#Animal Print Shoulder Bag

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Maxamillion Charm Necklace in Cross My Heart from Free People ($48), Mistress Rocks Printed Lace Up Mini Dress from House of CB ($119) & Animal Print Shoulder Bag from Zara ($39.90)

[cafe-solo]

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 3)

You reunite with your crow friend! But it seems to need your help with… a man?

part 1, part 2, part 3 (current), part 4

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of blood and death, bossman is here yay

“Congratulations! You’ve just won the loyal customer raffle at Linkon Supermarket!”

“But I shop at Bloomshore Mart.”

“Yup, congratulations!”

You furrow your brows, eyeing the paper the delivery driver is enthusiastically waving in your face. Sure enough, it announces the conclusion of the famous supermarket’s year-end raffle, and there it is: your full government name printed neatly under “winner.”

Beyond his shoulder, you notice the other worker unloading boxes from the delivery truck. He’s dressed in the same uniform, with identical dark curls and also sporting a black face mask. He catches your gaze and gives a lazy thumbs-up.

There must be something wrong with your memory, because you could swear you haven’t stepped foot in Linkon Supermarket in years—let alone registered for their raffle. That place isn’t exactly known for catering to the humbler economic classes.

And it’s still 5:30 a.m. Have supermarkets always done graveyard shift deliveries?

“Thanks…” You squint at the driver’s name tag. “…Lukas.”

“No problem!”

Once the two workers finish unloading and stacking boxes of who-knows-what in your living room, they wave cheerfully before speeding off down the street. Half-asleep, you manage only a bemused wave in return.

You think you might’ve been cursed. Or blessed. It’s hard to say. Because ever since your crow friend escaped a week ago, it feels like you’ve already blown through a lifetime’s worth of luck.

In the span of days, you’ve gotten a raise and better employee benefits (odd, considering you’re still just an assistant manager), won lifetime vouchers for three of your favorite food spots, and now, apparently, won a supermarket raffle—complete with at least three months’ worth of groceries.

Rummaging through the boxes, you find they’re stocked with all your usual brands. Snacks, non-perishables, beauty products, household items—everything. Even fresh produce.

For the first time in a while, you won’t have to worry about going hungry.

—

You’re not sure why you’ve come back to the park tonight.

It’s late, and you’ve already visited the crows earlier, spoiling them with extra bags of peanuts thanks to your recent streak of good fortune.

The crows seem to wonder the same thing. While they peck enthusiastically at the peanuts, their beady eyes occasionally flick toward you, as if to silently judge your lack of anything resembling a social life.

Admittedly, you’ve been hoping to see your crow friend again.

You think you’re starting to come to terms with its disappearance. Life goes on, right? It’s just an animal, after all. It probably doesn’t feel the same complex emotions humans do—the kind that have you so affected by its absence after only a few days of sharing a space. (Maybe it was a one-sided friendship all along...) It probably just followed its instincts, leaving to do whatever it is that lone crows do.

Still, a petulant part of you feels bitter. Sure, it left behind a hoard of treasures—trinkets, gems, and gold so polished they must be real (though you’re not ready to think about where it might have stolen them)—but it could’ve at least waited for you to come home before flying off.

In hindsight, maybe it’s a good thing you never had pets. Your apparent abandonment issues would be a nightmare to deal with if they got lost, ran away, or died.

Suddenly, a familiar series of shrill caws pierces the air. Before you can process what’s happening, something crashes into your lap, a blur of loose black feathers hitting your face.

Could it be…?

The unmistakable garnet glint in the midnight-feathered avian’s eyes confirms it. Without hesitation, you scoop the bird into your arms, pulling it tightly to your chest, and press a rough, enthusiastic kiss to its head.

“Where have you been?” you exclaim, laughing as you nuzzle the void-like creature against your cheek, smothering it in an embrace. “I’ve been so worried about you!”

Its muffled caws are drowned out by your babbling. “Oh gosh—your wing! How is it?” you say, quickly pulling back to inspect it.

Its feathers look good—healthy, even. In fact, they almost seem brand new, gleaming like a freshly unboxed gadget. Its once-injured left wing no longer looks broken—or as you’d thought before, no longer resembling a mechanical part with a loose screw.

Before you can start fussing over it again, the bird suddenly wriggles free from your grasp and lands steadily on your lap. It caws again, but something’s different. It’s louder, more piercing—frantic. It paces across your lap, continuing to practically scream at you, as if trying to tell you something.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, your heart squeezing at the sight of its feathers puffing up with each stressed caw.

You try to pat its head, hoping to calm it down, but it jumps off your lap and lands on the ground, still cawing. The other crows, clearly spooked by its urgent cries, start to scatter. Bewildered, you bend down, attempting to scoop it into your arms again, but it evades you by hopping a few feet away, still cawing—loudly.

“What is it?” you say, exasperated. I can’t speak crow!

You step closer, bending down once more, but it hops away—again.

You stare up at the heavens. This has to be some cosmic joke. You can’t believe you’re playing this strange version of tag with a bird.

You don’t even realize how far you’ve walked, now a good distance from the bench you were sitting on. You’ve reached the darker area of the park, still desperate to grab the cawing bird and figure out what’s wrong. Then, without warning, your foot catches on a tree root. You stumble, and before you can recover, you hit the cold, wet ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Well, there goes my good luck streak,” you mutter, trying to push yourself up. Good thing nobody’s around to witness your embarrassing lack of coordination.

“Tell me about it.”

The sudden presence of a deep, unfamiliar voice makes you freeze. Heart pounding wildly, you scramble to sit up, eyes darting toward the source.

It wasn’t a tree root you tripped over. It was a leg—a stretched-out leg attached to a man slumped against one of the park’s statues. A huge, beautiful man, with silver hair and a pair of breathtaking garnet eyes, half-lidded and filled with amusement. He’s clutching his abdomen, the fabric there soaked in dark, ominous red.

Blood.

A field of red datura blooms. A starry night sky with the clouds beneath you. Mountains of gold against jagged walls. A burning plaza. A bloodied claymore.

You don’t register the ringing in your ears or the flash of blurry, unfamiliar images racing through your mind. Your gaze remains locked on the man’s injury. Before you know it, you’re shrugging off your puffer jacket and sweater. Now clad in just your turtleneck, you drop to your knees and press your sweater firmly against his wound.

You, waiting for your turn to walk on stage to receive your diploma. A university staff member rushing toward you. You, running out of the graduation venue. Two totaled SUVs. Three dead bodies.

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you work methodically. Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. Apply pressure. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Just keep pressing. Don’t think about how much there is. Don’t panic. You fold the sweater tighter against the wound. Okay, stop the bleeding first. That’s all you know. Just keep the pressure steady. He’s losing too much. Is this enough? Should I tie it off? No, just keep pressing. Keep him alive.

The edges of your vision begin to blur. You have to save them. You have to save him. They can’t leave you. He can’t leave you. Not again.

“Sweetheart.”

The word, softly spoken, snaps you out of your trance. Your eyes lift to meet his, and the world seems to still. You’ve never met this man in your life, but the way he looks at you—it hurts. It feels like an ancient grief has surfaced from the depths of your soul.

You finally notice the state you’re in. You’re shaking. Badly. The cold winter air bites into your skin, sharp and unforgiving. Your palms are scraped from your earlier fall, but you hardly register the sting. The man’s hands—large and warm—enclose your trembling ones, grounding you.

And it’s like you’ve never known peace until this very moment.

note: can u tell the extent of my yearning to be spoiled with groceries LMAO

[olugardaanafashion]

LFW FW19 Day 2 Tyler Joe - 27

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"For life." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gifs)

Daryl tells his daughter about the day she was born (And she asks him an awkward question)

A/N: Just a continuation of my first imagine with dad!Daryl. My everything. I don't know why but I always imagined his daughter as Lexi Rabe, Iron Man's daughter, (I took a scene too, sorry hehe) but as always, you can imagine her differently. Thanks for the love my imagines are receiving! I had so much fun writing this so i hope you like it♥

“Shit…” Daryl whispers, and the group around him sinks into silence.

The few present, some members of his family, including his wife, stare at the map on the dining room table, plotting in their minds what was the best option to attack Negan’s clan before he attacks Alexandria again, before he puts at risk the lives of the innocents who had been caught in the crossfire.

But the silence is broken by a small voice, as sweet as honey since she learned to speak.

“Shit.”

They all turn to the staircase behind them, especially Daryl, who could recognize his daughter’s voice among a sea of ​​murmurs, even if they were louder than her small voice. Daryl had a good memory, and he had memorized her voice since Marley said her first word, which, to his delight, was daddy. But now Marley Rose Dixon is 4 years old already, and although her bag of words as he used to call it was still limited, she had learned to memorize a lot of things at her young age.

Daryl walks over to her, who is sitting on the bottom step, wearing her pajamas with little baby elephant prints on them, and he lifts her up in his arms, enveloping her in his warmth. For her part, Marley hugs his neck, and she smiles back at him, a little sleepily because it is already past midnight.

“What are ya doin' up, youn' lady? It’s late and ya should be sleepin'.”

“Shit.” She repeats, laughing, just to make him uncomfortable, although she didn’t know she was actually doing it.

You chuckle, as do Rick, Michonne, and the others.

“No, angel, it ain't 'kay to say that word.” Daryl scolds her, softly as he uses one hand to push some strands of her brown hair out of her face. “That word belongs to mommy, so only she can say it.”

Marley frowns, tilting her head to look at him with her deep blue eyes and an accusatory expression.

“But you said it, daddy.”

He clears his throat before answering.

“Yeah, but only 'cause Mommy lends it to me sometimes, right, Mommy?” Daryl glances in your direction, and when everyone turns their gazes to you, the weight falls on your shoulders, so you just nod with a solemn expression. “See? Now we’re gonna take ya back to yer room, 'kay?”

Marley hugs his neck closer, their noses touching, making Daryl smile.

“But can you tell me a story?”

