minx, leaning against Niki’s shoulder.

“I’ll be out of here by July the latest” 

“Phil’s taking us to London next week and I’ll just be staying”

Everyone turned to Technoblade to reveal when he would be leaving for college. 

“I’m going to Connecticut a week before the beginning of the term”

“So how long will you be home this summer?” Y/N asked, setting down their cookie.

“Between travelling and dorm set-up, I’ll probably only be here for about two weeks total.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as they pushed their head into Technoblades chest. 

“I just-” sniffle “I just can’t believe you’re all leaving!” they cried, muffled by Technoblades button down.

This sent everyone into a fit of tears as they all began hugging each other for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

The moment was interrupted by Phil, who came out of the house with a camera and various props. Encouraging everyone to gather around and take pictures. Everyone scuffled around to fix their disheveled appearances and began making their way to Phils makeshift photo booth.

“Tech- wait!” called Y/N, pulling him back by the forearm. “Your hair”

They put pressure on his shoulders to get him to lean down so that they could fix his stray hairs. 

Right then, looking at the way Y/N’s shoes sank into the ground and feeling their light touch in his hair, he decided. I have to tell them. This is my last chance.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I-” deep breaths, “I need you to-”

“Come on, lovebirds get in the picture!” called Phil, walking over to drag them to where everyone else was. 

Y/N gave him an apologetic look, woven with the silent promise of later.

Damnit Dad.

----

The pictures had lasted what felt like eons, but between the corny props and the harsh afternoon sunlight, they held valuable memories.

But Technoblade had no interest in them at the moment, as he dragged Y/N behind the trunk of the tree they had sat at before.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves made Y/N’s face all that much more beautiful, and Technoblade struggled to tear his attention away to focus on telling them. He gathered up his courage and opened his mouth to speak.

But the only thing that came out was “OW!”

As a pinecone bonked off his head and rolled away on the ground, leaving chips of it in his hair. 

“Look out below!” Called Tubbo from somewhere above them. So they managed to get in. Damnit.

Y/N took his hand and led him to the other side of the tree, away from the boys’ field of destruction. They sat down gently, pulling Technoblade down with them to pluck the pieces of pinecone out of his hair.

“Here. Distraction free! Now tell me what you’ve been trying to say because there’s something I need to tell you too.”

That gave Technoblade the perfect opportunity to gather his nerves. “You go first”

“No, it’s fine you!”

“No you go!”

It seemed as if the stars had collided and sent out particles so many eons ago with the knowledge that everything would lead up to these two kids coming to the same conclusion at the same time. 

“I love you”

“I love you”

Their eyes met as they stared, wide-eyed and gaping-mouthed at each other. Overcoming the initial shock, they began to ramble.

“I didn’t think you felt the same way because you always got quiet around me and then you woul-”

“Can I kiss you?” Technoblade interrupted them, not really hearing their rambling through the buzz going through his brain.

They nodded shyly in response as he wrapped his hand around the back of their neck to pull them dizzyingly, tauntingly closer. He looked into their eyes one more time to make sure they were serious, but Y/N was already closing the gap between their lips. They hoisted themselves into his lap and gripped his hair to bring him impossibly closer.

But alas, in this group of people, nothing goes unnoticed or undisturbed.

“EW! TECHNO’S KISSING Y/N!” screamed Tommy from the balcony of the treehouse which resulted in whoops and cheers from everyone at the party.

“FINALLY!” yelled someone amongst the crowd. 

Y/N felt their ears burn a bright red as they buried their face into Techno’s neck.

“Yeah Y/N! Get some!”

“Oh fuck off!”

A/N: i hope u guys liked it :D, also this is my first time writing with they/them pronouns so if i made a mistake pls don’t hesitate to correct me!

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home For Traumatized Kids - Chapter Four

Self Care Day

Chapter Summary: Roman finally relaxes, and Virgil attempts to help.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety, panic, mentions of past trauma and abuse, very minor self-injury (rubbing a little too hard with a loofah), food, and swearing

Chapter Word Count: 6,174

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258, @eternalmoonlight19, @remy-the-lemon-berry, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @mariniacipher, @bigwendymonster, @nonbinary-octopus

Notes: Thank you to Cornybird on Ao3 for betareading the chapter! You’re amazing and I appreciate you <3

It was one in the morning, and Roman was next to his bed pacing in circles so fast he was getting dizzy. It was officially the weekend and he was supposed to relax, but instead his mind was rushing a mile a minute and tormenting him. He was restless and exhausted, anxious and on the brink of tears, and Roman didn’t know what to do. He just wanted it to stop.

His head was spinning from all the pacing, so Roman sat on the foot of his bed and aggressively bounced his leg instead. He felt out of control, like danger was all around him and there was nothing to stop it. He felt like his heart was in his throat, sweat dripping down his face and making it hard to breathe. Roman gripped at his hair with both hands, physically recoiling at the feeling of grease and grime and-

…Oh. Wait. It made sense now. Roman hadn’t showered in a week.

He let out a deep breath, calming a little after finding a solution to his problem. He should’ve guessed, feeling dirty always made him anxious and stressed. He hadn’t had the energy to shower, but he was at a point where he had to force himself. If he didn’t, Roman would collapse from the stress.

He picked up his phone to look at the time again. 1:28 am, possibly the worst timing to sneak into the bathroom and try to shower without waking the house up. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He was exhausted and his brain was rushing through hundreds of thoughts. He needed some hot water to calm down.

Roman took the security bar off his door and slowly stepped into the hallway. He didn’t bother grabbing clothes to change into; his pajamas were clean and he could slip back into them after drying himself off well enough. He carefully turned the knob of the bathroom and snuck himself in.

It was very quiet in the house so early in the morning. Usually when Roman was in the bathroom, he could hear the TV downstairs or people talking outside the door, but now the only noise was the sound of his breathing and a slight buzz from the bathroom light. Roman stepped on the toilet to check for cameras inside of a vent high on the wall. Frustratingly, he found nothing. Patton’s camera-hiding ability was getting very annoying.

Regardless, he checked in the drawers and around the walls as well, flipping over shampoo bottles and toothbrushes just in case. He didn’t find anything, and Roman wanted to yell. Instead, he settled for clenching his fists and trying to move on with his task.

Fortunately, the shower had an opaque curtain that could make it harder for a camera to see, and Roman felt satisfied with that. Once he figured out how the shower worked and memorized where things were placed, Roman could also go back to showering in the dark again. He’d manage.

Roman wrapped himself in a towel in order to take his clothes off, folding them neatly on the toilet so that any water falling on the ground wouldn’t drench them. He skipped turning on the vent fan so he’d be quieter, stepping into the shower and tossing the towel outside the curtain on the floor for later. His legs clamped together subconsciously as he turned on the water.

Roman felt his shoulders relax a little when the hot water hit him. It helped the grease on his face and hair feel less gross, but the heat was also relaxing. He hugged himself and let the water fall down his face for a while.

…This is weird, Roman eventually thought, interrupting the rare silence in his head. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since he left the hospital. He thought after the trial that he’d be living on cloud nine for the rest of eternity, but the opposite was happening. His past and current situation was hitting him like a brick, filling him with constant anxiety and paranoia over the smallest things. It was getting unbearable.

Roman grabbed a shampoo bottle and squirted some out, slowly rubbing it into his hair and sighing. He was probably so on edge because he still hadn’t figured out Patton’s patterns. With his dad, Roman had lived with him for so long, he could guess his feelings by just a ten second conversation. He had detailed methods to work around him, how to sneak out of the house without getting noticed by cameras and how to delay the inevitable. But Roman didn’t know what Patton was thinking, what he even really wanted. Whatever it was certainly couldn’t be good, but at least if Roman knew, he could work around it. But here, there was no such luxury.

He stood back under the shower stream and felt the grease get cleaned out of his hair. Roman needed to change that uncertain feeling as soon as possible. He probably wasn’t going to sleep tonight anyway, so he could use this time to sneak around the house and at least find a hiding spot. At Roman’s old house, he had a little nook in a broken cabinet downstairs that his dad never opened, and he never found out where Roman’s hiding spot was. Patton didn’t have a basement, but maybe he had some place Roman could fit where Patton couldn't find him. It’d help him feel better if he found somewhere.

Roman ran his hands through his hair to check for extra suds and considered his hair clean now. Thank the heavens, there was nothing worse than feeling gross and exposed. Roman grabbed a bottle of body wash to clean the rest of himself next.

This was the tricky part. Roman had a habit of scrubbing too hard, and his aunt had a very long talk with him last time he came out of the shower redder than a lobster. He didn’t want Patton asking questions, so he had to watch himself. He couldn’t afford a spiral.

He poured some of the body wash on a loofah and tried to gently scrub. He didn’t realize how gross he felt, no wonder he was having panic attacks left and right. He was covered in grease and sweat and dirt that wasn’t even being rinsed, and Roman was getting more grossed out at the thought the more he realized. He really needed to start showering daily again, his hair was so thick and oily and teenager sweat stink smelled so bad, he couldn’t afford to miss a day-

…Shit, fuck, hang on, Roman thought, pulling away the loofah from his leg to observe the damage. He’d only realized what he was doing when he started to feel a stinging burn, looking away to see pink skin. Thankfully, he’d caught himself early enough where he’d be alright. He scooped some suds from the loofah onto his hand and gently rubbed the rest of the area so it wouldn’t be irritated, careful to focus on his movements from then on so it wouldn’t happen again.

He eventually finished without any further issues, rinsing off his body and turning off the shower. Roman dried most of himself as he stood in the shower, grabbing the towel off the floor and aggressively drying his hair with it. Usually he’d dry his hair with a hair dryer, but that would be too loud, so he settled with having a fluffy dog on his head for the night. Once he was dry enough, he grabbed his boxers and shirt to put on in the shower before stepping out to put back on his sweatpants. Despite the steam in the bathroom making it hard to breathe, Roman felt much better than before.

He turned off the light before he opened the bathroom door, stepping into the dark hallway wondering where to go. He still wasn’t tired, so he might as well look for that hiding spot. But where could he hide?

He slowly made his way downstairs, wincing every time a floorboard under him squeaked. The TV stand was an awful place since it was full of wires and CD cases, and behind the couch was far too obvious for a hiding spot. The entire kitchen was off limits since Patton spent most of his time there, he’d find Roman easily if he was hiding nearby. There was a small bathroom down here that barely fit a toilet and a sink, so maybe that could work?

Roman opened the bathroom door and looked inside, immediately becoming discouraged. There was no cabinet under the sink and everything was visible the moment you walked in, so that was a bust. He closed the door and looked around again.

The dining room off to the side of the kitchen was mostly bare, and hiding under the table wouldn’t work. Roman made a circle back to the stairs and looked around with his hands on his hips.

Suddenly, his eye was caught by a glass case display next to the stairs and it dawned on him. Underneath the stairs was a slight opening, but still too big to be a good hiding spot. But the display was pointed at a diagonal from the stairs, leaving a triangle opening that you couldn’t see by looking underneath the steps. Roman crawled under the stairs to see if he could fit in the hole.

It was a little cramped, but the cramped spots were always the best places. The only downside was that Roman was still visible from looking under the stairs, leaving his pants and shoes visible to anyone who could be looking for him. However, if he could get a box and paint it the same black color as the back of the glass display, he could rest on top of it and no one could see him. It could work!

Roman crawled out from the other end of the stairs and smiled. If he was quick and sneaky, he could hide under here and stay hidden for hours. Now he just needed a box he could paint black.

Roman opened the downstairs closet and looked inside, moving jackets and shoes around to look for what he needed. Nothing.

He walked into the kitchen to open the garage door and look inside, searching for any online shopping boxes Patton was planning to toss out. Nothing. Maybe he should sneak outside and check the recycling bin really quick-

“Roman?”

Roman froze like a deer in headlights at the sound of that voice. It was Patton, he didn’t need to look behind him to know that. To Patton, it must look like Roman was trying to sneak out through the garage door. He felt his breath stop.

“Roman, come back here. Right now.” Yeah, that was definitely what Patton thought was going on. His voice wasn’t angry, but it was firm and demanding, the voice a parent puts on when they refuse to be pushed around by you. If Roman didn’t think fast, he’d be fucked.

I can’t tell the truth, Roman thought. He can’t know I’m looking for hiding spots. But what can I do? Come on, Roman, make an idea! It’s the one thing you do so often!

…But there was that idea. An idea he used very rarely, but had yet to fail him.

Okay then, he decided, it’s go time. Lights, camera, action.

“Roman, I’m not joking. Come here.”

Roman deliberately ignored him, instead slowly closing the garage door and fumbling with the knob like he was stuck in a task. He kept his movements delayed and repetitive, just like people always told him he acted like in the stories.

Patton hesitated, like Roman’s reaction had confused him. “Roman, now.”

“Wait, wait, wait a minute.” Roman mumbled. “It’s gotta break.”

“…What’s gotta break?”

Roman opened the door and stood there looking out at the garage. He didn’t respond to Patton’s question, instead he stood there without moving. He heard Patton step closer.

“Roman?” He asked, his voice becoming softer as he realized what was happening. “Are you awake?”

“That’s a lot off.”

Roman could see Patton smile in the corner of his eye. His plan was a success. “I think you need to go to bed, kiddo. You can break things tomorrow.”

Patton took a hold of Roman’s hand, a grip that was so gentle it was less of a grip and more of Patton holding the tips of his fingers. Roman tensed his toes to prevent himself from jerking away from the touch, letting Patton lead him back up the stairs and to his bedroom. Patton went slowly so as to not lose Roman behind him, but he eventually led Roman back to bed while Roman kept up his sleepwalking ruse. It was a trick that always worked on his dad late at night, and it was good to know it worked on Patton too.

Patton brought Roman’s hand to touch the sheets on his own bed, and Roman reacted by slowly crawling back into bed and relaxing. He felt Patton cover him up with the blanket and tried not to squirm away from him.

“Goodnight, sleepy prince.” Patton whispered. Roman heard his footsteps head toward the door before his door slowly clicked closed, leaving Roman back in his room.

Roman waited until the coast was completely clear to jump back up and put the security bar under his door knob again. He was officially stuck in his room for the rest of the night, but at least he felt more in control now. Maybe he could try to sleep now.

Roman shoved his face in his pillow and tried to drift off, breathing deeply to keep his mind from spiraling again.

Yeah. After all he’d been through recently, tomorrow had to be a relaxation day.

***

“So…” Patton said to Roman with a smirk, handing him a plate with pancakes and blueberries during breakfast that morning. “Roman, I didn’t know you were a sleepwalker.”

Virgil and Logan both looked at Roman for his response. Roman feigned surprise. “…How’d you find out?”

“Last night I caught you walking around the house. I also heard the shower running for a while. Strange thing to wake up to!”

Crap, Roman thought, gonna have to remember that for next time. “Well, yes, I sleepwalk when I’m stressed. So, quite often.”

Patton’s smile seemed to drop a little. “Do you always try to sneak out of the house?”

“Sometimes. It’s not very often, though.” That’s what Roman always told adults. In reality, Roman had never heard a sleepwalking story of him trying to sneak out other than the times he was faking it after being caught. He didn’t even think Sleepwalking Roman had figured out how to take the security bar off the door yet, let alone try to walk into the street. But adults didn't need to know that. It was more convenient that way.

“Well, I might have to see about getting some sleepwalk-Roman-proof locks on the door, then. I don’t want you walking into oncoming traffic or something.”

Roman shrugged, taking a bite of his pancakes. “You can try. Can’t guarantee it’ll work, though.”

“Why do you sleepwalk?” Logan asked, leaning in closer to where Roman was sitting. “Do you know?”

“It ran in my family.”

Logan’s eyes lit up. “That’s quite interesting. I don’t know much about the science behind sleepwalking, but perhaps it’d be an interesting topic to research on. Brain functions during sleep can be quite bizarre.”

“You have fun with that, John Darling.” Roman finished the last bite from his pancake and stood up. “However, I have a nice date with the living room TV, so I’ll be busy.”

“…You consider that being busy?” Logan teased.

“Yes. Disney marathons are self care, and you can’t complain because I haven’t had the TV at all since I got here.”

“You do gotta share sometimes, Logan.” Patton mentioned.

Logan huffed. “Fine.”

Virgil stood up from the table to put his dishes away, placing his cup on top of his plate and balancing it. “He’s a little TV hog, some of us also wanna play games, dude.”

“All you have to do is ask!”

“And face confrontation? No way am I- fuck!”

Everyone jumped at Virgil’s sudden loud swear followed by the loud bang of a cup hitting the floor. Virgil’s balancing act showed to be a failure, with orange juice spilt all over the kitchen floor. Virgil stood deathly still and stared at the mess in horror, practically shaking with his knuckles turning white as he clenched at the plate in his hand. Roman cringed, subconsciously scooting as far back in his chair as possible and tensing. All the kids were silent. Virgil looked ready to cry.

“Oops!” Patton’s cheery voice is what broke the tense silence, crouching down at the mess and picking up the dropped cup. He looked it over. “Well, thankfully this cup isn’t glass, so it’s not broken! I’ll put it in the dishwasher and it’ll be okay, an easy fix. Could you get some paper towels and clean this up, kiddo?”

Virgil still seemed shaken, digging his nails into the metal plate and nodding. He slowly moved to grab the paper towels on the counter and drop them to the floor to dry the mess. Logan didn’t seem bothered anymore, but Roman felt himself prepare to book it upstairs in case things went south. But Patton didn’t scream or throw a fit, just put the cup in the dishwasher and stepped back to let Virgil do his thing.

Once Virgil wiped up the mess, he set his plate in the dishwasher and ran upstairs. Roman and Logan both watched helplessly, but Patton just smiled to himself. “I’ll check on him in a second. I think he just needs space now.”

Roman tensed at the idea of Patton checking on Virgil on his own, still not certain what he did to them behind closed doors. Roman put his own dishes away and ran upstairs to his bedroom. He closed the door and locked it like usual, but he didn’t put the security bar under the knob. Instead, he sat against the door and listened for the sound of Patton’s footsteps.

Eventually, the footsteps did come. Roman heard him knock on Virgil’s door and announce himself, asking if he could come in before the door opened. He heard the door softly close again, and that’s when Roman took his chance. He snuck out of his room and crept his way to the door to listen to what was going on. If Virgil was in pain, he could at least hear it.

“-Mad?” Virgil asked, his voice sounding higher and shaky. Roman clenched his fist in preparation.

“Of course not, kiddo,” He heard Patton say, “I’d never be mad at you. It was just a little cup, and everything’s okay.”

“…Sorry I swore, too.”

Patton laughed. “It’s okay. Sometimes it slips out, just don’t make it a habit.” There was a pause for a long moment. Roman felt something ride in his throat when he heard the bed creak a little. “Can I have a hug?”

Roman didn’t hear a verbal response, but Patton didn’t get angry afterwards, so he assumed that Virgil agreed. The bed creaked a little more, but it was silent. Way too silent, and that creaking was making Roman’s skin crawl. He didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust it at all.

Despite his better judgment, Roman swung the door open to catch him. He was breathing heavily and staring daggers, ready to throw a man twice his age across the room, but Roman froze when he processed the reality. Instead of whatever Roman was expecting to find, Patton had Virgil wrapped up in a tight hug as Virgil looked spooked from the sudden intrusion. Roman just stared, wishing more than anything now that he could reverse time. Oops, too soon.

“…Kiddo,” Patton eventually said in a confused tone, “You gotta knock before you enter.”

“…Yeah.” This didn’t make any sense. His dad had never gone this long being nice, so how hadn’t he caught Patton yet? What was he doing differently that made Roman not notice?

Patton rubbed Virgil’s back to help him ease up again. “How about you close the door and give us some privacy, then?”

“…No.” It was a trap. Roman was convinced it was a trap, and he refused to fall for it. He wouldn’t leave Virgil alone with him.

Patton seemed confused. “Why no?”

Roman was shaking. “Because.”

“Roman, I can only help if you tell me why you don’t wanna leave.” Patton’s face was still soft, rubbing Virgil’s back and letting him hide in the crook of Patton’s neck. If he was angry, he wasn’t showing it. “Can you tell me more than because?”

“Because.” Roman kept his voice sharp, remembering Patton’s ‘no yelling’ rule and trying not to push his boundaries more. But there was no way he was telling Patton his plans if he still hadn’t picked up on it.

Instead of exploding at Roman for being a brat, Patton seemed to focus intently and consider his options. Eventually, his eyes widened, and he smiled softly again at Roman. “What if you gave Virgil and I some space, but kept the door open? Would that be easier?”

Roman’s chest felt strange. Heavy, but like electricity was running through him around his heart. “Why do you want space so bad?”

“Because Virgil deserves privacy when he wants it, just like everybody does. Right?”

Roman looked at Virgil, who was peeking out from his hiding spot in Patton’s neck. He looked tired, but that wasn’t the only thing Roman noticed. He looked… Annoyed. Staring right at Roman with a death glare saying do you mind?, and Roman’s heart sank. Fuck.

Without saying a word, Roman ran off with the door still open and locked himself in the bathroom. He sat on the floor and put his head in his hands, still listening carefully for any concerning noises that might come from Virgil’s room, but he knew it was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

What the hell was wrong with him recently? He told himself last night he was going to spend today relaxing, instead he was freaking out and speeding up the process until Patton realized Roman knew what he was doing. Maybe that’s why Virgil seemed mad at him. He’s being an idiot and speeding up the inevitable for everyone, taking away the points of ignorant bliss between the horror. Roman should understand that. He was also guilty of wanting to pretend his dad loved him, and he was being a prick. He was going to get everyone in trouble if he kept this up.

Roman went limp on the floor, leaning his head against the door and sighing. He needed to leave them alone for a second and stop freaking out over everything. It seemed like Patton was in a good mood since Roman came along, it’d be bad news to ruin that. He wasn’t going to be the reason Virgil got hurt.

Roman shakily stood up off the bathroom floor and left, making his way downstairs to the TV. Logan still hadn’t turned it on, so he took this as his chance to claim it. He sat on the couch with his knees tucked close and pulled up a streaming service to look for some Disney movies, his eyes lighting up when he found one of his favorites as he switched the language to French and hit play.

