essential-oil-manufacturer

[thatsitso]

So I finished orv

[lightseoul]

cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), some more pining, cussing (bkg-typical), mentions of food, we're finally meeting the bakugous!, angst (if you look closely)

words. 4.8k (see why i had to split it...)

a/n. we have one more chapter to go, y'all! i'd love to hear your thoughts about the series so far, as well as how you think it's gonna end <3

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 9

It doesn’t elude you that the air entering your nostrils and lungs through the shaky inhale you take is nothing short of crisp.

It’s early evening in the suburbs where Bakugou’s parents live just in the peripheries of Musutafu. The sunset that graced you through the man’s car windows on the way over was now nowhere to be seen, having been replaced by the sight of the waning gibbous with a sprinkle of stars dotting the night sky.

Something you rarely see in the city, you think to yourself.

Your head craned towards the infinite ceiling, you continue to admire the view, or at least try to do so—the act seemingly becoming more and more impossible by the second, what with your nerves shot and your stomach churning with anticipatory anxiety.

Bakugou must have noticed your wobbly breathing, because the man side-eyes you for a beat before finally speaking. “What are you, nervous?”

You turn your head to look at him, taking in the sight of your boss in a dark brown sweater with a white collar peeking out at the top in an effort to ground yourself, although you find you’re not feeling any calmer.

You hesitate for a moment, before heaving another jittery, somewhat resigned, sigh.

No point in hiding the truth now.

You shrug, “Yeah…”

“Don’t be,” he promptly replies, catching you off guard. His voice is serious and deceivingly firm when he finishes it off.

“They’re gonna like you.”

You don’t get the chance to think about how to respond, let alone react instinctively because the front door opens as if on cue, and out comes a relatively tall woman with ash blonde hair, followed by a slightly taller brown-haired man.

You’ve barely gotten a word in when you get scooped into the arms of the woman you now identify as Bakugou Mitsuki, and when she pulls away and keeps you at arm's length—beaming, no less, in what you hope is happiness—it takes everything in you not to gawk at how stunning the woman is.

“…You’re overwhelming her, honey,” you hear the man, who you assume is Bakugou Masaru, say worriedly at your right side.

“Oh, right,” Mitsuki hurriedly releases her hold of you and retracts her hands, flashing you a bright albeit apologetic smile right after. “Forgive me, it’s just that I never thought this day would come!”

At that, she shoots Bakugou, who’s standing beside your left, a pointed look before turning back to grin at you, “I can’t believe Katsuki has finally brought a girl home!”

You don’t have to look at the man beside you to know he’s sporting a scowl. “Watch it, old hag,” he growls.

“You watch it, child. Mind how you talk to your mother in front of your girl.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you as you watch the exchange, inadvertently catching the two blondes’ attention, their gazes drifting toward you at the sound. After a brief second, and to your relief, Mitsuki starts laughing along but Bakugou only looks away in what you think is irritation.

“Well, this girl is grateful for the invite, Mitsuki-san,” you start, mustering your most thankful smile. “But I hope I’m not imposing on your family…”

Mitsuki is quick to respond with a wave of a hand, “Not at all! You’re our guest of honor. Please, make yourself at home!”

Masaru nods in agreement, extending his right hand for you to shake, which you happily do. His smile is gentle—a stark contrast to Bakugou’s default expressions, you note—when he finally invites the both of you in. As you do—eager to escape the cold—you glance at Bakugou behind you, who’s apparently already been looking at you, although he averts his gaze when your eyes make contact.

Again with that solemn expression.

That unsettling expression drops down to the bottom of your list of priorities, however, when you enter the threshold of their home. You’re immediately hit with a glorious combination of fragrances emanating from what you think is the kitchen at the far side of the room.

“Everything smells great, Mitsuki-san,” you offer, hoping the sincerity can be heard from your tone.

You think it must have because the woman instantly lights up at the comment, “Why, thank you! Every day’s not Thanksgiving, after all.”

You nod, following them along into the living room, taking a seat on the corduroy couch opposite Mitsuki upon Masaru’s wordless invitation. “It’s so nice how you guys go all out to celebrate the holiday.”

You note how Bakugou, who’s planted on the armrest beside Mitsuki, frowns at the compliment.

“What?” you ask him before you can stop yourself, curious.

“They don’t really celebrate it,” he grunts, before tossing his mother a borderline disgusted look. “The old hag is just using it as an excuse to invite you over.”

That quip grants him a smack in the head from the said “hag”. Bakugou doesn’t yelp or cry in pain, although he does let out a slight hiss. You, again, can’t help the smile that creeps on your face as you watch them.

Mitsuki is facing Bakugou as she tuts in what you think is a warning, before turning to regard you again, a grin now having replaced the reprimanding expression that had just been on her face a second ago.

It grows even wider when she says: “What do you say we leave the rest of the cooking up to the boys and we go through Katsuki’s photo albums?”

“S-sure!” you quickly respond, the entirety of the suggestion not registering for a beat until it does, your head whipping to look at the man as you blurt out: “Bakugou, you can cook?”

At that, Mitsuki’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, eyes darting between the both of you. “Wait, are you saying he’s never cooked for you before?” Mitsuki asks, incredulous.

She then turns to her son, who now has his arms crossed in front of his broad chest like a petulant child, “Young man, what have you been doing?”

“God, relax,” Bakugou groans as he stands up from where he was seated, rolling his eyes as he makes his way to the kitchen. “We’ve just been busy with work. No time for that shit.”

“Busy with work, my ass,” she calls out to him, before once again turning to face you. “And honey, there’s no need to be all formal around us. Go ahead and call Katsuki by his first name—there’s really nothing to be shy about.”

Before you can think against it, your eyes widen in surprise for a fraction of a second before you school your face into what you think is an appropriate enough expression. “R-right, sorry.”

You chance a glance at the man, who’s now hacking away at the green onions like a madman albeit quite expertly, what you think is red creeping up his face in nothing else but scornful exasperation.

“So,” Mitsuki starts, and you turn back to see her wiggling her eyebrows at you, “about the photo albums?”

Just as Mitsuki suggested, you busied yourself with photo albums filled to the brim with close documentation of Bakugou growing up while the two men finished up in the kitchen. It didn’t come as a surprise that Bakugou was a cute kid, a signature boyish grin decorating his face in the few pictures where he isn’t scowling or glaring at the camera. You greedily took in the seemingly mundane details of Bakugou’s childhood as Mitsuki narrated the backstory of each photograph, smiling and even laughing along when she cracked a joke about how her son must have been born as the proverbial grump based on how early he learned how to glower.