Before you or Daryl can speak, though, Rick ends the meeting. Everyone retreats to their own homes, kissing Marley on the cheek or stroking her hair on their way out, and when the three of you are alone again, you all head up the stairs to her room.

Once there, Daryl sets Marley down on her bed, tucking her into her blanket as you grab a book from her shelf. There weren’t many children’s books in that new world, so the two of you had started reading Marley books about wild animals, exotic flowers, and more.

He lays down next to her on the blanket, their heads touching on the pillow as you hand him a book. But Daryl skims through it first, frowning as he looks back at you.

“What? No pictures this time?”

“Borin’!” Marley replies, mimicking her father’s expression.

Her words make you let out a deep breath, but you chuckle too, just because even though you had given birth to her, she looks more like her father than you.

“Oh no. Look what we did. We created a little Daryl Dixon. As if we didn’t have enough with the one we already have at home.” Shaking your head, you walk out of the room, hearing your husband’s voice behind you.

“I’m so proud of the daughter I raised!”

You hear the laugh in his deep voice, but before Daryl can open the book, Marley gently pushes it away.

“Daddy, tell me one of your stories.”

He settles down on the bed, looking into her eyes that were just like his own. Daryl could get lost in the depths of her blue eyes, all day, all night, or all his life: it was like that from the first time he saw her anyways.

“Did Mommy tell ya about the day ya were born?”

She shakes her head.

“Well, we were waitin' for ya for several months now, but ya were two weeks early. It seems that Mommy’s belly wasn’t very comfortable anymore. That night, Daddy had gotten to the gates after a run when Aunt Maggie told me that Mommy was ready to give birth, and when I got to our room, she was very, very scared. So I sat behind 'er on the bed and told 'er how brave she was, that she jus' needed to endure the pain a little longer to meet our baby.”

Daryl smiles slightly at the memory despite the fear he felt, because there was always a chance of losing his wife or his daughter, and Marley looks at him curiously.

“Were you scared?”

Daryl chuckles, stopping himself from saying shit again.

“Terrified, angel. Daddy couldn’t do anythin’ to stop Mommy from havin’ that pain, but we both know how strong Mommy is, and I knew she could do it. Ya took a long time to be born, but in the end, yer cry was the most beautiful sound I ever heard. Ya were healthy, and that was all yer mommy and I asked of life. Then the doctor put ya on mommy’s chest, and suddenly ya stopped cryin' when ya looked into 'er eyes.”

“How did I look at Mommy?”

Daryl smiles, bringing a hand up to Marley’s face to caress her cheek.

“Ya looked at each other like ya’d known each other forever.”

“And how did I look at you?”

Marley chuckles as he leans closer to her, so close that he can rub his nose against his daughter’s, hearing that sweet sound he’s memorized as well.

“Ya looked at me like ya were goin' to love me yer whole life.”

Marley smiles.

“But I love you, Daddy.”

“For life?”

She nods quickly.

“For life.”

For Daryl, who was never given a touch of affection, he knows well that he would give his life for his daughter, because she had loved him long before she knew what love was. But she grew up surrounded by it, by her family, by her mother, and most of all by him, who always knew how to love despite not having been loved when he was a child.

And it is easy for him to say the words that he never received.

“Daddy loves ya, Marley, with all his heart.”

She smiles, kissing his nose before wrapping an arm around his neck.

“I love you too, daddy, with all my heart.”

“That’s good to know, ma little angel.” Daryl caresses her cheek one more time before pulling away from her, getting up to tuck her in before leaving. “Ya must sleep now, sweetheart. It’s late.”

“Daddy?” Just as he adjusts her blanket for the last time, he stops. “Can I have a pet?”

Daryl thinks for a moment: it’s been a while since anyone had seen a pet.

“How about a fish? Daddy can take ya fishin' and we can come home with a pet fish.”

Marley wrinkles her nose.

“I don’t want a fish. You can’t take them for walks.”

He chuckles.

“And what animal would ya like?”

“An elephant!”

Daryl can’t help it, he frowns at her, head cocked to the side.

“What’s that word Mommy always uses when I get obsessed with somethin'?”

“Fixation.” She laughs, finding the word before her dad does.

Daryl chuckles.

“Ya really got a thin' for elephants, angel.” He leans down to kiss her forehead before leaving, but on his way to the door, her voice stops him again. “Yeah?”

“And how did I get into mommy’s belly?”

Daryl chokes on his own breath: but he would rather face 100 walkers than explain to his daughter how a baby was made.

“What?”

“You said I was in mommy’s belly.” Marley cocks her head, an action she learned from him. “How did I get there?”

“Well…” Daryl frowns in a thoughtful expression, because Merle had told him about it when he was a kid, but in a very grotesque way. “Daddy will try to get ya an elephant, I make no promises, but I'll try, 'kay?”

Marley smiles.

“Okay.”

Daryl can feel the relief as he closes her door, but he knows that sooner or later, she’ll ask again. When he gets to his own room, he can see you standing in front of the window, staring out at the cold world, but at least inside his home, it was always warm. Like a good hunter, Daryl comes to you quietly, wrapping you in his arms, his face hidden in your neck, his warm breath tickling you.

“How did yer parents tell ya how a baby is made?”

You laugh.

“What?”

“Marley asked me how she got into mommy’s belly.” Daryl lifts his head, meeting your amused gaze. “Merle told me when I was 6, and I ain't repeating the words he used to ma daughter.”

You shrug, agreeing with him.

“I met him, so I can imagine his words. I was never told that babies are delivered by the stork or anything like that. But, we already talked to Marley about calling her private parts by their names, so we can start there.”

Daryl growls.

“I’ll be there but, could ya do it? I ain't ready to teach ma baby how to make a baby.”

You laugh.

“Fine, I’ll do the talking. Although now that I think about it, my brother once told me that he was explained it when my mom was pregnant with me, so it was easier for them and him.” When you look back at him, Daryl is looking at you with an amused smile, the one he used before asking you if you wanted to make love. “I’m not saying we have another baby! So keep your hands off me.” You pull away from him a little, looking at him with a serious expression. “Before you say it, no. No, no, no, and definitely not. And if that wasn't clear to you, hell no.”

Daryl shoves his hands into his pants pockets, smiling like a child.

“I jus' think maybe it’s the right time to give Marley a little brother or sister.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? Are you planning on giving birth to that baby?” You ask, but when he shakes his head, you narrow your eyes. “Then think twice, Dixon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed. And if you dare lay a finger on me, I’m going to bite it. I’m not kidding.”

The moment you turn your back at him, however, Daryl has you in his arms, kissing the arch of your neck before you can ask him to let you go.

[twilghtkoo]

xoxo - lee donghyuck

synopsis. in which, your little niece has a crush on your boyfriend.

pairings. donghyuck x reader (f)

genre. fluff, established relationship, non!idol au

warnings. none!

notes. this idea is inspired by this tiktok i saw T_T i was like holy shit this is cute now let’s make it about hyuck :D also something is wrong w my taglist, it says it got deleted but i didn’t delete it so i might have to make a new one😭 so if the link isn’t working that’s why!! just letting y’all know :)

masterlist | series masterlist

—

“and she hates the crust on her bread–“ your older sister tries to inform.

you push her out your door, mindlessly nodding your head. “i know, i know, don’t worry she’s gonna be fine. now go, before you’re late.” you wave to her one last time before you close the door behind her with a huff.

your six year old niece is still standing behind you with her bluey backpack on her shoulders that has all the things that would entertain her for tonight.

“hi, sweetie. i missed you,” you crouch down to her level, helping her out of her shoes and taking off her backpack.

“i missed you too, auntie!” she smiles and takes off to your living room, giggling.

you had already put on her favorite cartoon on your tv, as you follow her with her bag in your hands before placing it beside the couch.

she’s totally immersed herself in the animated slice-of-life adventures of the dog family. you stand inches away from her, amused at how she has blocked out all of her surroundings.

you turn to walk into your kitchen, thinking of preparing something easy for dinner.

“auntie!” your niece calls out from the living room.

you hum in response, putting away the dried dishes from last night.

“is donghyuck-ie coming over today?” she asks, curiously. and you know just by her tone and the mention of her second favorite person (first is obviously me) she’s twiddling her fingers.

you chuckle to yourself. “yes, he’s coming over later though.”

you hear her gasp before it goes back to being silent, the faint sound of the tv echoing through your apartment.

you’ve noticed your little niece’s infatuation with your boyfriend and you and donghyuck think it’s the cutest thing. she loves playing with him when he comes over while you’re babysitting her, making him sit in the living room with her and color and play with her toys. she gets all shy and geeky when donghyuck walks with her holding hands.

your older sister finds it funny and amusing.

“tell your boyfriend to stop being so handsome yeah? my daughter is bragging to everybody that donghyuck-ie bought her a toy.” your sister groans into your ear, on the phone with you.

—

you’ve been busy preparing dinner in the kitchen, appreciating the comforting sound of bluey and bingo playing along. every so and so minutes you check on your niece by calling her name.

“yes?”

“just checking on you, you good?”

she hums cutely. “yes auntie.” you peek your head out, seeing her sprawled out on the floor with her backpack next to her and all its contents spread out. she’s drawing something in front of the tv, concentrating with her tongue poking out as she scribbled with her crayons and gazing up at the tv.

she crawls up to her feet, bending down to grab the piece of paper she was doodling on before stomping over to you.

“auntie! auntie!”

you raise your eyebrows, giving her your undivided attention.

she shoves the piece of paper in your face. “look!”

you lean your head back, blinking, trying to adjust to what she’s showing you.

she’s holding up a stationary bluey themed piece of paper that has blue textured crayon words written neatly across the printed lines.

‘dear sunflower ♡’

you gasp, bringing your hands to cover your mouth. “is this a letter for donghyuck?” you whisper to her, from her view, your eyes shaped into crescent moons and your hands are covering your smile.

your niece giggles, using the letter in her tiny hands to hide her face as the pig tails from her head bounce from her nodding.

“he’s gonna love it! i mean, who doesn’t love bluey?” you ask rhetorically, hands on your hips.