He used to watch Beauty and the Beast all the time as a kid. It took place in France, so his mom would always say the movie should be played in French too, and Roman agreed. Now the English version sounded too weird for him to enjoy it the same.

Roman curled into himself as the intro played, the familiar prologue story of the beast’s curse that Roman could recite from memory by now. He slowly moved to rest his head on the couch’s armrest with his arms still wrapped around his own legs, keeping him tightly curled up. Maybe later he could make himself some tea, too.

Roman got through a good portion of the movie without interruptions, up to the point where Belle first came into the castle. Then, Virgil suddenly stood in front of the TV with his arms crossed.

Roman grabbed the remote to pause the movie, taking a moment to respond as his brain tried to remember English again. “What?”

“First off, why are you watching Disney in French?”

“I speak French, next question.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Come with me.”

Roman sat up and raised an eyebrow at Virgil. Virgil didn’t respond, just made his way up the stairs and expected Roman to follow. His curiosity got the better of him, so Roman did what he was told.

When he made his way up the stairs, Virgil was waiting in the doorframe of his bedroom. He motioned for Roman to follow him inside, so Roman did.

When Roman walked inside, Virgil moved to close the door behind them. “Don’t,” Roman warned.

Virgil gave him a look. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t close it. At least, not all the way.”

Virgil didn’t question further, just kept the door cracked open and wandered over to sit on his bed. Roman didn’t follow, just waited for Virgil to tell him what was happening.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Virgil said.

“I gathered.”

“Sleepwalker, huh?” Virgil teased. “That’s a load of shit.”

“I am a sleepwalker. It happens sometimes!”

“I was downstairs the same time you were, dude. You definitely weren’t fucking sleepwalking until Patton caught you.” Virgil smirked as Roman’s face dropped. “I’m impressed by the acting though, not gonna lie.”

Roman tried to think of a convincing lie, but he sighed and gave up, crossing his arms as he looked at the floor. “…Alright, it was an act. But I do sleepwalk. I just…wasn’t sleepwalking at that exact moment. But regardless, what were you doing awake? And why didn’t I see you?”

Virgil shrugged. “I’m a master at hiding. Every time you came around the corner, I just moved. I haven’t been caught by Patton in a long ass time.”

“Did you call me here just to boast then?”

“Nope.” Virgil popped the p, then smirked. “I called you here to teach you how to do the same.”

Roman seemed taken aback. “…Why?”

“You’re struggling a lot, I figured I might be able to put you out of your misery.”

“Wow, how kind.” Roman deadpanned. “I don’t need your help, for the record. I know I haven’t been in the system long, but this isn’t my first rodeo.”

Virgil sighed. “Look, I’m not good with emotional shit, we’ve been over this. But when Logan first came around, I had a lot of chances to help him out and I just didn’t, and it was a dick move that I regret now. I want to do different with you, so don’t think too deep into it and just accept it. Deal?”

“Um…alright?”

Virgil walked past Roman and opened his door all the way again, looking out into the hallway before speaking. “Alright, ready for lesson one?”

Roman thought about it. “…Answer something for me first.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you okay?”

Virgil made a face at him. “What do you mean?”

Roman could feel his chest aching. “You were alone with Patton.”

“Patton’s chill, dude. He hasn’t smacked me once in the two years I’ve been here, which I didn’t know was possible. He was just worried about me after my freak-out, but I’m good.”

“The bed was creaking.”

Virgil seemed confused. “Beds do that when you move on them. There might be a loose joint or something I gotta fix, though.”

Roman wasn’t convinced. “He didn’t do anything at all?”

“Patton’s never laid a hand on me.”

“…That’s not true.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“So that I won’t be scared so much.”

Virgil sighed and rubbed his palms into his eyes. “Whatever, believe what you want, you’ll get there eventually. You want my help or not?”

“…Yes.”

Virgil stepped out of the room and gestured for Roman to follow him, just going to the hallway in front of Roman’s room. Once Roman moved to stand in Virgil’s doorway, Virgil motioned for him to stop. Roman stayed right where he was.

“Alright, lesson one, making it downstairs without being a loud ass.” Virgil pressed his foot on a specific part of the carpet where the floorboard squeaked underneath. “The upstairs has a lot of squeaky floorboards, no clue why. But there’s a way to dodge it. When leaving my bedroom, you take one step, skip a step, take two steps, turn left, skip a step, take one step, go right, then just don’t step on the first step of the staircase at all, the whole thing squeaks. You can try it if you want.”

Roman’s curiosity got the better of him, so he did what Virgil suggested, keeping his steps close together so his heel was touching his toe and followed Virgil’s pattern. He skipped all the places Virgil told him to and made it to the stairs without squeaking the floor for the first time since he came here.

“I have a pattern for a trip to the bathroom and to the stairs. Our rooms are pretty close together, so your pattern probably wouldn’t be much different than mine.” Virgil put one foot forward and tested the floor methodically, seeing which areas squeaked and which ones didn’t. He slowly made his way to the stairs where he stopped on the second step, seemingly satisfied with himself. “Skip a step, take two steps, skip another one, turn right, skip a step, then one more step. Though your feet are bigger than mine, so your pattern might be different.”

“Awww, you’re a shorty.” Roman teased.

“Shut the fuck up.” Virgil deadpanned. “Okay, next lesson. Follow me.”

Roman followed Virgil down the stairs, noticing the way Virgil stepped down them. He stepped in specific areas on each step and skipped some entirely as he made his way downstairs, effectively making a lot less noise than Roman did just walking normally. Though, Virgil did say he’d been living here for two years, so it’d make sense that he knows all the tricks to get around Patton. Maybe him and this stormy night could be partners in crime.

Virgil motioned for Roman to follow him into the kitchen and around where the garage door was, pointing to a window once Roman caught up to him. “Lesson number two, this window is your best friend.”

“How so?” Roman asked.

“Well, first off, it’ll help you sneak out without getting caught like an idiot. You know, like last night.”

Roman put an offended hand to his chest. “I was not trying to sneak out!”

“What were you doing then?”

“I was looking for something, and no, you don’t get to know what.”

Virgil gave him a look. “Right. Well, for when you do sneak out, this exit is the way to go. Patton has security cameras pointed at the back, front, and garage doors of the house. This is the only window out of the sight of all of them. Then, you sneak your way around the side of the house and go on your merry way until sunrise.”

Roman crossed his arms at Virgil. “And how often do you use this?”

“Like, twice a week.”

“Twice a week!? Not even I sneak out that often!”

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t go far, usually just to the park down the road. I haven’t gotten kidnapped yet, so it’s whatever.”

“You scare me.”

“Good.” Virgil motioned for Roman to follow him again. “Back upstairs.”

Roman scoffed. “We were just there.”

“And we’re going back up there again.” Virgil smirked mercilessly and walked back to the staircase. Roman rolled his eyes, but he was enjoying Virgil’s tips too much to not follow him. He went up the stairs and met with Virgil next to the closet.

Virgil pointed to the closet door. “This thing right here? Lesson number three, this place is your best friend.”

“It already is my best friend. I use all the paints up there.”

“More than that.” Virgil opened the closet door and turned on the light, motioning for Roman to come inside with him. Roman wasn’t very inclined to because of the cramped space, but his curiosity was greater than his fear for once, so he stepped inside and closed the door behind them while Virgil turned on the light.

“The attic makes a great hiding spot. There’s a lot of drawers and small spaces up there where it’s easy to hide. Granted, it’s easy to tell when someone is up there because you can’t pull the stairs back up when you’re in the attic. But that’s where this comes in.” Virgil grabbed a rope off one of the closet shelves. “Tie it around the doorknob and tie the other end to the stairs. No one can open the door if you do that.”

“Sounds like a great way to give away where you’re hiding if no one can open the door.” Roman pointed out.

Virgil shrugged. “Patton doesn’t try very hard. He might test the handle, but he gives up if the door won’t open. He’ll ask you if you’re okay once you leave, though.”

Roman liked his hiding spot better. It was enough in the open that no one would check it, and there was no indication that Roman might be hiding behind the cabinet. This could be a good temporary spot, though. At least until he could get a black box that could support his weight.

Virgil pulled down the stairs to the attic, grabbing the rope and tying its ends to the stairs and doorknob like he described. He then went up into the attic as Roman followed behind. When Roman peeked his head up into the attic, Virgil was crouched beside a box full of Christmas decorations. Roman walked over to where he was.

“Lesson four, keep your mouth shut about this or else.” Virgil reached behind the box into the corner of the room and pulled out a smaller box that had been hidden behind it. When he opened the small one, he let Roman take a good look at what was inside. Granola bars, a container of salted peanuts, water bottles and chip bags. Roman grabbed a granola bar and a water bottle as he gave Virgil a questioning look.

“Having a spot with hidden food just makes me feel better.” Virgil explained. “I’ve never had to use it, Patton feeds us like he’s four grandmas fucking combined. But if you’re hiding up here and you get hungry, I stash it regularly.”

“Does Logan know about all this?” Roman asked, opening his water bottle to take a sip.

Virgil shook his head. “Like I said, I didn’t show Logan jack shit when he first came. And it’s too late now, and it’s not like Logan would ever use it anyway. Lucky son of a bitch never feels the need to hide.”

Roman laughed. “Lucky is one word for it.”

Virgil didn’t respond, just took the container of peanuts and hid the box back in it’s hiding spot. The two ate in silence for a while; a kind of silence that wasn’t awkward or tense, but wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Maybe because Virgil still felt like a stranger to him.

After a while of them both relaxing next to each other, Virgil finally spoke up. “Tell me your trauma and I’ll tell you mine.”

Roman raised an eyebrow at him, “And knowing your trauma benefits me how?”

“You feel a little less alone. Also solidarity and shit.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not spilling. Share whatever you want, but it won’t be reciprocated.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try.” Virgil ate a mouthful of peanuts. “I have a theory, you know. Less of a theory and more of the truth, but still. Patton purposely fosters abused kids.”

Roman snorted. “Sounds about right. Easy targets.”

“I think it’s more about him wanting to help us.”

“Believe whatever you want, Hot Topic.”

Virgil smirked. “Hot Topic?”

“Am I wrong?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but he still smiled a little. “Whatever.”

They didn’t talk much after that, only enjoying the silence together in their own world trapped away in the attic. It wasn’t exactly Roman’s plan, but he still felt safe. He sipped on his water and thought a lot about Virgil’s lessons, trying to ensure they were deep in his memory. But he didn’t need them now. Instead, he sat in the corner of the attic, comforted by the knowledge of the door being locked underneath them, with a silent acquaintance a good distance from him.

It wasn’t the self-care day Roman had planned, but he wasn’t complaining. It worked.

[kisskeiji]

Poolside. (The afterparty)

Lost & Found.

WARNINGS: language, implied sex, alcohol consumption, Kuroo (yes), not proofread.

this is an extra chapter!

You did end up ditching the party with Atsumu, he followed you to your room and spent the night with you. You woke up the next morning with your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you, despite the missing clothing items on both of your bodies, Atsumu was warm and you could hear him snore softly. You propped yourself on your elbow and tried to wake him up.

“Tsumu, we’re going to be late, wake up.” He stirred awake and groaned as he stretched his limbs.

“I don’t want to go.” He said closing his eyes again.

“I know but we have to, it’s getting late and you need to go to your room to get changed.” You ran your fingers through his hair pushing it back to see his face. He groaned again, turning his back to you. “Come on, big baby, get up.” You got him to stand up after a few minutes, but he made sure to complain, and whine and groan loudly to let you know that he didn’t want to go. You went to the bathroom to start your morning routine as he got dressed and fixed his hair, you came out of the bathroom pat drying your face with a white towel.

“Let’s go to the shopping district later, I want to walk around the city before we go back home.” Atsumu said as he tied his shoes.

“I can’t, my train leaves at four.” He chuckled at your answer.

“You are not riding the train back home by yourself.” He said confidently. “Your boyfriend is coming with you.” You smiled at him and walked closer with your arms crossed. “Let’s change your tickets and we can take the 6:00 p.m ride.” He continued.

“And Suna?” You asked.

“He can come with us, he is a shopping addict he is not going to say no.” Atsumu got up and stood in front of you. “Come on, I want to get you a Christmas gift.” He tried to convince you by wiggling his brows.

“You already gave me a Christmas gift, ‘Tsumu.” You rolled your eyes and hugged his waist.

“You deserve two.” He leaned for a kiss but you stopped him.

“Go shower and brush your teeth and I’ll kiss you.” You said pulling apart.

“You always do this!” He complained. You walked him to the door and held it open. “I’ll see you in an hour.” He looked at you with puppy eyes. With a hand on his shoulder, you forced him to lean down once again and kissed his cheek.

“So needy.” You sighed.

“Only for you.” He gave you a cheeky smile and started walking backwards to the elevator and sending you kisses, you made him turn back to see where he was walking and the door in front of yours opened.

“Would you look at that? A-list athlete Miya Atsumu walking out of his publicist room first thing in the morning, you don’t see that every day.” Kuroo teased.

“You were eavesdropping?” You asked unamused.

“Couldn’t help myself.” He stretched his back like an old man when you realized that wasn’t his room.

“That’s Hideko’s room.” He nodded. “Why are you coming out of her room?”

“Think very hard.” He narrowed his eyes and laughed at your disgusted expression.

“You fucked my boss? Out of all the people in that party, you decided to hook up with my boss?” You whispered in distress as he smirked, throwing his head back. “You are unbelievable.”

“Come on, it was a great night, we had drinks, hooked up with hot people. Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.” He leaned against the door frame.

“No, sir. You, hooked up with my boss, I spent the night with my boyfriend.” You said with arms crossed, mimicking his position.

“About time you got a boyfriend.” He joked. “Well, I’ll see you at the poolside, Hideko is bringing me as her plus one, and I can’t say no to free food.” He closed the door and threw his coat over his shoulder.

“You talk as if you weren’t a supervisor at the association.” You deadpanned and he shrugged, after that he left without another word and his damned smirk plastered on his face. ‘Annoying.’ You thought.

You tried to put together something that looked at least decent to meet the team owners, the goal was to look casual without freezing to death and to not make a mess with your luggage since you were leaving that same day. Taking a last look in the mirror with pursed lips you huffed, team reunions were always nerve-wracking, Hideko always tried to keep you away from them but today it was inevitable. You took the elevator to the lobby and looked for the salon where the afterparty was being held.

It was a secluded area on the first floor with a terrace next to the pool, ambiance music and the clinking of cups and silverware could be heard from the entrance, waiters walked all over the area with trays of cocktails and appetizers. You recognized a few faces from your higher-ups and people you’ve never seen before, naturally, you greeted everyone and started small talks with some of them, coach Foster was the first one to intervene and save you from more awkward conversations with possible sponsors.

“Y/N, Imai was asking for you just now! Why don’t you go look for her?” He lied, giving you the opportunity to excuse yourself with a promise to talk later with them. You saw Akaashi talking with Inunaki and Atsumu next to the snack bar. You were not sure why it looked like it was a cocktail party rather than brunch. You avoided everyone else while making your way to them. You placed your hand on Atsumu’s lower back and he turned to see you.

“Hey.” He said. “Long time no see.” You hooked your arms on his and pushed him lightly with your hip making him laugh as he kissed your temple.

“Am I missing something here?” Hideko asked as she sat next to Inunaki with a mimosa in one hand.

“We know you two are close and grossly in love but this is a bit too much.” Inunaki took a sip of his own mimosa and Hideko hummed in agreement. Akaashi was quiet, he just stared at you knowing what was about to come once Bokuto came back.

“When?” He asked you, smiling brightly at him for being the only one who took a hint. ‘Last night.’ You answered simply; Inunaki’s jaw dropped and Hideko almost screamed of excitement.

“Wait, before or after midnight?” She asked abruptly and you heard Inunaki curse under his breath.

“Like five minutes before midnight.” Atsumu recalled raising his brow. Hideko clapped once and closed her eyes doing a little celebration dance.

“Pay up, fucker!” She exclaimed holding her hand open, Inunaki shot Atsumu an angry glare and took his wallet out of his pocket claiming it wasn’t fair and that he could’ve waited five minutes more to ask you out. “Where are Bokuto and Thomas? They are not gonna like this one.”

“What are you talking about, Imai?” Thomas and Bokuto were standing right behind you, he looked at your hand on Atsumu’s bicep and then back to Hideko who was still dancing in victory and counting the money Inunaki gave her. “You have to be kidding me!”

“You decided to man up now? Really?” Bokuto walked past you glaring at Atsumu to place a stack of bills on Hideko’s hand and then Akaashi’s. Atsumu and you were so confused, they all had a bet?

“Hold up, Keiji, you too?” You asked in disbelief and he smirked.

“I had faith in Miya-san.” He excused himself nonchalantly as Thomas paid him. “If anything, we were your good luck charm.”

“I can believe it from Hideko, but you Keiji-kun?” Atsumu shook his hand in disapproval. You were not mad at all, but you expected something like this from Suna and Osamu rather than your coworkers.

“Hideko-san, where’s your plus one?” You decided to tease her a little as payback. She stopped laughing and looked like she wanted to strangle you, now she couldn't escape Inunaki’s reckless jokes about her ‘getting some’.

“How do you know I have a plus one?” She placed her money on her bag angrily.

“I saw him walking out of your room this morning.” Her eyes widened and you continued. “Tall, black and horribly styled hair, and I think he works for the association.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s Kuroo!” Bokuto started laughing at Hideko’s face, you didn't say anything just started laughing along with Bokuto.

“You two know him?” Hideko asked.

“He is our friend.” Akaashi clarified because you were too busy trying to catch your breath.

“Bokuto I’ll give your money back if you don’t mention this ever again.” Hideko bribed but Bokuto shook his head.

“Nah, you can keep it, this is ten times better than money.” Bokuto started laughing again.

“You are lucky I like your work.” She glared daggers at you as you closed your mouth with a fake zipper still grinning and completely satisfied with your actions. “Well, I have to go. I don't like you guys anymore. Don’t drink too much and don’t be rude to anyone.” After Hideko left, your other friends also went to wander around the room talking to other people and you were alone with Atsumu.

“See? What could've happened if you were left alone with that friend of yours last night?” He passed you a cup of sparkling water as he spoke.

“Oh, don't worry I don't make the same mistake twice.” You said confidently drinking from your cup and he nodded. It took him a second to look at you with eyes wide open in horror.

“What do you mean twice?” You almost choked on your drink at his question.

Oh shit...

(a/n: extra chapter yay! i had this idea the other day while i arranged my notes, im planning on adding more of this extra chapters and making them more light hearted so i don't kill yall with the following chapters lmao, im currently working on the next one and i've been doing a lot of research to create a time line that is easy to understand and write and sticking as much as i can to how national teams work, i was really frustrated trying to organize everything but my brain is working again, finally. i'll see you soon,,,, or not :) )

masterlist

TAGLIST (closed): @aonenthusiast @wiseeggspickleslime​ @koushisun​ @airheadpillar​ @sunflwrsandprettyskies​ @bbkiyoomi​ @daphnxy​ @shephard17895​ @avatarkyoshithewarrior​ @for-rebloggery​ @vv-bee999-vv @fi16ns @asdfghjkl7things @glassykaashi @strawhatshepard @hawkssnugget @msby-kei @toobsessedsstuff @a-moon-fairy @cuteissei @ramblingsofagoofyperson @pinoyrella @kiyoomisimp

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

Yayy! Despite trying to fight off a monster of a cold, I’ve got a new chapter written! :D

As I mentioned yesterday, this one is written from Logan’s POV because I’ve been wanting to create a back story for him in this story :) 

I’ll post the chapter under a line on here, but please check it out on Ao3 too! I love reading comments and stuff to find out what people think :)

Hope you like it!

Taglist: @psychedelicships  @edupunkn00b  @jwillowwolf @kacklingisanart @look-ma-im-on-tv @stardustlv @lost-in-thought-20

Chapter 5. My Heart Was Made Of Stone. And You Broke It Twice.

“But the wind has changed. My walls are weakening. They’re gonna fall soon. And I’m gonna need you.”

Logan was a man who always kept his emotions in check. He never let himself get too consumed by any kind of feeling. Happiness, sadness, love, hate, anger… Ever since he was sixteen, he refused to be vulnerable ever again. If you’re vulnerable, you can be broken. He had been broken far too many times when he was growing up.

His parents were agreeable, he couldn’t deny that… but he was never enough for them. Even as a young child, nothing was quite good enough. He remembered when the class teacher told his parents that he was the first child to learn how to write his name… he stretched up to show them and they let the paper flutter to the floor saying it wasn’t neat enough. He was only four! It got worse as he got older. Every time he was proud of something he had achieved, like getting a high grade, he was always asked why it wasn’t full marks. The unattainable goals were never reached and it took a lot to even vaguely satisfy them. He worked himself into the ground for the entirety of his school life, it affected his health, but they still weren’t happy. He was never strong enough, creative enough, serious enough, smart enough… and it hurt so much to know that. His friends however were amazing, they would always encourage him and make him take breaks when they knew he was working way too hard. They could always cheer him up and he was eternally grateful for that. Logan clenched his fists… he hated how much it knocked him down when he would walk in smiling over something that happened at school, to be told they weren’t interested and to just go and study. He always set himself up for the fall almost every day… no wonder emotions became such a hinderance. Luckily, music was his salvation for about eight years.