Bakugou didn’t say anything the entire time you pore over the albums, probably used to his mom mouthing about her only child to friends and family who are willing to listen. Before you know it, dinner is eventually served, and the dishes that Bakugou and Masaru would bring from the island countertops to their hardwood dining table looked nothing short of scrumptious. It didn’t take long for you to conclude that they tasted exactly how they looked.

“Everything tastes incredible, but the miso ramen is glorious, Mitsuki-san,” you piped up in the middle of dinner.

The woman only tossed you a pleased, somewhat knowing look. “You’ve got your boyfriend to thank for that, dear.”

You must have looked like a deer in the headlights, because the man of the hour’s parents laugh at your expression. You stole a glance at Bakugou, who only slurped at his bowl in silence, face schooled into a rather neutral countenance.

A steady conversation gradually enveloped the four of you as you went ham on dinner, and you now find your shoulders relaxing, the tension from earlier leaving your body. You discuss current events, which then leads to Masaru asking Bakugou about how the agency is fairing in light of the recent spikes in crimes. The topic then drifts to you, like what’s your family like and what your parents do for a living; it shifts afterward to how work is going for them in the fashion industry, to the couple's retirement plans, with Mitsuki waxing poetic about how they really need to be there for each other when they do retire because Bakugou doesn’t visit them enough. To that, the man only scowls, mumbling something about how he does, in fact, visit them enough, and that the “old hag’s” definition of enough is stupidly skewed.

“But enough about us!” Mitsuki completely disregards Bakugou’s retort, shifting in her seat to address you, “I’ve actually been dying to ask you this question since you arrived. I know our Katsuki isn’t the easiest—”

“Hah?”

“—guy to be around, and so I’m really glad he was able to find someone as lovely as you. So,” Mitsuki tosses you a playful look, “what do you like about Katsuki?”

You barely stop yourself from choking on the maki roll lodged in your throat, quickly swallowing it rather painfully as you scramble for the proper way to react and respond. From the corner of your eye, you see Bakugou shift uncomfortably in his seat, but he doesn’t say anything to shut down his mother or even shift the topic of the conversation.

“Uh—” you start lamely, “What do I like about… him?”

At that, Mitsuki laughs good-naturedly. “Surely there has to be something, right? Please, indulge this old lady!”

You chuckle along with her, albeit rather awkwardly, before clearing your throat.

The only way to make it out of this conversation alive and relatively unscathed is by lacing your answers with the truth.

And so you do.

“Ba—” you start, catching yourself in the nick of time, “K-Katsuki—” you pause again, hating the way you uttered his name so tentatively like it’s something obviously foreign, “—is the most dedicated person I know.”

Mitsuki only nods in encouragement, as if urging you to go on.

And right now, you find that you’re nothing if not a people-pleaser.

“He’s admirable—there’s a reason why he’s risen to the top this quickly and stayed there,” you nod, pleased at what you think is certainty bleeding into your tone. “I don’t have any problems at all leading the HR department, what with him being the best example of what an outstanding work ethic looks like.”

The room falls into a lull, and as the seconds tick by with no one saying anything, you’re starting to think you said the wrong thing when Mitsuki finally speaks up.

“That—that’s great to hear, dear, really.” She seems to hesitate for a moment before holding your gaze again, and you brace yourself for what she’s about to say next.

“…But what about outside of work?”

There it is.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Uh—” you parrot again, mentally slapping yourself for stuttering when you can just keep your mouth shut while you think of an acceptable reply like a normal, sane person.

You glance at Bakugou, who’s now looking at you in what you think is anticipation.

Despite yourself, you feel yourself flush.

Yet you’re unable to break away from his gaze when the words finally come to you.

“…He cares,” you manage to miraculously get out while Bakugou’s crimson eyes bore a hole into you. “…Deeply. And, he makes sure it shows in his actions.”

You watch as Bakugou studies you for a few more seconds as if he’s searching for something—you don’t know what—hidden amidst your features, eventually averting his gaze back to his plate.

You follow suit, looking down at your half-finished ebi tempura, suddenly feeling too self-conscious and oddly vulnerable.

It’s Mitsuki’s soft voice that causes you to look up again.

“That’s… everything I wanted to hear,” Mitsuki almost whispers, and you think if you squint hard enough you can see tears pooling in her eyes.

You shoot her a tight-lipped smile, sensing an unusual sense of uneasiness blooming in your gut.

Thankfully, and to your relief, Mitsuki doesn’t ask any more equally humiliating questions after that, the conversation having been steered to more shallow and light-hearted topics, primarily by Masaru. Without you noticing, dinner time reaches its conclusion and it’s now time to clean up.

You stand up from your chair and start gathering leftovers to stack the plates right after when Mitsuki reaches across the table and pries them off your grip. You look at her in confusion, but she only shakes her head.

“We’ll handle the cleaning, dear.”

Behind her, Masaru nods in agreement, and you’re about to open your mouth to protest but Bakugou beats you to it.

“No use arguing with the old hag. Just give it up.”

At that, you sag in disappointment—you really wanted to pay them back, even if it’s just through helping out with cleaning—but obey nevertheless, putting down the cutlery you were just about to gather into a bunch.

Now with nothing to do with your hands, you stand at the edge of the table awkwardly, watching the couple swiftly clearing out the area. Masaru seems to notice your discomfort because he speaks up.

“Hey, Katsuki,” he starts, “why don’t you show her around your bedroom?”

Almost immediately, Mitsuki beams at her husband, evidently enthralled by the proposition. You fight the strong urge to furrow your eyebrows in worry. “That’s a good idea, honey. I bet she’d love to see your childhood knickknacks, Katsuki!”

You steal a glimpse of Bakugou—or his back, really—who’s now seated on the couch with a leg propped on it.

He’s not saying anything.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

You gulp despite yourself, shifting to face Mitsuki with a grimace-smile. “It’s okay, I don’t want to make him uncomfo—”

“Come on.”

You almost get whiplash from how fast you turn to look at Bakugou, who apparently isn’t giving you a chance to argue, already walking up the stairs to the second floor. You look back at his parents, who only gesture you to go on.