“right?”

the doorbell chimes throughout your small home, both you and your niece look at each other with big eyes. already knowing who’s behind the door. your niece runs out the kitchen and into the living room squealing as you make your way to let your boyfriend in.

“hi pretty.” haechan grins at you, his eyelids looking a bit heavy and you already know work was tough on him. he still smiles and extends his arms out for you.

you wrap your arms around his neck, playfully groaning when he squeezes you tight in his grasp.

he lets out a breathy laugh, grabbing your waist to pull you away to connect his lips with yours in a slow, gentle kiss. his hands roaming over your lower back and creeping down to your ass.

“sunflower!” you both break the kiss, you walk back to the kitchen while he bends down to greet the little girl.

“aigoo, hi cutie. how are you?” you hear him coo at her.

—

“thank u yn for the food.”

“thank you auntie for the food!” they both say at the same time.

you reach over the table to grab their plates and placing them inside the sink, your niece jumps up from her seat and runs out the kitchen. donghyuck takes this moment to snake his hands from behind to lace his fingers together so you can’t run.

his body towering over you, he leans down to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, peppering small kisses on your exposed skin. “thank you for dinner baby,” he mumbles against your skin.

you smile, “of course.”

“sunflower!”

he pats your ass, pecking the top of your head before walking away. “yes bum bum,” he replies. the nickname that seemed fitting and grew on her over time, it being short for bumble bee.

“i made something for you.” the little girl shyly utters, the piece of paper in her hands as she shoves it in his hands.

he laughs lightly, sitting on the balls of his feet. “did you draw something for me?”

she shakes her head, her toothy smile on display, her hands behind her back as she sways back and forth on her feet.

you appear behind donghyuck, relaxing your hand on his shoulder.

it’s a comforting silence in your apartment, he’s taking the time to carefully read each word and reading a certain word over again because of the misspelling but he finds it endearing, his smile growing wider as he gets closer to the end.

‘xoxo, bum bum :)’

“hugs and kisses, where did you learn that from?”

“school!” she exclaims.

“school shouldn’t be teaching you how to win hearts,” he states with a playful pout.

she clasps her hands together, stepping closer towards him to point at the tiny prints. “i used my bluey stationary kit, do you like the paper?”

“i do, i’m very honored and i’m going to hang it up in my home. this is my first letter i got from a girl!” he whisper-shouts in your niece’s ear.

obviously you heard him and that made you nudge him with your knee, making him lose his balance.

“auntie you have to write sunflower love letters.”

he smirks, “yeah, auntie.”

[lovebugism]

Heyo!

Can you pretty please with sugar on top do something with Steve and shy!reader and then passing notes?

Feel free to skip if you want, and thank you in advance! Your writing skills are so good!

ty angel! hope you like it xoxo — after a scolding from keith for talking to you on the job, steve takes matters into his own hands (shy!fem!r, fluff, established relationship, 1.3k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Grieving, grieving, grieving.

Steve goes into his fourth hour on the clock mourning the lack of you. You’re sitting just beside him, click-clacking away at the chunky computer, but he misses you anyway. He hasn’t said a word to you in an hour. He’s pretty sure it has to be a record by now, especially with you close enough to kiss.

Keith got mad at the two of you for ‘fonduing on the job.’ Whatever that means. Now, the two of you are silent and unsure of what to do with yourselves. This job was only tolerable because he could spend eight hours with you. What’s he supposed to do now? Work?

“Have a good day,” he says, a bit robotically but with a smile, as he hands a customer their bag of movies. Killer Klowns, Poltergeist, and Basketcase — for what must be a horror movie marathon for a holiday season cleanse.

The customer service grin washes away the second the door dings open and shut again. The store is quiet and mostly empty, eerily so without you to fill the void. 

A funny joke pops into his head then, and his first instinct is to tell you about it — just to see you smile ‘cause he knows you’ll laugh even if it’s not funny. He looks over his shoulder to make sure Keith isn’t looking, then finds the weirdo watching him like a hawk, only his beady eyes visible over the aisle of tapes.

Steve cowers beneath the ice-cold glare and turns away again. He reaches for a sticky note instead, bright yellow and with the Family Video logo printed in green at the top. The jotting of his pen against the pad fills the mostly silent store. 

He yawns and fakes a stretch to stick the thing on the counter next to you.

You don’t notice it at first — because inventory has drained your awareness so much that it’s all you can focus on — but you’re smiling the second you do. It schlicks when you un-stick it from the laminate to find a sloppy drawing of a cartoon pig. 

“Missing you pig time” is written in something close to chicken scratch just beside it.

You get all giddy, like a schoolgirl in the back of the classroom getting a note from their crush. Being with Steve feels exactly like that, all the time. On the legal pad next to you, you write a cheesy pun of your own — a plump hippo in a neater cursive that reads “I hippopota-miss you.” 

You rip it from the notebook slowly and with a palm spread flat to avoid making too much noise. You crumble it up to pretend like it’s trash, then intentionally miss the bin beside you. The thing bounces by Steve’s sneakers before he bends down to pick it up with a golden hand.

He smooths out the paper as best he can on the counter. Then leans on his elbow and props his scruffy chin in his palm, using his fingers to hide the beam on his face. With his free hand, he draws you a hedgehog adjacent to the cartoonish animal you’d created — only he doesn’t really remember what a hedgehog looks like, so it’s more of a circle with spikes.

“Could really use a hedge-hug right now,” he writes.

He crushes the paper between his palms and tosses it into your lap.

You shoot him a glare, accompanied with a small smile, but he looks away too quickly to see it. 

You begin to beam as your eyes dart over the crumbled paper, an expression so wide Steve can see it in his own head. He’s grieved to miss it, but he doesn’t want Keith to see him and think he’s distracted again. Besides, he knows if he looks at you too long, he’ll have no choice but to kiss you stupid.

Now all you are is unkissed and grieving, more so than you were just five minutes ago. You grow empty with the feeling. It makes the spark of bravery and sudden longing burn brighter behind your ribcage.

You rise from your squeaking swivel chair and walk the very short distance to Steve. Three steps. Five, maybe. Six at the very most. You don’t count them, too overwhelmed by your love for the boy who doesn’t see you coming.

You wrap him up in your arms, wedging yourself between him and the countertop. Your arms clasp behind his lower back as your cheek squishes into his sternum. He smells like home, cologne, and something warmer.

Steve tenses beneath your embrace. Not because he doesn’t welcome it, but because you’re not usually so affectionate this way. It took you months to kiss him first — longer to stop asking to kiss him before you did it. 

And you’re a delicate little thing, too. You hate getting in trouble. Hate the thought that someone, somewhere in the world, was at some point unhappy with you. And even though you don’t particularly care for your boss, you’d think you’d probably cry if Keith ever scolded you.

Steve knows this, too. So he doesn’t give in to you so easily.

“Whatcha doing?” he croons lowly to you.

“Give you a hedge-hug,” you mumble into his chest.

He scoffs a faint laugh that fans across your forehead. “You’ll get in trouble,” he teases in a gentle whisper, slowly melting into your embrace. His wide hands smooth warm along your spine. He doesn’t press you anything closer with his touch, just cradles you softly against him.

“Don’t care. I just miss you.”

“Hippopota-miss me?” he jokes and noses into your hair. You smell like home, in both the figurative and literal sense of the word. Equal parts because you spent the night at his place and because your scent strikes something short of nostalgia inside his chest.

You laugh. He can feel the golden sound of it in his ribcage. “Pig time,” you answer.

“How’d you like that one, huh?” he asks, muffled against you.

“It was genius.”

“Right!” he chuckles. “Thought of it outta nowhere and had to tell someone about it.”

Your head shakes against him as a grin blossoms on your lips. He can’t see it from this angle, but he can feel it — in the way your cheek squishes harder against his sternum. “Your brain is so amusing, you know that?”

Steve, knowing that would be an insult coming from Robin, decides to take it as a compliment from you. He presses his petaled mouth to your forehead and lingers there for several moments. “Thank you,” he murmurs after.

The Robin in question turns out to be his savior, neither intentionally nor ungrudgingly.

She’s stacking VHS tapes on the shelves with Keith, both of them crouched to restock the bottom rows. She rises first, bones creaking in protest. “God, I feel like an eighty-year-old, man,” she groans and stretches her aching knees.

Back to full height again, she sees the two of you wrapped in an embrace behind the counter. She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Not because she’s jealous — she’s definitely not jealous — but because the two of you couldn’t last a whole hour not talking. It’s deplorable.

But despite her internalized complaints, she refuses to let Keith catch you fonduing a second time. Right before he stands beside her, she swipes a hand over the top row of tapes. Adventure movies titled L through M tumbled to the ground, a few of them knocking the older boy on his mulleted head.

“Ow!” he winces, nasally and whiny. He cradles the top of his deep brown, only slightly greasy hair and stares daggers at the girl above him. “What the heck was that for?”

Robin shoots him a shaking smile, freckled face blotched pink. “Sorry,” she lilts, voice trembling. “Spasm.”

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Little comfort things

Self-Aware! BSD AU x SAGAU Imposter AU

Self-Aware! Kunikida Doppo x GN! Reader x Self-Aware! Paul Verlaine

Description: You can't sleep. Doppo and Verlaine are here to make you feel comfortable.

Set in a week after Lost and Found. At this point, BSD Cast don't know, what happened to Reader

Warning: OOC. English is my second language.

Shortish comfort fic

__________

You tossed and turned in your bed. You opened your bloodshot eyes. You couldn't sleep. You were afraid of sleeping. Because each time you close your eyes, you saw Teyvat. That wrenched place... For the last week you couldn't sleep, the only time you could catch some sleep, was during dawn hours, while you lose focus on anything, because of exhaustion.

You sobbed and hit the mattress. You wanted to sleep! You don't want to feel afraid anymore.

You groaned and put the pillow above your head. You remembered, how it was, when you were a kid and had a nightmare.