Logan took his head out of his hands, readjusted his eyes to the light and felt how raw they were from crying before staring at the dusty piano in the house intently. He used to be pretty good at playing. He loved his classical music, and still does. Just not playing it anymore. When he still had lessons, he was always thrilled with the challenge of increasingly difficult pieces given to him by his teacher. It was funny, his music teacher was the only person who ever truly believed in him. He was also the one person who could convince Logan to perform. The last concert he ever played in was the day before his sixteenth birthday, he played his most difficult piece to date… Chopin’s Fantasie Impromptu Op 66. They decided on that because it was originally a piece that no one was ever supposed to hear, Chopin never wanted it to be released after he died… but they did it anyway. His teacher said that he could then perform it however he wanted to, artistic interpretation and all that. He practiced and practiced at school so his parents wouldn’t hear it before. When it got to the concert, and his parents actually turned up, he was genuinely surprised. He walked out on the stage and sat down looking for his teacher who gave him a smile and a thumbs up, then the music began. He felt almost like he was watching himself play, he had never played with such determination before and as the final note rung out… there was silence. Before the room broke out into applause, his teacher was standing up clapping vigorously, then some of his classmates and other parents stood up too. His parents however were sat down, clapping politely with a neutral expression on their faces and Logan’s smile faltered. He gave a quick bow and walked quickly off the stage. His teacher followed him and gave him a hug while telling him how proud he was. Logan couldn’t stop the tears, he had never cried in front of another person, but no one had ever been proud of him before either. How embarrassing. The first time he had been shown positive interest by someone he respected, and he cried until the top of their shirt was damp with his tears. His teacher just held him and told him everything was okay. After he had calmed down and the tears had stopped, he went to go and join his parents for the second half of the concert, but their seats were empty.

In that moment, he didn’t get upset again and stayed unusually calm, and he knew that this was the final straw. He stayed at a hotel for the night at the insistence of his teacher, that way he could sort out his head and start looking up different apartment options. Which he did realise could be tricky as a sixteen-year-old… but he was smart, reliable, didn’t drink or smoke and had a substantial amount of money at his disposal. He waited until the morning and snuck back into his parent’s house to collect all of the things that he deemed necessary. Thankfully, the hotel manager was understanding and let him stay for the bare minimum price until he could find an apartment for himself. It took a few months, and the landlord had to be persuaded by his music teacher, but he found an apartment which was close to everything he needed and was affordable. One day, he would repay that teacher back for everything he had done for him.

He looked at the calendar, the picture of him and Virgil smiling and holding up their wedding ring hands was taunting him on the wall. He noticed the date. Wow, it had been ten years since he left without looking back, and he never heard a single word from them.

That was clearly for the best.

Ever since then, he never let emotions get the better of him ever again. However, as he looked around at the decimated living room, he had clearly broken and let all of those emotions consume him once again. Logan inspected the damage, as he traced the hole in the wall, the shattered photo frames and glass covering the floor, it caused his heart to fill up with regret. His heart was already full of pain, the regret was enough to make his heart quite literally tear in two. Virgil was the first person he felt like he could be vulnerable with again. When they first met, there was something about him, something that reminded him of himself. Maybe this guy was just as broken as he was, as he saw him hiding in the corner of the coffee shop trying to stay away from the world. He told Virgil this many times, but he had encased his heart in stone to keep it safe. As their relationship developed, as stupid as it sounds, he could feel the stone wall cracking and breaking off piece by piece, and he honestly didn’t mind in the slightest.

Now, he didn’t know what was going on with his heart. He was hurt, he was angry. It’s not every day you find out that the man you’ve been married to for the last five years spent most of his life as a well-trained and dangerous assassin. Going by Virgil’s words alone, the body count to his name is staggering and who knows how many people he’s hurt over the years. The argument they had earlier in the evening was playing on repeat in his mind.

“I couldn’t tell you!” Virgil shouted across the room.

“Why the hell not?! I’m your fucking HUSBAND Virgil, you are supposed to trust me. No matter what’s happened in your past!” Logan rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“Okay, you want to know why I hid everything from you? I did it to PROTECT you! My past is something that can be used against me, it is still being used against me. If anyone from it came after you… I would never be able to forgive myself!” The tears wouldn’t stop rolling down Virgil’s face as he spluttered out the words while his body shook with sobs.

Despite the hurt of seeing Virgil in so much pain, Logan couldn’t contain his anger. “What makes you decide if I need protecting? I can handle myself, ever since I was sixteen I’ve been on my own… You know that!”

Virgil sighed, like he was debating whether or not to say his next sentence.

“Remember when we met all those years ago? You told me about how you were attacked and how scared you were after it? Well… it was me. I was the guy who saved you. Every day since that moment, I vowed that I would protect you no matter the cost. Then I fell in love with you along the way, and I’ll love you until the end of time. If you want to know the truth about me, I know he gave you something. Look at it, and I won’t blame you if you try to turn me in to the police afterwards. I have to go now though, otherwise you will get hurt… I’m sorry, Lo.” Logan was left dumbfounded, and Virgil ran out of the front door, slipping away into the night.

There had been so many lies and too many secrets. He remembered that USB stick he threw in a drawer months ago. He opened it up and stared at the blue object, the label that read ‘Virgil… ?’ taunted him mercilessly. He looked over at his open laptop that was spared from his destructive anger, should he look at it?

Logan shook that thought away instantly, he needed to clear up first before making any kind of decision. He crouched down on the floor and started to sweep the glass over towards the sofa with his hand, just so he could clean it properly soon. He got to the first photograph, him and Virgil sitting in a restaurant holding hands and smiling at the camera. That picture was taken by Thomas and Nico, their two closest friends… He thought he should text them and see if they could come over. Virgil left half an hour ago, and he already felt too alone.

He’d contact them later, but for now. He wanted to stare at photographs and revel in his memories.

[pangtasias-atelier]

How about this: Felix has been eating cake very often, everyone has told him, he can't stop. He'll grow bigger and will realize that no matter how much he trains he cannot recover his figure, on the contrary everything gets worse. Someone will tell him it's out of control. Felix will refuse. Sudenly he feels is about to burst and BOOM. It was a dream. He had fallen asleep without finishing his cake. He will move it away in anger "Im NOT out of control" After a few minutes, he will eat it. Ty~ :3

This one got really long omg. And after shortening down the ideas I had for the other Blue Lions’ interactions lol

But! Another one I’m happy how it came out. Now I just wish I actually bettered myself and took like actual writing lessons but eh, focusing on other stuff right now.(Still wanna make sure I’m not fucking up and mixing tenses tho)

This was really fun to write, so I hope you enjoy!! Especially since you’ve made a bunch of good FE fats for us and thank you for that!~

___________________

Felix doesn't know how it started, maybe it was a spell, new ingredients, a better chef, but it was something. Anything. Anything but his own fault.

All of a sudden his innate disdain for cake was replaced with a wanton need for it. Everyday, he needed some of it to satisfy his insatiable cravings for it. 

And despite the signs all pointing to a clearly obvious problem, Felix was the only one who refused to see it. Even as a bit of pudge began to form on his thin body.

The first had been Annette. 

On a visit to House Fraldarius, the day had been spent in relative uneventfulness, the day consumed with talks about their territories. It was upon dinner that the mood had changed.

Unable to control her expression, the puzzlement displayed on her face on a visit to House Fraldarius is evident to Felix, his features tightening in a scowl.

"Just say whatever it is your thinking instead of keeping it to yourself like those mindless gossipers," Felix spits out, already scowling.

"I'm surprised to see you of all people eating cake, Felix," Annette smiles at him. 

Felix responds with a scowl, his grip tightening. His slice of cake sits nearly finished, Felix almost devouring it entirely if it hadn't been for Annette interrupting him.

"You always hated the stuff,"

"Well, opinions change," Unwilling to deal with any comments over his shameful new preference for the decadent sweets, Felix simply stands up and walks away with his plate in hand.

It takes a couple of hours when he's cooled down from the conversation for him to leave his room. Unfortunately, despite the cover of night, he encounters Annette in the training grounds.

Casting a simple wind spell, the rush of air still flows faster than it should, both of their clothes willowing in the rapid gusts. 

Felix catches the glint of metal against the wall, Crusher resting. Deciding to head back, Annette turns around, face neutral. Caught, Felix sighs, resulting with his hand on his hip.

"I overreacted, what else do you want me to say?"

"An apology would be a nice start," Closing her tome, Annette wipes the sweat off her forehead, her hair disheveled. Grabbing Crusher, Felix forces himself to not visibly react at the way she easily grabs it and carries it.

"Sure, I'm sorry for whatever I did," Felix grumbles. Crossing his arms on his chest and resting on the heels of his feet, Felix makes out the way Annette's eyes quickly drift down this time before they don't, Annette making sure to be less obvious. 

“Don’t let it get out of control,” Annette offers, smiling.

Felix doesn't ask her what else she wants to say this time, biting his tongue back and blushing.

The second had been Ingrid.

The embarrassment of Annette noticing his slight paunch apparently hadn't been enough shame for Felix, his constant devouring of cake only worsening.

The small bump for a stomach grew into a large swell, clothes needing an upsizing by his tailors. His flat, sightly defined chest filled out with small flabby bumps. Yet it was his lower half that grew larger in proportion. His thighs became swaddled with a generous portion of overlapping fat, his graceful movements now slower and clunkier. The rise of his ass was a reminder to his size, his sizeable asset jostling about with each hefty waddle. 

Annoyed with having a visitor so soon again, Ingrid's usual calm disposition was relatively easy to deal with. As long as he didn't raise his own temper, her's wouldn't rise either. 

Except Ingrid had no sense of calmness, immediately going to fretting over Felix.

Felix who had been so agile and active. Felix who hated cake. Felix who had been 

"You do know you have a problem, right?" Ingrid asks over dinner, her eyes on Felix's plate of food, the portion much larger than before. The clanking of his fork on his plate only prompts Ingrid to speak more. “Of course you don’t,” Ingrid sighs. “You’re too busy criticising others and their issues that you don’t even see your own,”

“I don’t have a problem,” Felix leans back into his chair before he feels the heft of his own body resting on him, Felix sitting upright once again. Yet even in that position he feels the way his stomach seeps onto his thighs. 

“Really Felix?” Ingrid frowns, pushing her hair to the side. 

“I can work it off,” Felix gives in, only partially.

“Then you would have already,” Ingrid fights back. “It’s getting out of control,”

Yet no matter how much further she goes, Felix refuses to admit his issue. And so by the time Ingrid’s entourage and ride arrives, she finds it far better to simply leave and free herself of Felix’s own stubbornness than to deal with even more back and forth arguments.

Nothing learned, Felix pays no heed to Ingrid’s words, cake far more important. Any kind he could get his greedy hands on would do. Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry shortcake, cheesecake, lemon, regardless of the flavour, Felix felt the need to devour it all the same. 

His sense of time lessening, the only truly memorable moments was when he was stuffing himself with the delicious sweet contents of cake.

His waistline suffering for it, his own remarks of training off the extra abundant inches off his waist never came. Soon, walking became more difficult, chairs became too weak, doors too narrow, clothes too revealing. To Felix, everything else had an issue except himself. Even as he continued to grow fatter and fatter.

Most likely through Ingrid’s meddling, soon other former members of the Blue Lions came to check up on him. 

The third had been Mercedes. 

Her charitable nature and nice sensibility had led to her coddling him on her first day, Mercedes even baking a cake for Felix. That had apparently been a test, Felix failing it when he finished it in one sitting. Her kind coddling was only met with more detest on Felix’s end. 

Felix undeniably fat, his poorly fitting outfit was only more cause of concern on Mercedes’ end. Instead he had merely  thanked her for the cake before waddling away, his shelf of an ass wobbling behind him all the while.

The fourth and fifth had been Ashe and Dedue together.

The two specializing in cooking, Ashe’s own successful inn clearly showed on his short frame, Ashe containing a paunch. Dedue was the same as ever, his figure massively built and stacked.

Whereas Ashe was at most chubby, Felix was obese, his titanic rolls swaddling his body, his cheeks marring his own scowl and softening it. And instead of hedding both of their concerns, all Felix had were retorts to Ashe’s own size. 

The two didn’t remain long, Felix targeting both Ashe and Dedue for Ashe’s newfound weight alongside both no longer having the patience meant Felix had been free of their torment. 

Some dedication to his training grounds, and he’ll easily work off the extra weight is what Felix clings on to.

But those days never arrive, Felix happily gorging himself on cake and nothing but cake.

The sixth had been Dimitri.

Finally able to take the chance to get away from his own dealings as King of Fhirdiad, Dimitri instead had to deal with an annoyed Felix. Only a week after Ashe and Dedue’s visit, Felix had overall been the same out of shape angry person. 

Dimitri a passionate person, his scathing remarks had been the only ones to get Felix to shut up and listen. Pointing out Felix’s need for three chairs at the table, if he even bothered to walk instead of eating in his room, the way his body was inundated with rolls making even the simplest of tasks a chore for him to pull off, his increasing appetite that only would worsen with time. Dimitri had actually even made Felix use his training grounds for the first time since Felix could even see past his mountain, roll riddled gut. 

The pathetic speed Felix swung his sword only made Dimitri worry more, Felix struggling to even get a proper grip with his bingo wingo arms pressing against the side of his moobs. Felix’s complaints and asks for a break were ignored by Dimitri, forcing his friend to keep going. 

By the time Dimitri had left the next day, he left with hopes for Felix, Felix grumbling yet thankful for talking sense into him.

Except after a couple days, Felix’s own inability to control his appetite left him giving up, Felix merely reverting back to his gluttonous lazy self.

The seventh and last had been Sylvain.

Felix so far gone in his ravenous ways, the last vestiges of his own mobility was apparent. Sylvain had whistled upon sighting Felix, eyes wide open, unable to believe it himself. 

Where Dimitri embarrassed Felix to help him, Sylvain had done the opposite. Ridiculing Felix, Sylvain did it with the intention of putting him down. 

Grabbing Felix and forcing him to walk, Felix sweating and waddling by his side while he heaved and puffed all the while in between curses, Sylvain would tire him out only to leave him alone, Felix falling down to the floor with a resounding crash and staying there. Forcing him to sit on a single chair instead of the necessary four so he’d crush yet another piece of furniture. Pushing him into too narrow doorways only to leave him stuck inside, Felix too fat and wide to get through or push himself out. Barraging Felix’s entire body with powerful slaps to make his engorged body shake as if an earthquake had just occured.

Sylvain’s cruel methods had only reinforced the subconscious idea in Felix’s brain of why even bother. Unfortunately for Felix, Sylvain had stayed the longest, a month of disparaging remarks and acts endured by Felix. Sylvain had even left without a word, disappearing in the night.

Unwilling to act and far too fat to do so, Felix’s only companion was the increasing amounts of cake he devoured each day. The ability to one day quit and lose all of his weight always in the back of his mind, said day never came, Felix reaching immobility before he even had time to consider the possibility. Not that he ever would consider it, Felix too stubborn to think he’d let himself go this far. 

A feeding tube in his room, Felix hadn;t even remembered asking for such a thing, his mind in a constant haze of cake. Barely a couple hours after lunch, Felix was already on his fifth meal. Each lasting an hour, he only paused intermittently for a few minutes, his hunger quickly coming back. 

Bed completely covered in his own rolls, Felix can feel all his weight press down on him from lying on his back. Only able to stare at his tube and the ceiling, wiggling his fingers and toes are the only other things for him to do besides eating or sleeping. His ass encapsulating the bed and reaching the floor, Felix pays it no mind, focusing instead on guzzling the cake flavored whatever, Felix even uncaring about what it is he’s devouring. 

Reaching a full state, Felix mumbles past the tube, his incoherent words a jumble. Expecting the tube to turn off, it remains on, filling his stomach with a torrent of cake. Increasing his complaints, the only response is his feeding tube picking up in speed, Felix gurgling as he;s forced to devour it all. Chugging it, Felix feels himself expanding.

Stomach rising in the air and cascading all around like melted vanilla ice cream, his breasts flow and sink back down towards his face, his numerous neck rolls meeting them head on. His thighs become even more dimpled, the couch sized appendages forced even wider to accommodate the rapidly filling thighs as they grow larger and wider. His ass pushes him high in the air, Felix groaning as his large room becomes even more cramped, his now blob like body filling it.

His feeding continues, Felix groans, his eyes half lidded as he continues to guzzle. His stomach stiff, the stuffed state of it feels oddly relaxing, Felix giving in to the tube. Suckling it, Felix complains as his body finally reaches the edge of his room, fat reaching from corner to corner. Huffing,the cramped and compressed nature of it makes him complain. Body seemingly one large blob with no definition, joints seemingly improbable, the walls begin to crack and tumble as Felix grows ever fatter,his eyes even hard to keep open with so much fat clinging to his body. The floor even cracking underneath him, it takes no time for the whole area to explode, Felix’s body rushing out like a dam breaking.

Jolting up in his chair, Felix hisses as he hits his arm against his table. 

Alone in his room, Felix heaves as he checks himself. Nightclothes on, a simple pair of shorts and a shirt, the moon high in the sky notifies him of it being night. Grabbing his stomach, Felix grimaces as his hand wraps around a sliver of pudge. Sniffing, the aroma of strawberry assaults his nose. Turning to the table, Felix spots the remnants of a slice, a couple of forkfuls left. 

Sighing upon realizing it was all a dream despite the vividness, Felix leans back into his chair. Glaring at the cake, Felix stands up. Bones aching, he stretches, humming as they crack. The warm covers of his bed calling and reaching out to him, Felix takes a couple of steps. His stomach growling, the hunger calls and reaches out to im as well. Glancing at the bed, then the cake, and then finally his stomach, Felix frowns. Grabbing the plate, he swiftly devours the remains of the cake.

“I’m not out of control,” He grumbles to himself.

[cagestark]

Hi! Im not sure if you are taking prompts, but if not pls just ignore this (I LOVE YOUR STUFF ANYWAY UR GREAT ❤️❤️❤️) What about a PrisonInmate!Tony, PrisonInmate!Steve and PrisonInmate!Bucky all trying to get their hands on freshly employed Officer!Peter who was just trying to do his job. Smut? Shenanigans? Lots of good/bad/cheesy flirting? Anything would make me so happy!!!

Hope this works for what you wanted. I had a lot of fun, feel free to hop in my inbox and let me know if you’re satisfied. I tried working Steve in but :( still not very good at writing him. Bucky is a stretch for me, too. Did what I could though! Especially considering I scrapped what I had, wrote this in 10 hours, and didn’t even glance it over skskskks sorry for errors.

Warnings: some violence, smut, drugs. 7.5k. Peter is 22!

Read here on AO3!

-

The first time Tony meets Officer Parker, Tony is shackled at the waist and ankles to eleven other inmates from Lincoln Correctional Facility. He reaches up with bound wrists to scrub at his facial hair hoping that he isn’t as scruffy as he feels, eyeing the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed little twink who would be driving them twenty minutes to a nearby park There they would be giving restitution to society by picking up plastic soda bottles, cigarette butts, and used condoms from under the dugout benches at the baseball diamond. Thinking of the millions of dollars he stole from his father’s company (plenty of which was still offshore and safe), Tony figures that a week of this and his debt will be repaid. He and society can call it even.

“He’s green,” Bucky mutters from beside him. He tracks the younger man’s pale eyes to Officer Twink. “No question about it.”

“Hey Fury,” Tony says when the black officer goes by, doing a head count. He motions with his bound hands to Parker. “I didn’t know it was bring-your-white-child-to-work-day. Are his legs long enough to reach the pedals in the van? Does he have his permit? Where did you leave his Hot Wheels battery-powered jeep? Will we all fit in the back, because—”

“Pushing your luck,” mutters Steve from Tony’s other side, goody-fucking-two-shoes that he is.

Fury stops walking, actually doubles back to stand in front of him. “You want me to drag you out of line, Stark? You can spend the rest of your day inside washing dishes. Or in solitary, if you feel like being an asshole like usual. Don’t fucking test me,” Fury says. He’s a real hard-ass. Tony likes him well enough.

Beyond them, Officer Parker is blushing to beat the band having heard Tony’s criticism of him. “I’m twenty-two,” he mutters, and Tony nearly groans. Beside him, Bucky does groan. This kid is so, so fucking green. What kind of dummy correctional officer just spills personal information in front of convicted felons?

The harder inmates are going to eat him alive.

If Tony doesn’t eat him first.

“Twenty-two huh? When’s your birthday, sweetheart?” Tony calls. “I’ll drop a postcard in the mail for you—"

He hears the slide of chrome on leather as Fury draws his baton. Tony has just enough time to be thankful it’s not his taser before it is jabbing him in the chest. With his feet and wrists shackled, he has no real way to keep himself upright. He ends up sprawled ass first in the dirt. Steve and Bucky have to adjust to avoid falling themselves and likely taking the whole line down with them.

“Did you just threaten Officer Parker, Stark?” Fury asks, bending over him.

Tony squints up against the sun. “If my heartfelt affection is threatening, then—”

“One more word and you’re spending the week on D Block.” D Block is solitary confinement, and if there is anything more painful to Tony, he doesn’t know what it is. Being alone with his thoughts, no one there to fill the silence, walls so thick he can’t even hear the shouts from other inmates around him—it’s enough to drive him to the edge. He folds.

“Parker,” Fury barks. “Give me your keys. Stark isn’t coming on the field trip.”

“How else am I going to repay society?” Tony asks, holding up his wrists so Fury can unchain him out of the line. Fury doesn’t dignify him with an answer, and it’s probably for the best. Words tend to pour out of Tony’s mouth without thought even at the best of times. And he really isn’t looking for spending the first week of Officer Parker’s employment up on D Block getting his trays through the slot in the door.

While Fury undoes the locks with practiced ease, Parker stands back practically wringing his hands. He looks distraught, downright upset to be honest. When he catches Tony looking, the kid turns red and looks away. God. Fucking adorable.

Tony glances up at Bucky who is looking straight ahead with the smuggest fucking smirk. He winks at Parker and the kid literally has to turn away, probably before he has a stroke, because Bucky is a good-looking guy. And he’s going to spend the entire week, eight hours a day picking up trash while being supervised by Officer Twink.

“You lucky bastard,” Tony says to him.

-

“Bucky’s probably got him bent on all fours in one of the dugout’s right now,” Tony mutters unhappily around an unlit cigarette. They aren’t supposed to smoke inside—it’s against the rules, actually, not just frowned upon—but in times of anxiety, he likes the familiarity of it between his lips. He picks up his dealt cards from the table and glances at them: a straight. Not bad.