Well.

You guess you’re going, then.

You trail behind Bakugou in silence, your footsteps echoing through the stairway as you go up, one step at a time. Once you land on top of the staircase, you follow him as he turns to the right, down to the door at the end of the hallway, which you now identify as his bedroom.

He pauses a few feet away from the entryway, reaching forward for the knob and turning to face you right after, an indiscernible expression etched on his face.

“Don’t fuckin’—nose around,” he grumbles, voice gruff, “or some shit.” Despite his half-hearted warning, he opens the door, leaning back against it so you can squeeze in and enter.

Typical of the King of Consistency, Bakugou’s childhood bedroom is as impeccable as every other personal space of his that you’ve got the honor of visiting. The gray walls are pristine and are only disrupted by posters of pro-heroes, mostly of All Might, but also like that of Best Jeanist and Endeavor. Piles and piles of books line the shelves at the room's corners, speckled and lightly decorated with figurines and what you think are older gaming consoles. You study the rest of the arrangements, and before you can think against it, you find yourself smiling as you survey the room, feeling a paradoxical sense of comfort blanket you.

“…What’re you fucking smiling about, dumbass?”

At the call out, the expression on your face immediately falls. You glance back at the man who’s now leaning against the doorframe, arms once again crossed in front of his chest.

“N-nothing,” you immediately retort. “It’s just that your room is so clean and well-kept.” You pause, hesitating to say the next thing, but ultimately decide to go for it. “It’s very… you.”

You don’t know what you expected him to say or do in response—an eye roll, or a lazy scoff, or a challenge, daring you to expound on what the fuck you mean “it’s very him”, maybe?

But again, Bakugou doesn’t say anything; he simply grunts.

Against your will, you feel a wave of disappointment course through you.

“…Your parents seem like such great people,” you muse, finding yourself wanting to salvage the conversation as you continue to take in the endearing details of your boss’s childhood bedroom.

Bakugou grunts again, only this time you think it’s in agreement. “They’re alright,” he grinds out, “can get a bit overbearing at times, though.”

You hum in reply, sensing a seed of happiness blossoming within you at the thought of him opening up. “I get that. But I can clearly see they love you very much.”

The man hums back, sounding deep in thought.

Your fingers absentmindedly trail the backrest of his desk chair. “Your mom said you don’t really visit as much. Is that true or was she just pulling your leg?”

At that, Bakugou heaves such a heavy sigh, that it catches your full attention. “I haven’t been here since around early this year.”

You gawk, “Seriously?”

He shoots you a glare, although there’s not much bite to it. “Don’t look at me like that. You know how it is at work.”

You nod, “…You do put in an alarming number of hours.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a choice, do I?” he immediately retorts, although the question seems more rhetorical.

Despite that, you steel yourself to answer back this time. “I think you actually do. I know of so many heroes who treat their jobs like the typical 9 to 5. Believe me, I hear things at work, too.”

“…What are you trying to say?”

His voice is so uncharacteristically small, it catches you off guard.

In return, you try to make your voice as gentle as possible. “I’m saying I meant what I said earlier during dinner. It’s admirable—the work that you do. I think that’s what really sets you apart from all the others, putting aside your flashy ass quirk.”

You take a gamble and toss a smirk Bakugou’s way.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man was at a loss for words.

Well, there is a first for everything.

Suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed over the bold move you just pulled, you take advantage of the silence, walking a few steps towards the other wall. You carefully brush your hand against what looks like a vintage-looking All Might poster above the headboard of his bed.

“I didn’t know you liked All Might this much.”

His reply is almost instantaneous: “He’s only the best hero to exist ever.”

You, again, fail to restrain the smile that breaches your face. It’s adorable how defensive he’s become in a split second, having transformed into the diehard fanboy that he apparently is.

“Is he the kind of hero you aspire to eventually become?” you ask, curiosity bubbling in your head.

He shifts on his feet, taking a few steps in your direction. “Yeah,” he pauses, before continuing, “the kind that always wins.”

“Oh, now I know where that line from before came from.”

As if immediately knowing what you're talking about, Bakugou flushes in what you think is anger, but the more you stare at him, it becomes clearer that it’s more akin to embarrassment.

“Shut up.”

You snort, “So the philosophy you gleaned from All Might—that applies to all aspects of your life? Including being your underling’s fake trophy boyfriend?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from you as you watch Bakugou stew in what you think is shame, squirming from where he’s standing as if he’s itching to jump and strangle your frame. The man, once again, glares at you, but if anything, you can tell he’s more frustrated with himself than with you.

Still, you find yourself feeling bad. “Sorry,” you start, fighting the urge to chuckle, “I was just kidding.”

“You’re a fucking handful, you know that?”

At that, you pout, the words tumbling off your mouth before you can rein them in. “Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t—” Bakugo splutters, “fucking—stop calling me sir, dumbass. And,” he frowns, “stop calling yourself as my underling. That shit sounds fucking demeaning.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, flashing him a grateful smile. He doesn’t return it, opting to roll his eyes and look away instead, but the corners of his lips are twitching like he’s fighting them from curling upwards.

An abrupt thought crosses your mind at that very sight of him.

And before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt it out.

“I’m glad.”

Bakugou meets your gaze, an eyebrow raised in question. “You’re glad what?”

You shrug, fighting down the self-consciousness. “I’m glad to see you seem more relaxed and comfortable. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’ve noticed you’ve been extra scowly lately—if that is even a word.”

“I have not.”

“Yes, you have. The other workers at the agency have noticed, too.”

“Who the fu—”

“I’m not dropping any names,” you interject, “but some have approached me asking if we were, you know, okay?”

You peer at the man, who’s now refusing to look at you. You brace yourself for what you’re about to ask. “Are we? Okay?”

Bakugou, again, conveniently decides to be mute.

“Did I do something wrong to slight you, or something? Or have I crossed a line during that get-together with your friends that one time? Because if I have, I want you to know that I really didn’t mean t—”

“I thought you didn’t want to come over,” he cuts you off.

You freeze. “What?”

He finally meets your gaze, a frown now seemingly permanently etched on his face. “Here. To my parents’. And you’ve been acting all weird around me, stuttering and stuff.”

Shit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bakugou huffs, “Am I making you uncomfortable, or some shit?”

You can only gape at the man who looks so pained, as if this conversation is physically hurting him, which, it probably is, knowing him. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

He seems to notice this, because his frown grows even deeper. “What, am I?”