If you were a kid again... Your parents would probably put your favorite blanket around you, took you to the kitchen and make you a cup of cocoa. You will have your favorite toy with you, hugging it, while drinking your cocoa and eating cookies. Then you will go to bed, and there would be no nightmares.

But you were an adult. There were no little blankets with colorful print, no favorite toy, no cocoa in a cup with cartoon animals on it, no cookies with smiley faces...

Only memories about Teyvat, fear and guilt of making BSD Cast worried about you...

___________

"Are you sure, that you need my help?" asked Verlaine, looking at your parents' place. Kunikida nodded slightly.

"Yes. [Y/N] are..." Kunikida didn't finish. Everyone knew, what was happening to you. "Maybe, their parents knew, how to help them."

Verlaine nodded, yet, asked again.

"But, why me?"

Kunikida sighed and open the car's door.

"I need someone, who will make [Y/N] feel safe. If there's no way to comfort them, we need to find how to do it ourselves. And [Y/N] see you as a protector."

Kunikida stepped outside from the car. Verlaine followed after him.

"Besides," Kunikida's ears became slightly pink. "I need someone, who will help to came up with a believable lie."

__________

Verlaine was carrying a box in his hands. Your parents were sweet enough to share stories about your childhood with "[Y/N]'s nice friends". With some sweet words, Verlaine managed to get some of your old things from your parents.

Verlaine didn't know if it was true, that things from childhood can lift person's spirit. Well, at least Kunikida was sure of it. Verlaine only hopped, that it would help you.

Tonight, they will help you.

________

Another night, another sleepless night.

You just lay here, looking at the ceiling, thinking about anything you can, to distract you from Teyvat.

A quiet knock on the door cut your line of thoughts.

Did you wake someone up?

You sat up and spoke. Your voice was hoarse.

"Come in..."

The door was opened, and Verlaine stepped into your room. You looked at the floor. You didn't want to look at Verlaine. You were too embarrassed.

Verlaine took a few more steps, until he stepped right before your bed. You were waiting for him to ask you to be quiet.

Instead, something soft was wrapped around your shoulders.

It took you some time, before you realized, what it was. Such an old, soft, familiar thing. Now, it was too small for you and only can cover your shoulders.

"M-my childhood blanket?" You looked at Verlaine. You can't believe it. How he got it from your parents' home? Then you saw another thing. A familiar toy in his hands. Your favorite one.

You didn't resist, when Verlaine gave you the toy. You only hugged it closer to your chest.

And then Verlaine pick you up.

"Let's go, Dear Opal. Your cocoa and cookies are waiting for you."

When Verlaine carried you to the kitchen, a little ghost of a smile appeared on your face.

Kunikida was here. He was keeping an eye on a pot. A bag of milk, few sugar cubes, box of cocoa powder, bottle of whipped cream, box with chocolate chips, a bottle of vanilla sauce and bag of marshmallows were on the table.

Kunikida turned towards you and Verlaine, and a smile appeared on his face.

"It's almost ready. Give me another minute."

Verlaine and you nodded. Verlaine put you on one of the chairs.

Soon, a big cup of cocoa (with whipped cream, chocolate chips, vanilla cream and a marshmallow) was put before you. Ingredients were put away and were replaced with a big bowl of cookies.

Doppo and Verlaine didn't touch their cocoas, until you make a first sip.

Then Kunikida spoke.

"[Y/N]. I want to tell you that we all care about you. All of us love you. You are dear to all of us. Don't be afraid of asking for help. We will help you. We will be here for you."

Then Verlaine started talking.

"Please, don't be ashamed of being vulnerable. We... didn't know why. But we will be here regardless of the reason. You deserved everything in this world."

You didn't answer, but another faint smile touched your lips.

Then you whispered.

"Thank you..."

The rest of the cocoa drinking were in comfortable silence.

You felt calm. You were among friends. Your little comfort things were there.

For the first time in a week, you felt truly safe. And sleepy.

You finished your cocoa and eat the final cookie.

Kunikida and Verlaine noticed your sleepy expression. Kunikida gently pat your head.

"Let's get you to bed, My Ideal. We will keep you safe. We will stay in your room tonight."

Verlaine pick you up again. Both him and Kunikida returned to your room.

You were put into bed and tucked in. Your childhood blanket and toy was put near you on your bed.

Verlaine and Kunikida got themselves comfortable on your bean bags. It seems, they were serious about staying in your room.

Your room was dark. You closed your eyes.

And finally had a long dream without nightmares.

_________

Kunikida and Verlaine observed your sleeping figure. At this moment, all their problems disappeared. You were sleeping. And you were slightly happier. With small steps, they will help you. With small gestures and warm words.

Because you deserve every bit of happiness they can and will give you.

________

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters @nervousinfluencertidalwave @ayameshu

[thetxtdevil]

what about,, having an anime marathon with soobin instead of going out with the boys and seeing him in the kitchen wearing grey sweatpants that outline everything and getting snacks then coming back to seeing you on the couch oof..on my knees for that dick.

This has me thinking of that dick print photo---

A perfect day for an introvert, staying inside, eating as much as you want, wearing comfy clothes and watching anime. Lets not forget about spending time with a special someone. Soobin was a little too happy finding out that the boys are going out doing their own thing. This gave him a chance to call you over and to be lazy.

There you two were in the living room, blankets all over the couch and the floor. Both of you sipped on your drinks, you slurping up ramen while Soobin had a almost empty bag of chips on his tummy, with eyes glued on the colorful cartoons on the TV. Soobin picks up his drink downing air and ice, with a pout he realizes he has to get up to fill up his cup. The man grunts out of the comfy spot on the couch getting your attention.

You check him out admiring his matching attire, loose grey tee with very loose charcoal sweats. Coughing up your noodles when you see a very distinct outline of his family jewels. You tilt your head to watch Soobin now in the kitchen. Was he teasing you? Running his fingers through his hair exposing his forehead and sharp eyebrows furrowing while pouring out his drink. Then he raises hand under his shirt, scratching his shoulder but obviously showing off his toned abdomen. Ramen completely forgotten you place the bowl on the side table, focusing on the show playing, trying to keep your dirty mind in place.

Soobin comes back sitting his drink down, he looks over at you. Your eyes still wide from what you witnessed. The man smirks sitting right beside you. "What's on your mind?"

"Hmmm?"

"The scene isn't actually that interesting to be so invested in it" Soobin says pointing at the screen.

You gulp on your spit, glancing over at the man slightly getting another glimpse of his dick very clearly showing now he's sitting. "Are you wearing any underwear?"

Soobin licks his lips before bitting on the bottom skin. You lower your eyebrows confused and waiting for his answer. The man grasps your arm and slowly brings your hand to his crotch. A gasp fell from your lips, eyes bulging out of your head when you could not only see the detail but feel the detail of his cock.

"You're naughty" you say shaking your head faking your disappointment.

Your other hand grabs his waist band pulling it up so your other hand can slide underneath. Stroking the massive heavy weight, Soobin sinks into the cushions of the couch letting out a sigh. You took your time to feel every inch, every vein, every mouth watering curve of his dick. Crossing your legs as you feel yourself getting aroused. You lean into Soobin leaving kisses on his neck and flick your wrist making the man moan like the pervert he is.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

[lvnleah]

Away Game Travels | Leah Williamson x Lia Wälti

Summary: some of the AWFC girls help keep Sage entertained whilst Lia and Leah travel on the coach for an away game.

Word count: 1k

thank you once again to @alotofpockets who helped and gave me ideas!

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“Right! Have we got everything?” Leah asked, holding her away game bag as well as Lia’s.

Lia nodded, looking around the conference room, “I think so,” she looked down at Sage who was currently spinning around in circles with her backpack on her back, “Sagie, stop spinning a second.” Lia laughed.

The toddler stopped spinning and stood in place, her favourite teddy, Mr Flopsy, was tightly gripped under her arm, “Yeah Mummy?”

“Have you got everything, bubs?” Leah asked, “We need to go soon, the girls are boarding the coach now.”

Leah and Lia were currently preparing for a four hour coach journey to Liverpool. The team were travelling the day before and Leah and Lia were doing the trip on the coach for the first time with Sage.

With Leah being out for a while, taking Sage on the coach was something they hadn’t had to face yet. Before Leah tore her ACL, Sage used to stay with Amanda, Leah’s mum, when she was playing away. Now with her being three years old, they decided it was the right time to take her with them.

“Got Mr. Flopsy!” Sage declared, raising the well-loved teddy bear for inspection.

Lia smiled, “Anything else you want from your toy box, bubba?”

Sage shook her head, “Nope!”

“Alright then!” Leah said, “it’s time to hit the road.

Lia scooped up Sage, resting her on her hip before carrying her out to the coach. Leah took charge of their bags, making sure nothing got left behind while Lia focused on getting Sage on the coach.

As they got on the coach, Lia placed Sage down and let her run down the aisle to say hi to everyone. Sage knew that her Mum’s had rules when it came to being on the coach and around the team and they were something she followed well for a three year old. They were basic ones such as not waking the other girls when they were asleep and understanding if they wanted time alone.

“Beffy!” Sage shouted, running to where the blonde was sitting with Steph.

“Sage, no shouting please.” Lia reminded the three year old, “indoor voice!”

Beth gasped, “Hi tiny! You sitting with me and Steffy?”

Sage nodded, climbing up onto the seat opposite Steph that was closest to the window. Lia laughed as she watched Sage struggle.

“Sweetheart, you need to take your backpack off!” The Swiss shook her head, slipping the bag off the toddler's shoulders.

Soon enough, Leah boarded the coach with her bag as well as Lia’s. Leah sat with Steph, Beth and Sage while Lia sat beside them on the other table with Viv, Lotte and Vic.

The coach hummed with the low murmur of conversations as everyone settled into their seats. As they pulled away from the training ground, Sage’s attention was caught by the passing scenery. She pressed her small hands against the window, leaving faint prints on the glass as she watched everything pass by.

