#I saw someone mentioning that it would be cool if the next game was more based on salmonids so

[fernflowerss]

I Just read a fic from 2015ish set in post splat1/pre splat2 and it made my gears turn for my own ocs and headcanons.

I also was listening to See You Again with alternate intro and it just gives such big march vibes so i give you this:

After splatoon 1/2 when octolings started defecting en masse and fleeing to Inkopolis a sort of pride was created to celebrate and make so octolings become accepted into society.

In time as it becomes more and more common it just becomes a pride parade in celebration of all the different species that live in the city.

[drabbles-mc]

It's Inevitable

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, pining, alcohol

30 Fic Challenge with prompts from This List: rubatosis- the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: i had the most ridiculous about of fun writing this for Bob. i adore him more than words can say 🥰

Bob felt like he had been living in a constant state of disbelief ever since he met you. From the day that the universe, or more specifically Bradley, put him into your orbit, all the events that followed felt like one little surprise after the other. He considered himself infinitely lucky for it.

When he mentioned to Bradley off-hand that they were going to have him stationed in California for a while, long enough for him to justify looking for his own place off-base, he had just been making conversation. They had just been talking about next moves and Bob felt like it was fitting, mentioning that he was going to be looking for a place, maybe even a roommate since it was going to be on relatively short-notice.

“If you’re cool with a roommate, one of my buddies actually kinda needs one,” Bradley mentioned off-hand as they racked up for another pool game at The Hard Deck.

Bob perked up slightly at that. A roommate recommendation from someone he knew seemed preferable than the alternative. He figured that Bradley wouldn’t have brought it up if it was a recipe for disaster.

“Yeah?” Bob tried to sound interested, but not too much so. There were no real guarantees, after all.

Bradley nodded before leaning down to break for the start of the game. “Yeah. Funny because we were just talking about how putting out a Craigslist Ad felt like signing up to be on an episode of a True Crime podcast.”

Bob chuckled at that. “Kind of does, yeah.”

Bradley watched Bob take his shot, not allowing the amusement he was currently feeling to show on his face. “I can introduce you guys. Wanna meet back here Friday? When Trace is done making an example out of you to the newbies?”

There was no malice to Bradley’s statement, so Bob had no problem laughing right along with him. When the laughter died down, Bob agreed to the meetup suggestion. There was a tentative feeling of hopefulness in his chest. After all, if this person was friends with Bradley, how bad could they really be?

~*~

You buried your face in your hands as you shook your head. When Bradley had asked to stop by because he had news for you, you didn’t think he was stopping by to tell you that he had gone out hunting and gathering a new roommate for you. You hadn’t asked him to do that—you hadn’t asked him for anything in regards to your living arrangements, actually. And that’s exactly what you’d told him when he said he’d found you a brand-new roommate.

“I don’t even know this guy.”

Bradley laughed and shrugged as he hopped up to sit on the edge of your kitchen counter. For how comfortable he was, you were surprised that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to move in after your ex moved out. He treated your apartment like it was his own house anyway.

“I know him. That’s not enough for you?”

You shot him a look over your shoulder as you went and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. “No. It’s not.” You tossed him his own can before getting one for yourself. “You saw what I went through getting the last man out of my apartment—why are you inviting another one in without telling me?”

He laughed as he watched you dramatically swing the refrigerator door shut. “Okay, come on, you can’t compare him to—”

“I can’t compare him to anyone because I haven’t met him.”

“Well if you’d let me get to the end of my story, you would have the solution to that problem.” He paused and waited for you to motion for him to continue before saying, “I told him we’d meet him at The Hard Deck Friday night.”

“I should flatten this can against your skull,” you said with a semi-affectionate roll of your eyes.

There was a long pause, one accompanied by a smirk on Bradley’s face that had no real right to be there. “I’ll pick you up?”

Letting out a deep sigh, you gave in with a nod. Worst case scenario, you wouldn’t walk away from the night with a new roommate but you’d at least get to throw a couple drinks on Bradley’s tab. That was worth a little bit of something.

~*~

Bob was checking the time on his phone, his beer on the bar barely touched. When he’d texted Bradley earlier in the day, everything was still going how it was supposed to, so now he just had to sit there and wait. He could do that.

When he heard the door to the bar open, he turned and looked out of habit. He saw Bradley walk in and he felt his shoulders relax in relief. When he focused enough to see who it was that Bradley had walked in with, though, his relief was almost immediately replaced by confusion. The two of you were talking, laughing as you wove through the other people in the bar, but it still didn’t sink in with Bob that you were the ‘buddy’ who was in need of a roommate. For a moment he was just assuming that you were a girlfriend tagging along that Bradley had failed to mention.

Bob almost got up out of his seat when the two of you stopped in front of him—the only thing that kept him in place was the lingering sense of confusion. He looked back and forth between you and Bradley. He had no chance at guessing what exactly your expression meant, but he’d seen the smug look on Bradley’s face enough times to know that there was something afoot. It wasn’t the time to ask, though. Not in front of you.

“So,” you broke the silence with an easy smile, “I hear that Bradshaw promised you my second bedroom?”

Your comment got a chuckle out of Bob, something to ease the tension a little bit, not that it did anything to quiet the chaos in his head at the moment. It did earn you a shoulder-bump from Bradley, who was shaking his head at you. “I didn’t promise him anything. He said he needed a spot, I said I had a friend who needed a roommate.” He shrugged. “All true.”

You gave a dismissive roll of your eyes before returning your attention to the man sitting on the barstool watching all of this unfold. As you introduced yourself, you wondered if the slightly bewildered expression on his face was a constant one, eyes a little wide behind the lenses of his glasses, nervous smile pulling at his lips.

The three of you made a few minutes of small talk before you ducked out for a moment to answer a phone call from work. Both men watched you as you walked away, and as you were bringing the phone to your ear, Bradley turned to try and pick apart the expression on Bob’s face.

“So?” he asked, leaving it as open-ended as possible.

Bob pried his gaze off you so that he was looking at the man standing next to him instead. He shook his head slightly. “You didn’t say—you made it seem like—” He pushed his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit he had yet to shake.

Bradley laughed. “C’mon, she’s not that bad.”

“I didn’t say she was,” Bob corrected him quietly. “She wouldn’t rather have…you know…”

It was impossible for him not to at least chuckle at the way Bob was skirting around the things that he wanted to say. “She just wants someone who doesn’t make a mess and who pays rent on time. And who won’t eat her leftovers out of the fridge.”

“Last one sounds like you.”

He clapped Bob on the back with a grin. “That’s why I’m not the one moving in.” He paused, and he could see the thoughts going at a mile a minute in Bob’s head. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t think you guys would hit it off.”

Bob wanted to make a comment to the effect of, “That’s kind of what I’m worried about,” but you reappeared before he could.

You plopped down on the stool beside his, giving a quick apology to the both of them. Looking back and forth between them, you wanted to ask what they’d been saying in your absence, but you had a feeling that if you needed to know, Bradley would tell you in the car on the way home.

Moments after you sat down, Penny materialized with a drink for you, and she handed a bottle to Bradley as well. You thanked her, amused that Bradley actually was letting you rack up his tab. Once you took a sip, you turned to Bob.

“So, is this the part where we get to play Twenty Questions?”

He laughed as he shrugged, fingers drumming against his leg. “I guess so.”

You smiled as you nodded. “Alright.” You motioned for Bradley to sit down next to you. “Bradshaw can play referee.”

~*~

Three weeks later the moving truck was parked outside your apartment building and there were boxes piling up in what had previously been a spare room that was sometimes your office, but more often just a place for all of your clean but unfolded laundry to hang out.

Bob was timid those first couple of weeks living together. It was endearing in a way that you hadn’t expected—most of Bradley’s friends from the Navy didn’t seem to be wired like that. Bob was a nice change of pace from it all. Every time he wanted to move or add something somewhere, he always asked, always had that same little nervous smile on his face when he did.  You never told him no.

The first month or so of living together was just a big old learning curve. You learned that the two of you ran on different rhythms and schedules. Bob was an early bird, whether that was by choice or necessity you never asked. You were a night owl, though. Always had been. Luckily, you also learned that Bob was a heavy sleeper and that he was quiet in the morning when he was getting ready, so the two of you didn’t infringe upon each other much.

You learned that Bob liked to cook, was good at it even, but still hadn’t mastered how to just cook for one. That was how he learned that you had no problem doing the dishes if he was okay with sharing his food. He never told you no either.

Bob learned that most of your spare time was spent with your nose in a book or a notebook splayed across your lap while you wrote. He only ever asked once what you were writing, and when you gave him the vague answer of, “Stories,” he gave you a smile and a nod and went back to ironing his uniform. You learned that the only times Bob stayed up late was when he was playing videogames with his friends. Most of them were from the Navy, some of them were from back home. You knew which ones were which because his Navy friends had their callsigns in their gamertags—so original of them. That was also how you learned that a good handful of his friends in the Navy weren’t very good at first-person shooter games, which was deeply ironic given their professions.

By the time the third month of living together had come and gone, Bob also learned that he was falling in love with you a little bit. Or a lot. The amount of it didn’t matter, he supposed. None of it was going to help him.

~*~

You enjoyed living with Bob more than you thought you were going to. You had been willing to settle for a roommate that you could at least tolerate. You just needed someone that you could exist in the same space with sometimes when necessary. But after those first couple of weeks, it felt like almost all the time that the two of you were home at the same time was spent in the same space. Or you’d be in the living room while he was in the kitchen. You’d been ready to hole up in your room a little more often, but it never felt like you had to.

Bradley was as incessant as ever, arguing that he now had twice as many reasons to drop by unannounced now that Bob was living with you. You both knew that it was an argument you’d never win, and it wasn’t as though you didn’t enjoy his company too. By the time the first month passed, Bradley had lightened up on his weekly inquiry of, “Is this guy givin’ you any trouble?” You all knew that he never was.

You’d been waiting for the day that the surprised look would fade from Bob’s face whenever you got home, or emerged from your room, but it never did. From surprised, to smiling, to going back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there. Round and round again.

Bob never thought about how many different names he had until the two of you really got comfortable around each other. Most of the time he was Bob, which was what he was used to both on and off the base. That was the status quo.

But every now and then you’d switch it up. Like if he startled you coming home from his early-morning run, or if you didn’t hear him walk into the kitchen from his room. Then you’d call him Robert, in that fake-chastising tone that always had you trying not to laugh. Or sometimes, when he was getting frustrated about something that didn’t really matter too much in the grand scheme of things, you’d hit him with a little pat on the shoulder and a, “Calm down, Lieutenant Floyd.” And in moments like that he could hear it in your voice how long you and Bradley had been friends. If you tried to get his attention more than twice and still didn’t have any luck, that’s when he’d hear a sing-songy callout of Bobby coming from the other side of the apartment. That one always got both of you laughing.

You could’ve called him damn near anything, though, and he would’ve come running. He wondered how long he’d be able to keep his mouth shut about it all.

~*~

The two of you had been living together for six months the first time he put his foot in his mouth about it. His only saving grace, if he could even try to call it that, was that he’d said it to Bradley and not directly to you.

It made Bradley completely miss his shot in their game of pool, but he didn’t even care. He stood upright, pointing at Bob from across the table with his pool stick. “What was that?”

Bob’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his face was turning beet red. He could feel the warmth racing up the column of his neck and into his cheeks. “N-nothing. I didn’t—nothing.”

Bradley’s grin was so wide it was a wonder his face didn’t crack clean open. “That was something.” He walked over, paying no mind to the fact that Bob was trying to look at anything but him. “She know? You say anything to her?”

Now it was Bob’s turn to miss his shot. His heart was beating fast enough that he thought it might short-out and stop working. If Rooster was trying to get some eye contact out of him, it certainly did the trick.

“No.” Bob’s answer managed to come out clear and timid all at once.

He leaned back casually against the edge of the pool table. “Why not?”

Bob shook his head, gaze dropping to the floor. “’Cause we’re roommates.”

“So?” Bradley let the look of disbelief on Bob’s face act as a response, and he continued. “You should tell her. Want me to tell her?”

Bob’s eyes popped open so wide that Bradley was shocked they didn’t break the lenses of his glasses. “Please don’t.”

“Want me to do some recon?” He stood upright again, no longer using the pool table for support. “Find out if she’s—”

“No.”

He chuckled, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. None of this was surprising to him, really. He knew it from the second that Bob saw you when the two of them walked into The Hard Deck that day. He was honestly a little surprised that it took this long for Bob to slip up to him about it. The kid looked like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“She hasn’t dated anyone since you moved in, has she?”

Bob shrugged. “No one that she’s brought around, at least. But she also just broke up with—”

Bradley waved off the sentence before Bob could even finish it. “That was almost eight months ago.” He paused, knowing that he had the answer to the question he was about to ask but it wasn’t going to stop him from asking it. “You’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

The red in his cheeks got a little darker but he didn’t say anything, instead just shaking his head.

“So I’ll ask her,” Bradley said, like that was the only rational response to the evidence laid out before him.

“Don’t ask her.” Bob’s statement was somewhere between an order and a plea, not hitting either note quite right.

Bradley held his hands up in surrender, but the smirk still lingering on his face didn’t make the truce feel too believable. “Alright, fine. I won’t say anything. But, if you change your mind,” he lined up his next shot, “let me know.”

~*~

Bob never brought it up again. Truthfully, he was still kicking himself for letting any of it slip in the first place. He kept waiting for another comment, another question from Bradley. Anytime that he came over to the apartment, Bob felt himself get a little more on-edge. When he could hear the two of you on the phone, he couldn’t stop the way his heart started to beat a little faster. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Bradley to open his mouth and say something.

Weeks ticked by with Bob waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’d get home, or hang up the phone, and he’d sit there with bated breath. He’d try to look like he was focusing on his laptop, or the gaming controller in his hand, but he’d be watching you in his peripheral.

And, of course, you never said anything about it. Bradley apparently never said anything about it. For all the buttons that he liked to push, Bob couldn’t deny that he was surprised that his friend was managing to keep his mouth shut about this one. Maybe that was because Bradley had the feeling it was a lost cause. Bob tried not to think about it too much.

He definitely tried not to think about it on nights like tonight, when both of you were camped out together on the sofa. The original plan hadn’t really been for the two of you to watch a movie together—Bob had gotten home later than usual and you were already about ten minutes into the film when he walked through the door. He’d had every intention of just showering and going to bed, but when he saw you curled up on the couch, throw blanket across you and an oversized bowl of popcorn in your lap, suddenly sleep didn’t seem like such a big deal.

He’d leaned over the back of the couch, a smile stretching across his face as he said, “Gonna share that or should I make another bag?”

You yelped in surprise, nearly tossing the bowl full of popcorn in the process. “Robert!” You laughed, hand resting over your heart like that would get it to slow down. “You can’t do that when there is a serial killer on the screen.”

He cracked a grin. “Sorry.”

You held the bowl up for him to reach easier. “I will share though, despite your entrance.”

He’d grabbed a couple pieces of popcorn before walking off towards his room. “I’m just gonna get changed.”

“Okay.” You tossed a piece of popcorn up in the air and caught it in your mouth. “Hurry up before someone else dies.”

Now here you were, the only thing separating the two of you was the bowl of popcorn between you. Bob was paying enough attention to the movie to know what was going on, but he’d be lying if he tried to say that most of his attention was still going to you. Something about the fact that you’d chosen to put on a scary movie and yet you still seemed shocked every time something scary happened.

Like you were reading his thoughts, you spoke up as you half-covered your eyes. “I don’t know why I do this to myself.”

He chuckled. “We can put something else on.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I’m committed now. I need to know what happens.”

His smile grew a little wider, the rapid beat of his heart having nothing to do with what was happening on-screen. “Want me to tell you what happens?”

You looked over at him. “You’ve seen this before?”

He shook his head. “No, but I can probably still tell you what happens.”

You rolled your eyes but you were still smiling, still blocking part of your view of the television on purpose like that would stop the things on screen from happening. “Very funny.”

“I think—”

Whatever he was going to say next got lost somewhere between his brain and his lips because you were placing the bowl of popcorn in his lap and scooting closer to him. You leaned so that your head was resting against the outside of his arm, throw blanket pulled up to your chin. Your legs were pulled up onto the couch, half-curled underneath you as you situated yourself against him. There was no hesitation in any move that you made, and Bob was trying to figure out if he was dreaming, and if he wasn’t he was trying to figure out how to not spontaneously combust.

“If this gets any worse,” you said, looking up at him for a moment, “then I’ll ask for your predictions.”

He was glad it was dark enough in the living room so that you couldn’t see how red his face was. All you could really see was him nodding, the reflection of the television on his lenses. “O-okay.”

The two of you managed to make it to the end of the movie, but you were practically curled so far into him that Bob thought you were just going to melt right into his arm. He didn’t mind it—he wished that the movie had dragged on for a little longer.

When the credits started to roll, you let out a deep sigh of relief but you didn’t peel yourself away from him. Bob couldn’t help but to let out a quiet laugh. “This why I’ve never seen you watch a scary movie before?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Like, twice a year I try to convince myself that I don’t get that scared.”

“It’s working real good, then,” he joked.

You laughed, blanket still pulled up over your shoulders. “I’d say so.”

He reached for the controller. “Want me to put something less scary on?”

You nodded, reaching out of you blanket cocoon to grab a handful of popcorn. “Yes please.”

He was expecting you to pull away once there was a comedy safely playing on-screen. He waited for the warmth of you and the blanket you were buried under to disappear. But it didn’t. You stayed there just like that, casually stealing one handful of popcorn at a time till there was nothing but kernels left.

You made it halfway through the next film before you looked up at him again and said, “You’re up way past your bedtime.”

He laughed softly and shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

Just as he finished saying that, he yawned. You smiled. “You sure about that?”

He felt his face heat up. “I’m good.”

“Slumber party rules, you know. First one to fall asleep gets it.”

He felt himself melting back into the couch cushions a little more, body finally starting to relax more from tiredness than anything else. “What’s the punishment? Sharpie mustache?”

You laughed, resituating against him as you did. “No, no. That’d be too mean—can’t have you walking around looking like Bradshaw.”

~*~

When you woke up in the morning, you were still on the couch. Alone. You had a pillow propped nicely underneath your head and rather than the throw blanket that you’d been using during the movie, you had a real comforter draped over you. It took a moment for you to put it all together.

You got yourself half upright, propped up on your elbows. Through half-open lids you looked around the apartment, the kitchen and the living room. You could see that it was empty but even so you called out a groggy, raspy, “Bob?”

When you were met with silence, you fell back against the couch again. Dragging your hands across your eyes, you tried to wake yourself up a little more. You stared up at the ceiling, watching lights and shadows fly across it as cars drove by your building. People who were up and about much earlier than you.

You weren’t sure how much time you’d spent simply lying there debating whether or not you wanted to get off the couch and attempt to salvage what was left of your morning. Just as you were getting ready to peel the blanket off you when you heard the sound of keys in the lock on your apartment door.

For a moment you about to sit upright, but then you could hear how quietly and slowly he was trying to enter the apartment. All those mornings sneaking in quietly after his runs so he didn’t wake you, and this was the first time you were not only awake, but ready for it. You heard him toe off his shoes, heard the rustling of a bag that you were desperately hoping had donuts or bagels inside of it.

You were so busy being excited by the sound of iced coffee rattling against its cup that you almost missed the sound of Bob murmuring to himself. You couldn’t quiet make out what he was saying exactly, only that he was whispering to himself as he set things down on the counter. Waiting a moment, you strained your ear in hopes to get a better idea of what he was saying.