“No!” you exclaim, thankful to finally have your voice back. You vigorously shake your head, “No, please don’t think that. I—just—I just have a lot on my mind lately, that’s why. Explains why I’m all jumpy and stammering and all over the place.”

To your relief, Bakugou doesn’t prod any further, although you can sense a bit of suspicion emanating from the man despite your answer. He stares at you for another beat before shaking his head in resignation, opting to check his watch instead.

“It’s getting late. Let’s go downstairs and tell them we’re leaving.”

And just like that, Bakugou turns his back towards you and exits the bedroom.

Right after you followed Bakugou down to the living room where Mitsuki and Masaru were enjoying a glass of red wine, you informed the couple that you were leaving. The brunette immediately got to work, packing viands into Tupperware for you to take home despite your silent protests. Mitsuki, on the other hand, tried to convince you to stay for another hour or so, but Bakugou wasn’t hearing any of it. After finally accepting that she was getting nowhere with her case, Mitsuki called on her husband to see you out by the front porch.

With a bag of aromatic dishes in one hand, you stand in front of their doorway, not knowing what to say for the nth time in one night. You chance a glance towards Bakugou’s direction, the man having entered his car already, starting up the engine in preparation for the drive back home.

But you apparently don’t have to say anything because it’s Mitsuki who fills the air.

Her smile is so gentle and motherly that you can’t help the painful throb your heart makes at the sight. It’s quickly followed by the now-familiar feeling of uneasiness that has been revisiting you again and again since the evening started.

Still, you manage to smile back. At the sight of it, Mitsuki’s expression grows even brighter.

And her voice is low when she finally speaks.

“Don’t tell Katsuki this, but I’m glad you’re the one he’s decided to finally come meet us.” She reaches out to rub your shoulder, her smile not faltering, “I can see why.”

Thankfully, Mitsuki scoops you into another hug, sparing you the embarrassment and burden of having to react and respond with some intelligible reply to such a groundbreaking statement one can receive from any guy’s mother, no less.

At the couple’s request, you promise to visit again soon, and before you get to break character and admit to your mountain of lies in a crying heap, you beeline to the car and hop into the passenger seat.

Voice gruff, Bakugou nods at you. “Ready?”

You swallow thickly.

“Ready.”

The car ride home was silent. It felt long—longer than an hour, at least, your brain buzzing with unpleasant thoughts and stomach churning with anxious feelings the entire duration of it. You couldn’t seem to fall asleep no matter how much you tried. Eventually, you gave up trying to mid-way, opting to stew in whatever the fuck is going on with you instead.

You were so engrossed in your brooding that you didn’t notice Bakugou pulling into your apartment complex’s driveaway.

At the sound of his voice announcing your arrival, you sit up in your seat in alarm before promptly gathering your things, saying your usual quick goodbye and thank you, and stepping out of the car.

To your surprise, however, he puts the car in park and follows suit, stepping out of the vehicle himself.

You hesitate for a moment before starting the short trek toward the entrance, acutely aware of Bakugou trailing behind you.

When you get to the entryway, you finally turn to regard the man, whose eyes dart down to look directly at you, hands in his pockets.

In spite of yourself, you gulp. “Thank you… for today, Bakugou.”

He merely shakes his head, expression neutral. “I should be the one thanking you. You didn’t have to come with and suffer through all that with me, yet you did.”

“I didn’t suffer,” you’re quick to correct him because you didn’t. “I actually had a really nice time. Your parents were so kind to me, and I just—I…”

“What?”

You shake your head, unsure how to accurately phrase what you’re feeling. “I just feel bad, you know? You could be bringing home a girl that you actually like to meet your parents who they can fawn over instead of me, yet here you are presenting a decoy and fooling the people who raised you all because I—”

“Hey—”

“I roped you into pretending to be my boyfriend and now look at the mess we’ve made. And I know—”

“Stop it.”

His voice comes out so commanding that there’s nothing you can do but obey.

Bakugou frowns. “You didn’t ‘rope’ me into doing this, okay? I— We—” he hesitates, mouth opening and closing then opening and closing again before he finally just shakes his head in defeat. “I entered this arrangement willingly. You don’t have to blame yourself for anything.”

“But—”

“End of discussion.”

At that, you huff in irritation, but you know better than to argue with your notoriously stubborn boss. Nevertheless, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel the gratitude that blooms in your chest at Bakugou’s reassurance.

“Now get in there,” he gestures to the apartment, “It’s getting way too fucking cold.”

As if on cue, you involuntarily shudder, which grants you a wordless ‘See?’ from the man. With a final nod, you reluctantly follow his orders and enter through the doorway, although you don’t immediately go to the elevator hall. Instead, you stand by the windows, finding yourself wanting to make sure Bakugou doesn’t get jumped on his way back to the car.

And as you watch Bakugou’s receding backside, the guilt that you’ve been tirelessly suppressing the entire night finally breaks free, threatening to swallow you whole.

This can’t go on.

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii @beab19 @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @lovra974 @chelbyisbord @k0z3me @meeeepsworld @asura-rose @dragonscribble @moonz33 @citrustsuki @deadhands69 @lemuhr @rosemarygalaxy @iluv-ace @eyesforbkg @carpe000diem @shushbruv @matchat3a @ttalgi @bakunianadecorazon @the2ndl @keiscwsz @onlyisaa @aizawa19 @471323 @bakugosgothhoe

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 they make such a huge, huge difference! have an awesome day ( ˘ ³˘)

[mustardyellowsunshine]

Cleanup of an old edit. I love how cozy they look together. 😌

[vintageskeletons]

that scene in spy x family when anya punched damian but it's sokka and jet from risking it all by @ssreeder

[loganswdc]

who wants to go commit a crime with me !!!!

i am actually ready to go start a war for logan , the way he's been treated and all this new information after carlos has been signed is absolutely incredulous . the weak goodbye to logan . the 8 posts about carlos and how excited everyone is to work with him . and nothing about logan . i know this is about carlos , but seeing logan be so insanely under-appreciated is sickening , honestly . it's something we always knew , but seeing it practically pushed in our faces even further is genuinely disgusting . and i'm genuinely excited for carlos !! i hope things go well for him !! but logan is the driver i will defend first and the driver i will always support above everyone else , no matter what . and i can't fathom what logan is going through right now .

i hope he's somewhere in florida , fishing on a boat with his family . i hope he's got a good support system around him . and i hope that he know we're all proud of him . that we'll still be here , we'll follow him wherever he goes . and i hope he's able to rest , knowing that the team that's been so adamant about destroying him recently will finally be out of his life: he'll be free of them :')

[buwheal]

Hello, Spamton!