“Should have kept your mouth shut,” Toomes says from across the table. His joy at Tony’s dismay is poorly disguised behind his own hand. “That’d be you, right now. Picking up trash in Manhattan. The highlight of your day getting your dick sucked in a dugout littered with caramel corn and old wads of chewing gum. God, how the mighty fall.”

“Could be you right now, too,” Tony offers genially. “But those domestic violence charges mean you don’t even get the chance to go on field trips, huh?”

“Not to mention,” Rhodes says from beside him, a dark-skinned man with a generally unhappy face, and serious disposition. He was one of the only people on the block that Tony genuinely trusted—that sort of trust was hard earned. They’d even exchanged addresses so they could communicate after one or the other gets processed out. “No guard would risk their job for a suck job with you, Toomes.”

“Brutal,” Tony says, holding out his hand to shake Rhodes’s. “True, but absolutely brutal.”

“Thanks,” Rhodey says dryly. “Is someone going to call, or what?”

Toomes ends up storming off, leaving his hand flat on the table. When Tony flips it over, he only had one pair. Unfortunate bastard.

“He’s going to give you problems, Tony,” Rhodey says. His dark eyes are still tracking Toomes who is sulking across the floor back to his cell, where he stands in the doorway, scanning the room. “He’s not showing you respect, and he’s not meshing well with the block. It’s going to come to a head soon.”

“Is this foreshadowing?” Tony asks lazily.

Rhodey just stares.

-

Tony is dozing in his cell when a large form takes up the doorway. He slits his eyes open to see Bucky there, fresh from a shower with his jumpsuit half-undone and tied around his waist. The white wifebeater he wears shows off his arms, including the gnarly scars on his left shoulder from his last tour overseas. It clings to skin that is still a little wet, and Tony licks his lips.

“Hey snowflake,” he says, voice raspy. “Come to rub it in?”

Bucky sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the concrete wall. “His name is Peter. He graduated from the academy last May. This is his first job—if you don’t count the food joint he worked at as a kid. And his birthday is August tenth.”

Tony scoffs. “What, you didn’t get his social security number too? I’m disappointed. And I don’t believe you.”

Bucky holds up a scarred hand, solemn. “Swear on my tags.”

“How the hell could you have found out so much about the kid in a handful of hours? With Fury marching around no less.”

The smile that slides over Bucky’s face is so fucking handsome. Downright sensual. “Fury didn’t come. He was just there for headcount. It was Coulson escorting us with the kid. He spent the whole time sitting in the van with the AC and radio on, chainsmoking. You’re going to shit yourself, Tony. This kid is so fucking sincere and sweet—” Bucky throws his voice into what must be a poor impression of Peter’s trembling voice. “—thanks Mister Barnes, you’ve been so friendly. I’m glad my first day was spent with you.”

“Aww fuck. Goddamnit. Son of a bitch.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re going to get your chance. He told me today was just to break him in. Tomorrow? He’s on the block. And don’t worry, I put in a good word for you. My friend Tony, I said, he’s one of the most solid guys I know. Arrogant as fuck, but a sweetheart underneath the ten different layers of ego and narcicism.”

Tony’s eyes shut. His hands come together in a prayer position over his chest. “Oh thank you, sweet Jesus.”

“Thank me,” Bucky says, wiggling his eyebrows.

In the back of the cell is a curtain that can be drawn shut while an inmate uses the facilities. It’s where most sex happens during the daytime, when anyone is liable to walk by and glance into a cell. Tony jerks a thumb at it. “You want to see what lies behind curtain number one, Buck?”

“Sure. I’m feeling lucky.”

-

Showers open at dawn, and Tony is one of the first inmates there. He takes extra time soaping himself up in the lukewarm water. By the time trays are brought in, he is dressed with his hair combed. The tank top he wears is white as is required for all clothes that aren’t jumpsuits, and it looks good against his tanned skin. Tony looks fucking good for his age—which is somewhere past thirty and before fifty, thanks, don’t worry about it.

He’s halfway through a tray of biscuits and gravy with more-than-decent hash-browns when Officer Parker comes in, the door of the block screeching open. He’s escorted again by Coulson. They tend to keep senior officers with green ones, because it’s so easy for the new guys to fall prey to inmates, whether by manipulation, intimidation, or sheer manpower. Tony has seen it happen. Tony has caused it, himself. He didn’t end up as the top guy in the block by shaking hands and kissing ass.

Coulson points out things around the block: the cells (obvious), the showers, the cameras. Tony isn’t close enough to hear what’s being said, but he can imagine. Guards come in every hour during the day and every two hours at night to stroll around the block peaking into cells. Even when they aren’t a physical presence on the floor, they are always watching behind the cameras. That will be Peter’s job today: walking the floor. Every sixty minutes, he’ll walk right by Tony in his cute little dress blues. They look too clingy to be at all efficient, especially on Peter’s lithe little form, narrow hips barely able to support the holster on his waist.

Peter turns around and Tony gets a nice glimpse of his ass—God, he wants to bite it.

Bucky looks less enthusiastic today, hair pulled back into a wet bun, dark circles under his eyes. They’d slept in the same bunk last night, but when he’d awoken in the morning, Bucky had been gone. Nightmares, probably. “Now who’s the lucky bastard?” he mumbles around his fork.

Tony. Tony is the lucky bastard.

When Coulson and Peter go by, Tony calls out, face wearing a winning smile. “Good morning, officers.”

“Good morning,” Peter says sweetly. When he notices that it is Tony who spoke, his eyes double in size. Obviously, Tony has already made an impression. He plants his chin on his palm, elbow resting on the table, and lets his eyes rove over the green boy. Unashamed is his middle name.

“Inmate number one to watch out for, Parker,” Coulson says. But Tony thinks there’s a little affection underneath the vacant expression. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“I’m hurt, Phil,” Tony says. “Really hurt.”

“Stark is here for fraud, and he’s a master manipulator.”

“That’s better—stroke my ego, Phil. I love it. Go on.”

Coulson looks unimpressed. “Give him a wide berth.”

Peter nods obediently. His eyes trail over to Bucky and he lights up, squinting with a smile liable to outshine the sun. “Good morning Bucky! How are you?”

Coulson looks liable to have a fucking stroke. Lips twitching, Bucky salutes. “Doing great, sweet thing, how about yourself?”

“Can’t complain,” Peter says, blushing prettily.

Coulson ends up having to drag him off. Tony can’t imagine the dressing down he’s going to be receiving once they’re in private. Actually, he can, and it’s an image he cherishes. It wouldn’t hurt for the sweet kid to have some sense knocked into him by the other guards—before one of the inmates knocks it into him for them. The thought makes Tony’s fist clench around his fork. If anybody is knocking anything into Peter, it will be him. And Bucky. Preferably at the same time.

“You can hold him down,” Tony says lowly to Bucky across the table. “I’d like to see your thick arms wrapped around him. He looks like a squirmer, so sensitive. You can keep him still with nowhere to go, sitting on your cock, and I’ll suck him off. I bet he cries.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, eyes half-lidded. He makes a stabbing motion with his plastic fork. “Or I’ll end up in the bathroom at the park beating off.”

“I like the thought of that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t.”

-

The next time Peter comes around, he is alone. Tony, Toomes, and some of the other guys are sitting around the table playing poker.

“Afternoon gentlemen,” Peter says cordially. Tony is immediately smitten—the kid is trying so hard to be a Big Boy. It’s so fucking endearing. All Tony wants to do is drag the kid by the belt to the nearest cell and suck him off.

“Afternoon, handsome,” Tony says.

“I hope there’s no gambling going on,” Peter says, his arms cross across his chest. Jesus, his arms are skinny but fucking built, muscles straining beneath the cuffs of his shirt. There’s strength there. He’s reminded suddenly that this kid did pass the academy, so he does have some training under his belt.

“Gambling is against the rules, officer,” Tony says brightly. He takes the cigarette from behind his ear, hands desperate for something to do, and tucks it between his lips. “Do we look like rule breakers to you?”

Peter shakes the hand of each man around the table. Tony would have to be blind not to see the looks he’s garnering: incredulity, attraction, calculation. Toomes looks like he’s about to cream his jumpsuit when his rough hand wraps around Peter’s soft, tiny one. The look he shoots Tony is smug.

“Do I get a handshake, Officer?” Tony asks sweetly as the kid is trying to make his escape.

He looks at Tony’s hand like it is a trap. Tony softens.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong before,” he says gently. “I just want to say, Welcome to LCF.”

Peter takes his hand. It is just as soft and smooth as it looks, but the grip is strong and firm, and Tony feels irrational pride—look at this little boy standing up to him, so fucking fearless. He makes sure to keep the handshake simple and wholesome, even though it hurts to let go. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, he agrees.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” the kid breaths and fuck. That goes right to his cock.

“You’re quite welcome,” he purrs.

-

The guards work 2-2-3’s, predictably. That means that Peter will have two day shifts, two days off, three night shifts, two days off, two day shifts, three days off, so on and so forth. The next two days with no Peter to look forward to and Bucky spending the 9 to 5 picking up trash are some of the dullest he’s ever had. Rhodey is the only consolation. They spend a lot of their time watching television together or playing chess.

And nights are spent with Bucky. They take turns topping, pressing each other into the mattress and muttering a litany of dirty prose in each other’s ears. Peter makes a lot of appearances in their repertoire, and some of the best orgasms Tony’s had in ages come from imagining him walking into his cell someday to find Bucky sucking off Officer Parker, or the other way around.

Sometimes, Tony has to go behind the curtain in his cell and pretend he’s taking a shit, when in reality he is jerking off to the thought. Popping a boner during poker isn’t exactly welcome.

The night shifts aren’t ideal. From 6 pm to 6 am, Peter will come in to walk the floor, shining light into cells to make sure everything is up to code. There isn’t as much time for conversation, but Tony figures he’ll be happy to spend the night awake in his buck just for the glimpses of Peter he’ll get. God, he’s fucking worked up over this kid. Mr. Stark, he called him. Jesus.

When Peter comes in at six, it is to general greeting suffused with catcalls. His face turns red as a tomato, but he smiles, looking pleased by the comradery.

“Hey doll,” Bucky says when he strolls by. Trays came in a few minutes prior, so they are eating. Salisbury steak tonight, disgusting—but the gravy isn’t half bad. Peter waves, coming over.

“Hi Mr. Barnes. Hi Mr. Stark.”

“It’s Tony, sweetheart,” Tony says. “Even Coulson calls us by our first names. You can do it too.”

“T-Tony,” Peter stutters.

“Say it again,” Tony purrs. “You need to get your practice in now.”

Bucky kicks him under the table. “You’re going to give him an aneurysm. Sorry Pete—Tony is a bit of a horn dog. He’s what the kids call thirsty.”

Peter laughs, hiding his smile behind his hand. “Yeah, I could have guessed. Is he like this with everybody?”

Tony goes to open his mouth, but is stopped by the increased pressure on the arch of his foot by Bucky’s boot under the table. When he glances over, Bucky looks earnest, serious. He puts a scarred hand over his heart. “No sir. Swear on my service tags. You’ve got us all smitten.”

Peter melts. He bites his lip, casting Tony a shy but warm glance. “I—you guys are so nice. I better get back to—yeah—”

They both watch Peter’s ass as he walks away.

“You smooth motherfucker. I need to start taking a page out of your book,” Tony mutters. He rubs his ankle softly against Bucky’s. It’s the most affection they’re willing to give each other out on the floor. Affection is weakness here, and as the guy who runs the floor, Tony knows he has a big target on his chest. He’d rather not make it any bigger. For him, or for Bucky.

-

It’s nearing ten PM. Lights go out at 9:30, and while not everyone is asleep, the raucous gatherings are contained to individual cells.

Like Tony’s. He is biting his knuckles, panting as Bucky sucks him off. They’ve spent the last hour cuddling in the bunk, running their hands over each other, muttering dirty things between them. He’s been hard for the better part of that hour, and it’s only now that Bucky has shown mercy on him, tugging him up to sit on the edge of the bunk, knees spread wide. He rucks up Tony’s wifebeater over his abs and chest to rub a thumb at one of his nipples, causing his cock to jump.

“Let’s give a show, baby, huh?” Bucky whispers before swallowing him down. Tony jolts, barely managing to cut off the groan that builds up in his throat.

Bucky gives head with enthusiasm and without shame, probably because he looks so fucking hot without his inhibitions, and he knows it. Eyes closed like Tony’s cock is the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his mouth, Bucky drools and chokes himself, sometimes pressing Tony’s cock up so that he can mouth at the older man’s balls, taking them into his mouth one at a time.

Tony holds off his orgasm for as long as he can. He loves this, loves how aroused Bucky gets from sucking cock, whining around it, one hand reaching between his own legs to jerk himself off.

Then comes the light. It blinds Tony whose eyes are accustomed to the darkness. He gasps, jerking backwards in horror at being caught, but Bucky’s hands grab his hips and wrench him forwards, taking him deeper.

There comes a gasp, high and effeminate.

Peter.

The flashlight fumbles and clicks off, but Tony doesn’t hear the footsteps move away. His eyes readjust to the darkness, and he sees Peter’s form standing in the doorway, one hand up to press against his mouth.

Bucky chokes himself, swallowing around the head of Tony’s cock, and something about being watched—being watched by Peter—has Tony gasping, fisting Bucky’s long hair and fucking into his throat as he cums. He barely manages to keep his eyes open through the pleasure, because now he can just make out the dim form of features on Peter’s face, eyes half-closed, and knuckles clutched between his teeth.

He likes what he sees.

“Jesus, baby,” Tony whispers, stroking Bucky’s hair. The man stands up, pants slung to his ankles, fisting his naked cock furiously. The low cots mean that when he cums with a groan, he stripes Tony’s chest with it, and he loves it, fucking loves marking and being marked by Bucky. “You wanted to give Peter a show, huh?”

The sound Peter makes is tortured. He turns and nearly sprints away, perfunctorily walking down the rest of the cells, glancing in to make sure no one is smoking or hoarding blankets or any other thing.

They sit side by side on the bunk, panting.

“All part of the plan, handsome,” Bucky mutters, pressing a tender kiss to Tony’s forehead.

-

“Petey came to my cell last night,” Toomes says the next day. The guard on duty is in Tony’s palm, so Tony smokes unabashedly and without fear of repercussions, flicking his ash in a neat pile next to him, because littering isn’t cool.

He isn’t sure what his facial expression says, but he hopes its as stony and unbelieving as he feels. “Good for you, Toomes. Did you finally get that suck job you wanted?”

The other man scoffs, waving away Tony’s accusations. “He’s too skittish for that. But he saw me reading. Frankenstein. Did you know he’s a big reader, Tony?”

Tony didn’t know. He tries not to let it show how rankled it makes him, that there is any part of Peter that this vulture has picked off before Tony or Bucky.

“Maybe you can start a book club,” Tony suggests.

Beside him, Rhodey snorts into his cards.

-

“He’s full of shit, Tony. You know that,” Bucky soothes. He’s sitting on Tony’s cot, freshly showered, watching Tony pace, cigarette clutched between his lips. The younger man is getting a tan from his time spent out in the sun picking up trash. For a fair skinned, fair eyed man, he tans surprisingly well. Tony certainly appreciates the aesthetic.

“He’s not. Not about this, at least,” Tony mutters. “Peter waved to him tonight at dinner when you were getting your tray. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look at Toomes with a pleasant expression. I can’t unsee it.”

“You poor thing,” Bucky says, sounding not at all sympathetic. “Look, the kid’s worked here for three days. This is his fourth fucking shift. Seduction takes time. You always do this—if something you want doesn’t fall into your lap right away, you get mopey. Where’s the Tony you always talk about, the one who had patience, who worked hard to reap rewards?”

“Worked real hard to reap my dad’s money, you’ve got that right,” Tony mutters. “You suck at pep talks, snowflake.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Then how about I just console you?”

Tony takes the cigarette from his mouth and points it at him. “Now you’re talking.”

-

It’s nearing two in the morning. Peter has been by a handful of times, face red when he glances into their cell. Bucky and Tony jerked each other off hours ago—shame he missed it—and have spent the rest of the evening sitting on the cot talking. Bucky does push-ups. Tony admires the view.

“I’m out of smokes,” Bucky says. He means pot—Tony doesn’t partake, but on night when Bucky does, sleeps easier and wakes more rested. “I need more papers.”

“I got ‘em baby.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony can get anything into prison. It’s about greasing the guards—and he makes sure to know which ones squeak and which ones don’t. Then he keeps them well, well lubricated. Whenever someone needs something (matches, drugs, porn, other contraband), Tony is the guy who gets it. But he’s not dumb enough to be the guy who keeps it. That’s on the straw men Tony keeps around the block. One houses the rolling papers. Another has the pot. There’s a cellphone in the cell beside Tony. And if there are shakedowns with guards Tony doesn’t have under his thumb, those men agree to take the fall, and Tony agrees to make it up to them.

It’s late and dark, most people actually asleep now. Tony feels his way down to the cells to the guy who’s housing the papers for joints. The guy snores to wake the dead, but Tony doesn’t care, letting himself in and going to the designated location.

It’s on his way back that he hears the noise.

Voices.

He’d ignore them—some guys will stay up all night talking—but one of those voices is too high.

It’s panicked, too.

Breathing heavier, he takes care to muffle his steps. He isn’t wearing shoes, and that makes him vulnerable in a fight, but he’s held his own in worse situations. The element of surprise will be instrumental in coming out on top—if he needs to. Keeping his breaths quiet, he follows the sounds to the showers, empty but still smelling damp and faintly of soap.

It’s definitely Peter’s voice.

There are windows here that let in the moonlight. Tony stands in the shadow of the doorway, watching and listening.

“Come on, Adrian, quit—”

“You come on, Petey. I’ll make it good for you. It’s got to be tough, being around all the men on the block, being flirted with all the time. Gets a kid hot and bothered I bet, huh? You’re a hot little thing. I saw the way you looked at me last night. I’m here for you, honey. You can use me—”

“I don’t want to. I could lose my job.”

“I’ll take it to the grave, Pete, I swear.”

Peter is pressed against the tiled wall between two showerheads. Adrian is pinning him there with his body, and the size difference is drastic. Peter is so fucking tiny and frail looking, eyes huge and frightened, hands clenching and unclenching even though he has a fucking weapon, come on Pete, pull your baton, your taser, your fucking gun—

Adrian’s hand drifts from where it’s caressing Peter’s jaw. It presses against his chest, fingering the buttons down Peter’s dress blues, and then palms the young man’s cock.

Tony sees red. He wishes he had the shiv he keeps hidden on the floor, but there’s no time to search for it in the dark, and he can make do without it anyway. Get Adrian down and then pull Peter’s baton, beat Toomes again and again and again until the man eats his meals through a straw or not at all.

“I said no, Toomes.” Peter grabs the man’s wrist and twists it expertly. With a strength Tony didn’t know could be contained in such a tiny form, he switches their positions to press Toomes’s face into the wall, grinding it against the tiles. The man struggles but Peter is holding strong, lithe little muscles bulging as he kicks the man’s legs apart so he can’t get proper leverage to push him away. Then he grabs his cuffs, and in a heartbeat, the larger man is subdued. “I tried to be nice, didn’t I? No means no, asshole.”

He wrenches Toomes away from the wall and they both turn to see Tony standing there. They all look at each other, mouths open. Then Tony lifts his hands and brings them together softly, a standing ovation.

“I’m not going to lie,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little hard right now.”

Peter scowls. “Not now, Tony. Go press the button to let the other guards know I need help.”

“No can do, sweet thing. But it looks like you’ve got it covered for yourself.”

Peter does, frog marching Toomes across the floor and out of the Block. Tony watches it all with an incredulous expression. And a chub. Even after they’re gone, he stands on the quiet, dark floor, pondering what he’s seen. When Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder, Tony nearly jumps out of his own skin.

“What happened?” he asks. “Was that Peter I heard?”

“Oh Buck. You won’t believe this yarn I’m going to spin you.”

-

Toomes doesn’t return to the block. More than likely, he is shifted to another block with more violent offenders. They tend to group inmates based on the charges against them and their charge history. Tony wonders what exactly he’ll be charged with now. Attempted assault of a police officer? It sounds delicious. Whatever the punishment, it will be too good for him.

Bucky is torn up. Coming home from war has left him sensitive to certain aggressions, and he often feels things too keenly. Takes things too personally. “No means no,” he says, voice thick, faced press into Tony’s neck as he holds him. “Why don’t people listen? No means no.”

“We know that. They know that too. They just don’t care, baby. We’ll see Pete tomorrow and find out how he’s doing.”

Bucky lifts his head. His eyes are cloudy and distant “Tell me again how he roughed up Toomes.”

“With pleasure,” Tony purrs. “He’s so goddamn petite, but his hiding some serious muscles under that uniform. God, it had me worked up, the way he knocked Toomes’s legs apart. The snap of the cuffs. When we get out of here, snowflake, we need to invest in a pair of those.”

Bucky snorts, but he looks pleased.

Part of Tony worried that Peter wouldn’t come in for his shift. He wouldn’t blame the kid; he’d almost been assaulted on the job. The guards had it tough. If it wasn’t sexual harassment, it was physical intimidation—the latter of which Tony himself had been guilty of. But he shouldn’t have underestimated their boy.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Peter says shyly. He’s got his hands on his narrow hips, but Tony knows that those fingers are long enough to wrap all the way around a man’s wrist, wrenching it back.

“How are you?” Bucky asks when Peter comes by.

Peter smiles, soft and gentle. “I’m okay, Bucky. How are you?”

“Better, now that I’ve seen your handsome face.”

Peter blushes, so susceptible to Bucky’s lines. Then he turns his eyes to Tony, and they grow colder. He barely nods recognition before strutting away. Tony can’t even appreciate the way the tight pants hug his ass, because he’s too busy with his mouth agape, jerking a thumb at the boy’s back and asking Bucky, “What did I do?”

-

That night they are waiting up for Peter the first time he makes his rounds. They decide to sit on the floor so as to be as non-threatening as possible (Peter went through a fucking ordeal yesterday, and they aren’t looking to add to his stress), Tony with his back against the edge of the cot and Bucky propped up against the wall, one foot flat on the floor and the other tickling Tony’s thighs. Yes, the bunks are that small.