She pointed out different things that passed by, asking questions and chattering away to Beth and Steph. She pointed out cows and different animals, Beth and Steph questioned her on the different noises they made.

An hour and a half into the four hour drive, Sage began to get bored. They’d been able to distract her with a few games of eye spy and some games that Leah had packed but now the toddler was growing bored of them.

“Mumma I’m bored!” She huffed, resting her chin in her hands, “How much longer?”

Leah laughed, “Still a few hours, bubs.” She reached down and pulled out a colouring book from Sage’s backpack, “Do you want to do some colouring?”

Sage nodded eagerly and took the colouring book from Leah’s hand, saying a quick thank you before spreading out her colouring book on the small coach table.

“Beffy colour with me?” Sage asked, holding a pack of crayons out to Beth.

Beth gasped, “Oh of course I will! What are the choices?”

Sage flipped through her colouring book, listing the options off, “Princess, mermaid or a puppy!”

“A puppy please!” She smiled, “I’ll colour Myle!”

Beth used a brown crayon from the pack and began to carefully fill in the lines of the puppy in the colouring book. Sage, meanwhile, chose a bright pink crayon and started colouring a princess, her small fingers gripping the crayon with determination.

As they coloured, Sage chatted away about her favourite colours and asked Beth about Myle. "What does Myle like to do?" Sage asked with genuine curiosity.

Beth chuckled, "Myle loves to play fetch and run around in the park. She’s very energetic, just like you!”

Sage beamed at the comparison, feeling a sense of kinship with Beth's dog. "I wanna play with Myle too!" she declared.

“Oh I’m sure Myle will love that when we get home!” Beth said.

Leah watched the interaction with a warm smile, grateful for her teammates' kindness towards her daughter. She knew that these moments were precious and that Sage was forming bonds that would last a lifetime.

As time passed, the coach continued its steady journey towards Liverpool. The colouring book was slowly filled with vibrant colours, Sage ran around the coach and got different people to colour a page.

Leah leaned over to Lia and whispered, "She's having a blast, isn't she?"

Lia nodded, her eyes softening as she watched Sage. "She really is. I'm so glad we brought her along."

After her little adventure around the coach, visiting each teammate, Sage eventually made her way back to Lia. Lia opened her arms as Sage approached, the little one’s steps slowing, her excitement now replaced by tiredness. With a yawn and a rub of her eyes, Sage climbed onto Lia’s lap.

Lia wrapped her arms around Sage, pulling her close. Lia gently stroked Sage’s hair and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“I’m so tired, Mummy.” Sage murmured against Lia’s chest.

Lia rubbed her back softly, “Have a nap, bubs. We’ll be in there when you wake up.”

Lia could feel the weight of Sage’s head as it nestled into the crook of her neck, her breaths deepening as she fell asleep.

Leah looked across the aisle, the sight of her girlfriend and daughter melting her heart. “Our little bubs has tired herself out!”

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liked by liawaelti and 106,546 others

leahwilliamsonn always fun travelling with these two 🫶🏻

comments turned off

[aliesbienish]

The study of wolves - Part four

chapter one ✩ chapter two ✩ chapter three

“This is it,” you declared, confirming your GPS location with the ones of the latest wolf sighting.

It was still a fairly wood area, only a small clearing letting in a circle of sunlight. You placed your bag on the side of the trail and began to have a scan of the area.

Paul watched you in awe as you examined the ground for paw prints and the brush for any animal made tracks. After a few minutes you saw an area of flattened grass a few feet off the trail that peaked your interest. The animal made path left the small clearing and continued on downhill, meandering past rocky outcrops and large pine trees. Importantly you can hear the faint sound of flowing water in this distance, making the path a possible trail from den to the stream.

“Can you bring me my backpack?” You yelled to Paul.

“Here you go,” Paul passed over the bag a few minutes later. You went searching for the small motion sensor camera tucked at the bottom. “You found something?”

“Yup, our first spot! There is an animal trail here, you see? I’m not a hundred percent sure it’s our wolves, but the location makes sense with the water down that way and possible den locations up higher. I think we place it here for now and come back in a few days to see what it’s captured.”

“Why don’t we follow the path up or down?” Paul questioned.

“Honestly this is the easiest spot for us to access and find. If we do capture photos I think we could probably go place another camera down near the stream. I probably wouldn’t risk going up to the dens, they only use them when they are rearing pups and I don’t particularly want to piss off a mother wolf when we go to collect the camera.”

“I’d protect you,”

“I don’t doubt that cowboy. But what if it’s Jared with me when we are collecting them? You and I both know he’s sacrifice me to save himself,”

“Good call. Here it is,”

You wrapped the strap of the camera around a sturdy tree trunk at the bend of the track. Hoping you’d capture wolves coming and going from both directions.

“Okay, I need you to test this out for me!”

“You what? No thanks,”

“Oh come on, you just have to walk up and down the path. I promise to only put one of the photos in the data report, got to credit you somehow” You joked.

“Oh ha ha,” He stated starting to head up the trail. Once he was out of your sight you called him back, and he performed a turn any catwalk model would be jealous off. After walking down the track a few yards you checked the photos captured and gave your go ahead. Quickly snapping a photo of the site, noting the coordinates and saving a location on your phone it was done.

“Well that’s us good to go, nice modelling work there. I think the elders would be silly not to put out some Quileute merch and leak those photos,”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, I just happened to be channeling my inner wolf.”

“Of course, I forgot wolves are known to be natural stutters.”

“And don’t you dare leak those photos, because I’m sure as shit that the elders would have no clue how,”

“Don’t worry cowboy - whoops I’m sorry wolf boy, I’d make sure to get photos of Sam and Jared as well. The world deserves to see all three of you rock khaki,”

You reserved almost an animalistic growl from Paul for your comments, that probably should have startled you but realistically made you feel hot and bothered.

Paul himself wasn’t sure if it was in appreciation of the wolf boy comment or the jealously towards Sam and Jared.

“Come on smart arse,” he quipped, helping you put your backpack over your shoulders, “We better start to head back to the car before I give into the temptation to leave you here,”

“Go right ahead - I’ve been leaving a breadcrumb trail all day, so I can easily find my way back without your help,” You stuck your tongue out, and confidently stated heading in the opposite direction of the car.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Next chapter

But of a short (but hopefully sweet) chapter. Is Paul absolutely OOC when he’s with reader, yup. If anyone thinks that’s wouldn’t how he would be one on one with his imprint then fight me xx

Thanks for reading!

[honeytonedhottie]

my favorite 90's fashion trends⋆.ೃ࿔*:･💕🐆

❤︎ animal print

i think that animal print is so so chic. specifically cheetah and leopard print for me. its like the perfect blend of chic and sultry and i absolutely LIVE for it.

as u can see in the two outfits that i made that incorporated leopard print im heavily utilizing the chocolatey browns and golds and blacks and blending that all together nicely. these outfits have the perfect amount of sexiness and fierceness which is why i LOVE them so much.

❤︎ cargo pants

❤︎ mini shoulder bags

a mini shoulder bag is always the perfect accessory even nowadays! they go along with literally everything and i always feel like such a barbie when i pair a mini purse with my outfit.

not only is it functional but its also super duper cute and has so many options for versatility. for example u can use a mini shoulder bag as a statement piece or a complementary piece. this is something that paris hilton knew how to do REALLY really well.

❤︎ corset tops

i adore corset tops cuz they're so sexy and cute and they go well with literally anything i think. you can wear them over a dress or as a top, and it pairs really well with any bottom i think. as u can see in the looks i styled i did it with a low-waisted pair of jeans and a mini skirt.

i see looks like these a lot even in our fashion nowadays so im super happy about that because its just such a timeless trend! as u can see eva longoria's corset top complements her purse and the low waisted jeans and sandals add such a cute touch. i love that the corset top has a structured center that kind of goes outward toward the bust and bottom, its almost princessy.

❤︎ fur coats

❤︎ slip dresses

slip dresses are such an effortlessly elegant look and when i did some research for this post i saw supermodels like tyra banks frequently wearing them which i thought was super cool.

it just looks so refined and elegant and feminine and CUNT so i absolutely love it! in the look in the middle i love love LOVE how she paired the pink dress with the lime green heels like the color coordination is SUPERB.

❤︎ kitten heels

[sophrosynesworld]

Community Service (pt.1)

Class 1A has gotten a bit cocky with all the pro hero work they've been doing. To reconnect with their local community, each pair of students must complete 50 hours of community service before the end of the semester. And as luck (or curse) would have it, you've been paired with Katsuki Bakugo.

"Community service?" Mineta whines as our project outlines are handed out. The neatly printed papers detail our upcoming group assignment, while murmurs of discontent spread through the room like wildfire.

"It makes sense," Todoroki replies. “Locals should see us helping out. It’ll help them see us as heroes, not just normal teenagers.” He glances around, noticing a few classmates exchanging skeptical looks and hushed comments about the project.

"I don't care about a bunch of stupid idiots who can't help their own damn selves," Bakugo mutters under his breath, slumping further back into his chair with his hands stuffed into his pockets. I pity whoever's partnered with him. Stifling a laugh, I refocus on our clearly annoyed teachers.

"The committee feels that you are forgetting the main reason for being a hero: maintaining harmony and peace," Professor Mic reverberates. A few eyes glance at Bakugo, making him sink even lower in his seat.

"This isn’t a bad thing," Mr. Aizawa reassures us. "I've already assigned partners. You’ll need to follow the listed directions and get your papers stamped afterward. Take the rest of today to plan your volunteer options."

I glance down at my own paper, scanning the list of assigned partners. My eyes land on my name paired with Bakugo. Great. I look over at him; he’s still slumped in his chair with a scowl etched on his face.

Around the room, reactions are mixed. Midoriya is enthusiastically discussing the project with Iida, their heads already bent over their papers. Uraraka and Tsuyu exchange excited smiles, clearly happy to be working together. Meanwhile, Mineta groans loudly when he sees he's paired with Sero, who just shrugs.

"Looks like we're partners," I say, trying to stay positive.