How's life? Also, do you have any opinions on the Addisons? (Pink, blue, orange, and yellow)

If so, what do you think of them?

[anisaanisa]

"You're afraid of spiders?!" ☆

[justplaggin]

it is always the dread of standing up against our enemies that drives us to pick up our weapons.

– bsd 120 color spread

[velvetstrings]

good morning, here's my concept of spamvil "ketchup kids"

[bleaksqueak]

Solivaga - Chapter 3 cover & Alt variant

[annabelle--cane]

"I have written a complex character with messy human flaws" so close bestie but what you have actually written is a domestic abuse scenario where that character shouts and breaks things and threatens another character who doesn't fight back while narratively treating both parties like they're equally at fault. and theoretically that could be interesting if you knew that's what you were writing, but you, uh. don't appear to.

[every-grelle-sutcliff]

[fawnheartedly]

I'm watching Tericho's latest theory video and it got me thinking about the Prototype's true intention towards the player, and maybe why he killed Catnap.

Neither Huggy Wuggy, Mommy Long Leg nor Catnap attacked us right away. They lurked around. Well Mommy was more directly present. But all three starts off not being a danger. I guess Catnap putting us in the trash compactor was dangerous but seeing how he loves to play cat and mouse and can immediatly be seen lurking around, I think he knew we'd get away anyways.

Added to that, Catnap tells us to leave constantly through the chapter. Not just once, not twice. He wrote everywhere that we had to leave.

We know how eagerly he obeys tye Prototype, so we can assume most of the things he does, the Prototype asked him to. Probably same for Huggy. And Mommy could have been an outlier in following the Prototype but she seemed to be scared of him enough to at least not go against him.

So my theory is that the Prototype doesn't want us dead. He just wants us to leave the factory. He had two occasions to kill us himself, yet he didn't. All three main antagonists eventually tried to kill us in the end of each chapter but Huggy ended up seemingly dead (we know he's not tho), Mommy killed by us and then retrieved by him. He didn't had the time to punish them for trying to kill us. But he did for Catnap. And i think that's why he ended up killing him. Either Catnap wasn't supposed to end us or it was punishment for failing to drive us away without coming to harm.

Poppy and the Prototype are on opposed sides, that much is clear. Poppy wants us to uncover the full truth behind Playtime Co, the Prototype wants us to leave and forget about it all.

So that means there is far more to discover down that damned Factory. Things the Prototype doesn't want us to discover.

[sskk-manifesto]

So, it's Atsushi who calls himself a “fool” the first time? And since we know for sure (chapter 35) that Akutagawa was listening in to what was happening... It's compelling to think Akutagawa might actually have been quoting Atsushi himself this whole time, every time he called him “fool”.

I actually think it would be really fitting for Akutagawa. Because Akutagawa stretches a lot on how pathetic it is of Atsushi to always be dwelling on his past sufferings (“Let me tell you why I said you disgust me. [...] You're an imbecile who keeps dwelling on old wounds!”, chapter 35), and loathes him for being so self-deprecating. Then, for Akutagawa to call him fool, but that being a word Atsushi for the first time used to define himself, it would be like Akutagawa was telling him: “you're a fool because you himself call yourself that. You're a fool because that's what you decide to be.”

[rox-of-iu]

ayoo guess who finally sat down and caught up with cultivate B)

is me. so you know what that means.

spoiler warning for cultivate ch 30-37

there was actually.... more things i wanted to draw but I already did so many I had to physically restrain myself hfsjkkdh anyway yes can you tell i love this fic very much

yet once again. cultivate by the wonderful @neonghostcat

[mandiemegatron]

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴ-ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ; ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏ (ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʟᴀʙᴏᴜʀ) <- ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

ᴋɪᴅ x ᴄɪꜱꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ / ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ x ᴄɪꜱꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ; 18+, ᴛᴀʟᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅɪꜱꜱᴏᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ. ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴇʀᴍꜱ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴛꜱᴅ.

Welcome and helloooo every-nyan!!! WOW this took so much longer than I expected and it's longer than the first chapter by over 1k words (I literally couldn't be stopped) and I'm hoping this will satisfy.... until the third chapter comes out 😈 mwahaha!

Thank you to all of my mutuals for the support and love, and a big thank you to @laidenbreecatchall for listening to me scream about this for hours and for helping me with ideas! You're amazing, I adore you, thank you so much for everything 💖

As always, a huge thank you and a million smooches for my beta @moss-woods, none of this is possible without you. I love you endlessly 💖💖💖

Without further ado... I present you with part two of Too Much Labour. This chapter is all about the Kid Pirates, so my fellow Kid and Killer lovers might just enjoy this one just as much as I loved writing it 🤭🤭🤭💖💖💖

You tried so hard to fit in.

Three months had passed since you'd fled the Heart Pirates and into, unfortunately for you, Eustass Kid, of all people. It had just happened to be your shit luck that the Victoria Punk was nestled off in a small cove off on the opposite end of the island.

Following behind him and his masked friend, Killer you find out, trying to keep the same pace as your shorter legs carried you as fast as they could. You shuffled your bag a little higher only to distract yourself enough to bump directly into Kid’s back. You fell to the ground, startled, as a small “oof!” left you.

“Pay attention, brat,” Kid sneered, barely throwing you a glare over his shoulder before turning around to snatch your bag from your hands.

“You look fuckin’ stupid tryin’ to act all tough.”

You rolled your eyes in return with an almost mocking look, allowing Killer to help you off the ground with a warm, heavy hand. You brushed off your butt and legs with a sigh, trying not to mumble out-loud as you gave Killer a nod in thanks before continuing after Kid.

You blinked a few times in shock as the Victoria Punk came into view, the huge dinosaur skull that served as the bow of the ship overwhelmingly shaking you to the core. Your pace slowed down and you could practically hear the smug smirk in Kid's voice when he barked out a laugh at your expression.

“Beautiful, ain't she? Nothing but the best for the future King of the Pirates.”