As soon as Peter’s light shines in, Bucky calls for him gently.

Carefully, he steps into the room, shining the light towards the ceiling to cast a glow over all of them. His face is somber, but he smiles.

“Hey Bucky. What do you need?”

Bucky doesn’t beat around the bush. “We want to know if you’re really okay. Tony told me about Toomes. That guy’s a fucking piece of work. Hope some guys up on B Block crack his skull in—won’t be no skin off society’s nose.”

Peter shakes his head. “That’s not a good way to talk. That’s not justice. I’m doing fine—Toomes wasn’t hard to subdue.”

“You handled him like a pro,” Tony adds.

Peter’s look frosts over. “Like a police officer, yes. No thanks to you.”

Tony groans. “Is that why you’re mad at me? Because I wouldn’t go press the button for you, baby?”

“Don’t call me that. And yes. I thought we were—” Peter doesn’t finish. He blushes, obviously knowing how silly that sentence sounds: a CO being friends with an inmate. But it cuts Tony all the same, and Bucky’s look across the room is murderous.

“You didn’t try to get help? What the fuck, Tony.” His foot lashes out and catches Tony in the shin, and fuck that stings!

“I’m not a snitch,” Tony snaps.

“Look, I’ll leave you both to this—”

“I was going to handle it if Peter couldn’t—I was going to kill that son of a bitch. That’s how things work in here, you know that Bucky. This isn’t the military. There’s no honor or morals. There’s just rules, and the number one rule is no snitching. If there’s a problem, we handle it this way.”

Peter swallows. “Tony—you can’t just say that. I can’t—I’ve got to tell somebody that you said that, I think.”

“This place doesn’t have honor, but we do,” Bucky growls. “Or at least, I thought you did.”

“You know I’d have killed for him,” Tony says through his teeth. “Just like how I’d kill for you—”

“Would you fucking stop it?” Peter hisses. It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over them to hear him curse. His grip has gone white on his flashlight he’s so tense, lips pressed into a thin, furious line. “Why are you two doing this? Is it—is this just to, to fuck with me? I don’t get it, I—”

All the anger seeps out of him. He looks lost, tortured. Both of the angry men in front of him soften. What is it about this boy that melts them like wax under flame? Bucky shuffles up onto his knees, looking with his long hair like some knight from an old medieval story, begging for forgiveness of his fair lady.

“Pete, we didn’t mean to come on so strong. Please—will you sit for a bit?”

Peter glances back at the floor. It is dark and mostly quiet, some laughter coming from a cell further down the line. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “I need to do my job.”

“We won’t keep you here, if you want to leave. We aren’t like Toomes. But if you’re willing, we’d like to talk. Work this out.”

Looking torn, Peter sits. Tony and Bucky flank him, but the boy doesn’t look threatened in the slightest, just hunches himself over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Go ahead and talk,” he says.

“Bucky and I are together.”

Peter snorts. “I got that when I saw him sucking you off.”

Tony blinks. “Oh. Well that happens in here every now and again—some men will do anything in here for company, even if they don’t really swing that way on the outside. But Bucky and I—we’re pretty in love.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “He’s dumb. But I love him.”

Peter laughs a little. “Okay. Yeah. So you two are together.”

“We’re polyamorous,” Tony admits. “That means we have a lot of love to give and aren’t unopposed to giving it to multiple people at once. Bucky here, he’s got a boyfriend down the line, Steve—you know Steve?”

“I know Mr. Rogers. He seems nice.”

“He’s real nice,” Bucky smirks. “Our point here is that up until now, we’ve had passing flings with other people, but we’ve never shared anyone. We’ve never wanted to share anyone—until you. And now it’s like our stupidity has squared itself, because we both are falling over ourselves to try to attract you.”

He’s glad he’s letting Bucky take the lead. Tony might have a way with words, but Bucky absolutely has tact and softness that Tony can’t muster up in his wildest dreams. Peter is sitting between them looking red-faced but thoughtful. “So, what? You guys both want to date me?”

“We can’t exactly set up a table with a cloth and wine and dine you, princess,” Tony says. He tries to stay soft and honest, because his mother always used to say that honesty is the best policy. Peter looks like the kind of kid who would appreciate that. “As unfortunate as that is. I’ve got five months left on my sentence, and Bucky has almost double that. And as—what is it Bucky? Thirsty?—as thirsty as we both are, we understand that you wouldn’t want to put your job in jeopardy.”

Peter looks relieved by their admission. “I don’t really know how I feel, to be honest. You’re both—wow, you’re both really hot. Duh. But I don’t know you. Maybe I could get to know you? A little at a time? And once you’re out Tony, if I’m not seeing anyone, we could go out? There’s…” Peter swallows. “There’s definitely chemistry here.”

“Yeah, kid, I feel that,” Tony says.

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Bucky emphasizes, shooting Tony a look overhead that says keep it in your pants. They’ve been seeing each other in here long enough to have reached the telepathic portion of their relationship, thanks. “You’re already promising more than we could have hoped for. And we really appreciate you sitting down and talking things out with us. That’s never easy, doll.”

The younger man blushes prettily, shrugging. He stands. “I really should get back to work.”

“Okay, kid. Whatever you need to do,” Tony agrees. He shifts, hard in his sweatpants, the proximity to his lover and his maybe, possibly, someday lover has sweat beading at the nape of his neck and his imagination running wild. Peter’s eyes track his movements and then fall to his lap.

He licks his lips.

Honest to god.

“I—wait for me. Just—” Peter disappears, flashlight bobbing as he continues down the line. They can hear him popping his head in to a cell further down and telling the guys to please be respectful of the other inmates, thanks!

“Buck,” Tony groans. They smash together with no finesse, both of them stressed and horny from their confrontation with Peter. They taste like mint toothpaste they used before lights out, and Tony licks into the younger man’s mouth unabashedly, sucking on his tongue, licking at his teeth. “God, I need you,” he whispers.

“Take me,” Bucky urges. “Come on, baby. Take me.”

They shed clothes like they’re on fire. Tony folds Bucky’s legs up—for a large guy, he’s surprisingly nimble—and lowers his mouth to Bucky’s ass, licking a hot stripe over his hole and to his balls. He hears the hiss above him, the groan muffled by a fist in his mouth. Not for the first time, Tony hates prison. He hates that they have to be quiet, that they can’t let themselves go and love each other properly, just hushed romps like this in the middle of the night.

“What do you think he meant?” Bucky pants, fingers clenching on Tony’s hair. “Wait for me?”

There is a whispered groan from the doorway. They both turn to see Peter there, leaning against the bars, eyes heavy. “I meant wait, but I get it. God, I get it. You’re both so, wow, god.”

“He’s eloquent,” Tony says. They shift on instinct, turning so as to give Peter a better view. He turns off his flashlight and it takes time for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Peter stands with his back to the wall, hands clasped behind his back like he’s in handcuffs.

“I can’t—I can’t do anything,” Peter pants. “But I could watch. If you wanted me to.”

“Do you want to?” Bucky asks.

“God yes,” Peter breaths, voice high. One hand palms at his crotch. His uniform has him blending in to the darkness, but they can guess what he’s doing, and fuck that turns Tony on, like there’s fire in his blood. He goes back to eating Bucky’s ass, pressing a thumb against the rim to hold him open so he can slip his tongue inside.

“Jesus, Tony,” Bucky says. “Fuck me. Just fuck me, come on.”

Tony is in full agreement. It’s too much; they’re all too worked up. The sounds from Bucky, the sounds from Peter, the taste of his lover in his mouth—his cock feels fit to burst as he pulls it from his sweats. He doesn’t dare pump it for fear of blowing his load right away. God this isn’t going to be the best performance to share with their new love, but he hopes that Peter can forgive him if he comes off as a three-pump-chump.

He presses in slow. Bucky is still soft and pliant from their fucking the night before, and there’s no discomfort on his lover’s face even when he bottoms out. Bucky’s legs wrap around him and he urges Tony forward with his heels and voice: “Come on, baby. Fuck me. Give it to me. Put on a show.”

Tony knows just how Bucky likes it. There’s no holding back, just the brutal thrusting of his hips that has Bucky giving off choked noises, one hand pressed firmly over his mouth and the other scrabbling at the sheet on the cot. It only takes a moment for Tony to glance over and see Peter, hand flashing in the darkness as he jerks his own cock through his dress blues, and Tony is mounting the crest, balls contracting, stomach tensing.

Bucky blows first, untouched. Tony barely gets a fist around him when he realizes what’s happening, pumping furiously to help his lover through it. Then he is there himself, grip maybe too tight around Bucky’s cock, hips snapping desperately while he blows his load. It feels like it lasts forever. Was over so, so quick.

Even when they’re done, panting, sandwiched together, they hear Peter: breathy little whines from across the room. He stops jerking himself off when they stop lazily and lovingly grinding their hips together, but it’s obvious by the unconscious swaying of his hips that he didn’t cum.

“Take care of him,” Bucky mutters, pressing a kiss to Tony’s sweaty temple. “Get on your knees for him.”

“Yes,” Tony gasps. His cock slips free of Bucky, still tingling pleasantly. He walks on his knees the few feet it takes to be at Peter’s feet, staring up at his tortured expression.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps. “I can’t do anything. That’d be wrong—”

“Then don’t do anything, Officer,” Tony purrs. He reaches a hand up and rubs at Peter’s cock. The kid keens softly, thrusting his hips out even as he grips uselessly at the wall. He’s desperate for relief, desperate to get away. Tony bats his eyes, though no one can see in the dark. “Let me do the work, sir. Please?”

Peter swallows hard. He nods frantically, and that’s all Tony needs to undo Peter’s belt, wrench down his dress slacks and boxers. He doesn’t even get a good look at the kid’s cock, just swallows him down. It’s a nice mouthful, and he has to work to get the last inch or so, taking the head just into his throat. “I’m—I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter gasps.

Tony swallows.

Peter cums. Tony barely manages to pull back, desperate to taste him on his tongue. One hand comes up to work at Peter’s twitching cock, the other cradling his balls to help prolong his pleasure. The kid sounds like he’s never cum before in his life, hands gripping at the concrete wall, giving tiny aborted thrusts, mouth open and panting.

“Thank you, Officer,” Tony says, voice a little distorted from deep-throating. Peter slumps down the wall, knees shaking, until they’re kneeling across from each other. Tony can’t help it, he laughs a little. “You didn’t need to be worried about hurting me, baby. That wasn’t my first blowjob.”

It’s Peter’s turn to chuckle. “I did have good reason to be worried.” He cuts himself off, like there was more he was going to say, but stopped himself.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky asks. He’s lounging on the bed, watching them with lazy, sated eyes. He’s so fucking handsome, Tony crawls across the floor to kiss him and press the last of Peter’s cum into his mouth. The other man moans appreciatively.

“It’s kind of a crazy story,” Peter admits.

“We know a thing or two about crazy,” Tony says. “Try us.”

Peter’s clenches his hands together tightly. “It’s weird, actually. It has to do with a spider.”

Bucky and Tony share a glance, equal parts confused and amused. Tony settles in, leaning his head to rest on the cot beside Bucky. “Go on then,” he says. “We’re listening.”

-

Tag list: @crown-filth

[darkagcs]

💀  * [ benjamin wadsworth + cismale + he/him ] —— have you met oliver garcia-moreau? they are a twenty-two year old junior currently studying history. they live on decker house, and word around campus is that this gemini is adaptable + intelligent, as well as neurotic + insincere. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. switching languages mid-conversation. piles of half-read books. cigarettes held between trembling fingers.

well this took fucking forever but HEY GUYS!!!!! admin dana here to with her idiot genius child, oliver.

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

(tw: somewhat detailed emotional abuse, brief reference to physical abuse)

if you ask oliver where he’s from, he’ll basically short-circuit. born in serbia (in the good ol’ days of FR yugoslavia) to a mexican-french couple, and with a childhood spent moving all around the world thanks to his mom’s job as a diplomat, he doesn’t really have much sense of cultural identity.

on paper, being a diplobrat was pretty cool; by the time oliver hit puberty he was fluent in four languages, proficient in a couple more, and had already seen more of the world than most people do in a lifetime. not only that, but he lived only in the nicest houses, got the best education and was driven around in fancy cars, all expenses covered.

still, there were some downsides. some are obvious, like having to say goodbye to your friends and basically restarting your life every three years. others most people don’t think about, like how stressful it can be for a seven-year-old to attend political events where he’s required to behave perfectly or face the consequences.

no matter how many times his mother harshly told him to just suck it up and power through, oliver always panicked before attending any event of that sort, both because of how overwhelming being around so many people could be but also out of fear he’d screw up and make his mother angry — which he always found a way to do. still, with time (and his mother’s scoldings and slaps and pinches) he learned: he was not to speak his mind; when asked how he was doing, he was supposed to lie and say he was doing great, sir, thank you. he was to speak only when spoken to, and his interests — especially the most eccentric ones — were to be kept to himself.

as time went by, he mastered the art of socialising. he learned how to read any room, to charm anyone, to talk his way out of anything. he learned what people wanted to hear and how to say it. but most importantly, he learned how to hide his real self. he crafted a mask of perfection, presenting himself as the princely, polite young man his mother demanded he’d be — but still not one good enough to satisfy her. 

she controlled every aspect of his life. if she didn’t like a friend he’d made, she’d forbid him from seeing them again. if she didn’t like a book he was reading, she’d make a show of tearing it to shreds. if he didn’t behave as immaculately as she wanted him to, she’d lock him in his room without dinner. but she always justified her own behavior. “you must learn how important image is,” she’d tell him. he’s still trying to unlearn these teachings.

for years his life was nothing but this cycle; moving to a new country, creating a new persona to match it, making some friends, saying goodbye, rinse and repeat. it was both tedious and exciting, and oliver hated it even if he’s grateful for so much of it.

he’d only been to the united states a couple of times before he decided to go to college there. there was something about america that just seemed normal. he applied to holloway on a whim; getting into college really isn’t that hard when you’re a rich polyglot with recommendation letters from world leaders. what is hard, as it turns out, is living life on your own when you’ve never had to do anything for yourself, and never got to decide what your next move is going to be. not only that, but being on his own has made him realise he doesn’t really have any idea who he is or what he wants.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

always proper and polite.

very persuasive, especially when it comes to authority figures.

great at reading people but only as long as he’s not emotionally involved, at which point he overthinks every little thing and is unable to get a clear image of what’s going on.

comes across as confident, but is insanely insecure with major imposter syndrome.

can come across as a pretentious asshole, not realising how privileged he is and far removed from most people’s reality his life has been.

at his core, a big nerd who’s incredibly passionate about his interests (especially history) but only lets that side of himself show with select few people.

king of overthinking. his thoughts’ thoughts have thoughts.

desperate for a purpose and/or direction. wants to make life count for something. feels completely lost and has no clue at all about what to do with his life.

acts like an extrovert because he’s been conditioned to do so, but is really more of an introvert and rarely shares his real feelings so he’s like an open book where 80% of the words have been censored out and another 10% is in a dead language.

actually pretty easy to get into his bed, though his princely vibe might make it seem otherwise. desperately craves human connection/doesn’t get attached easily/is afraid of commitment so really he’s more than fine with casual sex (though he’s the type to make them both coffee the morning after or leave a note for the other person instead of just leaving without a word).

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎

(tw: illness?) partially deaf on right year from a bad case of meningitis when he was 13 that also left him with a slight limp. he absolutely hates it, despite it being nearly imperceptible.

learned spanish and french simultaneously while growing up, but feels more comfortable with spanish than any other language and usually speaks it when talking to himself. if he’s around other spanish or french speakers he might switch language for a few words in the middle of the sentence.

so much anxiety!!!!!!!!!!

really bad insomnia.

straight-A student now that he’s in college and studying something he’s truly passionate about, but was actually not very good in high school and mainly got accepted into holloway because of his background.

so bi it hurts.

mom friend energy. if he’s truly your friend, he’ll make sure you’re doing okay and taking care of yourself.

has superficial knowledge on an incredible amount of different subjects.

addicted to caffeine.

weed turns him into a conspiracy theorist.

an absolute mess. can’t handle the most basic house chores. won’t remember to do laundry until he’s down to his last shirt, changing the bed sheets takes him hours, can’t even boil water.

fascinated by old stuff and doesn’t care much for technology. barely even uses his phone. has auto caps on and texts like a grandpa in general.

awful driver with an awful-ler sense of direction.

actually not as rich as he sounds?? like he has money, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not like... yacht-owning levels of wealth. his family mostly just led a luxurious life without having to pay anything for it thanks to his mom’s job, so he finds money to be a confusing concept.

have you read the raven cycle? because not to be super embarrassing but a certain dick gansey might give u a sense of what im going for here. (also sprinkle some amy santiago in there)

HERE is here connection page, HERE is his pinterest board and HERE are some stats.

[horansqueen]

AM Conversations : chapter 28

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.3k. -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- if you want to be notified when this is updated, please message me or leave a comment!

- you can send me questions and theories and comments. tbh they all make me SO SO SO SOOOO HAPPY! and make me want to write more! you can also tell me if there are things you WANT to happen. you never know, i may add it :P

- thanks for being patient btw! i work a lot these days and will work even more in the next few weeks (until halloween) so i may not update as often as i’d like. :(

- note for this chapter: please forgive me

-please, message me, give me feedbacks, it would mean sooo much to me!

Chapter 28 : His chapter

NIALL

I was happy to have found my best friend back. It seemed like everything was back to normal, or almost. I split my time between Liv and Maya and I was trying to satisfy both, although Maya demanded more attention than I would have thought at the beginning. We had our occasional disputes, I couldn't lie, and most of them were about my best friend, but I was trying not to think about it and I never mentioned it to Olivia.

"Niall? Are you listening to me?"

"Mm?"

I looked up from my phone to look at my girlfriend. She looked pissed and glanced at the plate in front of me. Most of the time, she preferred to eat out and it sort of bothered me but if it saved us from an argument, I was in.

"You barely ate anything." she pointed out, raising her eyebrows.

I looked at her plate and then back up in her eyes.

"Your plate is pretty full too." I argued, moving my chin a bit as my eyes found my phone again.

I wanted to mention that she barely ate at all but I kept my mouth shut because I knew it was a touchy subject for her. Still, I worried about her and I was surprised she insisted on going out to eat since she barely did in the end. Perhaps it was only to make people believe she ate and not get any question. I felt my phone vibrate and looked down at it, quickly typing an answer to the message I just got. The conversation about food seemed to be over but when I heard her voice again, my heart jumped slightly.

"What's so interesting on your phone, Niall? Can't we just eat together and talk?"

I sighed, maybe a bit too loud, and put my phone back in my pocket, feeling it vibrate again immediately but trying to ignore it.

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?"

Her face changed and she looked down, making me believe that the conversation we were about to have was not a fun one. I breathed in deeply but subtly, trying to remain calm no matter what she'd say but knowing it wouldn't be easy.

Maya was more and more jealous as time went by. It had been a few weeks since Harry and Olivia broke up and since then, she had become a bit possessive and got mad almost every time i'd hang out with my best friend. She'd text me a few times an hour, ask many questions about what we did and said. and one time, she even showed up at Liv's, pretending she was 'in the neighborhood'.  It was not easy and we had that talk a hundred times, but I was starting to think that things would never change.

"I've seen the picture." she let out, making me frown. I was about to ask her what pictures she was talking about but she continued. "Of you and her... kissing."

Once again she put emphasis on the 'her' which is something she always did when it came to Olivia. I couldn't remember the last time she actually pronounced her name.

"What are you..."

I didn't have time to finish, she moved her phone up and showed me a picture from the day before. It was all over google, or it seemed, and I could see a very bad picture from very far away of a supposed and obscure kiss between my best friend and I. The angle was shady and although it was probably not photoshopped, it also was clearly not what was happening for real. I chuckled and rolled my eyes, taking a bite of my cold of pastas.

"You know it's just the angle, right?" I asked with an obvious tone full of judgement.

She breathed in, her facial expression turning into a angry one as she brought her phone closer to her, leaving it on the table. She moved closer to me, leaning against the table a bit, and sighed again.

"I think it is exactly what I see."

With my fork still in hand, i leaned against the table too to talk in a low tone.

"Three or four years ago there was a picture of Harry and I kissing that appeared online with a bunch of different articles titled ridiculous shit like 'Harry Styles' New Squeeze Is His One Direction Bandmate Niall Horan' and I can assure you Harry and I never kissed even if you would doubt it with the picture." I explained roughly but in a whisper. "It's what these people do, it's their job to start bullshit about celebrities. I'm sure you had your fair share. So if I tell you this picture is not real and that I was not kissing Olivia, then you should trust me."

She blinked a few times and shook her head and although I knew I hadn't convinced her of anything, I also knew she didn't have any argument to keep this fight going. Or I thought so.

"So you're not having sex with her?"

I choked on my beer and cleared my throat before swallowing hard. All I could think about was the time I fingered my best friend and how I came all over myself from it. It was very weird to think about it while looking at my girlfriend but I finally sighed. I hadn't touched Liv in that way or cheated on Maya again ever since and even if I couldn't pretend I hadn't thought about it, I had been physically faithful to her. Well, except that one time.

"Why would you even ask that?" I wondered rudely, a bit louder this time. "How many times do I have to tell you that she's just my best friend?"

I felt my heart jump in my chest as if i had just expressed a lie and maybe I had. Can someone really be just a friend if you also have sexual thoughts about them?

"Then why don't you ever make love to me?"

Her tone was rude but her voice was low and it seemed even rougher this way. It felt like a slap in the face and I held my breath, staring at her as the anger showed on my face turned into annoyance and a bit of embarrassment. I could feel my cheeks burn, not because I was not banging regularly a girl like Maya or because she was talking about it in public but simply because of the reason why.

"You know... love is a big thing and.."

"Fine." she cut me. "Why don't we have sex, then? Better?"