When he stopped talking altogether, you sat upright. His back was to you as he pulled the drinks from the tray they were in, opened up the bag of pastries he’d grabbed. You smiled at the sight of him, a warm flutter in your chest.

“Got enough to share?” you piped up.

For once it was Bob’s turn to flinch, to spin on his heel in shock. His eyes were wide, paper bag clutched tightly in his hand. He was certain that if his life had been a cartoon you would’ve seen the outline of his heart beating in his chest.

“Um, yeah.” He nodded, holding up one of the coffees as though to prove he was telling the truth. “Yours.”

Standing up off the couch, you kept the blanket wrapped around you like the most oversized shawl you’d ever seen as you padded over to where he was standing in the kitchen. Reaching out, you took the iced coffee from him, a smile on your face as you took a sip. It was impossible to miss the way that Bob was looking at you, looking like he had something to say. You waited for it, but it never came.

“Rehearsing lines?” you asked casually as you reached for the bag he was holding.

It seemed to snap him out of the trance he was in. “What?”

You pulled out one of the donuts in the bag. “When you came in,” you took a bite, “thought I heard you talking.”

His eyes widened a little bit, cheeks starting to flush pink. “Oh.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “What?”

He picked up his own cup of coffee. He stared at it for a moment, swirling it around to buy himself a few extra seconds. His heart was beating so hard that he was expecting it to cause ripples in the coffee he was holding.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat, looking you in the eyes, “yeah.”

You set your coffee down, suddenly feeling a little foolish with the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “You okay?”

He nodded. “I’m okay.”

Your smile was soft, warm. “You sure? Looking a little wistful over there.” You saw the way a few sentences started and died on the tip of his tongue. Your lips started to dip down into a frown. “Bob?”

“I really, uh, I really like…living here with you.”

Something akin to relief was creeping its way across your chest and you allowed yourself a small smile. “I like you living here.” You tilted your head slightly. “Why do you look so worried about that?”

He managed a chuckle of sort. “Because,” with each word he tried to get out, he felt like his heart was going to beat clean out of his chest, like his ribs weren’t strong enough to keep it in place, “I don’t want that to change.”

“Why would it?”

“I love you,” he blurted out. “I…I love you.” The blush on his face darkened and he gave a weak smile. “That’s not how I rehearsed it.”

You let out a laugh, one that was choked with emotion. It felt impossible to get the words out that you wanted, like they were all getting stuck in the back of your throat. You could see it on Bob’s face that he was trying to come up with the next thing to say.

Before either of you could implode, you collapsed the distance between you and kissed him. The blanket that had been around your shoulders fell to the floor as your lips caught his. There was a split second of hesitation, but once Bob realized that it was real, that this was all happening, he wrapped his arms around you. His hands splayed across your back, pinning you tight to him.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, leaning into him until he was snug between you and the counter behind him. Bob soaked it is, the way it felt to have the warmth of your body pressed against his. He was certain that this would be the time you’d hear his racing heartbeat, be able to feel it since you were so close. For once he hoped that you would.

You pulled away, just enough to be able to get a good look at his face. He brought one hand up to fix his glasses, the other staying on the small of your back. You toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck as you tried to commit everything about how he looked in that moment to memory.

“I love you too,” you said, voice soft when you finally had it in you to string the words together.

You saw the smile on his face and then you felt it as he kissed you again. It was all laughter and soft touches and wandering hands. Months of bottled up feelings starting to reach the surface. With your palm resting against his chest, you could feel the speed of his heartbeat, but he didn’t seem nervous now. For a moment you were surprised to find that you weren’t nervous either. Then you felt the pad of his thumb against your cheek as he pulled you in for another kiss and you finally felt like you were home. And there was nothing more comforting than that.

(divider by @firefly-graphics)

Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of taglists please let me know!)

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt6) | Leah Williamson

First rounds of Wimbledon note: Well,, I tried to wrap all on this part but it was taking too long to fit everything in one go, so next part is coming. The opponents' names are made up by the way warnings: fluff and slow burn, a bit suggestive(?) nothing really pt1 my masterlist

Music used to relax you, there was nothing better than blasting your ears with tunes at full volume while taking a little nap during a massage session. But now, that seemed impossible with Jane, your physiotherapist, working on your legs, pressing hard on your most tense spots.

“Fuck, Jane, are you sure you're a physical therapist? It feels like you're wrecking my legs,” you complained, wincing as you clenched your fists. You were lying on your stomach, your face sunk into the hole of the massage table. 

Jane just smiled, a mixture of amusement and professionalism in her expression. She would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy seeing you like this after all the frustration you caused by not listening to her advice about overdoing your workouts.

“Stop whining, this is good for your muscles,” she said softly, still working on your legs.

“It’s not whining, it’s just-” you started to say, but another particularly firm squeeze shut you up, and you let out a whimper. “Jane!”

Jane leaned over a bit and took off your headphones. “If you’d listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this mess. You told me you don’t want to have any problems with injuries, and for that, your body needs to relax and recover from all the overactivity you’ve had.”

You knew she was right. You sighed heavily, but you wouldn’t admit it. Jane knew that all too well. “Can you at least be a little gentler?”

“If I were any gentler, it wouldn’t be effective,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, you mentioned you want to be 100% for your game tomorrow. My guess is you’re trying to impress someone, but since I’m not a specialist, I’ll keep that to myself,” she added with a cheeky grin.

You managed a small smile despite the pain and her teasing. “Yeah, okay, I’ll shut up. But seriously, how much longer?”

Jane glanced at the clock on the wall, but when she saw your coach walk in, she didn’t answer.

“Hmhm,” Lucas cleared his throat, standing by the table. From where you were lying, you could only see his legs. “Can you explain what’s going on here?”

Jane’s hands stopped immediately as she turned her attention to Lucas.

“What’s going on now?” you asked, reluctantly sitting up on the table and facing your coach, who was holding a bouquet of flowers. “Since when does Wimbledon send flowers to players?” you chuckled, it was a pretty classy move, just right for an English tournament.

“It’s not from Wimbledon,” Lucas said, pulling out a small pink envelope from the flowers. “I haven’t read it,” he assured you, handing both the envelope and the flowers over. 

Lucas didn’t look happy, but surprisingly he didn’t seem mad either. His face was more a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

“I think I have a guess about who sent them,” he said, glancing over at Jane.

“Was it you? Aww, how sweet! They say you get nicer with age,” you teased the woman, giving her a playful nudge.

“It wasn’t me,” Jane said, playfully pinching your cheek with a grin.

“Ouch! Don’t do that,” you said, rubbing your cheek and then looking at the flowers. They were perfect, not too flashy, not too small. With a smile you didn’t even notice you had, you figured out who must’ve sent them. It was pretty obvious.

You set the flowers aside on the table and opened the envelope, with your coach and Jane watching intently. As you read the note, your heart skipped a beat.

[Best of luck for tomorrow, darling. I can’t be there, but I’ll be rooting for you no matter what. Kisses, L.W.]

“Is she blushing?” you heard Lucas mutter to Jane.

“Tell me, have you ever seen her this calm? She almost looks like an angel,” Jane said, shaking her head with a grin.

“I’m hearing you loud and clear,” you said, trying to keep your cool, even though you could feel your cheeks warming up.

“So, who’s the flowers from?” Lucas asked again, crossing his arms and giving you a serious look.

“The card doesn’t say,” you said, trying to slip the card back into the envelope.

“But you know who it is,” Jane said, her tone more certain.

“Nope.”

“Ah, well. We know who it is,” Lucas said with a smirk.

You stared at them, unsure of what to say.

“You’re just trying to get me to spill the name. I’m not telling you,” you said firmly.

“Oh, we know,” Jane insisted, her grin widening.

“Alright, then tell me who it is,” you said defiantly, crossing your arms and copying Lucas’s posture.

“Leah Williamson,” they answered at the same time. Lucas was dead serious, while Jane had a cheeky smirk.

You choked on your own saliva, realizing you’d just heard the name of the person who’d sent the flowers.

“W-what are you talking about? Have you both lost it?” you stammered, trying to cover up but failing miserably.

“We’ve seen her leaving your hotel a few times these past weeks,” Lucas said, staring at you with that intense, questioning look.

“Just a coincidence,” you said, turning your back on them, cursing yourself (and Leah for not being more discreet). “She could be friends with another player. The hotel’s packed.”

Jane giggled, and Lucas sighed, crossing his arms with a resigned look. “Yeah, right. And I’m the king of England,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I get what’s going on here. Just make sure you don’t mess things up. Focus on tennis during the matches. You can do all your talking and showing off with Williamson after you win your match. Got it?”

“Got it”

Wimbledon, day 2. Round of 128. Court 2.

The first match was usually the easiest since your opponent was often weaker, but tennis isn’t always about rankings and stats. Knowing that anything could happen made you a bit nervous. Even though those nerves hadn’t shown on the court so far, with a score of 1-0 and a pretty straightforward 6-3 win in the first set. But you still felt the pressure.

Your opponent’s first serve wasn’t the strongest, but you stayed alert. As the ball bounced on the grass, you got ready to return it. You adjusted your visor to block the sun, reminding yourself how crucial it was to stay focused between points.

When you saw your opponent toss the ball for her serve, you sprang into action, returning it with force. Unfortunately, you hit it a bit too hard, and it landed just inches outside the line.

The next serve was a bit stronger, and although you didn’t handle it perfectly with your racket, you still managed to get the ball over the net. Your opponent went for a volley but missed, giving you another point.

You glanced over at your team and saw Lucas grinning and giving you two thumbs up. You took a deep breath, feeling pretty relaxed knowing you had the match under control. You were almost there and could almost taste moving on to the next round.

The rest of the points were pretty smooth, though your opponent switched things up towards the end. She figured out that when she hit a low, fast ball, you had to work harder to return it.

On the last point to win the match, she did exactly what she’d been doing for most of the last set. When you saw that low ball coming, you rushed forward without thinking, got to it just in time, and smashed it across the court in the opposite direction your opponent was running.

And just like that, you’d made it through the first round.

Relief washed over you. You grabbed the gold chain around your neck, giving it a little tug as you walked over to your opponent. With a subtle smile, you shook her hand. She gave you a firm grip and a tired smile back. There weren’t many words exchanged, neither with her nor with the umpire.

As you waved to a few people in the stands, you couldn’t help but wonder if Leah had been watching. You really hoped she had.

“Great game, fast and on point. Nicely done,” Lucas said when you met after, giving you a friendly pat on the back.

“I made a bunch of unforced errors though. We need to work on that,” you said, handing him your racket bag.

“We’ll sort it out after the press conference,” he replied.

Leah was pretty nervous. She had no idea how you’d react to the surprise. After a match, she figured you’d be wiped out, and here she was, standing in your hotel room with dinner ready on the table. She’d made sure to keep it alcohol free, just as she promised Lucas early.

She still couldn’t figure out how she ended up with messages from your coach in her DMs. You hadn’t said much since yesterday, just sent her a selfie with the flowers she gave you.

Then she heard footsteps and voices outside the room. The door opened, and there you were, looking exhausted. You shut the door behind you with a bit of a struggle.

“Surprise,” Leah said softly, trying not to startle you.

You couldn’t help but jump when you saw her standing there. All that tiredness from the match seemed to disappear in an instant. You rushed toward Leah, and luckily, she reacted quickly, opening her arms just in time to catch you. As you practically threw yourself at her, she wrapped her arms around you, keeping you both from crashing to the floor.

“Leah! How the heck did you get in?” you asked, still stunned.

Leah didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked at you with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, clearly taken aback by how close you were. Then, without missing a beat, she leaned in and kissed you. You closed your eyes, melting into the kiss as your lips met hers.

“Congratulations,” she whispered against your lips before kissing you again, this time with more intensity. She wrapped her arms around you, lifting you slightly so you could wrap your legs around her, holding you close in the air. “You were incredible today,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “Loved the new white outfit”

“Stop trying to flatter me while you’re kissing me,” you said, scrunching your nose with a playful grin.

“Why?” Leah asked, tightening her grip on your waist just a bit more.

“Because it turns me on, and I’ve got this no-sex-on-tournaments rule,” you explained, trying not to roll your eyes at Leah’s mischievous grin.

“You know that sex doesn’t actually mess with your performance, right?”

“It’s not about that,” you said, holding up your gold chain for emphasis. “It’s just bad luck for me, and I’m super into my rituals and all that.”

“Sounds kinda boring,” Leah said with a laugh, clearly enjoying teasing you. Then she set you down and, before you could say anything else, she cupped your face in her hands. She made you stand on your tiptoes and kissed you again, this time gently and tenderly. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said, almost against your will, as you gently pushed Leah away. “Now, without sounding like a stalker, how did you get into my room?”

“Well, it’s pretty much common knowledge that your coach knows about us now,” Leah said, giving you a knowing look. You nodded in agreement. “Well, he messaged me to thank me. He says your backhand’s gotten way better since we started talking”  she added with a smirk, clearly pleased with herself.

“That’s got nothing to do with you,” you shot back, trying to play it cool.

“Anyway,” Leah said, brushing off your comment, “he told me I’ve got his blessing to be around you, especially now.” She playfully tugged at the laces of your joggers, pulling you so close you could feel her warmth and her breath on your skin. “He thinks I bring you luck.”

“It doesn’t,” you said, feeling your heart race and your stomach flutter from her closeness.

“Well, you won Roland Garros with me in the stands,” she murmured with a soft smile.

“I won because your mom was there,” you replied, trying to stay serious.

“Ugh, don’t mention my mum when we’re this close,” Leah said with a glare, giving you a playful shove. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way she tried to look frustrated while you both stood so close.

You’d never had company like this during a tournament before. Sure, your parents would show up for the big matches, but it wasn’t quite the same as seeing other players with their partners by their side throughout the whole tournament. You couldn’t help but feel a little envious.

“And besides,” Leah said, taking your hand and guiding you toward the table where dinner was set up. “I’m here to make sure you eat something decent, not just shove sandwiches down your throat.” She gestured at the table with a playful sigh. “It’s something light and flat- I didn’t pick the menu,” she said, wrinkling her nose at a plate full of vegetables.

Even though it was just a simple thing, having Leah here made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. It was something new and comforting that you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

“But it has the right amount of protein-” Leah started again, but you gently pulled her arm, making her turn to face you. Before she could say more, you leaned in and kissed her, your lips brushing against hers with a smile. She looked surprised for a second before smiling into it.

“I adore you,” you murmured against her lips, feeling the warmth of her presence make everything feel right.

Wimbledon, day 4. Round of 64. Court 3.

Having Leah in the stands was a whole new level of intensity. Sure, she’d been there before, but this was the first time you were fully aware she was just a few feet away, watching your every move. She was standing next to Jane, who was chatting away as you walked onto the court. You didn’t want to draw too much attention (though it was already a bit odd that the captain of the Lionesses was sitting with your team), so you just gave a casual nod and a small tilt of your visor to acknowledge her.

“Who’s the blonde?” your opponent, Feya, asked from her chair. You got along with her well enough, so it was more curiosity than anything else.

You glanced over at Leah as you opened your first bottle of water. She was wearing sunglasses, but her blonde hair was still pretty noticeable. However, in a tennis crowd, people would probably recognize a top 50 player faster than a female football star, so Leah wasn’t really standing out.

“Just part of my team,” you said, trying to keep it cool as you headed to the center of the court to warm up.

“She’s really locked in,” Leah said, nodding as the first set ended 4-6 in your favor. She’d been worried that having her here might throw you off, but it looked like you were totally on top of your game.

“You know,” Jane chimed in, still keeping her eyes on you as you rested with a towel over your face. “But Y/n can be quite... full of herself,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “She loves the spotlight and showing off. And trust me, having you here today is like adding fuel to her fire. She’ll be pushing herself even harder, wanting to impress you. When it’s over, she’ll probably act like it was easy, but she’s doing all this to catch your eye.”

“I don’t think that-”

“It’s not a bad thing. ” Jane said with a chuckle. “We’ve seen it before, I mean, trying to impress her parents. That’s why her coach isn’t bothered by you being here.”

Leah sighed, glancing over at you. You were hunched over, focused on a spot on the grass, completely in the zone.

“If she keeps this up for the rest of the match, she’ll have it in the bag. Let’s just hope it stays that way,” Jane said softly, her eyes full of admiration and concern as she looked at you.

The first few games of the second set had been going great. You were already 1-2 up, having just broken your opponent’s serve. Now it was your turn to serve, and you were locked in. You adjusted your grip on the racket, focused on your routine, bouncing the ball, eyeing the service box, and preparing to unleash a powerful first serve.

Just as you were about to toss the ball, the umpire’s voice cut through your focus. You glanced around and saw people talking and walking away, and the ball boys darting across the court. You muttered a curse under your breath, feeling a wave of frustration. Looking up, you saw a massive black cloud rolling in.

“Fuck me” you muttered, frustration thick in your voice. You looked up at the sky again, knowing what was coming. 

The umpire’s voice came through, barely audible over the commotion, “We’ll see if we can resume play in an hour.”

The din of the crowd grew louder as the reality of the rain set in. You tried to keep your frustration in check, knowing that any outburst could earn you a warning. You bit your lip, took a deep breath, and tried to calm your racing thoughts.

You wanted to scream, but you knew better than to lose it in front of everyone. You bit your lip and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You were playing some of your best tennis, every shot was spot on, and now rain was messing it all up. It was definitely going to give your opponent a breather, and you could practically see her smiling with relief on the other side of the court. 

Grumbling, you grabbed your stuff and headed back inside, your eyes almost blank. You didn't want anything to distract you. You put on your headphones, letting the music fill your mind and block out the chaos around you. You walked to the bathroom and locked yourself in. The echo of your footsteps bounced around the empty hallway, and every second of waiting felt like a hit to your concentration.

Inside the bathroom, you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and trying to keep your focus. You replayed every point won in your head, every strategy planned.  Hopefully, your opponent was the one freaking out during this break. But Feya had way more experience and probably knew exactly how to handle this situation. You, on the other hand, had only a couple of rain delayed matches under your belt and had lost all of them after the restart. The statistics weren’t in your favor.

Pacing back and forth, you tried not to get cold. Your heart was still racing from the match, and you didn’t want to lose that. This was only the second round of Wimbledon, and going home this early was not an option, especially not with Leah watching you so closely.

You took a deep breath, still leaned against the cold wall, and grabbed your phone. Without hesitation, you dialed Leah's number. It didn't ring for more than three seconds before you heard her voice.

"Hey..."

"Leah," you said, but then froze. Damn, you had to stay focused, you were still halfway through the game.

"I wanted to call you, but your coach said it wouldn't be a good idea."

You put the phone down for a moment and adjusted your headphones. Your breathing started to hitch. You brought your forearm to your face and covered your eyes.

"Why? Did he say it would be a bad idea because I might be upset?" you said, letting out a nervous laugh.

"He said exactly that."

"Well, he was right, damn old man," you said, laughing despite the lump forming in your throat. "Would it offend you if I said how much I hate England right now?"

Leah's laughter calmed you a bit. It seemed as if she was oblivious to the whole situation that had you on the verge of collapse. That helped. Maybe everything wasn't as bad as your head was making it out to be.

"It's not the first time I've heard that," Leah said. "But England has good things to offer too. You just have to give it time."

"I would if it wasn't for this damn rain," you mumbled. "I was sure I could win 1-6. I just wanted to finish the match, and now I don't even know if it will be over."

"Your coach says the weather isn't too bad. Just hang in there..."