The sheer ego he spewed off himself as he spoke clutched around your heart as it truly began to sink in.

You weren't a Heart Pirate anymore.

You took a slow breath and tried to give Kid a winning grin, throwing up two thumbs as you shakily commented,

“H-hell yeah! It's impressive as fuck!”

Kids brow ridge rose and he grunted, his smirk turning a bit sour as he huffed and continued down towards his ship. “Whatever.” You barely heard his mumbling, your hands falling back down as you gave another sigh.

The same hand that helped you earlier landed on your right shoulder, giving you a slight shake as Killer's voice washed over you.

“Sorry about him, it's just been a weird day for us. He'll get over it.” He gave your shoulder a small squeeze before moving to follow after his best friend and Captain. “and you will too.” He called over his shoulder before motioning for you to follow as well.

You spared a glance over your shoulder towards the way you came, your arms wrapping around themselves as a strange chill settled over your skin. There was a whispering murmur between the trees and you could have sworn you heard your name…

“Y/N?”

Your head turns back to Killer and you straighten yourself out, feeling a cold hand crush around your heart as you take your first step after him, anxious but almost a little excited for a new journey.

Would you still be the same Y/N you were on the Polar Tang? What if the same thing happened again?

You blinked back angry tears as your head replayed the last few hours, reminding you over and over with every step you took that this would be worth it, that this would be different.

It would be different.

“You're in your head again, Y/N.”

Glancing up from chopping veggies for dinner prep to meet Killers masked visage, you sighed softly through your nose before frowning slightly and murmuring,

“I'm just… I'm fine, Killer, I promise.”

A warm hand meets your shoulder just like those months ago though your heart leapt into your throat this time, just like it did every time Killer touched you.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You gave Killer a warm smile, shaking your head slightly before patting his hand with gentle fingers, trying not to let your touch linger on his skin too long.

“Maybe later.”

You could feel the smile Killer gave you under the mask. Slight guilt ate away at you as he gave you a solid nod, squeezing your shoulder once before letting his hand fall from you.

Once prep was done and the food was cooking, Killer kicked you out gently, reminding you to come back later to help with cleaning up once everyone had eaten.

Sitting atop the large skull that served as the ship's bow, you scribbled in your small journal, trying to bite back tears as you poured your heart out to the small book. It had felt like so long since you'd seen the Heart Pirates, your family, and your heart ached to the point it felt like it had been ripped from your chest.

Snapping the book shut, you sighed heavily and rubbed at your face before looking back out to the vast seas. Taking a deep breath, you crossed your legs and straightened your back, letting your eyes fall shut as you tried to ground yourself.

Your eyes snapped back open when all you could see was Law's shocked and broken expression from when you jumped out of the Tang and ran. Steeling your expressing with a slight sneer, you grunted softly and made to get up when you suddenly heard,

“You look like shit.”

Your head snapped up and you met with Kid's fiery eyes. You could tell he was trying to read you, not saying anything else until you either snapped back or got up and walked away.

“... yeah… yeah I bet I do.”

Kid tilted his head slightly with a deep hum before holding out his hands for you to take. You shocked him slightly when your two hands gripped his metal one, letting him pull you up and nearly into him. His flesh hand steadied your shoulder and you stared at each other for a few moments, your cheeks slowly tinting a few shades lighter than his hair under his gaze.

After a few more moments of comfortable silence, he gently tugged your hands in his one, making you follow him as he turned to walk back in the ship. His metal hand kept a grip on yours, pulled back behind himself slightly as you tried to keep up with his long legs.

Your brows shot up in surprise when you realized where he was taking you, your heart skipping a beat as he pulled you into his workshop. He cleared some space off his desktop and patted it, watching you hike yourself up onto his desk and sit comfortably as your eyes took in the chaos of it all.

Eustass sat back in his worn chair, arms crossed over his massive chest as he finally comments,

“You're distracted.”

You stop taking in the wonder of his workshop to look back at him. Your fingers fiddled with themselves in your lap, anxiety beginning to eat away at your insides as you quietly replied,

“Yeah.”

Kid gives a heavy sigh, looking you over as if you were an incomplete puzzle with pieces missing.

He hoped you knew that he would rip his hands apart to their bare bones, broken wires and rusted scrap metal to craft the missing pieces inside you, if you'd let him.

As he continued to watch you, something in his heart screamed that you wouldn't, and he wasn't sure if it hurt more to know you'd never want him the way he wanted you.

The silence crept on, turning almost suffocating as you stared each other down, feeling smaller and smaller under his intense gaze until he finally snapped in a sharp tone,

“If you don't want to be here, we'll drop you at the next island.”

Your heart immediately sank and tears filled your eyes, your hands curling around each other tightly til your fingers turned white. Your mind turned dark, thoughts swarming with the fear of being left behind and forgotten about until Kid piped up again, this time his voice a little softer as he asked,

“You've been struggling this whole time, haven't you?”

You broke down.

You covered your face, not wanting him to see the bitter tears that swept down your face as you barely got out,

“I thought he loved me, man…”

Silently sobbing into your palms, you didn't notice Kid sigh with a roll of his eyes and stand from his chair until you were suddenly surrounded in warmth, flesh and metal pulling you to a chest of muscle.

Weak fingers gripped at the front of Kid’s open shirt as you openly wept into him, no longer caring about feeling weak in front of your now Captain. One of his hands awkwardly ran up and down your back, his cheek resting on the top of your head as he frowned at the back of his workshop door.

He was determined to make you see that you were worth so much more than the pain that shit head Trafalgar gave you.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sobbing into Kid's chest, only pulling away when a deep voice cleared their throat over by the door. Looking over with sad, blurry eyes, you took in Killer who stood with his arms crossed, watching the display with an air of near disappointment around him.

“So you'll tell him but not me, eh?”

There was a joking tone to Killers words, pulling a small smile to your lips that caused both men to relax slightly.

“... just don't want to-”

Your words cut off as Kid squeezed you, cutting off your thoughts as he quickly bit out,

“You're not a bother and you're not annoying, God I'd wish you'd shut up sometimes.”

You froze at his words, brows furrowed as you pulled away enough to look up at Kid. His cheeks tinted a light pink as he huffed, looking past Killer as he continued,

“You think I'd let an annoyance join my crew? You think I'd let some weak nobody stick around? You're not either of those things so stop thinking we're gonna do what Trafalgar did to you.”