I cleared my throat without answering her question and licked my lips before looking up in her eyes. I was not having sex with Maya because I was too horny for someone else. It had never happened to me before but it was the truth. Maya and I fought a lot and argued and whenever it would happen, I clearly was not in the mood to be lovey with her. Even on our good days though, I couldn't do it. I had tried and we had a few times, but most of the time i'd find an excuse. Sometimes, i'd even wait until she was asleep to join her in bed, which resulted in many nights spent on the couch since I would end up falling asleep in the living room instead. The last time I had tried to have sex with Maya, I thought about my best friend and it felt so wrong that I had to stop and pretended I had a migraine. Yes, a fucking migraine. I was pathetic. I had this gorgeous model in my bed and I couldn't think with my cock for just an hour in order to shag her.

"I've just been tired and busy." I let out as if it explained anything. "Are you really mad about that? Seriously?"

She didn't answer but pressed her lips together, staring at me as I shook my head.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you." I pointed out, playing with my cold food by running my fork a bit too violently in my plate.

"If you're not getting it from me, you're getting it somewhere else. I know how men work, Niall."

I sent her a frown and then scoffed, shaking my head again. I couldn't believe we were having this discussion and it made me feel like shit. Did I really want to go through that all the time? Of course, I didn't imagine Maya and I to get married or anything and if I wanted to be honest with myself, I didn't even see myself dating her in the long run. Perhaps this whole relationship was not worth trying to save after all.

"Really now?" I asked, slightly pissed now. "You know how men work? Well then I hope you saw this coming."

I grabbed the cloth napkin I had placed on my lap and wiped my hands with it before throwing it in my plate a bit roughly and looking up in her eyes. She seemed surprised but I knew she knew exactly what I was doing. I leaned closer to her again and stared at her for a few seconds.

"I'm tired of this. We're done."

With an annoying noise, I pushed my chair back and got up, grabbing my coat and diving both my hands in my pockets as I walked away. I stopped when I met our waiter and gave him two bills of a hundred to make sure everything was covered and to apologize if we disturbed other clients. I just wanted to be far from here as soon as possible and I thanked him before leaving quickly.

I breathed in deeply when I stepped out, the cold winter air reaching my nose and making me feel suddenly lighter. Was it wrong of me to feel so relieved to be single again? Perhaps, but I couldn't help it. I waved for a cab and quickly got in but giving the driver my best friend's address instead of mine. I really needed to see her and I felt like I hadn't seen her in way too long.

                                                       ---

I stood in front of her apartment building, my hands still in my pockets as the cab disappeared behind me. I didn't know if it was a good idea and I knew I was here unannounced but even if it hadn't happened in a while, we used to do that all the time. I wasn't sure she was there as I rang the bell but I decided that if she was not, i'd get inside and wait for her anyway, no matter how long it would take for her to come back.

It took longer than expected for the door to unlock and I put my keys back in my pockets, opening the door and rushing upstairs. When I knocked, the door opened slightly and Liv's face appeared, making my smile grow bigger.

"Hey, sorry I didn't call." I apologized, licking my lips. "Can I come in?"

I was excited to see her, impatient to tell her we'd get to spend more time together and explain that I was single now.

"Uhm, yea, of course."

She took a step behind and I pushed on the door slightly and walked quickly inside.

"So guess wh-" I stopped myself suddenly, my voice stuck in my throat as my smile fell. "Harry?"

My bandmate was there, sitting on her couch with half a blanket on him while the other was moved. She was clearly sitting there before opening the door and I noticed how close they must have been from each other. There was a movie on pause in the background and I tried to make sense of the scene in front of me.

My eyes found her again and I frowned, taken aback by the fact that I had not seen this coming at all. Perhaps I was too busy fighting with Maya to realize Olivia and Harry were hanging out again and I hated it. I hated it more than I could explain.

"Wow, really?" I asked, getting pissed for the second time tonight. "Him? Here?"

She frowned and shook her head a bit before shrugging but I didn't let her talk.

"You didn't even think to tell me that you two were spending time together?" I added, not giving her time to talk. "You didn't think to mention that you wanted to try again with him or that you had feelings for him again? What am I to you? Are we even still best friends?"

"Niall, it's not what you-"

"No, wait." I cut her. "I come here to tell you I dumped Maya and I find you cuddling Harry?"  I shook my head and scoffed, slipping my hand in my hair and turning on my heels so my back was facing her.

"It's really not what you think, Niall."

Hearing Harry's voice pissed me off even more and I shut my eyes tight with a groan. I wanted to tell him to mind his own business but I was scared that this business was now his, too. I missed the days Olivia and I were both single and always together but it seemed like it wouldn't be happening again. At least, not soon. Fucking Harry. I knew I was mad at him for no reason but I couldn't help it.

"He's right." Liv agreed with him, twisting something in my stomach. "And we weren't cuddling."

I turned back to her swiftly, raising my eyebrows as my lips parted.

"Don't lie to me, I have two functioning eyes!"

"Oh my god Niall calm down!"

Her voice took me by surprise and I took a step back as Harry got up from the couch slowly and walked up to her, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. That display of affection made me want to puke.

"I'll leave you two, call me okay?"

She nodded and he smiled before turning to me and giving me a short head movement as a goodbye. His hand slipped from her arm and I watched it, holding my breath the whole time. We waited until the door closed behind him and I breathed in but we stayed silent, just staring at each other. She seemed to glow and I didn't want it to be because of him. She moved two locks of hair behind both her ears and I surprised myself wishing I was the one who pushed them out of her face with more delicateness than the way she had done it.

I thought she'd propose me a drink and that we'd talk sitting on her couch but she just brought her arms closer, crossing them over her chest and bringing her shoulders up.

"Harry and I are just friends, Niall, that's all."

I hated that answer and it reminded me that I gave the exact same one to everyone who asked about me and her. Why did I have such a hard time believing it when it came from her mouth? Perhaps it was because it was hard to believe when it came out of mine.

"I'm not getting back with him, Niall."

I sighed and shook my head, bringing my hands to my hair and pulling on it a bit too hard. I don't know why I was getting so mad but I couldn't help it. It was raising inside me like a volcano near boiling and I closed my eyes, pacing quickly in a small circle and letting out a few groans. I couldn't seem to ease the anger I was feeling and it was making me even angrier.

"You know what? I don't believe you!" I let out.

"Why?" she asked with a frown, taking a step closer. "I won't go back with him!"

"And why wouldn't you go back with him mm?" I asked a bit too loud, throwing my arms in the air in a ridiculous way. "He's perfect, he clearly still has feelings for you and you two didn't really have any reason to break up."

"Because... that's not how it works, Nee." she replied, shaking her head and avoiding my eyes.

I blinked a few times, staring at her, breathing in as my hands formed fists. I could feel my nails digging gently in my palms and the word escaped my mouth in a yell. "WHY?"

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU OKAY!?"

Silence. All I could hear was the pace of my heartbeats accelerating in my chest. My muscle loosened and I opened my hands as my shoulders fell.

"What?"

My voice was low, almost inaudible.

"I love you Niall. I'm in love with you." she added, swallowing hard. "I've always been. Since the day I found out what love was, I knew the love of my life was you. I didn't stop loving you, not even half a second. It's always been you, and no one else."

"That makes... no sense." I whispered, shaking my head and taking a step back despite myself.

"Except it makes all the sense in the world, Niall, don't you think?" I watched her tilt her head on the side and it hit me just how vulnerable she looked. "Don't you think we make sense?"

"As best friends, yea." I explained now completely calm. "As.. maybe a bit more than that, sure. We make sense as ambiguous best friends that people question, okay, I get that."

I stared at her, unsure if my heart had stopped or was going too fast for me to feel the beats. Weirdly, I wanted to take her in my arms and beg her to take her words back so everything could go back to normal. Why didn't I see this before? Or did I? Why didn't I want to see this before?

Her emotions changed, her face softening but also turning into a sad expression. I felt like shit, I felt out of place, I felt guilty... and all these feelings couldn't seem to make me find the right words.

"But Olivia, you and I? As a couple?" I shook my head, raising my eyebrows and bringing my shoulders up. "No, it doesn't make sense. It wouldn't work."

I was searching for her eyes but she was avoiding any contact and we remained motionless and in silence for a few minutes. It was awkward and I couldn't put a finger on the last time it was awkward between us.

"Do you love me, Niall?"

Her eyes finally met mine and my lips parted at her question. I pushed my hands deep in my pockets and shook my head slightly.

"You always ask me that question. My answer is still the same."

She took a step closer and my gaze followed her. The closer her body was getting, the harder my heart was beating. Why did this have to happen?

"I mean real love."

She didn't try to add anything else, we both knew what she meant and we both knew I was avoiding the question. She took an other step closer and I looked down in her eyes as her chin moved up. My eyes roamed in her face, trying to memorize every single detail : the way her tin lips were slightly parted, the way her green eyes had an halo of gold around the pupils, the way her button nose moved up delicately when she talked. I brought one of my hands to her cheek, slowly and gently, and ran my thumb on her skin. She looked on the verge to cry and I didn't want to admit that I felt tears coming, too. I was losing my best friend.

"I can't." I just said, taking a step back and feeling my hand slip from her face before letting my arm fall. "I'm sorry."

I sighed and closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to stop my whole body from throbbing and finally just shook my head before turning around.

"Niall..."

I swallowed hard and breathed in without turning back to look at her.

"I'm sorry."

And then I did the worst thing I could have done. I left.

                                                    ----

My whole body was burning and throbbing and I stopped running as soon as I was out of her building, holding myself on my knees with my hands, my eyes closed. It felt horrible, like I was trapped in a closed elevator in-between two levels... like I was stuck in a secluded and locked place without being able to get out. I had a hard time breathing and I tried to concentrate on inhaling and exhaling to get back to normal.

It took a while but when my crisis was over, I moved up again and searched for my phone in my pockets. I realized my hands were shaking when I tried typing a message but I finally hit 'send'. It took me longer than I thought but I eventually found a cab and ended up in bar, sitting on a stool and drinking a beer. I was twisting it in my hands without tasting it, probably warming the liquid with the palm of my hand pressed on the bottle. I felt someone sit next to me but it's only when I heard his voice that I looked up.

"Six tequila shots." Louis ordered, looking at the barman before turning to look at me and then back at the man behind the counter. "No wait, make it eight, please and thank you."

"Oh I'm not getting drunk." I pointed out with a frown.

"Fuck yes you are." Louis chuckled. "I'm seeing your face and you clearly need it. What happened? You broke up with Maya?"

I scoffed and looked back at my beer, taking of sip of it and grimacing slightly.

"That's not why I asked you to meet here, I just needed company."

I was not sure if it was a lie or if it was only half a lie but it didn't matter. Louis knew me too well and when he laughed, I knew he didn't believe anything I said. The barman came back and aligned the eight shots in front of us as Louis handed him a bill and my eyes roamed on the shots slowly.

"Let's drink half of them then you can tell me what the fuck is wrong Neil, okay?"

I rolled my eyes at the nickname and grabbed one, quickly downing it and turning the shots around, putting it back on the counter with a light thud before grabbing the other one and doing the same. My throat was burning because of the alcohol and so were my eyes but there was clearly no link with the shots. I rubbed both my eyes and sighed again but when I turned to Louis, he was waiting.

"Olivia told me she loved me."

Louis blinked a few times and shook his head.

"Okay... and?"

I opened my eyes in surprise. I had expected a different reaction : a loud laughter, a shocked expression, or even a grimace... but indifference? No, I hadn't seen that coming at all.

"And?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows. "She loves me, Louis. She LOVES me."

This time, Louis laughed and shook his head, pushing an other shot on the counter to get it closer to me.

"Because you're gonna tell me you didn't know before she told you?"

He grabbed a shot and brought it to his lips. I watched him as he swallowed the third and the fourth, grimacing and finally turning to look at me. I was not really sure why it was Louis I had called. Probably because he was the first contact I found, or maybe because I knew he was going to tell me things the way he sees them. He was going to tell me what I needed to hear, not what I wanted to hear.

"N-No..."

"Then you're a fooking idiot, Niall."

"Thanks Tommo, that really helps." I let out with sarcasm, raising my nose and drinking my last shots before grabbing my beer again.

"So, you two are dating now?" he asked, taking the cigarette from behind his ear to place it between his lips.

My face twisted in an other grimace and my nose raised up at his words as he took his lighter out of his pockets. I watched as he lighted it up and inhaled a long puff, letting the smoke come out from his nose. I was not even sure it was allowed to smoke in this bar.

"No, of course we're not dating. I don't.. We're not..." It seemed like I couldn't finish my sentence and I sighed a bit too loud.

"Let's face it Niall. The only thing that would change if you two started dating would be holding hands and having sex. It doesn't sound too terrible does it?"

He tapped on his cigarette and the ash fell on his napkin before he licked his lips. I tried to think about having sex with Liv every day and holding her hand... I tried to think about cuddling her at night, dancing with her in the living room, having conversations in the AM all the time. Louis was right, most of those were things we already did.

"But dating means love, it means a steady relationship, it means being faithful and owing your time and heart to someone. it implies a lot more than I can give her. I can't give her that."

"Can't or won't?"

"I hate you, Tommo." I groaned, grabbing my beer again and drinking what was left of it.

"You're scared, that is pretty obvious." Louis said, his lips moving a bit as he shrugged. "But it's time you man up and admit how you feel. Or i'm telling you, mate. You're gonna lose her. And this time, it may be forever."

[absollnk]

Censored and Slightly Refined version of “Three makes a fucking Burrito” I’m using for school (to clarify this is 2k words of agent 24 fluff)

Censor count (excluding minor swears): 8

Three's apartment was divided into four main sections: Bedroom, Bathroom, Living Room, and Kitchen. All of them had their own set of odors, but the Kitchen had the most by far. While the others wouldn't have more than a couple, the Kitchen's got butter, burnt microwave pizza, garbage, burnt cheese, vanilla air freshener, burnt tortilla,  T h e   S i n k…   That's all Three can remember off the top of her head. It's an omnipresent reminder of the fact that she isn't physically capable of actual cooking, or baking, or anything else of the sort. And that's a problem, because she wanted to surprise Eight with a nice, homemade dinner at least once before one of them kicked the bucket. And why not today, she thought. It would only be harder as she got older.

     Homemade. That's it. The thing that Three can't do. Her skillset is limited to cereal, kool-aid, and stuff with instructions on the package. Anything else never happened, and that's a problem because yada yada Eight, yada yada surprise. 

Damnit, now Three's procrastinating.

Three snapped back to reality and was staring right at her tiny electric stove. It had only two panels for pots or whatever they're called, and only one of them has she ever used. It had a huge black burn mark that's been building up over time that Three hides with a pan whenever the landlord visits. It was probably mostly cheese and ramen juice. 

Who was Three kidding. There was no way she could cook anything even remotely fancy for Eight. Not without help from the Bastard™.

Three sat herself on the counter, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and almost called Four before messaging her instead. It would be harder for her to ask questions.

Three: Hey

Four: This is already suspicious

Three: I need your help with something

Four: I'm honored, what do you want grumpy

Three: Im going to ignore that

Three: I need help with cooking something

Four: Hmm

Four: Is it for Eight?

Hmph.

Three: No

Four: I know you aren't cooking for yourself, you sad little swamp monster

Four: And there's no way you're doing it for anyone else

Hmph.

Three: Well played

Three: Help me or I remove a corner of your head with a brick

Four: Fine

Four: I'm only helping because I know you love me :)

Three: I love you like a sister

Three: >10% of the time

Four: :}

Three: Help me

Four: First of all, what do you even want to make for her?

Oh, that's another thing. Three doesn't know what Eight likes. All she had for most of her life was basically nutritious sawdust, so nearly everything up on the surface is fantastic to her. It's hard to tell what she likes more than other things.

Three: No clue, she likes everything

Four: Well, then what does she like more than average?

Four: Gee whiz, Three. Use your head!!! Do you have any more brain cells than your name implies?

Three: Listen

Three: If I knew, I would've told you, twat. It's hard to tell what she likes extra

Three: Wait just had an idea

Three: I should make her something she's never had before

Four: That might be difficult

Four: Didn't Eight gain like ten pounds right after she escaped because Off the Hook took her to so many food joints?

Three: Yeah but

Three: Im like 84% sure she's never had a burrito

Four: Gourmét

Three: Shut the hell up

Three: You know just as well as I do that her first burrito better be a damn good one

Four: True

Four: So a burrito it is?

Three: Yeah

Four: Ok that's not that hard

Four: What do you think she would like in a burrito?

Three: Probably just bean and cheese or something

Three: Maybe a little bit of hot sauce

Four: Do you have those things?

Three: Damnit

Three: Hold on I'm gonna go get those real quick

Four: Are you serious

Three: Yeah give me like ten minutes

Four: Good luck

Three checked the time as she dashed to the door. 6:03 P.M. She had exactly twenty-seven minutes to have a perfect bean n' cheese ready before Eight finished clothes shopping with Off the Hook. 

Three was fully aware of how illegal it was to super jump anywhere in Inkopolis that wasn't currently being used for recreation (turfing/ranked/league). She was also fully aware of how unenforced that law was. Every other day or so, you would get to see some random idiot land on the rooftop of some random building because they're in a rush. It was Three's turn to be that idiot. Again.

Three ran up her apartment complex's stairwell until she reached the door to the roof. It was covered in mechanical nonsense that she didn't recognize but found familiar after being seen so many times. Three was very confident in her super jump accuracy. Working for the NSS is the reason, no doubt. All those launchpads every other minute… Ever since Three chewed up and spat out and on Octavio, she hadn't missed a single jump. Except for the time she was in a panic and almost got flattened to the road.

Three aligned herself with the closest grocery store, shifted into a squid, and took off. She soared through the air and landed right on the roof of a MakoMart. Not the one modified for turfing. 

She dropped off the side and jog-ran around to the front entrance. The automatic doors slid open and Three dashed inside.

It wasn't too busy, being Thursday. It looked to be mostly filled with Jellies and older Inklings. Three was very familiar with the store. She's bought food almost exclusively from here since moving into her apartment 3 years back. She still had almost no idea where anything was because she only buys six or seven things over and over again.

She snatched a basket and walked along the outsides of the aisles, scanning the signs for the things she needed. She knew cheese was at the back with the other refrigerated stuff, she'd get that last.

Three saw "tortillas" on a sign along with other bread and bread-like items above an aisle near the center of the store. Unlike most MakoMarts, this one carried almost exclusively food and a few other essentials. It didn't have to be so disgustingly large like the rest of its locations.

It occurred to Three that she had no knowledge on the difference between the two types of tortillas. She knew that one was good and that the other should be reserved only for the residents of Extra-Hell, but she didn't know which was which. She had no choice. Time was running slim already, it's 6:06. Only 24 minutes left. It's time to call.

Four picked up on the first ring. "Sup?"

"I don't remember which tortillas don't taste like garbage."

"Just get the name brand ones."

Three dropped a pack into her basket and instantly had second thoughts. It was like one of those scenes in cheesy horror movies when Protagonist picks up the object that just happens to be cursed.

"Are you sure? I think they hate me."

"Were they more expensive?"

"Yes."

"Then you're good. Now go get some canned microwaveable beans. You don't have the time or equipment to make anything better." Four hung up.

After Three found all that she needed, she speed-walked back to the front of the store. The place's only downside was the lack of self checkout; talking to a cashier was necessary.

On the contrary, the amount of open lanes was usually more than the amount of customers, so that was a plus.

Three found an empty lane and threw the ingredients onto the conveyor. She started fumbling with her watch before anything even reached the dude about to scan her stuff.

He seemed to notice Three's hurried state and tried to work quickly to match it. Because Three only bought three things (tortillas, bag of shredded cheese, mild hot sauce), the cashier had her total in under 15 seconds.

"927 g, please." Three held out her wrist and he scanned her watch, taking the needed money. "See you again on Friday," he dismissed her. Three gave a thumbs-up and dashed out the automatic doors.

Three ran back around into the alley and super jumped back to the roof of her apartment building from there. She took the stairwell back to her floor and ran to her apartment and kicked the door open. She left it unlocked because:

A. she would only be gone for a short time, and

B. no one would want her stuff anyway.

Three dumped the food onto the counter and called Four. She answered on the fifth ring.

"Hot sauce," she said immediately.

"I'm back," Three replied.

"What.. the hell? You were only gone for, like, 6 minutes."

"Yeah, and Eight gets back in 22."

"Okay, you need to slow down," said Four. "Making a burrito takes less than five minutes and you know her moms are always late. In fact, I'd recommend just waiting for a bit so Eight doesn't have to eat cold burrito."

"I.. fine, you're right. What should I do in the meantime? Should I turn on the stove early? What pan should I- nevermind I only have one. I should rewash it to make sure it's clean..."

"Girl, chill out," said Four. "You have so much time right now. Your pan is clean. Put the cheese in the fridge and wait like twenty minutes before you start doing anything. Then call me back."

Three took a deep breath. "Ok. Talk to you then."

"Now you're getting it. Bye." Four hung up.

Three spent the next twenty minutes mentally preparing for 6:28 p.m. and the events that would follow. It was like preparing for a hard boss fight, except losing wouldn't just mean wasting a few hours. It would mean disappointing her. Gorl. Eight.

And that can't happen.

Finally, Three watched as the timer on her phone hit zero. It was time. She called Four yet again and she answered on the first ring.

"I was expecting you," Four said.

"It's been twenty minutes," Three replied.

"You're an absolute child," Four said. "Turn on the burner."

So that's what it's called. Burner.

"How high?" Three asked.

"It literally doesn't matter. Just remove the tortilla once it gets nice tan spots on both sides."

After a hectic five minutes of preparing a burrito, four more of starting over, and Four's patience being worn thin, Three had something she was satisfied with. She had to admit to herself, it looked good. She wrapped it in tinfoil to preserve the heat.

No more than 24 seconds later did Three hear a knock on the door. "I'm hanging up," Three told Four matter-of-factly.

"Oh, come on!" She complained. "I worked hard to get you here. I'm going to see.. hear the payoff."

"Fine, but shut up."

There was another knock. "Hello? It's Eight."

“And us,” Marina shouted.