"Leah, I think I'm gonna lose this round," you said, rubbing your face with both hands, frustration bubbling up. "I don't wanna go home." You didn’t want to cry, but the tears were already starting to fall.

"You're not going home," Leah said firmly. "Remember last year? You made it to the semifinals with no problem."

"Yeah, but... I didn't have any rain delays last year," you sighed. "I got lucky last year. That's what I kept telling myself throughout the tournament. But this time feels different... maybe it's a sign that things aren't going my way this time."

"No," Leah cut in, her tone sharp. "It's not different. You're more experienced now, you've just won a Grand Slam, and you've worked on your game and your mindset. Don't let a cloud ruin all that."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, letting Leah's words sink in. You needed that reminder, that spark of trust, to know she believed in you.

"Thanks, Leah," you whispered, feeling the lump in your throat start to dissolve. "I'm going to try."

"That's all you can do. Now, breathe, relax. You're in control."

"Promise me that if I lose... you won't leave," you asked in a soft, vulnerable whisper.

Leah was silent for a few seconds before she spoke again. "You won't lose. You'll win the next points, get through this round, and then we'll go rest."

"That's not what I asked," you said, almost pleading.

You heard Leah sigh. "I promise, I won't leave, no matter what."

Leah kept talking after that, slowly helping you keep it together, distracting you from the chaos around and within you. Her voice was a steady anchor, grounding you in the moment, making you feel like everything might just be okay.

An hour later, the game finally resumed. As soon as you stepped onto the court, it was clear you weren’t the same player from the first set. Your arms felt heavy, and your legs were shaky. The sky still looked threatening, and the air felt different from a few hours ago. You glanced at Feya, who seemed to be loving this new scenario, walking energetically to her spot while you felt like you were moving through mud.

Passing by your team's section, you couldn't even lift your head so you just shook it. You needed to pull yourself together. Unzipping your top a bit, you grabbed the chain around your neck. This was where you were supposed to be, and you had to push through. You wouldn't let Leah see you as a loser.

But thinking about it was easier than doing it.

Your serve was awful, like you had butter on your hands making the racket slip. You couldn't get any balls inside the lines. With each missed serve, frustration built up inside you, making it harder to rally and cheer yourself up.

As the match dragged on, you were piling up unforced errors, practically handing points to your opponent with every shot. You needed to pull yourself together before Feya completely wrecked your game.

"Focus Y/n," you muttered, adjusting your visor, sweat dripping from your forehead more from nerves than from running around. You took a deep breath, trying to channel all your frustration into your wrist as you prepared to hit the ball. Unfortunately, your swing lacked precision, and the ball ended up hitting the net.

The game was now at 40-15 to Feya. One more mistake and she would go up 4-2. You hadn't won a single game since the rain delay. Right now, you just needed to get the ball over the net, just that one simple task first. Trying to stay calm, you managed a clean serve. Luckily, Feya returned it weakly, and you seized the opportunity, smashing the ball with all your strength, aiming for the line.

The ball landed just behind Feya, and you heard the crowd cheering, but there was no time to celebrate as Feya immediately challenged the call.

"The ball never touched the line!" she argued with the umpire. Your stomach knotted up as you watched the exchange.

You knew she was right a minute later. 

“Game, Feya,” the umpire said into the mic, giving the point to your opponent. Feya was already celebrating, waving to the crowd.

You felt the weight of the match pressing down on you. It was a tough blow, but you couldn't let it break your spirit. You had to regroup and fight back.

Hearing the crowd go wild for Feya was overwhelming. Every cheer and clap made you feel smaller and smaller on the court. The cheers that used to lift you up now felt like they were weighing you down.

You glanced over at Lucas, hoping for some reassurance, but his face was as blank as ever, trying hard not to show any concern. Hesitating, you looked towards Leah, just a couple of seats to the right. She gave you a small thumbs up and a faint smile, a quiet gesture that seemed to offer a bit of calm.

“Come on!” Feya shouted after nailing another winning shot. Her excitement felt like a stark contrast to your growing despair.

When you went back to your chair, you took a sip of water and tried to calm your breathing. Leah’s words kept running through your head. 

“You’re in control”

But right now, it felt like that control was slipping through your fingers.

“Come on, breathe,” you muttered to yourself, but it felt like the air was stuck in your lungs. You shut your eyes and clenched your fists, feeling the sweat and frustration mix on your palms.

When you got back to the court, it was like your body was on autopilot. Every swing felt off, and your movements were sluggish. Your opponent was all over you, dragging you from corner to corner, wearing you down physically and mentally.

By the last game of the second set, you weren’t even trying to win points anymore. You just wanted it to be over. You promised yourself you’d pull it together and make a comeback in the third set.

You sank into the chair again, trying to catch your breath and calm your racing thoughts. Taking a long sip of water, you glanced around. The sky was finally starting to clear, with the sun making a slow comeback behind the clouds. A gentle breeze brushed against your face, and you shut your eyes for a moment, trying to recapture the focus that had slipped away.

Man, if only the weather had been like this all day. Leah was right, you’d need some time to really appreciate this place, but you were willing to give it a shot, just for her. You daydreamed about hanging out with her, going for a lazy walk, or just chilling at her place,  breathing in her scent and running your fingers through her hair. If only you could wrap up this match and get to enjoy those moments, where you could kiss her, let her hug you, and hear all those cheesy lines of hers that make your heart flutter.

But first, you had to win this. You didn’t want Leah to have to comfort you; you wanted her to celebrate your victory and be proud to be with someone who had accomplished something great. You were determined to give her that.

The umpire called you and Feya back onto the court for the start of the third set. You knew you needed to grab an early lead to turn things around. Feya was looking pretty cocky, flashing a grin that made it seem like she was reading your every move. But you couldn’t let that get to you. It was all about focusing on each point.

You took your spot on the baseline, mentally gearing up for battle. The umpire's voice cut through the tension, announcing the start of the final set.

Feya served first, and the ball came toward you with impressive speed. But you were ready for it this time. It was the same serve you’d seen throughout the previous set. You sprang into action, positioning yourself for a powerful forehand return. You whipped the ball with a deep, precise cross court backhand, the kind you’d been perfecting ever since Leah had pointed out how well you were executing that shot in some or your previous dates. Feya managed a weak return, and you seized the opportunity, charging forward and smashing the ball into the opposite corner. Feya was left scrambling halfway down the court.

0-15

You felt a burst of confidence. You looked over at Leah and for the first time in the match, flashed her a big, genuine smile. It was like a switch had flipped, and you were right back in your element.

The next point turned up the heat even more.  Feya tried a serve and volley move, but you were quick on your feet. You lunged forward and nailed a backhand volley that just skimmed the net, landing right on the baseline. Feya had no chance of reaching it.

0-30

You could see Feya starting to lose her cool. She was slipping back to the nervous player from the first set, just like you were getting back into your game. Realizing she needed a new strategy, she started hitting higher and deeper shots to mess with you, but you stayed calm and took your time to set up your shots.

In one of the rallies, you spotted your chance. Feya sent up a short, high ball. You smacked a topspin drive that landed perfectly in the corner of the court.

court.

0-40

The game was slipping into your control. With every point you won, your confidence surged back. You knew you had to keep up this level of play. You took your position to receive the next serve, focused and ready. Feya tried an open serve, but you anticipated it perfectly, firing back with a powerful cross court shot. After a few intense exchanges, you decided to end it, pushing Feya into a tough spot. With a decisive forehand, you wrapped up the game.

“Game, Y/n” the umpire called out.

You celebrated with a big grin, clapping your hands together, just like Feya had done earlier.

“Williamson,” Lucas’s voice made Leah jump. She turned to find him with a serious look on his face. “What did you do to her?”

“Huh?” Leah was confused.

“Whatever it is, keep it up. My girl’s on fire.” Lucas said with a huge smile, almost with a hint of pride.

“I didn’t do anything, sir,” Leah tried to explain, as she watched you return to your spot after the break.

You had a serious look on your face, eyes focused straight ahead. Leah swallowed hard. You were a whole different player now compared to the previous set. Back then, she’d seen your hands shaking. Now, you were celebrating each point with passion, flashing her big smiles and winks after every great shot. Leah couldn’t help but think you were dedicating those moments to her, and she wasn’t wrong. 

All Leah wanted now was a cold shower, and if she could share it with you, even better.

The score was 2-5 in the final set, and it was your turn to serve. The whole court felt electric, with everyone hanging on every move, knowing this moment could be the game changer. Leah sighed deeply, watching as you neared the end of what had been one of your toughest matches.

You stood at the baseline, gripping your racket tightly, trying to calm the nerves buzzing inside you. You were determined to finish this match on a high note. You took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand, knowing that you could turn things around with the right mindset.

You tossed the ball into the air and served it with precision and power, landing right in the corner of the service box. Your opponent barely managed to get her racket on it, sending back a high, weak shot. You moved in quickly, taking full advantage and smacking a winning volley that left no chance for a return.

0-15

The next point was a real battle. You and Feya were just slamming shots back and forth from the baseline, moving side to side all over the court. Then, you broke the pattern with a killer cross court backhand that pushed your opponent into a corner. Desperate, she tried a smash, but it went wide.

“Out!”

0-30. You were almost there. 

The crowd was now buzzing with excitement, sensing the win was within reach. You took a deep breath and got ready for your next serve. This time, you went for a powerful serve to the corner. The ball shot off your racket and bounced before Feya could even react.

“Ace!”

You were on match point.

The court fell silent after a second, everyone waiting for you to close it out. This was your moment, the chance to turn things around and give the crowd something to cheer about after the previous set. With a grin, you adjusted your visor and shot Leah a playful look as you tightened your gold chain. You knew exactly what you were doing, and you hoped she did too.

You tossed the ball up again, locking in on it. Your serve was fast and right on target, aimed at the T. Your opponent reached for it, but the ball zoomed past her, landing perfectly in the corner.

“Ace!”

“Game, set, match,” the umpire announced.

You raised your arms up as the crowd went wild.

After all the interviews, press conferences, and autograph signings, you finally had time for Leah. You spotted her, she was chatting with Jane, and without a second thought, you sprinted over to her, not caring about the hours your legs spent on the court before. You jumped into her arms, knowing Leah would catch you, no matter what.

“Careful, darling!” she laughed, catching you with just one arm around your waist. You were drenched in sweat and out of breath, but Leah didn't seem to mind at all. “How do you feel?” she whispered in your ear. 

“Like I’m the best tennis player in the world,” you said with a cheeky grin.

“Hm, you might not be feeling that great tomorrow,” Jane said with a roll of her eyes, giving you a friendly shove to get you off Leah. “Let the poor girl breathe, she was on edge the whole game, and her legs must be killing her now.” she added, grabbing your bag and heading off, leaving you alone with Leah.

After you two were alone, you noticed Leah was carrying a huge bag and that’s why she’d only used one arm to hold you. “What’s in the bag?” you asked

“Oh, um… ” Leah’s face went red as she scratched the back of her neck. “Well, I had a lot of free time during the rain delay and... I was a bit nervous too, so I ended up going to the Wimbledon store.”

Before Leah could react, you snatched the bag from her hand.

“Damn, Leah,” you said, trying to hide your laugh by covering your mouth with your hand. “What the heck, did you bring the whole store?”

“Hey, I didn’t get to shop last year, and I needed some stuff,” she said, cringing as you started pulling things out of the bag. A lot of keychains, strawberry-shaped ones, little tennis rackets, and balls. “How many keys do you have that you need this many keychains?” you teased.

“Some of them are for gifts,” Leah said, quickly snatching them from your hands.

You reached in again and pulled out a huge green blanket. “What’s this for?”

“I was freezing! Unlike you, I was standing around and it was cold!” Leah said, her eyes wide as she almost panicked.

“Please tell me you didn’t get the Wimbledon socks,” you said, barely whispering, but Leah’s guilty look said it all.

“Don’t look at me like that! They’re absolutely my style!” Leah shot back, looking offended. “I can definitely pull them off!”

You thought about it for a second... Yeah, Leah had this way of rocking whatever she wore.

"Alright, you’ve got a point there, babe,” you said with a bit of a chuckle, feeling a bit defeated.

"Thanks," Leah replied, her smile warming up as she heard the nickname. “And I got one more thing,” she said, getting serious as she grabbed the bag and pulled out a giant tennis ball. “Here,” she said, handing it to you.

“What do you expect me to do with this?” you asked, eyeing the ball, it was one of those that kids get autographed all the time. “Leah, are you for real?”

Leah didn't say a word at first. Instead, she walked over to you and gently placed both hands on your waist. Leaning in close, she whispered, “What do I need to do to get my favorite tennis player’s autograph?” She gave you a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. “Is that enough?”

“I’ll think about it,” you murmured, almost lost in the sensation of her breath brushing against yours.

Leah shook her head with a playful smile and cupped the back of your neck, guiding you into a deep, tender kiss. 

“Congratulations on making it through the round,” she murmured between kisses, her voice filled with warmth and pride. Your smile widened as you let the joy of her affection wash over you.

“Maybe you are a lucky charm” you whispered. 

[isadollie]

Hello! I saw your headcanon requests are open, could I request headcanons for husband! and dad!Kenma (with fem wife reader). Kenma is such a sweetheart, I feel like family life with him would be so cute. If possible, I'd like the baby to be a little boy that looks so much like Kenma, but I'd be happy with whatever you write. I hope that is ok. Tysm <3

husband! and dad! Kenma [headcanons]

fem!reader, post-timsekip ofc, just pure fluff i guess lol

★ he never really imagined to have kids of his own but.. here he is

★ when he first found out you're pregnant was like super scared lol

★ "how am i supposed to take care of a baby when i barely manage to take care of myself"

★ ...ouch.

★ anyway..

★ first thing he did was to call Kuroo and ask what he should do

★ was just so clueless

★ kept on repeating he's gonna mess it up

★ but he didn't!

★ a few months into your pregnancy, he was already a pro at taking care of you lol

★ he became soo excited, but like.. internally. he's not really the type to jump around and shout in happiness yk

★ decided to keep it a secret from his fans, cause he wanted to ensure that both of you are safe

★ first thing he bought for the baby was a tiny cat onesie with like little ears you know

★ also bought some family friendly video games...

★ ...and tiny headphones with a mic (where did he get that tho--)

★ but then his baby is born and he's like:

★ kinda have a feeling like it was his first time seeing a baby this small in general

★ is definitely too nervous to hold his son at first

★ super anxioussss

★ but then with time he learns

★ he's a good dad!!

★ i can defo picture him napping with his son lol

★ also he learned to cook when you were pregnant so that you could rest more

★ now uses this knowledge to feed the two of you

★ my boy had to get a whole bookshelf for cooking books and how-to-take-care-of-a-baby books

★ nah jk he looked it all up online

★ i think he'll be very protective too

★ like when your son grows up a bit, there is absolutely no way that Kenma will let him cross the road unless he holds his hand 😤

★ also you have to stop him a bit cause he would buy this kid everything he asked just like that

★ "daddy look! *points to the car toy he sees in the shopwindow* it's so cool!"

★ and then next day you see a whole ass car in front of your house... not a toy.

★ it's both funny and annoying to be honest

★ in the end you did keep the car though

★ whenever someone mentions that his son looks just like him he would be SO PROUD

★ his whole phone gallery is now basically photos of the three of you and your pets

★ would scoff at Kuroo anytime he calls himself an "uncle" or even worse "the coolest uncle"

★ to sum it all up, Kenma never thought of becoming a father but now that it actually happened... he's thinking of having another kiddo :P

this was actually so much fun to write!!! thanks for the request :3

[pixiesfz]

old friend from school t.m x r

plot: you recently move to England after living in Australia your whole life

warnings: some facts could be wrongs, there is one point in this where the r does something and if I saw it in real life I would cringe

You had finally set up your new apartment, taking photos of it to send to your mum who was eager to see your décor skills. Your heart was bumping, you had officially moved to Europe, something you had always wanted to do since you were seventeen.

Australia was great and you loved the setting and the atmosphere but you always yearned to be somewhere where you could always have a fresh start.

Plus, you were pretty sure the girls in Europe love the Aussie accent.

“This looks sick” Your best friend Emily piped up from behind you, letting herself in “yeah?” you asked and she nodded “Looks ready for a housewarming party” She smirked and you shook your head

“no”

“Oh c’mon! You need more friends other than me and some girls from high school moved here as well”

You huffed “We never talked to those girls” you hummed and she crossed her head “We talked to Teagan”

You whipped your head up “Teagan’s in Europe?” you asked and your best friend smirked “Yep, she just started playing in the WSL” she proudly said “Do you both still talk?” you asked and she shrugged “when we bump into each other at gatherings, we talk about you sometimes”

You tensed “Why?” your question made your best friend laugh “Oh I don’t know maybe because you were both madly in love with each other”

You scoff “No we were not”

“Yes you were and then you pussied away because you got scared”

You gave your friend a pointed glare “She was going to UCLA for college, I was going to Latrobe University in Melbourne, it wouldn’t have worked”

“So you admit you did have feelings for her?”

“Emily!”

“What,” she said innocently, and you grumbled “It’s been almost seven years, I’ve had girlfriends since then and she probably has to”

“To be fair you haven’t seen each other since, have you even talked online?”

Guilt washed over you as you remembered her name popping up on your phone and you ignoring it “no” you said and your best friend nodded, a silence going over your apartment.

“Well, you still need more friends”.

“Is this how I’m going to make new friends?” you ask Emily as you walk into Prenton Park where the game would be played “I have some friends here that want to meet you” she says simply and you rolled your eyes “All right fine”.

“Who’s playing again?” You ask and your friend shuffled her feet “Chelsea and Liverpool” You nodded “Cool, I was more of an Arsenal fan but-“ “That’s only because they have the most Aussies” your friend interrupted you and you shrugged “Don’t hate me because I love my country”

You were completely fine until the teams ran out, you were next to Liverpool's side of the tunnel and watched everyone run out with a small “woo” on your behalf.

You watched the back of their heads as they all ran, unbeknownst to you your best friend watching you with a smirk, waiting for Liverpool’s goalkeeper to turn around so you could see her face.

Your eyes followed the goalkeepers head, she reminded you of someone from back home.

“Don’t you think that-“

Your voice stopped as she turned around, clapping to the fans. Teagan as beautiful as ever with her hair up, she had obviously died it blonde recently. Your mouth was agape from shock as Emily giggled from aside from you, waving to some of the girls in the team.

“When you said you wanted me to meet your friends I think you forgot to mention they were in the team”

“I’m full of surprises”

You rolled your eyes but felt like hiding behind the gate, which had holes in it so your presence would still be seen, your next option was to use your scarf as a mask but the perfume you had sprayed on it was strong and you think it might kill you if you held it there for the whole game.

“You also forgot to mention Teagan’s team was Liverpool, I assumed Man United or City”

“I thought you wouldn’t come if I said so”

You just hummed and nodded, agreeing with her. In all fairness, you probably would’ve.

You leaned down to rummage through your bag as your friend tapped your back “What?”

“someone’s looking at us” she whispered and you shot your head up in protectiveness, assuming it was a creepy man “Who?” you asked and you were met with the eyes of your old friend from school.

She raised her brows in shock as she held on to the ball, her teammates asking her to throw it back but she was frozen solid “fuck” you mumbled under your breath and you were sure she did the same.

She looked older, but you knew that from a now and then stalk on her social media and you thought she may have been thinking the same.

You felt like you had been staring at her for five minutes before her teammate yanked the ball out of her hands, taking you both out of your trances as you shot your head to Emily.