"Just stay out of my way," 

"We need to work together if we want to get a good grade on this," I insist.

"Whatever."

Present Mic claps his hands to get our attention again. "A good day as a hero is carrying groceries for an elderly person. You shouldn't get used to saving the world every day."

With that, he dismisses us to start planning. Bakugo stands up abruptly, grabbing his backpack and pushing past me. I quickly grab my own bag and pull it over my shoulder, following him out the door, struggling to keep pace with his long strides.

"What kind of community service should we do?" I question, trying to engage him.

"I don't care," he snaps, not bothering to look back. "Just pick something and get it done."

"How about we go to the local animal shelter and walk dogs? I think I saw that on the list." I reach into my half-open bookbag and pull out the paperwork, trying to walk and read.

"Yeah, whatever," he says dismissively.

I slow my pace until I come to a stop. Bakugo doesn’t even glance back; he just turns the corner and heads out the front doors. Why did Mr. Aizawa pair me with him? I question my teacher's thought process for the hundredth time.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to refocus. Complaining won't change anything. Maybe Mr. Aizawa is testing me. Despite Bakugo's attitude, I know he can be a capable partner when he wants to be.

Just maybe, this could be an opportunity for both of us to grow.

[diejager]

Welcome Home Cw: DARKFIC, implied murder, crime, death, killing, blood and gore, violent murder, praising, nicknames (kitten, pet), dark!reader, Ghostface!reader, stalking, tell me if I missed any.

Part 5

Simon left Johnny with a whispered promise to be back within the week, be it a day or four, he’d find himself back into the open arms of his scared and paranoid boyfriend. He loved how dependent on him Johnny had grown since you’d started playing with Johnny, following his command to scare and taunt and tease with your little dabs of personality. How playful you were, sly with your words and swift with your hands, exactly the way he taught you. Unlike him and Johnny, who were trained and built to be strong and dependable, taught in the mass and bled to be better —to learn from deaths and mistakes; you were sculpted by his hands, to fit a certain mould he had in mind when he first caught you, he made you who you were, every piece a constant reminder of his lessons. 

A rippling effect of hunger and possession followed wherever you went, the subtle letters you left on his doorstep, the notes and bloody prints on his kitchen island, the small shadow outside of his window or the pictures you’d occasionally mail to Johnny for entertainment. And when he was at yours, the clink of your bell, the padded steps of your socked feet, the soft lull of your voice, and the many scars his fingers and lips would run over. Simon’s body churned with frustration from the long months spent away from you, he missed the feel of your skin under his palm and the bites he left week prior (they were probably healed by now, pale scars in the places where he made you bleed and smooth skin where it was superficial), yet a dark hunger - a deep-seated need - hung over him, an itch at the back of his mind that made his fingers twitch and knee jerk to hold and knead something, anything —you.

He had to remind himself that success took patience, something that was thinning by the minute. Unfortunate months away from you, lost in the throes of pleasure and affection with Johnny while missing a part of him (he will fix it, he planned to), only to have to wait for you to pop your head through the doorway of his more reclusive home. Simon hadn’t told you he’d be home, he wanted it to be a surprise, to see your eyes shine and gleam with unbridled happiness the moment he stepped into the cooler house and jump into his arms like the good kitten you were.

But no, you weren’t—

His back tensed at the ringing sound of jiggling keys, he glanced at the open hallway, watching your slump unevenly from the heavy bags hanging from one shoulder, quietly dropping them with a relieved sigh. You moved around to lock the door behind you, the familiar click resounding in his ears while he silently admired you as if you were an exotic animal —you were in a way, a well-trained and beautiful pet. You hooked your finger under the heel of your shoes, gasping a small grin when you finally saw his boots, a matte black against the light mocha of the welcome mat.

Forgetting the bags of groceries, you haphazardly placed the keys on the drawer in your rush to find him, your feet padding loudly in the open hallway that lead to the living room, where he sat comfortably, legs wide and arms spread over the armrest, resting his chin on his scarred knuckles. He sat like a king, broad and powerful, just as he was one in the world he built for you. You whispered his name, wide-eyed and parted lips, mumbling his name like a prayer, worshipping his name as you took slow and gasping steps towards him, arms outstretched to call him forward. 

“Kitten,” Simon met you halfway, leaving his throne-like armchair to lock fingers with you, pulling you to his chest with a quick sleight of hand, spelling magic his hands and tongue. His fingers found themselves in your hair, gripping your nape in an arching hold and drowned himself in you, his rough lips devouring your grunts and pants, tongue lapping at the sweetness of your mouth.

He was proud. He was so, so proud of you. He read the most recent attack, a bloody and passionate murder that left the room drenched in blood and gore, no evidence, no hints, no leads to the killer. It was a parody of life in the cruelest ways; a new beginning in the start of death, welcoming it as one would greet life. Your art was on the front page of every daily mail, the lettering bold and calling, showing the world how beautifully cruel you could be when given the right study. 

GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN

Investigators were called to the residence of Abigail Hutchinson after her boyfriend found her murdered in the living room of her house. No evidence were found in the crime scene, neither hair nor sweat from the killer. The Greater Manchester Police(GMP) investigators suspect Mrs. Hutchinson to be another victim of Ghostface, infamous for his erratic murders of ‘passion’. Investigators say that this murder fits Ghostface’s MO, from the level of violence to the picture left behind. Much is know of how he kills : seemingly planned and personal, still nothing is known of the killer. We don’t know the reasons behind the choice of his victims or the means of which he kills, but all we know is that Ghostface is willing to kill both young and old. No one is safe from him. 

He had read the article over and over, eating every little detail you left to taunt the failing department that was tasked to protect the region he lived in. You had taken life after life, and yet they weren’t any closer to finding you. You were meticulous in your work, careful to the point of paranoia about making a mistake, yet you never panicked. He’d instilled a calmness in you that others rarely had in such a situation, relying on your mind rather than adrenaline-fuelled instincts. 

He couldn’t have felt any prouder, a warmth bubbling in his chest as he held you on his lap, straddling him as he fed you praises. Your lips were plump and soft, easily swollen from just a few rough kisses that left you gasping and wanting, fingers clinging to the lapels of his jacket and grinding against his growing bulge for more. You nipped at his lower lip, teeth sinking into his equally swollen lip and bled him, your hands as needy as him in their wander, raking across his shoulders and down his chest all while you groaned his name.

“Si,” you moaned, slowly rutting against him, lids heavy and voice whispering yours pleas, “Please, Si. Haven’t I been good?”

He let out a pleased rumble.

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“‘M proud of you. Now be a good pet and kneel, yeah? Let me show you how proud I am.” 

Part 7

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Baseline ༯ Lars Ulrich (18+)

Your sports bag clings to your upper hip like a second skin as you make your way inside of the town you're visiting's local tennis club, an easygoing and excited smile lifting your reddened features despite your distain towards the engulfing heat, and its accompanied dry air making everything seem much more dense and heavier. The sound of children's animated laughter and the scuffs of their court shoes easily take over the now fading dual cacophony of blaring horns and annoyed shouts from the stoplight now a few yards away, and you nearly close your eyes in bliss as a cool breeze filters through, while the door slowly closes to latch itself behind your half clothed and cloying back.

They widen instead and quickly flicker to the right as a cold hand encircles itself around your forearm to fully tug you in, and you force yourself to take in a shaky breath as a girl around your age sends you an apologetic grimace and hastily takes a step back, her hand falling in tow. "Sorry about that, you probably couldn't hear me over all of the kids," she falters out, the slight stutter in her cadence and her obvious nervousness helps the rest of your hesitance and wariness dissipate. "You just look like a volunteer, and we're ten more kids away from a disaster and a shit show. I'm pulling at straws here."

"Well, luckily for you," You start, before playfully trailing off. Grinning amusedly at her words, you blindly reach back in search for the zipper on your bag, your eyes squinting with the enormity of your mirth as she lets out a cheer as soon as she sees the forest green polo in your raised fist. "What's going on, anyway? The last time I was here to sign up, this place was deserted, and now I can barely even see the exit to the courts from here." You raise an eyebrow as a group of excited parents and young teenagers eagerly make their way through the crowd, the matching shirts they have on and the lettering printed on them blurred with how fast they were clumsily attempting to travel through the packed lobby and front room. You halfheartedly toss your assigned shirt over your head, tugging your ponytail out of the back of the collar as you look around and shift your bag to each shoulder to slide your arms through the sleeve holes.

"Some metal band surprised us with a donation and agreed to come and watch the kids play for the day. They thought it would help us raise some more funds for the tennis club we've been saving up for to build on the other side of town." Your grin softens at her answer, and you allow her to grab ahold of your arm again to help guide you through the ever growing crowd, it beginning to look more like a concert than a place for people to play and practice at with each second that passes. By the time you two make it to the exit and open double doors, shoulders and elbows are leaning into your own and almost forcibly pushing you forward. Relief floods through you as the familiar hot and bright rays of sunbeams beat down on you as you two finally make it past the doors, and you have to rush to duck as a man yells and thrusts his hands in your direction. Falling down into a squat, you murmur a rushed curse and hold back an incredulous laugh as the man behind you nearly jumps over your crouched form in haste to make it further into the traveling crowd.

The hand still clutching onto you tugs you toward the left, near a half empty and older looking tennis court, and you wince as you feel droplets of sweat collect on the precipice of your eyebrows and temple. "We're only going to be teaching the kids how to ground stroke and approach, so we have the easy beginner's class today." You lift a hand to brush away the perspiration before straightening your fingers out and using them as a makeshift visor, your expression easing up and softening as the eager handfuls of kids look at you two with anticipation, the rackets in their hands almost looking too heavy for them to carry on their own. They let out a synchronized cheer once you two ask if they're ready to learn and have some fun, and your prior excitement for volunteering comes back full swing as you watch them attempt to balance their softened balls on their specialized rackets.