"Be there in a sec!" Three turned to her phone. "I said shut up."

"I didn't say anything!"

Three opened the door and Eight was there, flanked by Pearl and Marina. "Hi," Three said.

"Why are you smiling so unnaturally wide?" asked Marina.

"No," responded Three.

"That doesn't even make sense," said Pearl. "What's burning?"

"No I'm not," said Three. Eight snickered.

"You know, you're lucky," said Marina. "Any other time I would do a full-scale search of your apartment, but we have to announce a Splatfest tomorrow."

"She'd also interrogate you detective-style," said Pearl.

"Ah" was all Three could generate as a response. It's not like what they said deserved a better one.

"We'll be fine," Eight told them.

"Well, alright then. See you soon," concluded Marina. 

"Be safe," added Pearl as the two ran off.

"Three?" Eight called after a few seconds. "You there?"

"Yeah, sorry," Three said. "Those two know how to get into my head."

"Everyone does," Eight pointed out.

"Soooooo, I, uh, made you a burrito."

"Ooohh! Is that what's on fire?"

"No! That's just what my stove smells like. Here." Three lead Eight to the section of her counter that functioned as a table. 

"Tada," said Three with minimal enthusiasm.

"Uh, eating metal doesn't really.. work. I've tried."

"Oh, l need to take off the foil… now tada."

"Ooooooohhhh!" Eight oohed. "That's what that is! I've seen them in commercials and stuff but I didn't know what they were called. They looked good."

Eight took a moment to figure out how to hold the burrito and took a bite as Three watched in anticipation. It felt like one of those cooking shows but completely not at all at the same time.

"It's good!" Eight said after swallowing her bite.

"That's all?" asked Three, slightly disappointed.

"Well, it's warm and it tastes good and it's a little spicy, which I really like, but the crust is kinda weird."

"Crust? The tortilla?" Three asked. And then it clicked. She took another from the bag to make sure. She took a bite out of the tortilla and gagged.

"Haha, got ‘em," said Four through Three's phone.

Three threw the phone into the dishwasher, slammed it shut, and started it.

[leelee10898]

Fast cars & Freedom: Sit next to me (8/?) Part 1

Pairing: Logan x Ellie, Colt x Ellie

Summary: Logan and Ellie talk, the test is taken, and someone spills the beans.... literally.

Rating: Mature... sex.. yep...

A/N: So this will be a 2 parter, just way to much to get out in 1 post... enjoy!! If you would like added to the tag list, let me know.. catch up HERE

Song inspiration:

Ellie sat in her office, it was Wednesday and she still hadn't heard from Logan. “knock knock.” a voice came at her door. “Oh hi Mr mann- Eli.” she looked up to see her boss standing in the doorway. “Have you had any luck getting those statements from Mr Rider?” he walked in sitting in front of her desk.

The statements shit! She internally scolded herself. She had been so caught up in her personal life drama she let her work slip, that ended today. “I am meeting with Logan to get them.” A smile spread across Elias's face “Excellent. Keep up the good work.”

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in.  This standoff with Logan ended now. She picked up her phone and rattled off a text.

“I know you are pissed at me, but this is not a personal call. Unless you want to find a new Accountant, we need to meet TODAY.”

A few minutes later her phone vibrated, a response from Logan. “ 1pm. i'll send the address.” a few seconds later another text with an address came through. She looked at the clock. She had about half an hour until the meeting and with traffic and the distance she needed to go now. She switched on her out of office messages and took off to the location Logan sent her.

She pulled up to a large gated house. The gate opened and she drove around front parking. Before she could knock on the door Logan opened it up motioning for her to come in.

“Wow, is this your house?” she marveled at the open floor plan. There wasn't much to it in all honesty.  Some furniture, a large TV. A stocked bar area and some framed car art.

“It's better than a box.” he chuckled. They sat on the couch, Ellie getting right down to the professional side of the business she had to attend. Logan having everything she needed ready.

They sat in an awkward silence before Ellie broke it. “Logan, im sorry. I know you're mad at me.”

“I'm not mad at you Ellie. Well, not anymore. I'm upset. I knew you had feelings for him, I knew it when I caught you two together.”

Ellies mind took her back to the night she knew she was in way to deep.

****

“Were gonna get caught Colt.” Ellie giggled as he pressed his body against hers on the couch.  “Nobody is here, everyone went out on a job. and pop is at a meeting. They'll be gone for hours.” his hand slide up to unbutton her jeans. He lifted himself up pulling the jeans down with him, leaving her in just her bra and panties. His lips came down hard on hers as she completely lost herself in the kiss. Her hands frantically pawing at his fully clothed body. “Less. Of. This.” she pulled on his shirt and breathed out between heated kisses. The sides of his lips tugged up into a sinister smirk, she wanted him as bad as he wanted her.

He pulled his shit over his head, tossing it across the room. She stopped for a minute, running her hands down his hard chest, before he stood pulling every last piece of clothing from his body. Ellie propped herself up on her elbow, her eyes widening at the sight of him, suddenly very aware of what she committed herself to. “See something you like?” she bit her lip nodding. In an instant he was on her again. Peppering playful kisses on her neck, down the valley of her breast. His hand reached around, effortlessly unfastening her bra, tossing it aside. His lips found her pink buds, as he flicked his tongue, capturing one in his mouth, before moving onto the next. He placed feather light kisses down her stomach, settling on her hips. Her heartbeat racing in anticipation as his strong hands grasped her thighs spreading them apart. He lowered his head kissing and sucking the inside of her thighs, “I want to taste you Ellie.” the vibration of his voice sending a pleasant jolt to her core. “Yes.” A low growl escaped him as he settled between her legs.

He flattened his tongue swiping it between her slick folds. He let let out an appreciative moan as his tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves. She sucked in a sharp breath as her head flew back against the cushion. he looked up between his lashes watching her chest rise and fall, faster and faster as her moans became louder and louder.  He slipped a two fingers into her wanting center, slowly pumping them in and out. Her back arching at the welcomed intrusion. Her legs began to shake, he knew she was close, he curled his fingers slightly reaching the perfect spot as she came undone, a slew of curses falling from her lips.

Satisfied he pulled back and grinned at her as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He sat up.  Ellie watching him, though lust blown eyes. She climbed onto his lap, her lips crashing against his in a heated kiss. “I want you colt.” she moaned against his lips. “Mmmm,  lay down Ellie.” she shook her head. “No. I want to be the driver.” she grinded her hips against him. He gripped his stiff length, slowly pumping it as she slowly lowered herself down, gasping out at how he filled her.

She allowed herself to adjust a moment before rocking against him. He threw his head back at the sensation, a deep moan escaping him. He lifted his head,  his lust blown eyes boring into her. “You're my driver forever, remember that. Now drive baby.” He gripped her hips guiding her down onto him faster and faster. She bounced hard against him  as she moaned out. “Fuck, yes. colt.”

The sound of his name falling from her lips drove him wild, he bucked frantically against her. his hand slipping down rubbing tight circles against her aching clit. That was all it took for her to come completely undone. She leaned against his chest, nails digging into his strong shoulders as she screamed his name, forcing his own release.

She laid against his chest for a moment, he tracked lazy circles against her bare skin.  “We should probably get dressed.” she sighed standing up. “A sin if i ever heard one, but you're probably right.” they retrieved their clothes, dressing quickly. Colt pulled her against him “You're incredible Ellie.” She his face down, capturing his lips in a sensual kiss. “Let's go get some food. I'm starving.” Colt grabbed his jacket “Only if I get to drive.” She winked, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him again.

“What the fuck is this?” They heard, pulling apart  quickly. Both turning to see Logan standing there. “Do you have a problem pretty boy?” Colt taunted.

“Yeah. I do.  You're fucking making out with my girl.” Logan snapped, shoving Colt.

Colt coming back bumping his chest. “Last I checked she wasn't anyone's girl.”

“Colt! Logan! Stop this.” Her pleas going unanswered.  Colts smug grin setting Logan off as his fist connected with his jaw. Colt lunged forward tackling logan to the ground as the two rolled around exchanging blows.

“Stop it. Stop it guys. Help.” Ellie screamed, finally toby and ximena came running in, followed by Kaneko. “Stop it at once.” He commanded, his booming voice causing both to freeze instantly. Ellie took off running both scrambling to run after her. She climbed up the ladder onto the roof. How did things get so complicated.

********

“Ellie? Ellie?” Logan called out, pulling her back to the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking about something.” she told him about the night of prom, how they were freaked out about the plan and if things went south. How they travelled to vegas on a whim and getting caught up in all the what ifs, they married. She had thought Colt had filed for an annulment after they had a blow up and he left. Only to find out he never did. Logan sat there in silence,  absorbing all of the information.

“Well, I kinda get why you didn't say anything, but. I wish I didn't hear it from Colt.” he sighed.

“I know, im sorry Logan. But as a peace offering, my dad and I are throwing a 4th of July bbq. If you don't have plans we would love for you to come.” Logan smiled as they stood up walking towards the door. “I think I can manage that.” he pulled her in for a hug, she rested her head against his chest, breathing in his scent. “Are we good?” he pulled gently stroked her hair, “were good.”

That Friday the three of them, with Luca walked into the lab. Ellie check in, grabbing clipboards for all to fill out their information. Luca sat in the chair, the smell of the sterile environment making her nervous. “You ok Luca?” Logan lowered his head “I don't like Doctors offices, they give needles.” Her voice a whisper.  “Its ok, you're not going to get a needle.” he gently squeezed her little hand. “You promise?” “I promise. If you want, I will hold your hand if you get scared, ok?” Luca nodded her head, squeezing logans hand.

They waited a few minutes before being ushered into the back. Colt went first, followed by Luca. She hesitated getting in the seat. “Uncle Logie, fan you hold my hand?” Logan smiled at her taking her tiny hand in his large one. She paused a moment turning to Colt. “Colt, can you hold me please?” Ellie swore she felt her heart explode in that moment, as colt sat down in the seat, his arms wrapped around her, Luca leaned back against him while Logan held onto her hand.

The tech informed them the results could take up to 6 weeks as the lab was backed up.

The four of them grabbed dinner and went school shopping with Luca. Colt and Logan refusing to let Ellie pay for a thing.

Ellie spent the next week preparing for the 4th of July cookout. Everyone was coming, she was excited for Luca to meet the old crew. Riya and Darius showed up first. Darius setting up the pack n play in the backyard for Marcus. Frank had been on the grill all morning while Ellie worked on the food inside.  The doorbell rang and Frank came barreling through the house. “I got it. I got it.”

He answered the door and a petite brunette stood there. Frank encouraged the woman inside, walking up to Ellie. Ellie looked at the woman, something about her looked awful familiar. “Ellie, I want you to meet my girlfriend Sally. Sally this is my daughter Ellie.”

“Elliez it is so good to finally meet you.  You're dad talks about you so much.” Ellie giggled “I hope not to much.  It's really nice to meet you Sally.” she continued to stare at the woman, swearing she knew her from somewhere.  “Sally, I don't mean to stare but, Have we met before? I swear you look so familiar.”

“I don't think so hun, not unless you've been to lucky's diner in San Francisco.” Ellie shook her head “Nope, can't say I have. But anyway, come on out. Dads finishing up on the grill, the rest of the guest will be here soon.”

The doorbell rang and in walked Ximena, Toby and Colt. “Colt!” Luca came running into his arms, colt picking her up giving her a hug “Hey squirt.” he sat her down “Grampy got me a pool, come see it.” She grabbed his hand leading him through the house.  “Hey Toby, Hey X.” she noticed toby shifting on both feet. “Go ahead, you can see the pool too.” “thanks ellie.” Ximena shook her head handing her a tray of pretzel salad. “You know he has done nothing but talk about Luca non stop.”

“He has text me and called daily as well.” Ellie watched Luca splash colt, a smile playing on her lips. “How's logan been with it?”

“The same as Colt. She's quite taken with the both of them.” Ximena gave her an understanding squeeze. Logan, Mona and Stacie were the last to arrive. Ellie looked at the two “Did you guys come together?” Logan shook his head. “No, I pulled up and Mona did too, Stacie was walking to the door.”

Logan and colt stayed inside helping frank gather all the food. Ellie sat With Riya on one of the picnic tables. She leaned in close, dropping her voice so only she could hear. “Hey, do you think Darnell could lend me his services, cheap?” Riya looked at her confused “ohh you mean for the custody stuff. I was wondering what you needed a lawyer for.”

“No, I need to file for divorce.” Riya chuckled thinking she was joking,  the serious look on her face told her otherwise. “You're serious? When did you get married? Who did you marry?”

Ellie shushed her “Keep it down. 6 years ago. Colt and i got married in Vegas.” Riyas eyes went wide.

“You Married COLT in vegas?” She shouted, silencing the entire party. “What?” Her dad stood on the deck dropping an entire tin pan of coleslaw. Logan and Colt stood frozen behind him.

Sally came running up “Frank are you ok?” Logans eyes widened, he dropped the tin pan of baked beans onto the deck as well

“Mom?”

Tag: @kennaxval @hopefulmoonobject @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @indiacater @blackcatkita @darley1101

ROD

@daniv2278 @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @going-down-downtown @mercyparkcrew @emichelle @annekebbphotography @powdesiree0816 @walkerismychoice @yesivefallenpreytothechoicestrap @zaira-oh-zaira @sweetest-marbear @zaffrenotes @simsvetements @zaffrenotes @professorortegasstudent @akrenich @ifyouseekheart @client-327 @choicelogansbitch @choicesarehard @paisleylovergirl @itskismetbb @itsmarleen @rhischoicesfanfics @distinguishedsaladoperawinner @iplaydrake @coffeebeandragon @jasidu2

[one-of-us-must-be-crazy]

the prequel you almost got

With Stage One I wrote a mini-long-fic just to explain the groundwork of their relationship for Lucky Star by just making the events of the canon story take place over a longer amount of time but there was a scrapped idea that I had:

When the two meet in game, it’s not the first time they’ve been introduced.

It’s the seventh.

She was given a company android to run maintenance on as part of her interview process with WY, and there’s something off about him. He’s friendly. He asks her what she’s doing and why, and how she ended up working for WY and you know what? He has just little enough of a perosnality that she lets it all out. Her mother, her shit father, her lack of funds, her hating herself for crawling back to the company that acted like it owned her when really it just owed her.

“They aren’t the best people to be property of,” he says with a half smile.

“Are there any good ones?”

“If you ever need anything, feel free to put it in as a request with me.”

“You would do that? Don’t they have like...teams of you?”

“Well--you don’t have to ask for me specifically, but--a lot of humans have favorite synthetics to work with, it helps ease the uncanny valley if they’re dealing with the same person, for lack of a better word, every time they’re in.”

“I might do that then,”

They meet once about her case, and he makes the mistake of telling his human superior that he’s upset by it.

That he’s feeling about it.

Feeling.

The next time Amanda comes back, a bit more hopeful than she’s been for a while, he doesn’t even remember her, just a few details about her case. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

Ripley doesn’t tell him what happened, or the next two times it happens.

After the third time it happens, three times she’s watched his eyes light up with something that could even be affection alongside human care, she suggests they discuss the case in a more casual setting. WY hears “public setting where she’s less likely to make a scene” and approves the request.

And her next four requests. Cafes, a couple diners, the restuarant over looking the tourist docks.....A bar where the music is so loud the next couple over can’t hear them.

“You seem so real,” he tells her, taking the cap off her beer with one hand, a trick show of strength that makes her grin.

“Because I am?” she clicks her bottle to his when he passes it to her.

“No...it’s like you’re in my coding--I’m sorry, it’s... Almost like you’re my operator or you wrote my programming. I don’t think I have a better metaphor for it. I feel like I know you, more than I actually do.”

“You get more human every time we meet.” she smiles.

“What does that mean?”

It’s that fourth time that they’ve met, the longest it’s lasted that she actually tells him, but not for any real reason other than the fact that it’s never gotten this far and whatever ‘it��� is isn’t something she wants to chance at not getting back.

On one hand he doesn’t want to believe her, on the other, well...he’s seen it happen to his peers, seen their vacant eyes and confused faces when he tries to remind them of their brief and lifeless small talk. He’s so much more lifelike than the others and he finally admits that to himself, and Ripley--Amanda--has put forth this effort so many times. She even has screen shots of emails that WY has long since hidden. Conversations that they’ve had, all terse and businesslike but speaking of a familiarity below the ‘with all due respect.’

Christopher Samuels leans over to her, pauses; if the proximity bothered her she had room to lean back, and he continues on and instead of talking at her ear so she could hear him over the guitar from the live band, he kisses her on the mouth, and when she doesn’t pull away from him, he puts his hand on the side of her face, and the other around her back, holding her close to him until she holds him back. They’re just another couple making out to the music.

Ten hours later, he kisses her on the hand before getting out of her bed, finds his clothes, and finds his way around her kitchenette enough to find something food-related. Humans eat first thing in the morning right? 

“That was....a lot.” Amanda says before anything else when she slumps across the room to collapse into a chair.

“At some point last night you said I should stay.”

“I know I did,” 

“I meant you said I should stay...for good. Because if they find out why I was away last night I’m facing much worse than a reformatting.”

“They’ll figure out where you are.”

“I can wander. Hide sometimes if needed.”

“Okay. Alright. You don’t have to stay with me, I know a few guys that could help with getting you IDs, and--”

“Thank you... For now though, I think you should have something to eat, I don’t remember you having anything last night.”

“You’re good.” she smiles, crosses the tiny apartment room to hug him tightly, “And you’re welcome to turn that into a two night stand if you want.”

“I might have to do that.”

It’s two weeks of wearing civilian clothing with Amanda Ripley, two weeks of seeing her in settings other than professional, seeing her relaxed, seeing her happy. Two weeks of nights spent testing the limits of his protocols, and stroking her hair as she falls asleep, her arms tight around him.

A jacket he bought for himself with money he might have stolen/withdrawn from a company account is now draped around her shoulders on a walk home, arms linked, when some idiots think he’s a synthetic and call her out on it.

“Does she look artificial to you boys?” he says, accent morphed into that of an actor from the old movie they just saw.

“I meant you, asshole.”

“Fuck off,” Amanda interjects before a fight gets started. It’s not the first time someone’s recognized him. Glasses, sun glasses, the leather jacket, skipping a few days of shaving, none of it has made him look different enough. He knows they’re going to get caught, and he knows she’ll be in trouble when they do.

If he turns himself in though, the humiliation that she’ll face knowing that some sick creeps at WY now know what every part of her body and heart look like? Not worth it. 

“Amanda?” he wakes her late that night,

“Yeah?”

“I’m going out for a walk. Feeling a little overheated.”

“mmm sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he kisses her softly, then pulls her up to sitting next to him 

“What?”

“Just saying goodbye,” he kisses her tenderly, holds her close.

“Are you okay?”

“I am, I promise.” she doesn’t seem satisfied with his answer “If I ever forget again--if something ever happens... Please tell me again?”

“Of course.”

“No matter how much I do or don’t believe you, how many times it happens, keep reminding me?”

“You’re freaking me out, Chris...”

“Amanda?”

“Okay, fine, I promise.”

“Thank you. Because I don’t know if I can or not, but I do feel compelled to say I love you.”

“It’s okay, I don’t know if I love you or not either, but I feel ‘compelled’ to say it back to you.” she kisses him again, afraid she knows what he’s about to do.

“I’ll be right back,” 

“Wait,”

“Yes?”

“You’re getting more human. I don’t think you’ve lied to me yet.”

“I’m not--”

“I love you. Be careful.”

“I will.”

He does a base reformat to himself, and then goes back to the offices. 

Ripley doesn’t sleep for the week, and nearly has a heart attack when WY rings her to come back.

“Is the synthetic I usually work with back yet?”

“No.”

“I want to talk to that one.”

They show her a fake, she catches it after a few minutes, and tells the supervisor that there must be a mistake, and she’s then shown another one.

It’s him, she’s sure of it, but she’s not going to tell him either, not yet. Maybe not ever. Still, whatever is there shows up again and again, and finally she’s done. She’s ready to move on, to hope that he gets away some day, but maybe it’ll be easier since she’s the reason they always seem to catch him on the verge of self awareness, when he shows up to her work with a golden ticket. 

also I realized today that there’s now room for a joke about “what do u mean you knew I give off electric shocks when im....” “Becuase we’ve done this like twelve  times before.” “wait what.”

a;sdlkfjadsfkj just that whole idea of it doesn’t matter how/when/why they’re gonna keep finding each other and he’s going to be increasingly head over heels every time 

[avidfanficwriter]

Failed Repetition (Chapter 3)

Characters: Chris Evans X OFC!

Summary: For as long as Chris can remember, he’s wanted to get married. He has wanted the white picket fence, beautiful wife on his arm and a house full of kids unlike his counterpart who isn’t thrilled with the prospect of marriage.

Rating: T

Warnings: Cursing.Mention of sexual acts/Situations.

Tags:  wolflhards. @tacohead13

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4.

Take care, Reagan.

Take care, Reagan.

The note was ended as if they hadn't spent the last six years together, like they hadn't lived together for four years or the 'I love yous' shouted during nights of passion were meaningless.

The note closes as if they were strangers, two random people who accidently bumped into one another on the sidewalk. Distant, Cold and longing to get away from one another. This wasn't how two people in love parted.

Was this what he deserved? A note as a goodbye--In place of a conversation? No explanation. No speech. Just a discarded piece of paper left on the counter and an insensitive 'Take care.'

Twenty minutes after reading the note, it finally starts to sink in, Chris calls Reagan and leaves her a long rambling voicemail that says nothing more than, "I love you, please come back." in fifteen different ways. He promises he'll stop bring marriage up, that it's not even that important to him if it costs him her.  They should talk in person, he says the first thing that comes to his mind in the voicemail and it mimics someone whose entirely lost, which he is. She's gone and he's to blame.

The pain hasn't set in yet, right now it's just pure panic.

He wanders around the house, searching for anything to keep his mind occupied while he waits for her to call back. Two hours pass and he sends her a text message:

"Reagan I love you Im sorry just come home so we can talk about this."