“Well, that was a bit hard to watch”.

It was after the first half you got really into the game, you had to admit Teaghan was playing extremely well, Number 33 for Chelsea had been firing shots and she was deflecting almost all of them, you couldn’t help but cheer loudly.

It reminded you back in high school when she invited you to all her games, especially in her young Matilda’s games, those were her favourites, and she loved representing her country.

“You’re not mad at me are you?” Your friend asked, slightly guilty by her actions “Depends on if I make a fool of myself in front of the team” you smirked, knowing that you would be extremely nervous meeting them.

When the two teams came out again you cheered loudly for Liverpool, you and Emily sharing a Liverpool scarf as a cameraman shot a video of you both.

Your eyes fell on Teagan as she took her spot in front of the net, she looked nervous as she fiddled with her gloves. This win meant a lot to them apparently, Chelsea was a big team in the WSL, they win a lot and can be described as 'cocky’ at least by Emily.

You thought back to High school when you went to her games and took a deep breath before using your hands and putting them at the sides of your mouth.

“Let’s go Teagzy!” you yelled out to her before clapping, something you used to yell out to her every game.

The girl looked up at your voice immediately, shocked that you’d even speak up. She nodded and smiled to herself nonetheless and got ready before Chelsea got the ball into their forward line.

The cheers grew louder each and every time Teaghan made a save and you and Emily couldn’t help but stand up and cheer when the whistle blew.  

After celebrating the win the players started to walk around the pitch, interacting with fans and family.

Some of the girls went straight to Emily who introduced you to them “Where’s Teaghan?” Emily asked and the girls looked around “I think she went straight into the tunnel” one girl said and you nodded, Emily looked back at you, guilt practically written on her face.

“She said she wanted to see someone though” one of the girls piped up “An old friend from school she said,” another one said and you smiled “Okay”

“I’m having some girls over tonight at mine if you guys want to come,” Emily said and all the girls nodded

“just please don’t bring any Chelsea girls I think I might drunkenly piss them off”.

You were late to Emily’s.

You didn’t mean to, usually you are the first to an event but you caught yourself stuck in your wardrobe figuring out what to wear.

To tight.

To revealing.

To colourful.

Not revealing enough.

You finally settled on jeans and a nice top, bringing a win with you as you knocked on the door to see an already tipsy Emily.

“Teaghan!”

Well maybe more than Tipsy.

The girl quickly grabbed you by your hand and searched the room, you tried to follow her eyesight but she was too quick before she pushed you toward someone making you squeal.

It didn’t seem like the other girl was prepared either but with her quick reflexes she grabbed your waist with one hand and your hand that held the wine in the other.

“uh hello”

Your eyes widened as you looked up to Teaghen, recognizing her voice.

“I am going to kill her,” you said before pulling your arms away, your high school crush immediately coming back at the feeling of her skin brushing yours

“You’d rather kill your best friend than talk to me”

You dropped your mouth into an ‘o’ shape “No I wanted to talk to you, really I just thought maybe after one or two drinks that maybe I could have the confidence to“ You stopped after seeing her grinning smirk on her face “Teaghan” you deadpanned and she laughed “I’m only kidding with you”

“I needed to talk to you too”.

You slightly blushed at her saying ‘needed’ but you looked away “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you” you hummed and she nodded “seven years to be exact” she added on and you grimaced “How was UCLA?” you asked and she smiled “It was great, a bit rocky at first but I got into it, found some life long friends” you smiled “that’s great and obviously your living your dream now”

She smiled “I wouldn’t say dream-“ “oh shut up”

She laughed softly before gesturing her drink to you “What’s brought you here on a holiday?” she asked and you shook your head “not a holiday, I’m here for good” you said proudly and she raised her brows “oh shit” she laughed “well warning for the weather but from memory you like the cold” she smiled and you agreed.

A silence went over and you grimaced, remembering what you had done to her after high school.

“I’m sorry,” you said and she looked at you “What?” “For after school, I just- you were moving to America for four years and I was still at home I just got scared” you trailed off and the girl nodded “Oh”

“yeah” you murmured, looking away before the soccer player turned your head back to her “After a while I realised, my roommate Jessie kinda yelled at me for being upset and then I got scared and never communicated back”

“Jessie seems nice”

“She’s Canadian”

“Sounds about right” you both laughed and you grabbed your wine “I’m going to open this,” you said, a bit awkwardly if you said so yourself “Do you want me to come?” Teaghan asked and you smiled “Yes please”.

“I did that!” Emily yelled as you both walked by her, the two of you just laughing at your friends antics.

[bi-badass-geek]

Hades 1 vs Hades 2 Designs

● Hermes besides Hypnos was first character that made me think when i saw him oh some time has passed since Zag's escapes indeed, makes you feel that time skip. In this particular debate between those i'm really digging both but if needed to say which i prefer would go with second. I feel it should be said he sure rolls nicely with longer hair i would say darker outfit too but that's probably because pallet that's used for levels.

Ps. I saw post that mentioned how his ring is the same as ones Charon is wearing in first game and if it's a hint at something i'm here for it!

● Zeus for this god specifically there is discourse about how his pose is less dynamic and oh boy if i don't agree with that so much. In first game you see him and his look makes you think yeah this is the king of gods while in second game man is just there with posture i take often because i'm useless gay that don't know what to do with my hands and feels like they took all this might and put it into chiseling his nipples & abs into his golden chestplate. Not to mention the detail of missing the iconic bolt! Don't think it needs to be said but 100% would pick Hades 1 design out of those options.

● Poseidon the King of the Sea another example in my humble opinion where they went with flattening that dynamic looks exchanging it for man that just standing there chilling which is good for him but where first screams cool uncle second one goes uncle that wants retirement. I really like how we can see the trident now tho and need to point out his outfit sure got more print on it. When it comes down to pointing out which one is the winner in my eyes it would be 2020 one.

● Aphrodite if she wasn't the one that got thrown into drama because people double standards and hypocrisy. Design from first game and the pose straight up makes you think of love, lust, seduction all the things that are associated with said goddess. As for Hades 2 version i have no clue why it feels like this considering it's actually the opposite because we can see armor on her legs now but she feels less covered for me, do i find it negative or in any way problematic? Not one bit let the woman show off all her assets all day long! Really love the adds of her weapon and shield makes you immerse in the store of oh fights are happening around these parts. From seduction to i stand here at the ready kinda vibe and i'm really digging it.

Ps. Another post i read was about fact that her war paint i will call it (not 100% sure if that is it or just line for the giggles) is reference to Ares and considering her myth i really like that touch!

● Hypnos was the first OG i saw and was like man not only catching up on his sleep but also got such glow up i absolutely adore the design. Not to say he looked bad in Hades 1 but there it was like okay nice to Hades 2 like Damnnn and his lil helpers that keeps him up! Love the fact that of all things they made him be tucked into his cape like burrito.

Ps. I really do hope by the end of the game we get to wake him up so he can try out that nectar that we all leave there waiting.

● Chaos so many things to say and at the same time silence says it all. Seen people focusing on fact some out there call them he or how it's a downgrade from previous but don't even elaborate why they think that because everyone has right to have their own preference but at least put it into words instead of going trash next..there was also notion how they resemble Meg and while i see where people get that idea from for sure before reading that my mind didn't went there at all. I think both designs really work with someone who is primordial originator and how time goes so can their form. I find it very fascinating that they put old skeleton with new one and adore galaxy under suit makes me think of Nyx right away and how they're connected. Can totally see how between those two gamers got major stance that left reminds them more of male and right of female beings but at the end of the it chaos is chaos. Gotta take chair routine from Meg while they at it! The face on the shoulder surely throws me in loop tho fits? Sure. Does it disturb me in micro scale? Yes. About frames and poses don't have much to say cause both caption the essence of i mind my business everything unrelevant until i say so.

Ps. I know it's about physical aspect but let me say Chaos roasting Mel about how her brother is amusing one out of two Hades spawns is living rent free in my brain.

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware au

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, death, poison, possessiveness, obsession, implied manipulation, unhealthy relationship

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from

Entering your world

Returning home one day and finding a character from a game in your supposedly save heaven was definitely not something that was on your “definitely want to experience” list

But here he was, Vil Schoenheit himself… and he was crying the moment he saw your face?

Total confusion. Yeah, I understand.

After him apologizing, his reasoning for crying was being too happy to be in your presence, he explained how he went to sleep and woke up here

Did this remind you of the typical isekai trope? Yes but who were you to complain?

After all, you had a magical model sitting there on your shaggy couch

For the next few days, you expected some other character to pop up or Vil to suddenly undergo a magical girl transformation like they were used so many times in anime but thank goodness that didn’t happen because you weren’t sure if your heart could take any more surprises

Living with Vil was surprisingly relaxing though

It is no secret that Schoenheit is loaded from all his modeling and acting so you expected him to be more or less useless when it was about making himself useful

But would you look at that? He was actually pretty good

So good in fact that you had already dubbed him your househusband and even saved him under that name on your phone after he got his own

Of course, you never said that to him in his face

And for that, I thank you

You see, Vil wouldn’t do this for everyone he met. Oh no. He would probably just throw money at them to pay some sort of rent and then go on with his day

But you were the Overseer! The hecking OVERSEER!!!

When he first saw you, tired eyes and hair that could only be described as being a bird nest looking at him from a long day of work, he could not hold himself back

Tears of joy streamed down his cheek, him thinking that he died and ascended to heaven

Only after you asked him how he got here and offered a place to stay did he finally understand that this wasn’t just some sort of delirium or dream, no he was with you

He nearly started to cry again and his thought process, his head being filled with screams of happiness, must have been a copy of his own fans whenever they saw him

So he took his job as your househusba- *ahem* “roommate” seriously

What he might not even admit to himself was that he didn’t do this just because he thought so highly of you. No. It just meant easy access to your more private areas of your life

Your room was just so nice! Your bed felt like he was laying on clouds and it also smelled like you! Oh, did you save him under “house husband” on your phone? In that moment he squealed

He might even keep some things from you. Nothing too bad. Just a shirt or hoody… maybe he took more than just one

But the Overseer forbid- wait that saying doesn’t work here

But goodness forbid you bring someone into the small bubble of him and you

They don’t even need to do something bad. Vil will just see something that isn’t even there

That one friend of yours? Oh, they threw some disgusting looks in your direction. (They didn’t, he just imagined it)

I would like to remind you that TWST is apparently a place where it’s totally cool to teach teenagers how to make poisons

Yeah, he might not have a lab or certain equipment here but he can work with what he got. Especially since househusbands are always surrounded by chemicals

Suddenly that person is gone. Apparently, they have eaten something wrong but the doctors are just confused about how and why and so much more

The longer he stays the more possessive of your attention he gets

Mention someone and suddenly they also fall sick

And all he did was hand them a homemade meal. People are so picky about what they eat these days…

[theshslpumpkinghost]

My predictions for the rest of DRDT!

(mostly my general thoughts after this ep)

(Spoilers for Ch2 Ep16!)

Okay so- First off, Levi’s fate!

If he doesn’t die from this, then he’s almost certainly going to die from trying to assists somebody else. As mentioned in the voice trailer, he’s willing to do anything to help his classmates, even if it involves him getting hurt. I can see him dying without anyone specifically targeting him, or someone being targeted because they know Levi will save them. Although that might not be so reliable depending on the recovery time needed…

Okay, next up Arturo- He’ll probably finally leave J alone, busy with making sure Levi doesn’t, y’know, die- Plus the whole breakdown he had in the trial, and his secret being revealed.. He’s gonna need some time, I think-

Teruko! Ohhhh my god where do I even start with her- She won’t die, obviously. She’s told us that multiple times, we’ve seen the proof, there isn’t a way that she can die. And that’s her curse, more than the bad luck is. So she could hypothetically get away with murder, although I don’t think she will actually kill somebody. She could get away with it, since she’s like- one of the only competent people in trials, and all it takes for Charles is for him to either be murdered or witness a murder, and he’s unable to assist. So Teruko is the only one the people here are relying on, which leaves them vulnerable if she is the blackened. Also- Teruko finally broke down and cried! It makes sense, after what she’s seen, and what she’s ended up inadvertently causing- The voice actors for Teruko and Ace (and levi) this ep >>> The new Teruko sprites were so cool, and I’m pretty sure I saw one that mirrored Min-

And now- MonoTV!! I don’t know if my theory about there being no mastermind is accurate, but after this episode- It could be! And so I’ll take that- Wasn’t expecting it to sound like Mai, at all, but that’s really interesting- Pretty sure XF caused this killing game, or at least created MonoTV-

Whit! His new sprite is fascinating considering he has no other serious sprites- And his concern for Charles, too! (..also, more fuel for the time loop theorists?) If Charles dies next chapter.. Whit will either completely break, giving up the happy persona he has, or, he ends up going so far into coping that he ends up going manic in the trial- Either way, fun development for a guy who’s only really made jokes or known a concerning amount of things about hanging-

Charles! He- isn’t doing well right now, since he saw Levi’s injury- Whit did attempt to shield him from that at least, so points towards the Charwhit (platonic or romantic, whatever you prefer) dynamic developing further! If someone like Teruko was going to commit murder, she’d probably go for Charles first. Since he is the only one besides her that really helped in the trial, and if he hadn’t gotten involved after ep11, everyone would have been executed by now. Definitely the biggest threat if Teruko is the blackened. But she might not even want to take him out if she commits a murder, because after all, she won’t die from an execution-

And finally- Ace Markey! The blackened himself! hhhh oh my god where can i start with this- Ace still cares about Levi! He knows that it’s pointless, he was searching for any reason to be mad at him, even if it made him a hypocrite for condemning another murderer. But, even after that was revealed- He was willing to get executed so Levi wouldn’t die. He yelled at Arturo for saying that he couldn’t save Levi, for being a coward, and isn’t that ironic- Also! His friend’s name gets (re)revealed! After the QnA where his name was first revealed was deleted, Taylor’s name makes an appearance on one of the gravestones in Ace’s execution! I loved the fact that his execution was themed around his fears, since he was established as a guy who had, well- a lot of fears, since the first episode he appeared in. Definitely more interesting than the cliche of ‘horses’ (not that there’s anything wrong with that idea at all-) Uh- I have a lot of thoughts about Ace rn but I’m way too tired rn to type them all out- I’ll probably add it to my p2 of this!

Okay so- I’ll probably put the rest of my thoughts in another post, since it’s 2am for me right now-

(i will be so surprised if anyone reads all this im so sorry it’s long-)

[l0v3tast3]

More young!reader and 141 maybeeee? I feel like I just need more headcanons and drabbles

Also maybe like, 141 reacting to reader randomly dropping information like "well, my mum's an alcoholic and she used to beat me"

And this is me speaking from experience cause I do that and like 🥲

✎ i think i got this request like almost a month ago now i am. so sorry lmao but i'm actually getting to it and that's what counts right? right. i pumped this out in like 2 hours which if you knew how i write you would be very impressed 😎

✎ tags: young!reader, military!reader, not proofread im too cool for that, just general fluff like one mention of simon being angsty about u dying ig?

♡ so soap and the reader are definitely really good friends. i don't really think he's like super "mushy"? i guess? like some people make him out to be (not that there's anything wrong with that i love that trope) because like, look at him. i love him but some of the stuff he says in the games is like super fucking #militaryman if that makes sense lmao

♡ you're friends in a sibling kind of way. you make fun of each other all of the time and play pranks with (and on) each other. he goes rough on you when you're sparring but always makes sure you're okay afterwards. a lot of the time he talks to you like you're a little kid in an annoying tone just to piss you off.

♡ simon definitely didn't really want to like you at first, partly because he didn't want to get close to you in case you died or got seriously injured or captured or whatever else could possibly happen. but you literally weaseled your way in as his friend.

♡ after a few weeks of being with the team, you picked up on their likes and dislikes. in particular, you learned which foods simon liked at the cafeteria, you learned what kind of books he read, etc. etc. and so ensued you doing nice things for him.

♡ you would grab him the protein bar he liked from the vending machine when you went to grab yourself or someone else something. if you went somewhere with cheap books, you would grab him one that was similar to what you saw him reading last. you always made it a point to get him cheap things so you could refuse if he tried to pay you back.

♡ most of the time, though, he would say he didn't want it when you handed it to him. you would just shrug and tell him to give it to someone else (you see him with whatever you got him not long after). other times, you'll just sit down next to him and talk to him out of nowhere. towards the beginning, it was more of you talking at him, but that was okay with you. it took longer than the others, but you wormed your way into his cold heart.

♡ price is your new father. he gives you advice on literally everything, whether or not you ask for it (you almost never do). he does the dad thing of the hands on the hips and legs kinda spread while he explains the topic in depth. he has a very vast wealth of knowledge, you come to learn.

♡ i feel like one time you would comment on price's outfit, saying it looked good and matched well one day and he would kind of take it to heart. from then on he'll occasionally ask you how his outfit is that day. he'll play it off as if he's joking, but deep down he's actually curious. you always make fun of him for the hat that's seemingly glued to his head, though.

♡ gaz fully leans into becoming your older brother. he doesn't deny it, he just laughs when someone says anything. also i feel like he'll literally do anything you want to do. he'll go shopping with you, he'll go to bookstores or antique stores or crystal places, literally anywhere. it's gotten to the point where you just tell him to go with you and he just grabs his coat.

♡ he also will play any video game with you and he always beats you at it. it literally does not matter if he's never even heard of this random game you just pulled out of some alternate dimension, he'll be better than you at it. he's also absolutely clueless about his natural talent; if you ask him what the hell he's doing right, he's just like "huh? 🤨🤨"

♡ yeah in regards to randomly dropping trauma like it's nothing, it's definitely a smack in the face to all of them. they talk about the time they almost died in a firefight or when they got shot several times over, but they don't talk about the "deep" stuff.

♡ so it's like, you say some shit like "yeah my [super close person] died when i was really young that was #rough lol" and they all just slowly turn their heads to you like "what the actual fuck did you just say" and you're just like "what's going on why did we stop talking 🧐"

♡ they either move on to a new conversation after several long moments of silence or you just don't notice and continue talking like you didn't just give them mental whiplash.

♡ also so like i'm the type of person that loves clutter and just wants to decorate the hell out of my apartment n shit right? so like if you're also that kind of person and you just amass all this stuff in your room and put in shelves and lamps and posters and pictures covering every wall (even though it's probably against some military code or rules or whatever) and they got a peek they're just like "what the fuck"

♡ every time price sees it he tells you to clean it up but it's half-hearted at best. you tell him he's just jealous of all of your cool stuff, and he secretly is (if you're a mini-fridge kind of person he would definitely want to steal it from you).

♡ if you don't really decorate your room that much or just don't have a lot of stuff, they all get you little things to clutter up your space with. kyle and you come up with a system of buying each other a gift whenever you go shopping together, and he's good at remembering what you like.

♡ i think simon likes carving wood in his spare time, and you'll see him doing this and say that's really cool and good, and he's always just like "ya want it?" and tosses it at you. you don't bother asking if he's sure he wants to give it to you because he already pulled out another block of wood to carve into.

♡ they all also will fight literally anyone for you once you all get closer. you're probably one of, if not the youngest person working in the entire compound and they know how people talk, and if they hear anyone saying anything bad about you for any reason they shut that shit down immediately. you are good, in every aspect, and they all will let everyone know that.