After you two eventually ease into your roles and you manage to almost perfect the moves with a shy boy who was struggling earlier on, you glance over after feeling eyes on you for a while and freeze as yours effortlessly meet with a familiar pair of green. What once were long bangs are now layered and cut short and pushed back, and the soft face you used to always hold onto and look forward to seeing, is now half covered in neat and maintained facial hair. Yet, his eyes still looked the same. You think they always will. The sound of your racket and tennis ball audibly connecting with the hard surface of the court's ground shocks you out of your stupor, and you hurriedly bend down to grab ahold of them once again. Brushing off your new friend's worry, you throw yourself back into coaching and demonstrating, pressuring yourself not to look back over at the man you haven't seen in almost six years. The man who left you behind.

༯

Despite knowing Lars could be as little and less than twenty feet away, you still had an amazing time. Acting out the plays and beginner moves ended up helping you let out some of your own personal frustration, and the kids' sounds of awe every time you and your co-volunteer reenacted an actual game made it even better. By the time you two set up and scored three games of doubles so each child would be able to play an all set, and they were tired out and ready to head home, the sun was setting, and the earlier crowd of parents and add on relatives was drastically dwindling down. You graciously accept the towel being handed to you and chug down the nearest cold drink, before flipping the plastic cup over with a flick of your thumb and index finger onto the folding table in front of you, grinning victoriously as you get a single round of applause after it lands on its head.

You reach back to fan yourself off with the back of your shirt, before taking it off once again, the sports bra you have on underneath nearly being completely soaked through. "Don't think any rockstars are going to want to get near or between any of this." Your new friend comments with her hand gesturing in between the two of you. You glance down before shrugging, using one of your hands to flatten out the wrinkles embedded in your dirtied skirt. "Least of my worries." You rebut, refusing to allow the tone in your voice to waver or sound emotional.

If she notices anything off about your response, she doesn't bring it up or acknowledge it. "You should stick back for a while. There are public showers, and management is supposed to be throwing a private thank you party for the band that came and stayed here all day," before you can decline, she continues. "The drummer was the one that ended up planning for them to stay. My friend told me that the guys were looking over the list of volunteers and the schedule, and once they were done, he came up with the idea on the spot. Either way, it helped out a lot of people." You nod along, swallowing thickly, the urge to flee turning into a feeling of defeat once you realize that he had the band come and stay back to have the opportunity to see you again. If he went through all of that trouble, then he should at least have the chance and the opportunity to get to say a proper goodbye.

"Yeah, I'll stay back," you accede, reaching down to grasp onto the thick strap of your bag once you hear footsteps approaching from behind. You look over your shoulder to find him stopping mid step, his expression full of uncertainty and something else, maybe hope. "How about I meet up with you in the bathroom, so we can both take a shower? I'll just be a minute or two." She agrees and goes to walk toward the double doors, only stopping in her tracks once to peer back at you with a knowing glint in her eye.

You shakily run your thumb over the uneven and worn out velcro of the strap, before nodding your head to the side and making your way over to an empty court. Bright light emanating from one of the office's sensors luminates the area, and the dangling earring in his ear shines and reflects onto the metal pole beside you, causing mini orbits of artificial trails of short illumination. "You did all of this so you could say goodbye?" You watch as the expression on Lars' face turns bleak, hopeless.

"Five and half years ago, I left to go to California," He states, and you nod, sending him a look of confusion. "Five years and two months ago, I wrote you my first letter, and I didn't get one sent back saying your apartment was vacant until three months later. Which means that for the past five and a half years, I haven't had the chance to tell you how sorry I am for not saying goodbye to you before I left." You sharply inhale, narrowing your eyes to try and collect the tears threatening to fall. You place your bag onto the floor so you can wrap your arms around yourself for comfort.

"I couldn't stay there anymore. We practically lived there together for the entire two years of the lease, and it didn't feel the same once you were gone. I had to get out," you confess, finally finding enough courage to consistently look him in the eye. "I understand why you're here, and if closure is what you need, I can give that to you. I don't know why you'd need it, you've been doing really well these past few years," you loosen an arm to wipe a stray tear off of your cheek, each inhale and exhale you manually take feeling like it'll be the last the longer you look back at him. "No matter what happened to have you leave without saying goodbye to me, I am still, so, completely fucking proud of you. I know how much work you put in to get to where you are today. All of you guys, really. I keep up."

Lars laughs wetly, temporarily shocking you still as his eyes well up. "You've been keeping up with us?" He breathes out in question, awe weighing down his tone, the way he shakes his head showing his genuine disbelief and surprise. "Yeah," you smile. "You, James, Cliff, Kirk and Jason." You recollect with ease, biting your bottom lip to hide a small smile. Lars reaches an arm out to touch you, but then stops himself, causing your hidden smile to falter.

"I didn't not say goodbye because you did something wrong," he reveals, gazing at you intently, as if he were to look away then you'd disappear. "I had a fear that if I were to say goodbye to you, then that would be the end of us, or of where we were at. I know that's fucking stupid, and it doesn't make any sense, but that's where my head was at. We were in a really good place, and I knew that if I were to tell you that I had a plan set in stone and that I had a feeling things were going to work out this time, you would have packed all of your things and moved with me. I couldn't do that to you. You finally had your own life, and you were stable, and if you were to have left with me, it would have fucked everything up for you."

You furrow your eyebrows in exasperation and take a step forward, watching as his pupils dilate the closer you get to him. "I would have gone with you regardless, because I love you." You blurt, closing your eyes in mortification as soon as you realize what you just admitted. Silence rings in your ears momentarily, and your heart pounds, before you begin to hear movement coming towards you. You jump as a warm and slightly calloused hand lightly grips onto your chin and tilts your head upward. "Look at me," Lars asks of you, pleads. "Please, just look at me."

Hope stares back at you, and you meet it with your own as you reach up to encapsulate your hand around his. "I haven't stopped loving you. Regardless of what you may have seen or read, within every second I've been awake, my first and last thought of every single day have been and are always about you. As soon as I saw your name on the list, I knew I had to try. No matter the risk of whether or not you hated me, I just needed to see you again. Needed to make sure you were alright, to see if you were real." His accent slurs and thickens as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, and he shudders around a flattened exhale as you wrap your free hand and arm around his shoulders to bring him in closer. You feel his heartbeat against your own chest, and subconsciously, they begin to synchronize. You grin as his nose brushes atop yours, and you let out a loud guffaw at the look on his face as he leans in to kiss you, and you back away.

"You can't kiss me here," You banter, your grin widening as he looks at you in confusion. You nod down toward the court's ground, where you two stand in between the service line and the baseline. "We're in no man's land. We've got to follow the rules. I thought you were the original tennis master. Unless you forgot?" Lars glances down at your lips and you shudder, the look in his eyes still familiar after all these years. A strong arm wraps itself around your middle and lifts you up, and you watch him smile to himself as your arm resting on top of his shoulders tightens with caution. You hesitantly wrap your legs around his waist and begin to relax once you felt sure he wasn't going to let go, your laughter returning after he stops right before the baseline. He loosens his grip around your waist, and you connect your ankles behind his back to assure him you were okay with being held, before repositioning your forehead against his.

"Are we good now, still following the rules?" Lars inquires in a low tone, intimate and warm, just like before, all those years ago. "We're good now, there's just one thing I need you to do for me." His eyes become lidded, heavy from just the drop of tone in your voice alone.

"Anything." He immediately agrees, with conviction. You brush your lips against his and kiss him softly, before leaning back to look at him directly in the eye.

"Take a shower with me."

༯

Your lips sting as you're carefully carried into the bathroom minutes later, once you're both sure everyone else would be out by then, a mixture of your guys' spit on your lips and the heady taste of him all over your tongue leaving you lightheaded. You force yourself to stand on your own momentarily, before Lars is backing you up into a stall, his mouth already back on yours within only a few seconds of being off.

You flinch as your back makes contact with the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, your chest now exposed after Lars easily unclasped the front with just a simple flick of his wrist and two fingers. Warm and wet lips cascade themselves down your jawline and the side of your neck, a mewl escaping from you every time he nestles his teeth enough into your sensitive skin to leave a mark. By the time that he was on his knees on the wet floor and was slowly hiking your skirt higher up on your hips, your thighs were pressed tightly together, and you couldn't stop your legs from tremoring.

"Think you can be quiet for me?" He offers you as he slides your underwear to the side and dips his head underneath the white and rumpled fabric. You reach down to entangle your fingers in his hair enough to tug his head back, ignoring the pulsation in your clit at the quiet grunt he lets out. You freeze as footsteps echo and make their way into a stall only a few away from yours, but Lars just grins up at you, his irises blown wide and his facial expression enamored. His fingers slide up your thigh, and he flicks at your essence soaked sex, quietly laughing at the way you toss your head back, your stomach muscles contracting and your swollen lips parting in a muted moan just by the single touch alone.

"There's someone else in here," you chastise in a rough whisper, fighting back the urge to smile back at him, his own being contagious and hard to ignore. "And I haven't showered yet." You curse quietly as he ducks back under the fabric and licks a fat stripe, all the way from your fluttering hole, up to the ending of your groin. You spread your legs and attempt to steady yourself, knowing that once he starts, he isn't going to finish until he feels like he's done with you. You arch your back and hitch your hips forward as he slowly takes you apart, his tongue elongating and straightening out enough to make its way inside of you to caress at your walls, while the hand not pressing into your thigh relentlessly rubs at your clit in figure 8's.

You flinch as a water faucet whines to life and you subconsciously stop his movements once again by yanking on his mane, buckling forward and lips stretching into an O as his hand on your thigh slides around the smooth expanse and up to smack your ass. Your eyes water from the sting, yet you push back into his hand to ask for more. Lars slides his tongue out from inside of you and follows your fist in his hair to come up from under your skirt. The sight of him is enough to nearly make you cum. His hair is distressed, standing on the ends, with your slick and pre release sticking and dripping down the length of his chin, and to his neck in thick, translucent lines.