His flesh hand gripped the bottom of your face, his thumb brushing away the stray tears that spilled out as he finished with a tired,

“I'm not fuckin’ stupid.”

Killer moved closer, one of his hands brushing your hair over your shoulder and behind your ear gently as he agreed,

“You're one of a kind, Y/N. We see that - we see you.”

Killer leaned in as best he could to press his mask to the top of your head as if pressing a kiss to it. He stayed for a moment before pulling back, picking up one of your hands and holding it as Kid's own moved from grasping your face to moving the strands of hair from your eyes.

There was something between them that you weren't sure about until now, and while something in your heart tugged you towards them, it still felt like there was a boulder in your stomach.

It would be the same.

Your eyes shut and you gave a small sigh before asking softly, “... can... can I have some space?”

Both men went rigid, slowly pulling away before looking at each other. It was like a telepathic conversation was happening between them and finally Kid huffed and nearly stomped out of the workshop, causing you to flinch at the heavy thuds from his boots.

There's a soft sigh from Killer before he follows him out, closing the door behind himself. The second it clicked shut, tears welled in your eyes and you quietly sobbed into your palms.

It would be the same.

-

7 whole days of silence from your Captain caused your anxiety to fly through the roof of the Victoria, feeling on edge and like you were walking around shards of broken glass.

“Is he that upset?”

There's a shrug from the masked blonde before he replies,

“I mean, you rejected him-”

You huffed and spat back,

“I didn't reject him, OR you for that matter. All I did was ask for space and he took it fuckin’ personal…”

You pause in chopping your veggies, huffing again before taking a step back to fix your hair, taking out the messy bun and redoing it, making it a little tighter.

“He took it as rejection,” Killer adds with a stir to the bubbling pot. His signature spaghetti sauce boiled away, the warm aroma wrapping around you like a gentle hug and pulling you from your thoughts as you went back to your veg.

“Pans ready, you can start to sautée at any time,” Killer reminds you and you're quick to add your ingredients to the pan. They sizzle and crackle softly as you add a few seasonings, giving the veg an expert flip in the pan with one hand.

“I get that, but it's irritating as fuck that instead of coming to me and going like, ‘hey, what did you mean by that,’ he just immediately thought ‘she doesn't want me’, and that's not-”

Killer's hand meets the top of your head, causing you to look up at him as his unique laughter flutters out of his mask.

“You're aware he's stupid, yeah?”

You blink up at him for a few moments before sighing out a tired, “Yeah…”

Killer gives your head a small pat before going back to his sauce. “You're overthinking things. When has Kid ever given you the feeling that he's an emotional conversationalist?”

Your lips purse into a thin line as you flip the veg again, mulling over Killers words. He had a point.

You wouldn't tell him that, though.

“Kid isn't a talker, he takes action instead. He won't ask you how you feel about him because how you act around him convinces him that you feel the same way.”

Your heart sinks as you think about all the moments you've had with Kid - the midnight talks, the tears over too many drinks, the night you spent curled in his arms after that terrible nightmare… you shook your head, trying to rid your mind of the recent memories.

“... that makes sense.” Your voice is almost too soft as you finally reply, giving the veg another shuffle in the pan. “I never want to hurt him.” You make a point to look up at Killer again as you add, “Or you.”

Killer stops and turns his mask towards you, taking in your honest and genuine words before he gives you a small nod. He's thankful for the mask as his cheeks burn, glad you're unable to see what you do to him.

“I know.” He turns off the stove and moves the pot to a cold burner before reaching over you and turning off the pans burner as well. You flip the now slightly crispy veg one more time before moving it to a different burner as well.

“Do you?” You ask softly, turning to him with almost sad eyes as you continue, “Because I have tried so hard to fit in here and sometimes I feel so stupid, as if I'm trying to be someone I'm not, but I'm still me. I know I'm me, and you know I'm me, but how can you-”

Killer cuts you off by gripping your shoulders in his hands, giving you a slight shake as he silences you with a serious, “Stop rambling. You sound ridiculous.”

Your face scrunches up as your brain suddenly goes into overdrive, the words tumbling out of you without even realizing it.

“-be sure that I am me? I'm not me, I'm not the me I was on the Tang, I'm not the me I was before all that and I'm not the me I thought I was.” Angry and hurt tears burned your eyes as you choked out, “I don't even know who I am anymore.”

Killer pulls you into a tight hug, pressing your face into his chest hard enough that it silences your oncoming sobs. “No one's asking you to have it all figured out.” He murmurs against your hair, his mask slowly filling with the scent of your shampoo. “We just want you to be here, alive and safe. We just want you to be here.”

You cling to him, your fingers curling tightly around the back of his shirt as he adds, “It doesn't matter which version of you exists here, because this version of you is a Kid Pirate, and that's what you get to be for the rest of your life.” He gives you a small squeeze. “At the end of the day, that ultimatum will never change. You are a Kid Pirate. Say it.”

He gives you another squeeze and you muffle the words into his shirt, only for him to pull back enough and catch your chin in one of his hands. “Say it again.” He demands lightly.

“... I'm a Kid Pirate.”

“Again.”

You sniffle softly before huffing again. “I'm a Kid Pirate.” You can almost see the grin behind his mask as Killer demands softer, “Once more.”

You swear he's staring right into your soul as you look back into his mask. With a slow blink, you speak in a clearer tone, “I am a Kid Pirate.”

That unique laugh of his wheezes out as he gives your chin a little shake in jest. “That's my girl,” he murmurs before letting his hand drop back to your hip, his thumb gently roaming small circles over your skin. “Damn right you are.”

Your heart swells and something inside you begins to melt away, as if his touch was taking all the anger, pain and fear, sweeping it away with such a gentle touch.

In a moment of adoration for the man in front of you, you reach your hands up and cradle his masked face in your palms, pulling a quick, sharp inhale from the blonde. You're quick as you lean in, your lips pressing against where you assumed his lips sat under the mask for a good moment. You could feel his warm breath through the holes, fanning over your face like a gentle breeze until you pulled away, giving him a warm smile that felt more like you.

“Thank you Kil.”

Massacre Soldier Killer was stunned into silence for a good moment, simply staring you down with wide and confused eyes as you slowly stepped back. He was quick to grasp you, gently, lovingly, and bring you back into his arms.

“You… you kissed me,” he breathed out, unable to wrap his mind around that small, simple fact.