[in-this-crystal-kingdom]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SUFFERING GAME GRAPHIC NOVEL

Okay SO. Everyone has some thoughts on this one for sure as I have seen. A lot of people are saying they took a lot from Wonderland and that it's a disappointment as an adaptation but here's the thing: I have viewed the books as separate canon from the podcast since around Crystal Kingdom. I don't necessarily see it as a faithful adaptation but as a cool way to get more people into the story without giving EVERYTHING away in case they decide to listen. However, that being said, I have some things to say. I'm going to start with the negative first because even though I LOVED this book I so have some things I will miss about it (but please understand that I LOVED THE BOOK SM GUYS, I will ofc be adding what I loved after this part)

My Issues/Things I Wish Were Included:

Magnus trying to find his own answers with the voidfish. I was really looking forward to how they would show and represent that!

"I'm afraid no one else will have me" was such a good scene, I really liked the vulnerability Taako showed then because aside from his scene in Petals we haven't seen a whole lot of that from him in the books (again, I veiw the books as separate canon, but it would be nice to see)

CAM! I missed Cam so much he was delightful

No Boss Rush

I don't like that they basically forced Magus to decide if he wanted to lose Julia and never mention Gov. Kallen at all. That was such an impactful moment and they kind of side stepped it unfortunately

Trust or Forsake is missing which is also unfortunate

A lot of what made Wonderland interesting is either spedrun or absent so they kind of took the Wonder out of Wonderland

Taako giving up his beauty is also gone! Which sucks ass! My only true issue with this book that I genuinely was heartbroken over. I understand it can be a hard thing to show, especially when it runs the risk of someone in real life looking at the design and going "ow, that looks like me!'. So like. I get it. I really do. But they cut so much of Podcast!Taako's growth in Book!Taako's character that it was a sore spot for me personally.

If they let Johann live in the next book I will be very upset

SPEAKING OF NEXT BOOK!! Now that I have all my negative out of the way ohohoh boy I'm gonna share the positives I have with it. Given that, again, I view the books as separate story than the podcast, I thought they did a wonderful job overall. Solid 8/10 for me! Here are the things I am still screaming about

Things I adore about this book and will be living rent free in my head forever

TAAKO AND KRAVITZ KISS LIKE 5 PAGES IN AND I SCREAMED CAREY ATE WITH THAT

Merle's kids 😭😭😭

JOHANN IS ACKNOWLEDGED IN THIS ONE RAAAAAAAA I WAS SO WORRIED THEY WERE TRYING TO CUT HIM OUT

I love the redesign of Wonderland looking like a circus instead of a roulette wheel, I liked that a lot

Kravitz calling Taako to tell him to be safe,,, the call getting cut off,,,, pain

I loved the wheel it looked so cool

Edward and Lydia were giving Velvet and Veneer and I am HERE FOR IT

Heart Attack my beloved 🥰

ARMS OUTSTRETCHED!!!!!!!!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN TAAKO SAW KRAVITZ IN THE TAR??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE TRIED TO SAVE HIM?????? MCELROY FAMILY AND CAREY WHEN I GET YOU-

Seeing the umbra staff (*cough cough* Lup) BEAT THE SHIT out of Edward was lovely, no notes

HOW GRIFFIN DISAPPEARED!!! I WAS HOPING THEY WOULD DO THAT!!!

BLUEJEANS REVEAL

The Umbra Staff jumping into Barry's arms 😭😭😭

Taako having STATIC IN HIS EYES seeing the staff and Barry together CAREY PLEASE

MERLE SEEING JOHN, THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE

L U P SHE IS SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL I CRIED I AM SO GLAD THEY GAVE HER LONG HAIR TOO!!

GOD THE BOOK ENDED WHERE I WANTED IT TO AND THEN SOME ACTUALLY (I thought it would end with the line "Lucretia, what have you done???" BUT MAN I'M NOT MAD IT WENT ON A BIT LATER)

THE IPRE PAINTING. THEM. THEY. ALL OF THEM. I AM DYING. MY CROPS ARE WATERED AS SHIT.

[theharrowing]

Devil with the Mint Hair 🍃 3: Pretty good

His pull out game is strong but your hatred for him is stronger.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🍃 Yoongi x Female Reader

🍃 word count: 7.7k

🍃 enemies to fuck buddies, brother’s best friend, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+

🍃 warnings: alcohol consumption (mc is tipsy); talk of hiring sex workers; mention of masturbation with sex toys; mention of Yoongi fucking Jimin; use of "baby girl" & "submissive little fuck doll"; mc is a brat; dirty talk and filthy smut (safe word establishment; mc does not get undressed; hair gripping - no description of hair style or length; being handled roughly - pushed around, gripped by head and throat; face slapping; rough, messy blow job & face fucking; a lot of drool; spitting; rough sex; pussy slapping; cunnilingus, fingering, & ass eating; multiple orgasms; overstimulation); they do not kiss once; post-nut regret; possibly catching a feeling??? (lol, as if.)

🍃 note: this scene takes place in America and there is a brief interaction with a bartender but i didn't specify what language anyone is speaking or where these characters live because it seems very unimportant for a fic like this lol. i know nobody is here for the scraps of plot.

🍃 beta read by @neoneunnajimin​

🍃 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

The summer sun is hot and oppressive, and you sit under the awning of a poolside bar, hair dripping from taking a swim, with a towel around your hips, waiting impatiently for the bartender to return with a blended margarita – desperate for the inevitable brain freeze, if it means you get to cool down. 

Why your brother chose to celebrate his September birthday in Las Vegas, of all places, is beyond you, and you try your hardest not to melt against the high bar chair and its tiny little wooden seat back. You only agreed to come because he is your brother, and you would never miss his birthday for the world. 

And you assumed that he and the guys would be so busy gambling and going to strip clubs – and whatever else men in their twenties do – that you would not get stuck running into a certain someone too much, despite foolishly agreeing to meet up, should the possibility arise. And you were right, for the most part. 

Night one consisted of dinner and drinks, and then the guys went off to various casinos on the strip to test their luck. You meandered through your hotel's casino, cradling a drink while taking in all the sights and sounds, ultimately becoming both underwhelmed and overwhelmed, and retiring to your room to sink into the jacuzzi tub. 

The following day, the guys slept in late while you went to breakfast, and then you joined them for some day drinking and a walk along the strip. And although your sworn enemy did make an appearance each time, with your brother around, he barely acknowledged your presence – something that you have found to be both a relief and somewhat infuriating. 

He has also been preoccupied with a pretty boy with bright orange hair named Jimin, and you find yourself wondering, whenever you see him, whether he is the hookup your enemy mentioned to you over text. 

Not that you want that devil to acknowledge you, nor do you want to care about who he fucks – after the stunt he pulled the last time you saw him, you find it impossible to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds. But it still feels strange to be ignored by someone who made you cum so hard – a thought that makes you cringe.

You surmise that the guys had a long night at the strip club because it is almost noon, and you have not heard from your brother. Today has been set aside as a sleep-in-and-recharge day, anyway, so you have no plans until dinner, which is how you came to be at the large outdoor pool, perched at the bar without the expectation of running into anyone. Perhaps you should have rethought your plan and gone to someone else's expansive outdoor pool, but now is not the time for weighing the could-have-beens.

Once the bright blue drink in a tall, curvy glass is set before you, you sit high in your seat, smiling as you take hold of the chilled glass and wrap your lips around the neon pink straw, sucking in the ice-cold concoction that sends a shiver down your spine with a flavor that you can only describe as boozy blue.

"God, that's good," you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back with joy and lolling your head as a frigid rush works its way through your body, aided by your damp bathing suit. 

"Damn," a familiar voice rasps from behind, making you jump, "what do they put in those things?"

You don't need to turn to see that Yoongi has sat to your right, but you do, quickly taking in his naked torso and black swim shorts before turning your attention back to your drink, putting the straw between your lips and noting that he is dressed to swim but still dry. 

As much as you try to ignore his presence, you can feel Yoongi's eyes on you, and you do your best to ignore the way your skin has broken into goosebumps and your face warms. You do not like him, and you hate how your body responds to his presence.

Yoongi drawls a petulant, "Wow, not even gonna say hi to me, huh?" 

You roll your eyes, take a deep, chilling sip of blue, and turn your attention toward him, doing your best to appear wholly inconvenienced. Then, with wide, incredulous eyes and a fake smile, you say, "Hi, Yoongi," as sarcastically as possible. 

Yoongi snickers, then opens his mouth to retaliate, but the bartender returns and asks if he would like something, forcing his attention away as he points to your drink and says, "I'll have whatever that is."

The bartender cheerily says, "Blue raspberry margarita, coming right up!" and walks off. 

Yoongi turns his attention back to you to mutter, "Sounds mildly horrifying; I can't wait," with a grin.

Feeling annoyed and disinterested in whatever this man is playing at, you blurt, "Why are you here, Yoongi?"

"My best friend's birthday," Yoongi responds, running a hand through his short, mint-green hair, and sounding bored. "Why else?"

You sigh and roll your eyes, then focus on stabbing the pink straw into your blue drink. "I mean here, sitting next to me. There are other bars out here, and hundreds more along the strip. Shouldn’t you be preoccupied by that orange-haired guy who clings to you, instead?”

When Yoongi asks, "Why wouldn't I want to be here, sitting next to you?” his voice is much lower and much closer than you expect, and you flinch, turning your sights back to him. 

Yoongi leans on the bar top, elbow only inches away, and his gaze is piercing. Only a small floral bikini top covers your upper half, and your leg sticks out from the slit in your towel enough that when Yoongi's gaze roves slowly and hungrily over your body, you feel exposed. Anxiety crashes through you, but so does arousal, and you clear your throat and take another frozen sip. 

“And anyway,” Yoongi continues the moment you turn away, “Jimin is still asleep, and likely will be for several more hours.”

The bartender returns and sets Yoongi's drink before him, and you watch from the corner of your eye as his nimble, long fingers delicately cradle the glass and slide it toward himself. He sits forward, takes a sip, and then grumbles out something unintelligible under the sound of your pounding heart. 

"Hmm?" you ask, turning your attention to him. 

"Not as orgasmic as you made it seem, but not too bad."

With another roll of your eyes, you mutter, "You are so annoying."

Truth be told, sitting out here with Yoongi is not as bad as you would have thought. Perhaps it is because he is holding back from leaning too far into your personal space and wearing you down – likely because the two of you are surrounded by others, and there is a slight chance that your brother or one of the other guys could come find the two of you. Or, perhaps the dry Vegas heat is making you too worn out both physically and emotionally to care. 

Yoongi hums, and you turn your attention toward him without fully looking at him, continuing to suck at your melting drink. One thing you will give Vegas credit for is even these shitty slushies are potent enough that you are already feeling a little tipsy. 

"You seem calm today," Yoongi muses. "Did you also bring back an escort last night? Get the stress fucked out of you?"

Everything Yoongi says hits you like several small trucks, and you open and close your mouth, attempting to begin several sentences but feeling at a loss for which detail to hone in on. Finally, you settle on the most obvious bit and ask, "Escort? What?"

Yoongi laughs, and it sounds almost mocking and sardonic, so you look at him, finding him chewing on his bright yellow straw with a lopsided smile. "Why do you think the guys are so worn out? I've been keeping them busy."

"You've…what?" 

Another laugh, but this one comes from the guts, deep and amused. "What? We're in Vegas, baby girl! Gotta make sure to give the guys the full experience."

"You're lying," you mutter, straw wedged between your teeth, doing your best not to respond to the sound of him calling you baby girl out loud. 

Has Yoongi really been hiring sex workers to stay with the guys? All the while you've been using a vibrator and feeling too small in your gigantic suite. You have nothing against the notion of sex work, but knowing that your brother…a violent shudder runs through you as you attempt to shut out the thought.

"Ha, come on, do you really think I would lie about something like this? We found a fun little club not too far from here, and the guys took a liking to some of the dancers. Once we found out the girls can be rented for the night, that was that."

"Wow," is all you can mutter, because what else do you add? Must be nice? Thanks for the invite? Nothing feels appropriate. And anyway, what if Yoongi is lying?

"And what's the name of your favorite girl?" you ask, attempting to play it cool, taking another deep sip of blue before turning your eyes to Yoongi, whose gaze is firm.

The way he regards you is unyielding, and you squirm in your seat, finding it hard to hold eye contact. Somehow this is the most civil conversation you have ever had with Yoongi in person, and you find yourself nearly charmed by his presence. That is, until you recall how he showed up at your door knowing full well that your brother was not home so he could smoke you out and pressure you into rough sex on your bedroom floor, of all fucking places. 

And you almost break the spell and let your anger rise, feeling the sudden urge to chug back your drink and get the fuck away from this demon. But you cannot deny the way he made you feel, and you would be lying if you said you would not want to feel it again, especially after agreeing to hook up if the opportunity presented itself. It seems as if it has, in fact, done just that.

Although you are at war with your thoughts and not fully set on running off, you do slurp more than half of the remnants of your drink, which goes down easy now that it has more or less melted into a boozy syrup. 

"Well?" you challenge, curious what kinds of escorts Yoongi has been bringing back to his room. You wonder if they like it just as rough as you do. 

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth, then chuckles. "Nah, I haven't been partaking. Only supplying."

At this, you roll your eyes, once more. Why is Yoongi suddenly acting like a prude? "Sure, okay," you say incredulously. 

"I'm serious!" Yoongi insists, making you laugh more. 

"There's nothing wrong with hiring sex workers, Yoongi," you say with raised eyebrows, almost defensively.

"I fucking know that," he bites back, "I'm the one hiring them!"

"Okay, then—"

"Why would I need to hire someone? You're right down the hall."

Now you know he is fucking with you, and you hate to admit it, but it makes you annoyed – a little upset, even. If Yoongi has been preoccupying the guys, why hasn’t he shown up at your door? He must be messing with you. 

"Shut the fuck up," you grit with your straw between your teeth before sucking the rest of your drink back. The straw gurgles loudly against the bottom of the glass as you angrily seek every last drop of tequila and blue. 

"I'm serious," Yoongi responds, close. 

When you regard him, he looks serious, but you are certain that he must be toying with you, and you begin to slide from the tall chair to the ground, stretching your toes to meet the rough gunite while your shifting weight makes the chair scrape loudly backward. 

There is laughter in Yoongi's voice when he asks, "Wait, where are you going?"

You sigh and stare at Yoongi's half-empty drink rather than at himself, contemplating how much you even want to reveal. You do not have feelings for him, for one thing, but you are also not sure whether he has just been messing with you and lying about wanting to hook up again. It almost feels like you are the butt of some joke.

"I'm not going to sit here and be made fun of," you say, pointedly not meeting his gaze before you turn to walk back into the hotel. 

"Wait," Yoongi says, and before you have a chance to register the word, his hand is on your arm, tugging you back. "There has definitely been a misunderstanding."

You are surprised to find that Yoongi is standing, and now that you are on your feet, the alcohol hits you at once, spinning you somewhat off your axis as you twist out of Yoongi's hold and frown at his eager expression. You stumble slightly back on flip-flopped feet and straighten out, giving him your best glare.

"Look, I'm not interested in your games, okay? I know you enjoy being an asshole for fun, so cut the shit, Yoongi."

Yoongi actually looks a bit upset before he schools his features and scoffs, taking a step back and reaching for his drink. He shrugs, then mutters, "Fine, be a fucking brat."

The whiplash is astounding, and you stand your ground while trying to figure out just what the fuck is going on. Yoongi sucks his cheeks in to finish the last of his tequila syrup, then he walks past you with an air of nonchalance that makes you turn on your toes and follow him in a huff. You were going to have the last word; who does he think he is?

As the two of you approach the open door of the hotel, Yoongi turns to glance over his shoulder and scoffs. "What? Tagging along so you can bitch at me in the elevator?"

"Oh, fuck off," you respond louder than necessary now that the two of you are in the crowded carpeted hallway and the raucous sounds of the pool are quieted behind concrete and glass. "I'm going back to my room."

"Sure you don't want to come back to mine?" Yoongi asks over his shoulder as you round a corner into a nearly empty hallway, walking deeper into the hotel. 

"What?" you all but shout.

"Oh, come on," he laughs, turning to walk backward just long enough to say, "I saw how jealous you got over the prospect of me fucking someone else, despite knowing full well that I do fuck someone else, regularly. Regardless, the guys are all asleep, which means an opportunity has presented itself."

"I was not—" you begin as his gaze rakes down your body, and he turns back around.

"Admit it," Yoongi drawls, taking a corner to the left into a small elevator lobby with eight gold doors. He presses a call button, then turns to fully face you. "You can't get me out of your head, can you? I've been watching you sneak glances all weekend, baby girl; you're a terrible actor."

How can one man be so exasperating? As you wait for one of the elevators to get close, you stare up at the lights above the nearest one, hoping that by some chance two of them open so that you are not stuck in a compact square carriage with him. 

But as one of the elevators behind you dings, and not a single person joins you inside, you realize all too soon that you are trapped with him, and only him. Yoongi steps in first and holds his hand in front of the door to keep it from closing, and you slide into the small space and step into the furthest corner from him, staring at the gold doors as they close, then watching in the peripheral as Yoongi hits the number 32 – the floor you both stay on. 

"So?" Yoongi drawls, causing your entire body to break out in goosebumps – though you reason it is likely from your bathing suit still being damp and has nothing to do with that demon's deep, inviting voice. 

"So, what?" you bite back, staring up at the little screen above the button panel that flashes with which floor it passes. 

"You gonna come to my room and let us both have what we want, or what? Nice and rough, just like you asked for.”

With a scoff, you cross your arms over your chest, attempting to find warmth and to cover how hard your nipples are under your bathing suit top. Yoongi steps closer, and in this enclosed space, you can smell hints of musk and cologne, and maybe something sweet, like a lingering trace of shampoo or a body wash. 

"Or maybe we should go to yours," he suggests, deep and quiet. "Your room is further from the others…don't need any of them hearing you screaming my name while I tame the brat out of you."

"You are insufferable," you grit under your breath, though your words do not sound as firm as you would like. 

Yoongi hums and steps impossibly closer, then says, "I know you can't stop thinking about me, baby girl. Just give in."

As soon as the elevator dings and the gold doors slide open, he side steps far away from you, giving you space to exit and begin the hurried trek toward your room. From the elevator lobby, yours is to the left and down a little, whereas the group of rooms the guys are staying in are just off to the right. If you did let Yoongi fuck you – which you are not – doing so in your room would be the wiser of the two choices.

You round the corner to the left and walk quickly down to your door. To your chagrin, Yoongi's flip flops smack behind you, and you sigh and let your head droop back, feeling too tipsy and maybe a little too horny to be allowing him to come to your room. You reach your door and fish your key from where it's wedged between your towel and hip, then turn and scowl, looking over Yoongi's shoulder to make sure nobody else is in the hallway to see the two of you together. 

"Go back to your room, Yoongi," you say. Your heart pounds the closer he gets, and you do your best to keep your eyes on his face, but he is shirtless, and he looks really good with his lean but defined muscles on display. 

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, stopping a foot away and leaning into the wall. 

"Yes!" you whisper-yell, insistent. You glance over his shoulder once more, then say, "The last thing I want is to get caught with you."

Yoongi's face brightens, and you know in an instant that you have fucked up. "Oh, so you do want me to fuck your brains out, but you're worried about getting caught?"

"That's not—"

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and does not wait for you to finish your sentence, drawling, "I think it is. You already said as much over text."