No response.

The house feels like it's haunted with memories of Reagan, every space inside the home reminds him of her. The counter where she accidently spilled her tea onto one of his scripts, they spent three hours blowing drying the pages so they were legible. The couch in the living room that looked amazing in the store but they soon discovered looked terrible after being brought into their home. The hole in the wall from when they put the paintings up, Chris slipped and in order to avoid hitting Reagan with the hammer he slammed it into the wall creating a huge hole; it became a great conversation starter. If it's not the memories torturing him, it's his mind tricking him into believing she's home.

Chris starts to beat himself up, if he would have just told her he was awake when she came home this wouldn't have happened. If he wasn't stubborn for just one moment of his life, he wouldn't have lost the best thing to ever happen to him. Even if he would have joined her in the guest room or carried her into their bedroom, this could have played out differently. They could have spoken, he could have prevented her from leaving. He would be exiled to the couch but at least she would've been home.

By noon, Chris had resorted to drinking in order to prevent himself from calling Reagan, at first it seemed like a good idea, he'd get drunk enough to pass out and by tomorrow she would be home. His plan was flawed, instead of passing out, he wound up calling Reagan again.

"I miss you." He whispers into the phone, his body slack and head spinning. "I do. I miss all of you, your tiny smirk when I'd say something smart, the curl in your hair you always fought to get out of your eyes; the way you bit your lip when you read." He exhales deeply, closing his eyes and holding the phone tighter to his ear. "I miss how you sound when I'm buried inside of you, those fucking pretty little sounds you make. I miss feeling your thighs shake around my head while you pull my hair as you beg for more."

Sober Chris had boundaries. Drunk Chris didn't care. "The way you taste, how you linger on my tongue hours after we're done and all I want to do when I come home is bury my head between your thighs again. Fuck, Rea..." He groans, palming his erection through his sweatpants. "I love the way your lips feel against mine, how your heart rate increases when I kiss along your collarbone. How your chest rises as I kiss down your body like you're on full display for me. I love that... I love you, Reagan."

Phone call number two, is less sexual but not at all any better.

"Do you remember when we first started dating?" He asks, glancing at the photos of them along the wall. "You told me you only dated guys that took relationships series, I told you I was one of them and you made this big schedule of things for us to do for me to prove my worth? And one of them was cooking? You made this fucking amazing meal, that stuffed bell peppers stuff and a homemade cheesecake and when it came my turn It was so bad."

Chris lets out a small chuckle over the memory. "I tried to make some chicken recipe I found online but I burned it. The smoke detectors were going off, the house smelled like smoke and then you showed up and I thought you were going to run. I could see it, this look of fear on your face." Chris shakes his head, rubbing at his eyebrow. "I ended up making eggs and we had to eat them outside because of the smell. Then you made that pie for thanksgiving to take over to my mom's and I burned that too. All I had to do was take it out of the oven while you were in the shower but I forgot. We should do that again, Rea."

Chris closes his eyes. "My mother would kill me but I always loved your pies more. Blueberry was my favorite." He clears his throat. "Do you remember that blueberry one we made for my nieces fundraiser and somehow we ended up eating it on the floor in the kitchen? My sister was so mad at us."

Phone called number three is mess. Chris doesn't know what he's saying anymore or what he's even trying to get at. Words are just coming out.

"Reagan" He starts off, holding back a sob. "I walked into the bathroom earlier and your soap was gone. I started crying... over soap. Soap!" He sniffles and lets out a small laugh. "I spent twenty minutes just sobbing in the restroom. I was fine when I saw you took some clothes but that soap. That stupid grapefruit soap you took and it broke me." Chris starts chuckling as tears pile in his eyes. "I didn't cry over the note you left, I was shocked but that goddamn empty shelf in the shower broke me." He voices slowly trails off into a whisper.

Chris wipes a tear that falls from his eye, "You're not coming back tomorrow are you?" He questions with a deep sigh.  "I just...I just wanna hear your voice, just pick up the phone, baby. God, Reagan." He pleads. "if you just give me a second to explain...."

"If you’re satisfied with your message, press 1. If you’re not and want to re-record, press 2. If you want to delete and start over, press 3." The voicemail recording interrupts him.

Chris growls, "Fuck!" he shouts throwing the phone across the room.

There's pain ripping through his chest as the hours pass, all he wants is for her to call him back or magically walk through the front door. He wants her to yell at him, call him an idiot, kick him out of the house that would hurt far less than what she's doing now. If they were arguing or fighting and she slammed the bedroom door on him it wouldn't hurt like this was. This, Reagan leaving with her things, refusing to answer his calls was torture. It felt like his heart was being pulled out of his body as if the arteries were being stretched until they tore.

He's done drinking, it's not helping, it's only worsening his heartache. The liquid seems to only intensify his emotions, everything makes him cry. The sight of a book she left, feels like a stab to the chest. Her coffee cup in the cabinet, makes him hold his chest and collapse to the ground. The smell of her perfume on the sheets in the guest bedroom makes him ill.

The second day isn't any easier, there's still no phone call from Reagan, or text message; or even an email. He drinks a cup of coffee and stares at the harrowing note that he hasn't been able to move from the counter. It's been reread multiple times as if he's searching for something else, a hidden meaning behind one of the words; or the possibility he's misunderstood it. There's nothing new, no matter how many times he reads it, it's just more heartache.

With his head on straight and no alcohol in his system, he calls her one more time.

The phone goes to voicemail and his stomach drops. There was a tiny part of him that expected her to answer this time. It's been twenty-four hours since he's seen her and even longer since he's spoken to her.

"Reagan," He starts out, calmly. "Baby," he tries to focus on his breathing, slow and deep breathes so he doesn't lose sight of what he's doing here. He wants Reagan to come home. That's his goal, to get his girl to come back home. "I... fuck." With a loud groan, he drops the phone from his ear and rubs his face. He doesn't know what to say or how to began. He's left her countless messages that got him nowhere, if any of them counted this was the one.. "I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry. Just please come home, we can talk about this." He's bargaining, hoping she hears the sincerity in his voice before realizing his statement could be taken the wrong way. "No, I mean, we don't have anything to talk about. Okay? I fucked up, you're right. I shouldn't be forcing you to do what I want, I should've just shut up. I want to get married but if I have to choose between you or that, I choose you. I want you. I want you as my girl, my girlfriend, my friend, lover. Whatever we want to call it, I'm for. I can't lose you." He's rambling. "I love you, please just come home."

Three hours pass and the realization she may never come back home finally gets to him, he panics in the middle of making something to eat. It's a simple task but he caught sight of the Captain America: The First Avengers script Reagan had framed for him and it hit him like a punch to the gut.

His heart beat like a jackhammer, his mind is racing and he's struggling to breathe.

His fingers are tingling and the room is getting dangerously hot.

His body hurts and he's on the verge of passing out.

He can hear his heartbeat and feel it in his eardrums.

A panic attack.

Chris digs his cell phone out of his pocket and calls Reagan.

"Answer... Answer, Reagan. Please."

"This is Reagan, leave a message." Voicemail again.

He groans, hanging up the phone and grabs at his chest. The tips of his fingers are on fire, burning his skin, adding to the pain. Then he calls her again and again. Listening to her voice on her voicemail starts to calm him, his heart rate gets under control, the pressure on his lungs starts to dissipate. He can focus.

On the last phone call, he leaves one simple message. "Reagan, I'm so fucking sorry."

The next phone call he makes is wrong, it's not his place but if anyone knows how to get ahold of Reagan it would be her mother. She may have neglected to tell him where she was going but she would always tell her mother.

"Chris, she told me not to talk to you." Her mother says quickly after answering the phone.

He exhales deeply. "I just need to talk to her. She left in the middle of the night and she wont answer her phone."

"She's upset, Chris."

"I know!" He grabs his hair and groans. "I took it to far, I fucked up but I woke up and she was gone. Her stuff is gone and I'm suppose to just be okay with that?" He questions. "I don't get a chance to apologize or an opportunity to talk? I don't get to fight for her? She decides one night that we're done and that's it? I don't get told she doesn't want to be with me or that she doesnt love me to my face?"

Reagan's mother sighs. "Chris, honey..."

"We been together for six years, Margaret... six years. I love her. She's the last thing I think about before going to bed and the first thing I think about when I wake up. I can't... This can't end this way."

Chris knocks on the door, quietly at first before building up the courage to knock harder. The lock clicks causing his heart to race then the door slowly opens and there she is. Their eyes meet and she looks away, glancing at the ground with a sigh. "My mother?" She asks.

"Your mother." Chris says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

[hail-langdvn]

3:24 A.M.

Summary: There’s something about singing at the top of your lungs while baking in the middle of the night

Warnings: old!michael, fem!reader, maybe like one “fuck” lmfao, fluff!, timeline is definitely off but idcidc

Word Count: 1.1k

note: im the biggest sucker for some michael fluff  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Music always felt more magical at 3 o’clock in the morning, but it feel even better with Michael by her side with it was pouring outside. Normally they’d sleep before midnight, which in bed would be just as relaxing and comforting. Then again, they were in bed by then and Michael was asleep, however (Y/N) was restless and had the urge to bake cookies. So, she jabbed her elbow into his abdomen, earning a tired groan of pain. Of course, it wasn’t something completely out of the blue. In the entirety of their relationship, (Y/N) suffered from sleep issues, nothing too crazy or diagnosed, she just preferred being awake at ungodly hours and threw her schedule off every time Michael finally regulates it. Nevertheless, Michael followed her down the stairs, through the study, into their kitchen.

(Y/N) turned on the radio and set it to her favorite station. To Michael it was just some oldies station that played the same corny songs all the time, but he learned to appreciate them. She would always say how the put her at ease and soothed her soul from relentless badgering and for that, Michael grew grateful.

“Don’t worry, honey bear,” she leans over the island, kissing Michael’s forehead. He was clearly exhausted and desperately needed to get some shut-eye. “When our family gets bigger, I won’t bother you to stay up with me. I’ll just bother the kids.”

Michael shook his head and smiled. His love could never bother him, despite the hours she tended to wake him up and urge him to go downstairs with her to satisfy her craving for her sweets at four in the morning. “You get used to it after a while, bunny.” He replied, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.

Afterward, his (still very weary) eyes watched her swift movements as she gathered all the ingredients for her cookies. That’s what he loved about her    she hated to use store bought cookie dough. (Y/N) thought it didn’t capture the true essence of freshly baked cookies. Michael couldn’t taste the differences, but for (Y/N)    he could.

“Can you get the butter and preheat the oven for me, bubby?” He hums a yes, grabbing the stick butter and not the container. Michael only remembered from the time she spent half an hour emphasizing the difference and how difficult it would be to try and measure how much butter to use in her cookies    even if she said that you have to feel it to know how much to use.

Patiently, Michael waited for her to be done with dough itself. Usually they rolled the dough into balls together while he listened to her hum along to the beat of the song that broadcasted at the moment. Sometime during that, Michael would eat some cookie dough, earning a slap on the hand from (Y/N).

“Michael! It has raw eggs in it.” She would scold, not wanting him to get an upset stomach.

“(Y/N), I am a grown man. Literally the Antichrist.” Michael would remind her, but she wouldn’t listen. She would still go on with her scolding.

“I don’t care if you were Satan himself, salmonella sucks and who’s going to be taking care of you? Me.” He opened his mouth to throw another argument, but of course the missus had some more to say. “And, even if the chance are slim, there wouldn’t be any if you just listen.”

Amusement played on his lips. “You care too much about the little things, bunny.”

“If we focus too much on the big things, who else would focus on ‘em?” Her question rhetorical.

(Y/N) slides the tray full of cookie dough into the oven and sets the timer. It was then when she realized “Sweet Caroline,” by Neil Diamond filled her kitchen. By nature, she swayed her hips to the melody.

“Was in the spring,” she sang, doing a clumsy twirl. Her fuzzy socks made it harder to keep balance on the slippery floor, but it didn’t stop her. “Then spring became a summer.” During the next line, she slides into Michael who watched the whole scene with a gleam in his eyes. He heard the song probably a million times and only barely knew the chorus, but that was because of (Y/N) who freaked when they sat in her car one late night on the way home from the grocery store for a late night run.

“Michael, how do you not know the lyrics to Sweet Caroline?” So much shock filled her voice. It was automatic american bonding culture to know that song, literally. It was how she met her best friend, Nate.

“I just don’t, doll.” He shrugged so nonchalantly. It drove her mad!

“Guess what we’re learning all tonight, just for the next spontaneous time this song plays?”

And those plans didn’t falter. It was two years go when (Y/N) and him stayed up all night looping the song until he at least had the chorus, also the beginning of their relationship. Michael felt like his head was going to pop that night, but if it meant so much to her, then why not learn it to satisfy her odd pet peeve of him not knowing it?

“Hands!” (Y/N) sings, grabbing ahold of her smirking boyfriend. “Touching- Michael c’mon!” She goofily shakes the man’s arms, who still stood there limp. He just wanted to watch her enjoy the song for the five-hundredth time. Was that such a crime.

Nevertheless, she carried on as if she didn’t miss a beat. “Reaching out, touching me, touching you!” (Y/N) dragged out the ‘you’ just like how the song was supposed to be sung. In almost an instant, Michael’s whole insouciant demeanor changed and he thought    Why the fuck not?

“Sweet Caroline!” They sang in unison, swaying around the white tiled-floor. “Ba! Baa! Baaa!” Michael could only find a feeling like this with (Y/N). Only she could make him look so foolish in the middle of their kitchen at 3:24 A.M. without a care in the world.

“Good times never seems so-” In the midst of their dancing, (Y/N)’s fuzzy socks failed her and she falls to the floor, but not without Michael tumbling with her.

“Ow.” She moans with her infectious laugh, rolling over on to Michael, who was laughing himself.

(Y/N) straddled him, laughing into his neck. Moments like these made Michael’s heart full. How fortunate was he to have someone so patient and caring, but at the same time so goofy and clumsy? For a minute, they felt like a normal couple who wasn’t planning the apocalypse. And if every night could be this relaxing and without the weight of his father’s will, Michael would swap it out in a heartbeat.

[dykedteach]

okay here we go, episode 2 second watch

(I think this is my longest liveblog I’ve done, but then again I feel like this is the most emotional a tv episode has made me since I finished Black Sails so like?)

so uhhh they’re really gonna hide all the valuable people in the crypts huh, they’re really following through on that

“women and children first” to DIE??? I M EAN

i’ve been thinking about this non stop since i first watched the ep and my growing dread is nigh unstoppable, if i had any doubts that the winterfell dead might rise, their whole repeated thing of “everyone will be safe down there” shot them straight down

i’m lowkey annoyed we missed out on what would have been an incredibly awkward introduction scene between jaime and literally everyone, but i’m glad his “trial” didn’t drag out

i want sam’s opinion on dany’s bloodthirst vis a vis avenging her father BC LIKE????

“i’d do it all again” honey be QUIET 

L O Y A L T  Y 

loyalty

l      o   yal     t e  a

lmao daenerys’ look of anger and disgust at brienne hopping to jaime’s defense alone makes me want her dead tbh

sansa being a better strategist, ruler, negotiator, and peacekeeper than both of her parents combined, is my weakness tbh

also He R  aRmOuR drESs !!!!! what a LOOK! 

d: “what does the warden of the north say about it?” j: [has dissociated solidly through the past six hours, is only now just realising it’s daylight and he’s in the great hall] uhhhhhhhhhhhh cool i guess?

tyrion finally breathing after daenerys lets jaime live is ridiculously endearing, i love the brothers’ relationship so much

baeworm death-glaring jaime is also ridiculously endearing tbh

i dig the gendarya love theme, i do i do i do

everyone keeps saying that the fact they had sex means one of them will die next ep but honestly? out of all the non jonerys pairings (missandei/greyworm, sam/gilly, jaime/brienne) i think they’re most likely to live through the battle, and the fact they have their own theme makes me doubt as well that they’ll end next episode

that poor guy who got in the way of arya and gendry’s dragonglass throwing foreplay, so close yikes

i can’t believe that out of everyone who bran has been weird to, jaime was the one to take his weird shit best

“how do you know there is an afterwards?”           sd;kjlas

djkasljdak;lsd

                        asjd;lsakdla;sd

        bran

                               bran stop

   please be fuckin w us bran

this brotherly love scene is great and it hurts me to think it might be their last solo scene

although the way they keep talking about how sure they are they’ll die....idk? and with bronn on the way with his crossbow? to have both, or either, die at winterfell with the battle seems a waste. plus, one of them needs to be the valonqar so?

i’d be satisfied seeing a dead tyrion rip cersei apart though, i’ll admit that

JAIME GAZING AT BRIENNE INSTEAD OF LISTENING TO HIS BROTHER

pod has come so far in his fighting i love him so much i love brienne’s proud mama expression hes. he’s 100% going to die. for sure. 

“we have never had a conversation that’s lasted this long without you insulting me, not once” KJASDKLASJDKALSJDALKSD 

“i came to winterfell because...” Y OU LOVE HER DUMBASS

i still ship jorah with dany more than jon, fight me

i love the confirmation that all the bad blood between them is under the bridge, i love that he convinced her to make peace with tyrion and sansa, i love that he’s made peace with tyrion taking up his position, made peace with his house, with his relationship with his father...........

he’s absolutely toast and i hate it.

he’s going to die for dany with one last “khaleesi” and it’s going to break my heart

“we have other things in common” yeah you both have jon in your immediate family trees lmao

i’m confused by the “someone taller” comment, who’s she talking about? everyone else hurt her or betrayed her at some point. is it barristan? is it baeworm? it should be baeworm

ok so. i don’t need or want sansa to end up with anyone. 

that said

if it had to be a man

my heart almost jumped out of my chest when she and theon hugged, i didn’t expect her to get this emotional at all, shit i didn’t expect MYSELF to get this emotional

HER TEARS

THEY BOTH NEED HUGS IM GLAD THEY GET HUGS

soup dad can’t die i forbid it

let’s talk about gilly for a second, how far she’s come, from a scared abused girl to a strong, caring, confident woman and mother, i’m so emotional please protect her

DAVOS ADOPTING CHILDREN LEFT RIGHT AND CENTRE

THE SHIREEN THEME PLAYING OVER THAT BIT IM ASJDKASDJ

i’m super surprised edd and beric survived the hearth, i thought there would be more of a fight there

LITTLE CROW

i know people crack ship them, but like, they’d almost be better suited than jon and daenerys

while i adore the idea of theon making amends for taking winterfell from bran by defending winterfell and protecting bran from the night king, i know in my heart that all it’s going to result in is a very dead theon (and probably a dead bran)

why do i feel like while well intentioned, having dragons near the godswood is.....a mistake

i’d love for bran and tyrion to both survive, i’d love to see them talk more as equals because they’re so similar intellectually (i know they had scenes when bran was a kid, but that doesn’t count)

missandei and greyworm are too good and pure for this earth, i want them to leave, i want them to go to naath and never come back, i want them to find a little house by the water and eat fruits and find missandei’s family and take in some stray children, some street cats to lay lazily on the stones of their porch, maybe missandei teaches the children of their village every morning under the rising sun, maybe greyworm becomes a tradesman, makes shoes or ale or binds books for the locals, they grow old and content together and the children they took into their home, now grown adults with their own children, bury them side by side underneath carved stones, i want them more than almost anyone to have a happy ever after because if anyone deserves it it’s those two

but there are dreams that cannot be

and greyworm is almost certain to die next episode

maybe missandei too, but i’m not sure

until then, i will live in my fantasy.

i love my nights watch boys, i love that they talk about grenn and pyp, i miss those lads

sam being the playful, banter-full, confident guy he is, i love him so much i’m so happy for him he better fucking survive (and maybe become lord of horn hill who knows? he has a wife and a son so ? 

honestly the idea of tywin knowing jaime and tyrion are defending winterfell is so wonderful

ha ha h ah ah  ah h a i love tyrion and jaime so much that i. i forget. temporarily. about tyrion’s first wife

brienne stopping pod from drinking and then tyrion just.......fuckin pouring a large one out for the lad

please, let him drink, it’ll be his last

davos is such an old man i love him

jaime looking between brienne and tormund with amusement is the best thing ever

davos’ concern over ten year old tormund hopping into bed with a giant is incredible. dad mode. always on dad mode.

hound’s not gonna die yet, not until cleganebowl, he’s safe next ep for sure. so he’s allowed to be a grumpy old git for a bit

beric is straight up gonna die tho

“might as well be at a bloody wedding” g o d i dont like that foreshadowing

beric is so cheery and amicable im gonna miss him

i’m so glad that they gave arya agency, and a sweet, un-sexploited, in-character sex scene, there’s so few really good sex scenes in this show and i’m glad she got one of them

(no matter how long i spent the first time around watching through my fingers and cringing, i KNOW she’s an adult and maisie is an adult but god she’s still such a kid in my eyes)

as soon as the gloves started coming off i screamed

he is a sweet sweet boy and i wouldn’t want my murdering badass fave to be with anyone else

i appreciate them showing her scars as part of it, i can’t quite put my finger on why but it was nice to see that

i feel like once i get over the weirdness of like, “hey that’s arya”, it’s probably one of the hotter sex scenes in the series? just for passion and use of consent and stuff

i can’t even begin to elaborate on how perfect brienne’s scene is

it’s immediately one of my favourite scenes in the whole show, i honestly don’t have the words

it’s better than any marriage vows that have been taken in the whole series, and to see brienne proud and happy is just...incredible.

the mormont scene i wanted!!!

this is such a touching scene between two of my faves, i want jorah and sam to be pals forever but i know its just....not happening

the fact that sam starts in the crypt but i know he ends up on the battlefield is....concerning to say the least

god. that song. that song is everything

im too in my feelings to care about jonerys, sorry

i can genuinely believe that jon loves her, and doesn’t care about the iron throne or any titles really for that matter. but the other way around? i’m not so sure.

ok so my survival list: dany, jon, sansa, tyrion

everyone else is at risk please pray for me

oh also i bought the download of Jenny and already cried to it three times this evening, so the credits are making it a round four