Your face burned bright red, redder than Kid's hair as you coughed out, “Uh yeeeah… yeah, I did…” You chewed the side of your bottom lip for a moment before asking, “W-was that okay?”

Killer’s arms tighten around you as he leaned his head down to rest his covered forehead against yours, his lips moving faster than light as he promised, “Yes, yes yes, of course it's okay, my precious, beautiful girl…” His laugh wheezes past his lips as he solidifies, “My girl.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, Kid stood cross-armed on the wall beside the door to the kitchen, a deep set frown on his face as he listened to you and his best friend fall in love. Something in his chest aches, like a grip around his heart and lungs as you laugh at something Killer says.

‘... Damn…’

The back of his head thuds gently against the wood before he pulls away from the wall, silently debating with himself for a moment before he finally turns and walks into the kitchen, seeing you plate up the mountain of sautéed veggies to be brought out with the spaghetti and sauce. You throw Killer a bright grin before turning to the door and your smile falters, falling slightly as you take in the ragged looking redhead.

“... Hi.”

Kid seems surprised that you're even speaking to him, glancing over at you before giving an awkward wave with his flesh hand.

“... Yo.”

You both stare each other down for a moment before you ask, “Are you still mad at me?”

Kid huffs and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his massive chest and goes to bark back when he takes in your sad eyes. He could read you too well, just wanting an apology from him for everything, and unfortunately his ego wouldn't let up.

“I'm not mad at you, never was,” his words seem honest though his tone is snarky, making your brain roll around like a wayward marble. “Don't worry, Killer’s girl, we're good.” He ignores your raised eyebrow and confused expression by looking at Killer and nearly demanding, “Is dinner ready? I'm fuckin’ starving.”

Killer nods with a hum and replies tightly, “Yeah, we're just bringing it out now.”

Kid gives him a nod of his own before turning on his foot and stalking out the door, not even stopping as you call his name. Your heart sinks but before you can wallow in your own misery, Killers laugh fills the space, causing you to turn to him.

“What's so funny?” You ask, clearly not in on the joke.

You can feel the grin behind Killers mask as he chuckles out, “Oh, he's jealous as fuck, that's all.” Your face changes into something a little more amused as you ask, “He's… jealous?”

Killer hums again and leans down to press a faux kiss to the side of your head before gripping the large sauce pot with both hands. “Yep! This has happened a few times before but phew, this is too funny.” He heads towards the door and you follow behind, carrying the large veg plate in your hands.

“How is it funny? Why is he jealous?”

Killer laughs again, looking over his shoulder at you as he replies, “It's funny because he thinks he's slick at hiding it, and he's jealous because he hates to lose, and twenty beris says he thinks you don't have a spot for him in that cute little heart of yours.”

Your brows furrow worriedly as you offer, “But I do!”

Killer laughs again, shaking his head slightly as a tinge of his own jealousy climbs up his throat.

“Well then, I think you should show him that.”

He can't see it, but you give a determined nod, your heart set as you begin to think over ideas as you make it to the mess hall.

-

“Come on, we gotta catch up with the others,” Killer rushes you the next morning, nearly pushing you up the stairs with a chuckle as you splutter and snark back at him. “Y-yeah well who's fuckin’ fault is that, eh?”

There's a rough pinch to your left buttcheek and a shrill screech leaves you, your hands waving away Killer’s touchy fingers and covering your behind the rest of the way up. You ignore the sad “Aw…” from Killer as you open the door to the main deck.

“Finally! Come on, let's get this shit over with. Here's your list, don't get lost.” Barks your Captain from his spot off to the side, expression grumpy at being awake before 9 am.

You take the list from Kid and you throw him the widest grin you could manage, ignoring the way he scowls at you with tinted cheeks. He gets himself comfortable in his Captains chair, one leg thrown lazily over the other with his arms crossed.

“You're not coming?” You ask, kicking the toe of your boot into the side of his own, the soft squeak of leather on leather meeting your ears.

“Pff, hell no. That's what you assholes are for,” he jokes, hissing when you kick him a little harder. “Oi! Don't be a bitch,” he barks at you, ignoring the sly grin on your face.

“Ooh, don't be so mean to me, I'll cum,” you tease back before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his scarred cheek. You then turn away from the now mouth dropped, gawking redhead, nearly skip over to Killer who is also staring down at you in slight shock. Tossing a wave over your shoulder, you take the list and Killers hand in your other hand before letting the blonde lead you off the ship and into town.

The walk was silent, almost heavy. Luckily, the weather was bright and beautiful, the sun shining on both of you and it warmed you right through.

“... that was interesting,” Killer finally commented, making you bark out a loud laugh, covering your face with both palms as you laughed out, “I'll be honest, I don't know where that came from.”

Killer’s arm wraps tightly around your waist, grunting to himself before he grumbles out a little pathetically, “You wouldn't even stay with me last night but you'll kiss him and cum for him…”

You laugh again, your arm resting around his hip comfortably as you sigh out happily, “Yeah…”

There's a silence between you both again before you both begin laughing, finally making it to town. He gives you a slight squeeze, leaning his head down to press a masked smooch to the top of your head before pulling away with a serious warning of, “Don't go too far. I need to be able to see you, understand?”

You roll your eyes before tearing the list in half, giving him the top half and keeping the easier things for yourself. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Don't worry, I don't plan on disappearing,” you joke, throwing him a wink before leaning up and pressing a few soft kisses to his mask. “You don't go too far either.”

Killer hums, pressing his mask against your kisses in response before murmuring down to you, “I won't.”

Turning away from you, you watch Killer stalk off into the opposite direction, trying to keep an eye on his blonde hair right up until he disappears. You know he's still close by, the market truly nothing large, but you still can't help but feel incredibly overwhelmed now. Taking a deep breath, you settled your nerves before finally looking down at your now shortened list, grinning at the easy items you had to grab.

You'd bought the first few items easily, even getting a bargain for the spice blends Killer had asked for, though at the next stall, you found yourself frozen in place as you took in the figure of a certain orange jumper covering a large, white bear.

Your swore your heart stopped, fear gripping you like icy fingers around your entire body as the bear turned. You tried to turn as well, keeping your face towards the wares on the table but a heavy paw quickly spun you, pulling a soft, surprised gasp from you as you took in two beady, watery eyes.

“Y-Y/N?!”