Although your hand is lifted halfway to the key scanner, it is too far for it to detect the key and allow you entrance. You raise your eyebrows and use the hand holding the key to wave him off, muttering, "Shoo! Get the fuck out of here. I don't want to be seen with you."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, grabs your hand, and forces you to hold the key against the scanner, then reaches with his other hand to open the door and shove the two of you inside. Everything happens in a flash, and you barely have a chance to get your bearings, muttering, "Yoongi, what the f—" as you are ushered into the entrance of your hotel room, and Yoongi is closing the door behind the two of you. 

"Nobody can see us in here," Yoongi says as he steps out of his sandals and walks into your room, adding, "problem solved," over his shoulder. 

Your hotel room is fairly tidy, with only a few small sprawling piles of clothing and beauty products here and there. But you definitely left a dildo and vibrator lying tangled in the sheets of the bed from toying yourself last night, and you kick out of your sandals and scurry over to the bed, hoping to get to them before Yoongi sees them, finding him holding the small purple bullet vibrator between his fingers. 

"Naughty girl," Yoongi teases when you come into view, and you can hear him clicking on the power button multiple times to make the buzzing louder and stronger. 

"Put that down," you insist, closing the space between the two of you and reaching for it. 

"Let me use this on you," Yoongi mutters, dropping his arm down and brushing the vibrating toy over your thigh, right in between the slit of the towel. 

"Yoongi!" you yelp, hopping backward and reaching for his arm, but Yoongi just grins and holds the toy behind his back, flexing his arm as you attempt to yank on it. 

"Please," Yoongi asks softly, flashing a lopsided smile, and you shove at his chest and walk away, determined to put space between the two of you. 

Given how fast Yoongi can make you cum, the prospect of him fucking you while using your toy does excite you, but it also worries you. This man would turn you into a pile of mush in no time. Luckily, he turns the toy off and tosses it back onto your bed, toward the pillows. 

“We need to establish boundaries,” you say, walking over to a long mirror near the front entrance of the room to check your reflection. Although you appear tired from a combination of tipsiness, heat, and genuine exhaustion, you look good enough to let this demon perceive you. 

When you turn back to Yoongi, he is sitting on the corner of your bed, arms relaxed at his sides, waiting for you to continue. 

“Things like hitting, spitting, and hair-pulling are fine, but I get to tell you to stop if it becomes too much.”

“We’ll establish a safe word,” Yoongi says. 

A thrill rushes over you as you consider what your safe word could be, and you formulate an idea, unable to hold back from grinning. Yoongi must take notice, because he sits higher, raising his eyebrows curiously. 

“The guy with the orange hair,” you say, approaching Yoongi, whose eyes widen as you speak, “is he your regular hookup?”

Yoongi smiles sharply, then nods his head slightly as he says, “He is.”

“And he knows you plan to fuck me? Or are you doing it behind his back?”

Yoongi’s smile turns wide and playful. “He knows.”

“Hmm,” you respond, stepping close enough that he could reach out and touch you. “My safe word is Jimin.”

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, then sits back, placing his palms against the white comforter on the bed. “Really?” 

You chuckle as you nod and say, “Yup.”

“You’re going to scream Jimin’s name if you want me to slow down or stop?”

“Correct.”

Yoongi laughs, clearly amused, then he nods and says, “Alright. Works for me. Any other boundaries? Things you’re not into?”

Truthfully, at this moment, there is nothing you can think of. So you shrug and say, “Nothing as of now…but I’ll tell you if that changes.”

“You’ll moan my hookup’s name if you change your mind,” Yoongi mutters with a smirk. 

“Yup.”

Yoongi rolls his shoulders and then sits up straight before slowly beginning to stand. You take a step back, feeling nervousness sink in over the fact that this is really happening, especially with the way Yoongi stands tall with his shoulders square and his expression flat. 

“Repeat your safe word for me,” Yoongi commands. 

“Jimin,” you respond, much softer than intended. 

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth rises for a split second, then he squints as if he is disgusted by what he sees. Instinctively, you take another step back. 

Yoongi is quick as a serpent, hand snapping up to grip onto your jaw and make you gasp – startling you. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks in a sharp snarl. 

Although you move your lips, all you are able to mutter is vowels, unsure what to say. 

“You’re mine, baby girl. You don’t so much as move unless I command it.”

Although you are aware that your safe word negates his statement, your heart thrums heavily behind your ribs at the idea of being at Yoongi’s mercy. You told him you wanted it rough – wanted it to hurt – and now that you stand before him, trepidation sinks deep. 

Yoongi continues to grip firmly to your chin while his free hand rips the towel from around your hips and chucks it to the side, making you gasp and flinch. The bikini you wear is small and still a bit damp, and you shiver as the air hits your bare thighs and tummy. Your breaths are heavy, causing a quick rise and fall of your chest, and you already feel a bit dazed from being handled his way. 

“Look at you,” Yoongi growls with a sharp, hungry gaze, lips upturned. “You can talk all the shit you want about how much you hate me, but I can see the way you want me, baby girl."

His grasp on your jaw is firm, and when he begins to pull his arm back, toward the bed, you step with him, moving slowly as his body rotates. Yoongi smirks razor-sharp, eyes burning with excitement, and you hate how absolutely right he is. You want him real bad. 

"Wanna choke on my cock while sitting on the bed, or down on your knees?" Yoongi asks, leaning nice and close, wafting warm, sugar-sweet breath into your face. 

"On the bed," you mutter, voice hoarse and weak. 

Yoongi grips your jaw ever so slightly, then pushes you down into the bed, causing you to gasp and scramble as you keep from sliding off the edge, hands gripping onto the white comforter. 

"Not eager to get back onto the floor with me?" he chides, but all you can do is stare upward as he looms over you, fingers working the velcro fly of his black swim shorts. 

Yoongi wastes no time pushing his shorts to the floor, revealing a half-hard and inviting cock. Last time, you hardly got a good look at him, but this time, it is all you see as Yoongi grips onto the back of your hair and yanks you forward, practically shoving himself against your lips. 

"Don't be shy, baby girl," Yoongi groans, using his other hand to gently squeeze your throat. You look up at Yoongi without tilting your head, greeted by a dark stare that gives you chills as he adds, "Let's see what that pretty, bratty fucking mouth of yours can do."

With a deep, fortifying breath, you sit high on the bed, hands still gripping the comforter, and you run your tongue over the shaft, just below his cockhead. His skin is smooth with a faint soapy smell, and you let your eyes flutter as your lips close over the head, wetting the skin. 

"We don't have all fucking day," Yoongi practically growls as he presses your head close to his pelvis. 

With a snarl, you glance up through your lashes, saying, "We quite literally do have all day," lips still pressed against him. In a show of brattiness, you add, "So do you want it, or are you going to keep being an asshole?"

Yoongi releases the hand on your hair and slaps you against the cheek. It is not hard enough to sting, but it is enough to make you gasp, eyes wide as you let the slight tingle settle over your skin. Although you would ordinarily be ready to fight a man for slapping you, in this setting, it excites you – makes you want to act like even more of a pain in his ass. 

"Too far?" Yoongi asks, expression still hard but with a hint of softness hiding around the edges.

If this were anyone else, you would bat your lashes and tell him you liked it – that it felt exciting enough to set a spark in you that is threatening to light a proper fire. But this is Yoongi, so you scoff and say, "I didn't call my safe word, did I?"

Yoongi chuckles in response with the edge of his mouth tugging into a sharp sneer. Then he slaps you again, this time hard enough to sting, and he grips your throat and tugs you against him, forcing your forehead to crash against his tummy while the head of his cock presses into your lips and teeth. 

"Suck my fucking dick or I'm leaving," he commands. 

With a roll of your eyes, you grumble, "So moody."

You can hear the beginning of a response, but you open wide and swallow Yoongi as far as you can take him, letting the tip lightly touch your throat. Yoongi groans, tightening his grip on your neck before relaxing it while the other firmly grabs the back of your head.  

Without warning, Yoongi bucks his hips, thrusting deep. You gag, but not badly enough to have to pull off, swallowing the feeling while he pulls back and thrusts forward again. And again, pulling out, slamming deep, and pulling out, clearly not setting a rhythm so much as testing your limits. 

You lift your hands and settle them on his hips, surprised by how soft his skin feels beneath your fingertips, and when he pulls back again, you take in a deep enough breath through your nose. Although Yoongi is forceful, his grip on you is loose – a small mercy considering you are already drooling and beginning to cry.

"Damn, baby girl, your throat feels amazing," Yoongi rasps, voice coming out surprisingly desperate. 

As he sets a pace, you settle into the pattern of breathing in time with his thrusts, and Yoongi continues to hold onto your head and neck while he fucks your face. Although you have given a sloppy blow job or two in the past, this is the first time you have allowed someone to be in control. 

Tears catch in your eyelashes and fall, and you glance up, watching as Yoongi grits his teeth and knits his brow, clearly holding himself back from losing some semblance of control – whether it is the urge to fuck harder or to cum already, you can only presume. 

When his eyes meet yours, he moans, allowing his eyelids to flutter, causing your strong foundation of hating his fucking guts to crumble just a little. Yoongi looks sexy while falling apart, sweat glistening on his shoulders and chest, which rise and fall with each breath he takes. 

"You have no idea how fucking good this feels," Yoongi mutters, hissing as his cock presses in nice and deep, causing thick drool to build. 

The sounds that come from you are wet and pornographic, forced from your throat. You attempt to hum in response to his praise, but the sound is garbled and lost. Not that he needs to hear your sweet utterances, anyway; what would that do for his ego?

When Yoongi pulls all the way out, it surprises you. You lurch slightly, your mouth following the movement while your lungs attempt to adjust to a full intake of air. Yoongi moves his hand from the back of your head and slaps you across the cheek, making you whimper. 

Drool coats your lips and chin, tears streak down your cheeks, and the way Yoongi looks down at you is practically reverent. You wonder what he could possibly be thinking – Min Yoongi does not look at you like that. 

Thankfully, in a blink, the expression is gone, replaced by something much sharper. Yoongi reaches down and yanks at your swim top, forcing your breasts to spill in a jerking motion. Too stunned to respond, you sit while Yoongi roughly palms at your chest, calloused hands against soft, sensitive skin. 

Yoongi squeezes and slaps your breasts, giving your nipples a pinch with one alternating hand while he continues holding you firmly by the throat. You do your best not to react too loudly, huffing and sighing without moaning; you want Yoongi to really work to get a reaction out of you. With how cocky he is, you expect he will have no trouble doing so.

Without warning, Yoongi shoves you onto your back, fully releasing you, and sending you crashing against the comforter. You scramble, legs spreading as you lift one in an attempt to get into any position that might be useful, but Yoongi bends and grabs your ass, yanking it off the edge of the bed and pressing in a way that lifts your hips slightly, causing your legs to flail and spread. He yanks your swimsuit bottom to the side, bends just enough to spit on you, and then he rubs the tip of his dick against the spit, over your clit and labia before he spears you nice and deep. 

The stretch makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes tight, gripping the comforter and attempting to find a position to hold your legs. Yoongi presses and slightly twists you so that one leg is bent and somewhat hanging downward and the other is lifted high in the air, and he sets a brutal pace, fucking you hard and deep before you can wrap your head around anything.

"Holy fuck!" you scream, pleasure-pain so intense, you struggle to breathe. 

"So tight," Yoongi moans, pressing his weight into you even more, making your leg muscles burn and ache. 

All you can do is lay and take what Yoongi gives you, doing your best to relax your muscles while he fucks you harder and better than anyone has before. You said you wanted it rough, and you are not disappointed. With each deep thrust, you chase your high quickly. 

Yoongi reaches with one hand and roughly rubs over your clit, giving your pussy gentle slaps that send you hurtling over the edge. Your moans turn into sobs, back bowing from the bed as you build and build and then crash. 

"That's it, baby girl," Yoongi grits, fingers working your clit in more practiced movements. "Show me how fast I can make you cum."

"Sh-sh-shut up," you grumble, head digging back into the comforter. Orgasm washes over you, threatening to drown you in its undertow, and you sob and moan, hands tensing and releasing as your legs tremble at their awkward angles. 

Yoongi pulls all the way out before you finish, shoving your legs down and forcing you to roll over. You move in a haphazard tangle of limbs, your body both shimmering from its high and feeling unfulfilled.

As you get onto your stomach, you drag-crawl up the bed just enough to prevent your knees from hanging uncomfortably, glad when the bed dips and Yoongi follows you. Both hands grip your ass cheeks, pulling the material of your bathing suit and causing the fabric to dig into your skin. 

Yoongi slides back in and presses his hands firmly on your ass and lower back, pinning you down while his thrusts make the mattress bounce. You feel dizzy as Yoongi fucks you deep, and when he moves his hands to anchor beside your hips, you bounce even harder. 

One hand presses down on the side of your head and pushes your face into the mattress, and although it does not hurt, the pressure is enough to make you feel almost floaty and perfectly used. You are so close to cuming again, and when Yoongi leans low, warm breath ghosting over your face, you close your eyes. 

"This rough enough for you?" he asks, voice raspy and enticing. 

You practically scream yes and divulge just how good he makes you feel – how you will likely never be fucked this good by anyone else. But you choose to hold onto the praise for another day. 

"It's pretty good," you manage to mutter between unrelenting slaps of skin against skin. 

Yoongi scoffs. "Pretty good," he grits, mostly to himself. 

Then he spits on the side of your mouth, causing you to scowl. Yoongi removes the hand from your head and rubs his fingers over the saliva, smearing it over your lips and cheek while his hips continue their attack. 

"You look so good, all messy," he says with a playful tone. "Nothing but a submissive little fuck doll for me to use as I please."

Yoongi sits up, grips you by the hips, and speeds his pace, causing every muscle in your body to fight between wanting to tense and relax. You chase your next high and breakneck speeds, babbling nonsense as Yoongi uses you just as promised. 

You nearly cum just as Yoongi pulls out and releases his hold. With an impatient, frustrated groan, you bury your face into the blanket while Yoongi's weight shifts and reaches under you to grab your hips. Hot breath follows a warm wet tongue against your pussy, and you moan loud and eager, doing your best to pop your ass out and give him as much access to you as possible as a new rush of pleasure takes hold. 

Yoongi buries his face into you and puts his whole jaw into devouring your cunt, lips and tongue working you over in broad, sloppy movements. Remnants of the high you were chasing before build quickly. And when his tongue moves to your asshole and he plunges two fingers into your pussy, thumb rubbing over your clit, the dam breaks. 

Gripping the comforter, you squeal and moan, feeling wave after intense wave flow through you. Yoongi hums and groans as he tongue fucks your ass, fingers and thumb rubbing over your sweet spots. As soon as your high dissipates, you feel another racing to take its place. 

This time, when he pulls away before you can cum, you feel relief. You do your best to relax and catch your breath, feeling your entire body tremble and sink into the mattress. 

"Already going limp on me," Yoongi teases, pressing into your hips to make you roll around to your back again. 

“Making me dizzy,” you complain as you flop over, legs spreading uselessly, plopping down to the mattress. 

Your bathing suit top is even more askew, breasts hanging past the thin cups that have shifted, but you do not care. This is exactly how you wanted to be fucked – rushed, rough, and without any preamble or romance. 

“You like it when I play with your ass,” Yoongi teases, lips pulled into an obnoxious smirk. 

“Shut up,” you complain, rolling your heavy, tired eyes. 

Yoongi spreads your thighs with both palms and spits with enough force onto your clit that it makes you flinch. One hand stays pressed into your thigh while the other pumps and lines up his cock. 

How it still feels so incredible when he spears you open is a mystery; your body should be used to it by now, but instead, the stretch feels overwhelming, making you moan and arc off the comforter. 

“Should let Jimin and I double penetrate you,” Yoongi grits between his teeth as he pulls back and slams forward. 

“Oh my god!” you scream as Yoongi grips your hips and drives his cock into you so hard, your body trembles and jiggles with each perfect punch of his hips. 

Although the prospect of actually meeting Jimin does interest you, and it does feel good when Yoongi plays with your ass, double penetration – specifically anal sex –  is not something you are ready for. But you are unable to voice your trepidation at the moment, mouth only capable of sputtering nonsense between sobs and moans, which you are no longer capable of holding back. 

Yoongi leans, deepening his thrusts, and he slots two fingers into your mouth, pressing on your tongue and forcing you to drool. His fingers taste like you, heady and ever so slightly tangy, and he grips onto your jaw nice and tight while each drag of his cock threatens to send you into a new dimension of existence. 

Your eyes flutter, and you wonder if it is possible for your soul to slip from your body. You feel tingly and elevated into clouds – like nothing in the world exists but the two of you tangled in this sardonic dance. 

"Fuck, I won't last much longer," Yoongi groans, and you practically thank the heavens. 

At this rate, if Yoongi does not cum soon, you might risk actually wanting to see him more often. You might find yourself thinking about him while he is away, and, god forbid, wanting to invite him over to do this again. 

"Can I cum inside you?" Yoongi asks, voice breaking around the edges. 

You attempt to mutter, "Absolutely not," around his fingers, but the sounds come out jumbled and drool runs down your cheek. 

Luckily, Yoongi seems to understand, and he slides his fingers from your mouth, then pulls all the way out and begins to stroke himself off with his drool-covered hand. Although you find it hard to keep your eyes open, you cannot help but stare. 

Yoongi kneels over you, head tipped back with his throat bobbing as he chases the last of his high. He moans loud and unabashed, sounding and looking far better than you care to admit, with his mint-colored hair hanging over his forehead in sweaty little stalactites. He trembles as his cum sprays from his glistening cock, covering your thigh and hip, and as he squeezes his tip to get the last remaining drops out, he falls slightly forward, bracing himself with his free hand. 

"God damn," Yoongi groans, head drooping low. "I knew you would feel good but that was insane."

The urge to tell Yoongi to shut up is strong, but you find you cannot get the words out. All you can do is stare as he catches his breath. You wonder how you have never noticed how broad his shoulders are before, eyes tracing the lines of muscle and bone. Briefly, you even wonder if you could have a crush on someone like him, before you heavy-blink and shake your head, forcing the thought away.

You hum in response to Yoongi's words, delayed because you are stuck in your head. Of course, you would be thinking thoughts about a man who makes you feel this good – but that is all they are, thoughts. Yoongi is an idiot, at the end of the day, who is best friends with your brother, and something like this cannot become a regular occurrence. Surely, once you have come down from your various highs, you will be right back to hating him. 

"Alright," Yoongi groans, finally meeting your eye while he slides off the edge of the bed, into a standing position. "This was fun. Thanks for the pussy."

"Whatever," you grumble, finally attempting to move your bathing suit back into place before realizing you still have Yoongi's cum drying on your fucking hip. 

"Next time, I want to bring Jimin. You'll love him, trust me."

With a sigh, you glance around the room, then remember there is a box of tissues sitting on the bathroom counter. "There is definitely not going to be a next time," you respond as you begin to attempt to roll into a position that does not make the cum trickle onto the bed. 

"You always say that," Yoongi teases, pulling his shorts up, "but I know you'll be thinking about me after this. I saw the way you drifted, baby girl. You were having an out of body experience while I fucked you nice and hard."

"Alright, fuck off," you complain, sitting up and untying the still-damp bathing suit from your chest. Post-nut regret settles deep the more he eggs you on, and it is beginning to annoy the shit out of you. Why must he speak? All of this would be much more pleasant if he would just fuck you and go.

Yoongi turns and walks away without another word. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in, making an attempt at centering yourself. This was just another slip-up, and hardly a big deal; it is not as if you will be asking for a round three. He is simply too annoying and low-key inconsiderate. 