"Like I wouldn't want to taste you exactly how you are," he grins out, looking drunk as you guides two fingers into your velvet heat, adamantly following every single movement of yours with his eyes as he thrusts them upwards in search for your spongelike spot. He finds it easily, and he allows you to kneel next to him once your legs begin to give out, your chest beginning to heave as he takes your right breast into his mouth and uses his free hand to guide you to ride his fingers. You release your grip from his hair, the sound of your pussy harshly slapping against his fingers and wrist now audible, and the force behind your riding enough to coerce his palm to curl upward and make rough contact with your pearling clit.

"Oh god," you whimper, feeling overstimulated even though you haven't cum yet. You lean forward and rest your head on top of his for stability, the slight tug on your nipple from his teeth and hot tongue in the cold air causing shivers to wrack your spine and for you to tremble. "I'm going to cum, please don't stop." You sob around a cry of his name, uncaring if your voice and choked out moans overpower the showerhead running only a few feet away, your only thoughts surrounded on who's finally here with you and who's making you feel this way.

"Good girl," Lars praises in a husked voice, looking fucked out himself as he tilts your head up to lick your own taste into your mouth. You slide your appendage against his as best as you can, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he begins to scissor his fingers and rub his calloused palm against your oversensitive and beading clit, your folds acting as a suction to keep him from straying too far. You immediately freeze in place as the faucet is hastily yanked to the opposite side to stop the flow of water after a particularly loud moan, and you can't help the cry you let out when you cum against his soaking wet hand. "Keep being loud, let them know exactly who you're with. Just like that."

You clench around his digits as you seize against him, nearly yelling out his name in relief once you hear feet quickly slapping on top of tile to exit the bathroom in haste. Lars continues to fuck his fingers in and out of you with an upward twist until you have tears streaming down your face, and you're fully sat on his lap. "You did so well for me, look at you," he murmurs in a soft tone, uncaring of how disheveled you looked. With the tears streaming down your face, your still shaking body, your own slick glistening on your chin. "What else do you need from me, baby?"

"Need you to do whatever you want to me," you pant once you're able to slightly catch your breath, letting out a sigh of relief as soon as your overheated and blushed skin brushes against the cool tile on the wall. "Just want to make you feel good." A warm pair of lips press themselves to the crown of your head, and you're barely told to hold on tight before you're being lifted up again, your ruined and wet underwear sliding from around your left court shoe, and down straight onto the damp floor in the middle of the walkway as you're carried over to the sink.

"I've been feeling good since I saw you for the first time in over five years, five hours ago. But alright, angel," he says in a calm and placating way, gently placing you down on your unreliable feet, only letting go of his embrace around you to turn you to face the mirror. "I need you to hold onto the sink for me, nice and tight. Spread those beautiful legs for me," he brushes the frizzed strands of hair away from your face that fell out of your ponytail earlier and grins against your ear. "Arch your back for me." Anticipation and adrenaline run through you as you feel and hear him shift behind you and unzip his jeans.

You follow his instructions and moan loudly when he gives you a rewarding smack on the ass, before sheathing himself inside of you with one smooth movement of his hips. You melt back into his front yet still hold onto the sink for leverage, and you keep your eyes open to watch his reaction to the feeling of you for the first time in years through the reflection. Lars' mouth gapes open at the first thrust, the heat emanating off your constricting walls enough to take all of his words away. But before you can begin to feel triumphant, he settles you down with a solid drive straight against your cervix. The rough and audible slap of his hips making their way to connect with yours ricochets off the bathroom's walls and makes its way back over to you, and you can only hold on as soon as he twists his fingers in your hair to hold you in place.

Your neck tilts back with every small tug on your hair, each inch you're driven forward by his dick and backward by his fist makes the hickies and bruises interwoven and bitten into your skin even more apparent underneath the artificial light. You wail and tighten impossibly tight around him as he uses his free hand to yank you back and bear you down even further onto him, and him even deeper inside you. Your second orgasm is even stronger than your first, untouched, with your vision blurring and your legs completely giving out underneath you. Lars has to release your hair to half lift you in the air while he continues to use you, every pivoting movement of his hips and his length into you making you feel like you were still cumming even minutes later.

"So fucking perfect for me." He grunts into your ear, his words nearly slurring and becoming incoherent as he lifts and lowers you onto his cock in small increments, before impaling himself fully into you and stilling, filling you with his seed. You lean forward once you're placed back near the sink and greedily suck in air, your head feeling heavy and your stomach in a pleasurable knot as he carefully pulls out of you. Lars encircles his arms around you and sends you a small and satiated smile in the mirror, only moving to stop you from reaching for the paper towel to wipe yourself clean of his seed slowly making its way down your shaking leg.

He bends down to place a kiss on your red and bruising ass, before sweeping down to collect his seed on his fingertips. By the time he's back to his full height and gently maneuvering you around to face him, you already know what you need to do. Tilting your head backwards and opening your mouth, you greedily accept every drop and every finger slowly deposited into your mouth. Licking them clean and nearly dry, you pull yourself away and slowly hitch your skirt back down into place as footsteps make their way back towards the bathroom. Lars takes off his shirt and lifts it up, before carefully placing it over your head. A girl walks in by the time he has his jeans back on and zipped up, and your hair is back in a manageable ponytail.

"You ready to go home?" He asks you in a gentle tone as the girl makes her way past, who greets you two with an innocent and unknowing smile as she does so. You grin up at him and tearfully nod, before shakily bending down to retrieve your bra and underwear from the ground.

"Yeah, I'm ready to go home."

[mattspoetdepartment]

Pumpkins adoption day

This is a collaboration with the incredible and insanely talented @harlowcomehome 🩷🩷🩷 thank you so much for working with me and just everything 🩷🩷

Jack had been having a tough time lately, adjusting to life back home after the whirlwind of his life the last three years.

“Baby” you kissed his shoulder blades as he softly snored beside you.

You knew he had only just fallen asleep after yet another sleepless night. Christmas was around the corner, and he had been overworking himself to get this album done, intending for a late January or early February release.

You went into the guest bathroom and got ready hoping to leave the house before he woke up for the day.

Your phone vibrating as you had finally gotten the call you’d been hoping for.

Jack had been casually mentioning how much he wanted a dog for the past couple of months, often reminiscing about his childhood pet. You had been going to an animal shelter looking for a specific breed, hoping that you’d get lucky.

You remembered how often Jack would tell you how much he loved his family dog and how he wanted the have one of his own someday. Considering how much he had been going through you thought getting him a dog now would somehow make him feel better, or ease the load.

After you had been consistently showing up at the shelter for a while, one of the girls who worked there reached out to you asking what you were looking for and putting you on a list to be called if a dog in that breed ever came in.

You were starting to give up hope until you had gotten the call this morning. Once you had finished getting ready you went into the bedroom to check if Jack was still asleep. When you saw him sleeping you kissed his head gently before quietly leaving, eager to go to the shelter first thing.

You drove down to the shelter, worried they’d place her with someone else if you didn’t hurry.

When you arrived she was up front with the staff, being passed around from arm to arm.

“Where do I sign?” You asked, holding the puppy close to you worried someone would take her away.

The employees smiled at you, printing out the necessary paperwork.

“Would you like to pick out a collar? We usually give out free ones with any adoption!”

You nodded looking through their options before picking out a silky purple one with a bow on it. You slipped it on her admiring how adorable she looked.

“Such a beautiful girl!” You cooed at her, kissing her on the curly head.

After you signed the paperwork she was officially adopted and all yours. You had carefully placed her on a pile of blankets in your passenger seat and wrapped her up in one for security.

You went to the nearest pet store to buy her all the things she needed, knowing full well you were going overboard the second you walked in.

“Your daddy is gonna love you so much,” you said, reaching your hand out to pet her head. You softly giggled noticing her and Jack had matching hairstyles.

Once you had gotten to the pet store you put her in the cart like she was a child.

You were definitely taking this mothering thing to a whole new level with her already.

“Okay, little missy what kind of bed do you want? Looks like we have a sad beige color” You looked at her and smiled when she didn’t find your antics amusing.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you girl, oh what about this pink one!” You held the bed out to her and her tail wagged so you took that as a yes.

“Pink it is! Let’s go find you some toys” Once you had picked out quite a few toys she liked you of course picked up a pink leash to go with her bed.

You also got treats, puppy food, food bowls, and puppy pads thinking you were likely all set.

When you left the store you could hardly contain your excitement.

You made it home safely leaving the bags in the car as you wrapped her in a blanket and walked inside with her.

Jack was in the kitchen making himself something to eat when he heard the door shut.

“I’m making omelets!” He shouted over the music he was currently playing.

“Babe, can you turn that down? You’re scaring her” you stifled a giggle.

“Scaring who?” He turned the music off as he questioned you. Emerging from the kitchen with a spatula in his hands.

He immediately stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes hyper-fixated on the small puppy in your arms.

“Babe” his voice cracked. “Babe, you didn’t.”

“I did” You walked toward him, trading him the puppy for the spatula he was holding.

She started licking his hands immediately, he held her up in the air above him.

“Hi pretty baby” he spoke to her in a soft baby voice that you’d never heard before.

“Is she ours?”

“Yes,” you smiled, going to the kitchen to tend to his food before it burned. You quickly plated it and turned the stove off returning to the living room where Jack was now sitting on the floor with her.

“We have to get you a bed and some food. Yes, we do” Jack spoke to her in the same tone as he booped her nose.

“I actually got all of that, it’s in the car” you smiled before sitting down beside the two of them.

Jack's eyes were glossy and filled with emotion.

“You didn’t have to do this” he whispered as he watched his new fur baby hop around your shared apartment.

“I wanted to” You leaned your head on his shoulder as he kissed the top of your head.

You both had only looked away for a moment before you realized the puppy was out of sight.

“Pumpkin?” Jack panicked the name rolling off his tongue without thinking.

Pumpkin was chewing on a pair of fresh new balance laces in the corner of the room.

“Pumpkin huh?” You giggled as you followed Jack over to her.

“Is that okay? Do you like it? We can change it” he continued rambling only making you giggle once more.

“It’s perfect. Pumpkin is perfect.”