You sit and wait for the door to open and close, planning a nice warm shower. The only plan the group has is to meet for dinner, and that isn't for another few hours. You are shocked when you feel something hit you on the arm, and your eyes fly open to find the cardboard cube of tissues resting by your hand, and Yoongi standing nearby with a smile. 

"See ya later," he calls, waving his fingertips playfully while a sweet, almost pretty smile graces his lips. 

"Yup," you respond, tearing your gaze away and looking down at the tissues. Only when you finally do hear Yoongi leave, do you begin to wipe yourself clean.

"Get your shit together," you mumble under your breath, disgusted by how much you actually did enjoy Yoongi's company, bothered by how your giant suite feels lonely the moment he is gone. 

You need to get a grip before dinnertime. And you need to resist the urge to get to know Jimin. This can not and will not become a regular thing. There is absolutely no way it can. Nothing good can come from catching feelings for the devil with the mint hair.

ahhh, here we are again with a written part after almost a full year! let me know what you think! i only have 1 other part planned, but that doesn't mean it will end there. (no promises, tho!)

comments and reblogs make the world go 'round! and likes are appreciated, too!!!

tag list: @btsiguess-kpop @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @glosstwn @idkjustlovingbts @melancholy-of-nadia @mgthecat @monvante @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @nansasa @spookyminyunki @tarahardcore @teddytaee @violetsiren90 🍃 comment or dm to be added to the tag list! by requesting, you are agreeing to being 18 or older. minors will be blocked.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

Devil with the Mint Hair is copyright 2022 - 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. 

[penvisions]

the melting point {chapter 20}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: The anniversary of meeting one Fransisco Morales approaches and with it, your marriage to the man who had become such a large part of your life in all the best ways.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: hurt and comfort, light angst, mild violence, one (1) instance of police abusing their power, talk of past gun violence, ptsd, reader has trauma similar to the triple frontier guys, reader is described as having tattoos for plot points, reader is handicapped, reader uses a cane and wheelchair, reader has mobility issues, adult content, smut, p in v smut, oral (m and f receiving), the whole gang is here, plus oc inserts, hints at a threesome perhaps (haha what?), sappy feelings, sexual feelings, joel and his part of the miller clan make an appearance, mentions of nausea, bodies are weird and so are emotions, (hopefully) good cliffhanger, lemme know if i missed anything else!

A/N: we made it, we did it. y'all this is the last chapter of this labor of love. i lost sight of it for a while there but i saw it through to the end and just a few days shy of the anniversary of the first chapter being posted!! thank y'all so much for being along for the ride ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

“Frankie! Frankie put me down!” You shout, laughter stalled in your throat as the man holds you tight in his grip and starts to walk down the deck.

“Nu-uh, you were badmouthin’ me. Gonna teach you a lesson.” You can’t see the look on his face but you can see the other’s all trying to contain their laughter as your thrown over his shoulder and uselessly pound your fists on his broad back.

“Do not throw me in that water! They’re things in there!”

“It was just a lil snake, mante! He’s more scared of you than you are of him!”

Your next words transform into a scream as Frankie shifts you to cling to his front, arms making sure your secure before he steps right off the last plank of sun warm wood and plunges you both into the water.

“Fransisco!” You shout as you bob up to the surface, legs kicking and arms flailing to keep your head up above the surface. He’s nowhere to be seen and you panic for a moment that you might have kicked him too harshly and he can’t make his way up to the surface. But something grabs a hold of your leg and you’re being pulled down.

He’s right in front of you underneath the surface, bubbles sprouting from his nose as he tries not to laugh at the shocked expression on your face. To sooth you, he swoops in and kisses you deep, giving you the very air from his lungs.

As the sun dips below the horizon, a fire is started in the put right on the deck. The crackling of split wood, bright glowing embers, and raucous laughter float about the air. Someone had come up with the idea to turn a regular game of poker into one of strip. The guys may be good at keeping their cool in tense situations, their training allowing them to think they would have the upper hand. But between you, Morgan, and Isabella whispering conspiratorially amongst yourselves and draping bare arms and legs over each other across the outdoor furniture as you help each other with cards gripped in loose hands, the cast of firelight illuminating the scene for their eyes alone, they had never stood a chance.

They all end up as stark naked as the day they were born, while all three of you have only a few pieces of clothing now exposing bikinis and skin that glowed in the fading firelight. And when Benny makes a beeline for the water at the end of the deck, Santiago is hauling a shrieking Morgan into his shoulder to follow suit. She slaps at his backside and you feel your face heat up as you realize what his clothes hint at is very much not an exaggeration. Frankie catches you eye with a twist of his own lips, but no one sees the way he pulls you into his lap to swallow your weak argument.

It's far too late when everyone is trudging from the cool water, droplets catching moonlight and tired muscles protesting the fun filled day now that it’s come to an end. You fall asleep atop Frankie’s chest in a matter of minutes, his lips pressed to your hair and his voice whispering his love for you.

Florida was a beautiful place to live, the winters weren’t too bad but the storms were. It rained the entire drive back from the cabin, something you suspected Will and Santiago had planned, knowing everyone was going to need a few days to recuperate after the fun of the week. Frankie pulled into the school parking lot just in time to see the bus begin to unload. The children were ushered into a line and lead down the main outdoor hall towards the two buildings of classrooms. Lex looked just as tired as the others, her bright purple umbrella standing out as she held it over her and a classmate.

“We’re giving her two options,” Frankie turned to you as the truck engine idled, holding up two fingers in a peace sign. “Pizza or that Japanese place you both like so much.”

“But-“

“Two options, and those are it.”

“What if-“

“Querida,” He sighs, no match for your wide eyes and pursed lips.

“I’ll be such a good girl for you later, please Fransisco?” You look up at him through your lashes and lean over the empty space on the bench seat between you, letting the collar to your dress dip lower than was appropriate for a school parking lot. It was blaringly obvious you hadn’t put on a bra that morning when you were packing up the sleep clothes and Frankie was mesmerized by the generous view of your cleavage. His hand holding up the peace sign fell to his lap and he shifted to fix himself, beginning to swell at the combination of you begging and the skin on display.

“You want that Mexican place that has the birria ramen, don’t you?”

“Please, Fransisco, I’ve been craving it like mad.”

“You play dirty, sweet girl.” He huffs out as you reach out a hand to caress it down his right arm, following the line of his down to where his hand rested over his lap. Sneaking it under his own, you press your palm fleetingly to the front of his jeans where the shape of him is semi-hard. At his gasp you’re pulling away and back to your side of the bench seat, phone in hand to bring up their menu for Lex to choose from.

“Yeah, but you like it.” You tease with a peek of your tongue between your teeth. He just rolls his eyes before grabbing his wallet from where it was nestled in your bag in the footwell.

“Mhm, love it, love you. Be right back,” He shoots you conspiratorial smirk before he’s moving out of the truck and down the walkway toward the building. He’s left the truck on so the humidity doesn’t seep into the cab of the vehicle.

Later that night, after Lex is in bed after a bath, Frankie slips into the guest room he had moved most of yours and his stuff into until the renovation. You’re fast asleep in the bed, curled up on your side with your hands balled up in front of you. The lamp is still on and your phone is half underneath the pillow you’re resting on as if it fell out of your grip. Your hair is loose and damp from your own attempt to wash the hours on the road away. The oversized shirt you’re wearing it one of his and he can tell you had tried to pull the covers over you but they only got as far as your hips. The two cats are curled up in the crook of your knees and on your pillow beside your head.

Lex had been so overjoyed at the realization that they were coming along with you when Frankie had asked her how she felt about you moving in with them. He now finds her taking her duties to make sure they have water and kibble very seriously, letting you or him know when they’re due for another bag way before one is needed. She didn’t want them to get mad at her if they noticed how low their container is, but he assured her that they weren’t that observant with an amused chuckle.

Sighing your name, he smiles as he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead as he pulls the covers up all the way. He knew you were gonna pass out the second your head hit the pillow, with the way you had begun to doze off on the couch after dinner, some cartoon on the screen to mildly occupy everyone in their hazy and lethargic state. He doesn’t fault you, he knows the week was long for you even if you hadn’t said as much. The swimming in the lake was a relief on your joints as much as it was irritating but he was glad you enjoyed yourself. You deserved it.

Your phone gets plugged into a charger and he makes sure to turn the lamp off on his way back out the door. He tidies up the kitchen from the scattered havoc of take out containers, plastic utensils, and to go cups, making sure it all goes out into the trash right inside the garage. Mind running, he snatches his own phone from the front pocket of his jeans and sends a text off to Joel Miller, double checking that they’re all set for their flight in the morning. As he waits for a response, he sees your truck parked and sitting there, a spot of oil beneath it staining the concrete of the ground.

Frowning he pops the hood and checks it out, making sure everything is okay for you to drive around tomorrow, ensures that your handicap placard is securely in place over the rearview mirror. He spots the large manilla envelope with your handicap emblazoned license and makes sure to replace your old one before he wipes down the dash and cleans out the various left behind items. The cab smells of your perfume and he smiles to himself as he basks in it. Warm vanilla and jasmine, a hint of citrus. You, so unbelievably you that it makes his heartrate pick up.

Something brushes up against his pant leg as he’s leaning into the cap, trying to get something that had fallen under the seat and he startles, bashing his hand on the mechanics of it. Removing himself, he looks down to see the form of your large tabby.

“Hey, Rig, just making sure your mami’s truck is all set for tomorrow.” He bends to scratch between the big guys ears, earning a purr of contentment. “We gotta get her a different car, though, huh bud?”

A long drawn out meow is the cat’s answer.

“What do you think she’d want?” Frankie picks up his phone and hits the button for Benny. The man’s magnetic energy and charming smile his best aid in the endeavor he had been silently thinking on since your release from the hospital. Once you had been cleared to drive, it was a larger worry, you having to climb up into the truck. He was able to help you when you rode with him, but he worried for you when you were out and about on your own.

“Fish, I literally just spent the whole week with you. I love you too, man, but I just laid down for the night.”

“Hey, yeah, sorry. Mind’s just firin’ away.”

“Is everything okay?” Shuffling can be heard down the line, Benny’s tone shifting to one of mild concern.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Lex and Mante are asleep, but I wanted to ask if you were able to go car shopping with me tomorrow.”

“For Manté?”

“Yeah, figured you could help charm the sales representatives and maybe co-sign if my standing isn’t good enough.”

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll sign it and gift it to you. Wedding gift.”

“I don’t-“

“I ain’t worried about it, I got a business to use as collateral. Get me a cheaper rate if they don’t let me just outright purchase something. I want to.”

“Ma’am, you can’t park there. That’s for handicapped civilians only.” A security guard approaches you, ticket book already flipped open. But you just reach for the cane secured in the passenger side and begin the process of getting down from the slightly heightened cab.

“I know.” Is all you say as you, reaching for your bag once your feet are on the ground. But as you turn your back, a shadow falls over you and a hand is wrapping around your upper arm.

“Ma’am, a cane you don’t need is not a good enough cover. Please get back in your vehicle and park somewhere else.”

“I will not be doing that and better get your hands off of me.” You try to be as gentle as you can with yanking your arm away, but you end up jostling not only yourself but he officer who hadn’t expected you to move in such a way. He’s frowning at you, one hand reaching for you again and the other behind his back for what you assume are his cuffs.

“Please don’t make write up a report for resisting arrest AND a ticket.”

“I’m not doing anything except trying to park to pick up my friends.” Bag on your shoulder, you grip the door to the truck and make to close it but the can in your right hand is suddenly gone, your balance along with it. Pain crawls sharp across your entire waist and down your right leg, it had been sore from the second you woke up. “Hey!”

“This,” The officer brandishes your cane now in his hand. Your eyes connect with a few curious passerby and you silently plead with someone, anyone to see that this is uncalled for. “Can be considered a weapon, I’m eradicating the threat and asking for your ID so I can run in through the system.”

“No, you won’t.” You lean heavily against the extended part of the cab, trying to get any weight off your lower half you can but the feeling is slowly waning from your legs. Reaching for your phone, you suddenly find yourself spun around and your front is pressed harshly into the vehicle. “Hey! I need my phone, I need you to get off of me before I fall!”

“There’s no need to shout.”

“Yes there is! You’re hurting me! You took my cane from me, and my hip is hurting!”

“Excuse me, I believe the lady told you to back off.” A deep southern drawl breaks the growing hysteria and frustration, a small crowd gathering around the designated handicap parking right outside the pick up area between the bus lanes and the actual lanes of traffic. You turn your head as best you can with your cheek flush against the silver of your truck to see a pair of tall men and two young girls by back of the parking spot you had chosen to pull into.

The two men who you were supposed to have met inside, Joel and Tommy Miller. And they were stunningly handsome, the girls absolutely gorgeous as they peeked out from behind them.

This was so not how you wanted the first interaction with the two men to go. You had wanted to walk into the baggage claim area and display a cute sign for them, greet them with a smile and drive them to the bakery to show them the apartment they would be living in for the duration of the renovation.

Definitely not this way, them curiously and maybe hesitantly leaving the cool, conditioned atmosphere of the airport in search of you only to find you about to get arrested. Even if they were an extension of your close knit friend group, it wasn’t a good impression.

“Sir, please, this has nothing to do with you.”

“I reckon it does, you got my client pinned up against her truck and her cane in your hand.” Joel stepped forward and your cane dropped from the officers hand to clatter on the ground as he reached for his holstered firearm. “Hey now, all I’m askin’ is that you let her go and we can calmly talk this over.”

“There’s no talking now, she’s illegally parking in a handicapped spot, ignored my questions, and started to resist physical restraint!”

“I’m not illegally parked! My placard is on the rearview mirror and I have it on my license plate!”

“Ma’am you need to calm-“

“Do not tell me to calm down!” You shout, officially at your capacity for the sheer stupidity of the entire situation. Another office is approaching, a woman with two small kids leading him. He calmly asks what the problem is from the other officer, who keeps insisting on what he thinks is happening, checks for the placard and the symbol on your license plate and then turns to you once he orders the man holding you to step back.

“Would you mind if I run your plates and ID?” He’s helping to support you as Joel reaches for your fallen cane. He wants to bring it to you but he’s hesitant at the arrival of the second officer, the crowd thickening around, and the way your breath is quickening as you reach into your bag. “Sir, you can step forward, it’s alright.”

He does so immediately, a calming hand wrapping around your waist to help steady you as he makes sure you have a good grip on the cane with a shaking hand.  He helps you to slip the card for the officer from your wallet when he sees you can’t manage it with one hand. His fingers are warm against yours as he gently helps you, towering over you as much as Frankie does.

“Thank you, I’ll be right back with this. I apologize for the out of line conduct.”

“Out of line?!” The first officer sputters, looking very much like he’s about to step toward you but at a hard look from the second one he stills and quiets.

“Are you okay, darlin’?” Joel’s deep baritone is close, he’s leaning down a little to speak lowly to you, trying to calm you as best he could despite just meeting you for the first time.

“Yeah, yes. I just…I just need a minute to breathe.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“I- yeah.” You nod, registering the sound of the truck gate being lowered and then being carefully set atop it to get the weight of your body off of your lower limbs. Tommy is perching beside you, introducing himself with a bashful smile and a compliment on your tattoos. Small talk and introductions are made while you’re waiting for the officers to return, all easy going even if your nerves feel shot and your body is aching.

The second officer returns with an apology and a reassurance that you were well within your rights to park in the spot you had. His words were repeated a few times, something striking you as him trying to avoid a lawsuit. But you weren’t interested in doing anything like that, you had just wanted to park and go about your task of picking up the Miller family. With a sigh you wish the man a good day and brace your hands beside you on the lowered gate.

But Tommy is shoving off of it and offering to help you get down.

You idly wonder what Frankie is up to as you drive across town, the airport on the outskirts. He had left you a note by the coffee maker saying he had some errands to run with Benny. Wedding stuff, he had written and you had felt so touched by the way he was willing to participate in the planning and decisions. Past relationships had split at the mere thought of marriage in your mind, as if they could sense the way it began to linger. But Frankie, for all the time and miscommunication it had taken to get here, was all in. You loved him, who he was, who he had been, all versions of who he had to be. Because it meant you got him as he was now, and he was perfect. Through all the heartbreak, he had been worht waiting for.

“This is the bakery! There’s parking along the front and a small lot to the left but,” You guide the truck down the alley between the right side and the next building over. “There’s a gated space behind it big enough for two cars and the delivery trucks when orders are dropped off. I hope they aren’t too loud in the mornin’ for you, but apologies if they are.”

“And you’re sure it’s okay if we stay here, Pastel?” Tommy asked from the back seat, somehow he had been convinced to sit in the middle of the bench, the girls on either side of him with a window. Even if his only wan argument had been that they had the window seats on the plane. But it was endearing the way he gave in, as if he would even think about denying the teenagers anything they asked for. Within reason, you figured as he winked at you through the rearview mirror as they loaded up. 

“Of course, I don’t live here anymore since moving in with Frankie, even before the shooting.”

“What was it like, being shot? It was more than once, right?” Ellie turned from her window to look at you. Tommy is immediately elbowing her in disapproval as Joel tenses up in the passenger seat.

“Ellie, that is completely inappropriate. Darlin’, I am so sorry.” Joel shoots her a look as best he could, turning in his seat beside you. “She doesn’t need an answer to that, right?”

“No, I’m sorry.” She huffs out, crossing her arms and avoiding her father’s eyes.

Once parked, everyone piles out and you lead them through the backdoor. Motioning to the door leading to the apartment before walking them through the kitchen and to the café of the bakery. The girls fawn over the pink and pastel color palate of the place, the treats in the case, and the whole vibe of the shop. Joel and Tommy taking you up on the offer of coffee to refuel after the flight.

“There are two rooms, but the guest room has a queen and the main room has the same. The sofa turns into a bed as well, so whatever you’re all comfortable with and works best for you. There’s a laundry room but only one bathroom that’s connected to the main bedroom and the corner of the kitchen. It’s pretty decent, should accommodate all four of you.” A tour is moot, but you list off the accommodations as you pivot in the middle of the main room upstairs. 

“Apologies again for the last minute change of plans, the girls are smart and I trust ‘em. But six weeks is a long time to be left to their own devices.”

“I don’t mind at all, really. Just want you to be comfortable, the pantry is stocked and I’ve left a credit card on the counter for takeout and other supplies you might need for your stay. I did have a cleaning crew come in because I wasn’t sure if any of you were allergic to cats, and I have two. They’re at Santi’s now, but the house was cleaned professionally too just in case.

“Really thoughtful of ya, sweetheart.” Tommy brushes a hand over your shoulder as he takes in the apartment. He had been right in front of you, Joel behind you to ensure you got up the stairs okay.

“The girls are more than welcome to work with me in the bakery if I’m on shift or even sit in the café with their schoolwork. And all of you are welcome to get coffee and pastries in the morning, though the cabinet is stocked with stuff too.”

“You’ve really taken everything into consideration, gotta say you’re turning out to be one of the best clients we’ve had hire us.” Joel turns from where he’s inspecting the street down below from the window above the kitchen sink.

“I wouldn’t say that quite yet, might turn out to be nitpicky about tile placement or somethin’.”

“That wouldn’t be anything we couldn’t accommodate.”

“Okay, well, cookout’s at five or six, just bring yourselves. Will and Benny are hosting, I’m sure they can’t wait to see you. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment I need to get to, please make yourselves at home.”

“I don’t want to overstep, but do you need any help, darlin’? I couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t a wheelchair in the truck.”

“I think I can manage okay but thank you. You’re very kind to offer.”

“That officer had no business doin’ what he did. Just wanna make sure you’re alright.” Tommy agrees, closing in for a departing hug that turns into him ushering you towards the stairs.

“I am, if I wasn’t it’d be a simple call, but uh…please don’t tell the guys.” You pitched your voice low as the girls disappeared into the master bedroom. “I don’t want them to worry, we’ve all just managed to get through everything.”

The brother’s nod their silent agreement.

The garage won’t open even when you press the clicker fastened to your visor. Once, twice, three times before you just pull up into the empty drive. Frankie’s truck is parking on the curb right outside the house and you grumble a little as you start to gather the few bags from your errands. You hadn’t anticipated Joel brining along his daughter with them. Something he had covered the cost for, claiming it was no big deal and that she was excited to go somewhere new. It was all organized with her school, for her to finish up the last month or so of the academic year online, Joel explained along with how he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her to the neighbors for that long. He had only given you a lopsided grin and a shake of his head when you asked after a girlfriend or anything of the sort out of curiosity.

But the whole ordeal over the parking spot, the bakery being a little hectic, and being blindsided by the lovely arrival of the entire Miller family, you were tired and sore. Ready for a nap before the dinner that Will and Benny were hosting at their home. You didn’t even register Frankie as you stepped out of your sandals and hung up your bag. Not even when you walked directly passed him laid out on the couch, half asleep.

Hours later, you’re venturing out into the living room to find the man fully awake and going over the vendors who had offered to cater or help with the wedding party. He’s got his phone open on the coffee table and a fresh mug that lets loose steam into the air. It prickles your senses in a bad way, temples throbbing at the scent.

“….Frankie? I want to be completely transparent with you, but I don’t want to…” Trailing off, you realize how ridiculous the situation is, but you don’t think you can handle the sight of the man strutting about your home as the repairs and renovations get completed without staring just a little. You plop down on the couch, legs sore from the long day. You should soak in a bath later, to help alleviate some of it but you had been using the cane all day. “I dunno, make you uncomfortable.”

“What is it, Mami Pastel?” He teases, trying to lighten the tension that was coming off of you in waves.

“Well, I think you’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met. I mean, I look at you even just for a second and melt because you have the warmest, most gooey brown eyes and you’re so competent it adds to your attractiveness. The way you walk is…hypnotizing and the way your butt looks in jeans is just…mhm. The patches in your scruff, now I know you don’t like that you can’t grow a beard like Santi, but they are so you. I love pressing kisses to them and hearing your breath huff. And your smile, Frankie, your smile is my favorite in the whole entire world.”

“Okay…?” The man in question looks confused by your rather passionate rambling until he recalls the way you had stuttered under your breath and practically bolted towards the room to lay down when you returned from dropping off the Miller family at the bakery to settle in after their flight. He had seen photos of both sets of Miller brothers from family events before and it clicks. “Querida…do you have the hots for Joel?”

“No! I barely know the man.” You defend far too quickly, and you know it’s giving you away just as much as your intention to come clean anyway. Frankie just quirks a brow up in a silent question, his full lips twitching as he tried not to laugh at how adorably flustered you’re getting. He can practically feel the heat of embarrassment coming from the other side of the couch.  You aren’t able to meet his eyes, knowing it would just spark arousal paired with the image of both of them being such sturdy, broad men.

The thought of Frankie alone was enough to get you worked up, as had been the interactions with Joel.

The older man had been very attentive as you prattled on about the city as you drove them from the airport, about the bakery as you wound your way through the downtown area, and the apartment as you showed them where everything was and said you stocked it with essentials you thought they would need for the duration of their stay. But the two of them stood side by side, hands on hips and wrapped around blueprints for the house, the scent of them both mingling in your home? The sound of their voices blending in the perfect mix of deep southern twang and accented Spanish? Yeah, it was definitely doing something to you.

“Sweet girl, it’s okay if you think he’s attractive. He’s a handsome man.” Frankie shifts to pull you into his chest and you bury your face in his neck as he wraps his arms around your back. Embarrassed, you were so embarrassed that the thought of them together was getting you all worked up. The fabric of your dress far too loose to prove any relieve as you clenched your thighs together to ward it off. You pressed a kiss to the freckled skin of his neck at his comforting words, but it sent a spike of hot arousal through your middle as his scent enveloped you.  

“Sweet girl, are you…?” Frankie reached a large hand down to sneak underneath the fabric, thick fingers brushing against the front of your underwear to feel the damp material. His voice had dipped to a lower octave, something heady in the words. “Oh, you really think he’s attractive, huh?”

“I think you’re attractive.” You argue weakly, though your words were completely true.

“I’m not upset with you, I promise.”

“It’s not fair to you.”

“You didn’t do anything, right?” As your meek nod, he cups your face in both his hands. “Then it’s okay, perfectly normal to be attracted to other people.”

“Frankie, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweet girl. More than words can express.” He presses his lips to you and you sigh against him. “Hey, I’ve got a surprise for you. Me ‘n Benny got you something.”

“What?”

“C’mon,” He kisses you again before helping you to stand, making sure the cane is secure in your hand before he gently guides you toward the garage entrance off the kitchen. When he opens the door, you gasp at the sight of the car you had spent countless hours researching even before your relocation to Florida.

“Frankie!”

“Benny said it’s our wedding gift.”

“Frankie!” He’s fully prepared when you turn and jump into his arms, excitement and giggles sounding into the air. “Is this what you were doing today?”

“Wanted to make sure it had all the modifications you talked about, it’s the outdoors edition and the stereo system has a satellite subscription set up for you to blast your music.”

“We’ve got to christen it.” You smirk as you lean back to look down at him, his hold tightens on you before he begins to step toward the hood.

“As you wish, mi amor.” His own cheeky grin and huff of laughter stirring heat in your body as your backside is set atop the cool metal.

Six weeks go by, the renovation something Joel and Tommy pour their entire selves into. The girls join you everyday you’re in the bakery, helping you and having fun with it, even if they weren’t the best as using the piping bags. In turn, you make sure to either cook or order lunch for them and sit down with them to knock out some of their schoolwork each day. It’s a good routine, returning to Santiago’s home in the early evenings after picking up Lex, having been added to the office’s records at her school as a guardian. The man hosting you typically has dinner made when you walk through the front door.

Frankie is normally the last one home, taking over the task of bathing Lex before bed each night. Often finding you and his best friend cuddled or sprawled out in the living room with something playing lowly on the television. The sight warms his heart. Even more so when he walks through the door to see Morgan or any other of your friend group sharing in jovial evenings that he knows you cherish just as much. Each week someone hosted a cookout, since there were so many of you now, to get everyone together and ensure everyone is okay, breaking up the monotony of adulthood.

On the anniversary of first meeting the one and only Fransisco Morales, you both make your way down to the city hall and file for a marriage certificate. Just the two of you, something personal and intimate even if it was such a simple way to go about it. You both smiled so brightly at each other, recognizing how far of a journey it had been to get there. But one you would both traverse again and again if it ended all the same. Once the house was complete, the official celebration would take place.

And today was that day.

Everything was perfect, everything was what you had wanted it to be and more. The work Will and Benny’s cousins wrapped up, and the house Frankie had bought all those years finally exhibiting the life he had aspired to create for him and his daughter. For you, now too. Santiago’s home had become the home base during the repairs, but today, right now Joel and Tommy Miller were walking you through the completed house.

They were both so handsome and you wondered idly how you ended up surrounded by such beautiful people, inside and out. You had been so nervous to meet with them in person when they arrived, but an easy going and friendly ‘Well, hey there darlin’. Nice to put a pretty name to that pretty voice.’ had eased your anxieties as well as a greeting embrace from Joel once the whole parking ordeal had been resolved.

Tommy had been a little flustered, being so far away from home and having been flying once again, the only time he had known to do so was for his tour abroad with the Army. Something Joel had admitted to you when you called the morning before their flight to confirm everything and make sure they had the tickets in their hands.

So real, so human. So good, everyone in your life, in the little bubble you created for yourself born of running away from your old city and the traumas that had occurred there. With nothing but a newly signed deed for a building you had only looked at online and a crate of two cats, you had built your life up to what it is now and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“We did a little more than you asked for, but we didn’t mind. Wanted to make sure you had everythin’ you needed for getting around easy.” Joel leads the way through the door, your copy of the keys in his hands. Tommy was bringing up the line you, Frankie, and Alexia made.

“Saw the opportunity to do some modifications in the kitchen while we were putting the laundry in there and with Frankie’s approval we went ahead. He asked that we keep it a secret, a wedding gift to you.”

“Frankie…” You turn to look at the man, seated in your wheelchair today, the custom one having come in just in time for you to have a particularly bad flare of immobility in your lower extremities. There was a ramp now, through the garage, you had insisted you preferred the porch to have the steps and not alter it. The couch out here replaced with a slightly larger one that was higher up from the ground so your hips didn’t hinge as much to get up and sit down in it.

“I know you said you like the kitchen as is, but I just asked them to install gliding racks for the lower cabinets and had them replace the island so one side is low enough for you to roll up to if you feel like baking and can’t get up on your legs that day. No big deal, sweet girl.”

“It was an easy thing, don’t worry, darlin’.” Joel holds out a hand for you to take, Frankie watching diligently in case you trembled or dipped underneath your own weight. Your cane trading from his hand to Joel’s other and the older man leads you into the kitchen, since nothing was altered in the living room.

All new tile had been put down in the kitchen, the black and white stella star tiles you had torn yourself away from during a trip to the hardware store with the brothers when they caught up with you. The jade green backsplash you had taken a sample of gleamed to compliment the natural wooden cabinets that replaced the white ones that had previously been there. The countertops were now a white granite, the island indeed having been altered on one side.

“This is a little more than the island…”

“Was nothin’.” Tommy smiled as he opened up a lower cabinet and showed you the easy glide of the shelving put in place. “A baker has to have a kitchen that suits her.”

You feel tears prick hot and sticky behind your eyes, prompting Joel to stand right in front of you and tilt his head down to capture them. His eyes are so brown set into his handsome face and you feel heat rise to your face at being so close to him, acutely aware of Frankie just inside the threshold to the room with Tommy.

“We wanted to, all of us, okay? You’ve been dealt a harsh hand, darlin’. Wanted to bring some good into your life and we were able to, yeah? Besides, we’re gonna use the hell outta the photos we took for the business back home.” He hoped to lighten the mood, everyone relaxing when a giggle sprung from your lips as you wiped underneath your eyes.

“Papa! The house is so pretty!” Lex jostles Frankie as she hugs him tight around his legs. “It’s perfect for Mama Pastel!”

The small party is still going well into the night, the lights strung up all around the patio illuminating the jovial serenity. You feel the prickle of someone watching you and you turn from where you’re sitting to chat with Morgan who is seated across Santiago’s lap. Discussing possible dates for an end of the year trip out the cabin. Frankie is stood by the now cool grill, a beer in one hand and the other supporting the weight of Lex as she slumps against his chest with her face tucked over his shoulder. She’s tall for her age but not too small to be held by her father in the growing hour.

She should’ve been asleep an hour or so ago, but she had begged and pleaded to stay up ‘with the grown ups’. Taking her duty of ring bearer way more seriously than any of you had anticipated. Beside the man who is now your husband, stand Joel and you feel your stomach swoop at the sight of them together. Joel reaching out a hand to rub between the sleepy girl’s shoulders, words too low for you to hear from you spot. Both men chuckle, their teeth glinting as they share the moment.

Taylor saunters up to them both and you feel heat envelope you. You knew how two of them moved, how they felt, how they sounded. And the need to find out how Joel did too was strong. Guilt flared up at the direction your thoughts had taken. You were married now to such a loving and understanding, amazing man. But your body seemed to be out of your control as you felt something thrum through you at the sight of them all together chatting idly.

The memory of Frankie taunting you as he pinned you to the counter in the kitchen all those months ago springs up to the front of your depraved mind.

“Would you have let me take you in that store? While all those silly, jealous women watched? All those watching, dirty men palming themselves to the sight of you taking my cock in the middle of that aisle, pressed up against the shelves?” The tip of him caught on your entrance, and he pushed in, shallowly thrusting. He wasn’t giving you all of him, just teasing you open a little, waiting on an answer.

“Fuck, Frankie, yes.”

Frankie takes the last swig out of his bottle, Joel taking the empty glass from him and they share one last word before parting ways. Frankie brushes a hand over your shoulder as he passes, murmuring he’s going to lay Lex down and then he’ll be back. The other two men remain where they are by the grill, no doubt talking about the lumber and construction businesses they both are skilled in.

Sighing, you excuse yourself with the imitation of taking a drag from a cigarette and carefully make your way down the few steps into the yard. The grass is soft as it hushes over your sandaled feet, until you’re partially hidden off to the side underneath a tree. With another sigh you place the single cigarette you grabbed between your teeth and flick the lighter on. A few puffs into it and you’re startled by the sudden shadow of someone moving toward you.

“Sorry, darlin’, didn’t mean to scare ya.” Joel’s deep timbre greet you as ducks underneath one of the lower hanging branches. Your body sings at his close proximity, fueled by the few drinks you had indulged in and the quick trigger of your arousal as of late. Heat spears through your middle and down to your core as he steps impossibly closer, hand reaching for the cigarette, his fingers nudging against your own as he takes it from you to take a drag for himself.

He smells like the grill, like the embers of charcoal and wood from the still burning fire in the pit on the deck, like the body wash he must’ve used earlier that day as he got ready for the celebration. He’s watching you like you’re watching him, eyes dragging over the displayed ink across your skin. The light color of your flowing dress highlighting the detailed blackwork set into your tanned skin. His eyes are impossibly brown even in the dim light, so much like Frankie’s. You feel connected to him in a way you can’t quite explain.

“Y’look real gorgeous, Pastel. Glad to play a part in today.” He’s of course referring to the arch he and Taylor had constructed for the small ceremony, both of them collaborating once your best friend had arrived in town a week ago with his own child. The niggling feeling of wanting to share in that part of their respective lives bubbled up and warmth bloomed in your chest, both of them and Frankie all such good fathers. You…wanted that. To be a mother. The thought always a far off one, but now…now it seemed all the more like a waiting game. Something only touched upon by both you and Frankie. You and Joel as he passed the time with you during the days you didn’t work and made sure the second set of Miller brother’s had lunch and cool drinks while they did.

Gratitude was barely a whisper as you watched him exhale another drag.

“Gonna miss seein’ ya when we go back home.”

“Maybe we can visit.” The words are out of your mouth before you realized they were something you wanted.

“I’d like that.” He murmured, mouth upturning on one end to reveal a dimple so much like Frankie’s. His fingers were gentle as he passed the cigarette back to you. Your breath hitched as he dipped his head low to press a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna shove off, the girls need to get to bed. We’re still on for the zoo tomorrow?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.” Another kiss and then he’s gone, leaving you to titter to yourself for a few moments until you’re sure his little group is gone. When you step back onto the deck, Will and Isabella are gone as well as Santiago and Morgan. Benny and Taylor remain and you settle between them in an open chair.

“Hey Benny?”

“Yeah, mantequilla?”

“Thank you.” You reach out a hand to him and he takes it without question, his wide palm warm as it slides against your own. Taylor watches on with a smile on his face, fondness for you and the man who had extended his friendship to you in the time you had needed it most.

“Told you that first day you singed up for the gym, anythin’ you need.”

It’s depraved the way you move against him, desperate for him to touch you. He’s laughing as you trail sucking kisses down his neck, standing on the tips of your toes to reach. Your hands are on his waist, messing with the belt and buttons of his trousers before he can even take a breath to catch up to the way you’re moving against him.

“Frankie, I need you.”

“Okay, but let’s slow it down a little, we have all the time in the world.” His eyes had tracked you throughout the day, well into the night. On how you had leaned heavily on your cane for support as you stood beside him and exchanged rings underneath a beautiful arch covered in florals of soft colors. Of how you had been sat in each seat for long periods of time, how everyone seemed to read the same thing he had, that your body was aching.

“Nu-uh, not too sore for this.” Gently pressing your hands to his chest, you lean into him and he falls to the bed with a loud gasp.

“I’m not complaining, sweet girl. But what has gotten into you lately, you’re so eager.”

“I love you.” Pausing, you feel another wave of guilt wash over you. And then trepidation seeps in, taints the arousal that had been thrumming through your veins. You lean up and back away, standing a few feet from the foot of the bed where his legs hang over the mattress. Emotions being to swarm you, conflicting in their vie to be felt. Suddenly, you’re hiccupping, hands coming up to wipe at the tears threatening to fall. “Do…you not want me?”

“What? No! I-I…I’m just a little confused.” Frankie is quick to dispel your worries, to give you an honest answer. He’s sitting up, reaching for you. But you back away a few more steps and he let his hands fall.

“I know I’ve been a lot lately, between the renovations and the whole thing at the city hall, and- and- and the whole Joel thing. I don’t…I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately!” The tears are flowing now, your hands covering your face from view. “I feel so selfish…”

Your name falling from his lips grounds you, his body wrapping around your own even more so.

“You are not selfish, you are merely overwhelmed. It’s…it’s been a lot since the shooting. For you, especially.”

“Frankie, I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Joel, he…he oy I feel so silly and…weird.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, oh sweet girl. Here,” He holds out his hands for you and you willingly drift closer to stand between his legs. Expression open and accepting, you can feel him searching for something he must see because his eyes soften. He skims his hands up your sides, soothing the ache he knows is there in your hips and the sudden burst of emotions he was beginning to wonder what the cause of was.

It’s slow, it’s scorching, it’s perfect the way he worships you. Your husband. Your future. Your life.

It’s stifling, in the room. Sweat glistening across your entire body as you submitted to the roll of hips pressed against you, the hands that held tight to you, the sucking lips that latched onto whatever it could reach. Both pairs. One below and one behind. Scruff burns sweetly over your chest and the back of your neck, pulling mewling moans from you. The drag of hard, silken skin in and out of you has you panting for breath when you manage to pull in a lungful, only to be thrust from you as two bodies move in tandem with your own.

The feeling of course hairs against your clit have you arching, chest pressing to the man beneath you and back against the man behind you as he drapes over you. You try to warm them, the feeling of being completely full too much for you to handle, pleasure courses harshly through you, almost painful in its intensity but all you manage is a choked off sound before you’re tensing and falling over the edge of it.

Eyes catching brown eyes watching in wonder as you fall apart in a glimpse before black sparks over your vision.

Gasping, you bolt up from where you lay in bed. Chest heaving and eyes blurry you look around the room to find yourself alone beneath the covers. You’re as bare as you were when Frankie undressed you the night before, only now your skin is glistening with sweat from the overwhelming heat of your rather salacious dreamworld. Catching your breath after a moment, you feel embarrassment at what your mind concocted flare. You…you were never really one for that adventurous of a sex life. But your body was changing as you got older, your mind running away and the startling realization that you may be into something as risqué as that….kind of settles.

Nausea roils in your stomach, urging you to rush from the tangled covers that no doubt aided the feeling of being pressed between two bodies in your dream. You barely make it to the bathroom in time, hips twinging with the sudden movement and the way your knees knock into the patterned tile of the floor.

Groaning, you submit to the idea that maybe work would be too much on your body today.

The next step of your life, the one you had curated with Frankie makes itself known only a few hours later.

It all makes so much sense, literally everything. The week following the visit to city hall and the party, you’re hurling the two sips of coffee and granola bar you had for breakfast into the kitchen sink. It had prompted you to run to the store, the new car so smooth and easier to manage than the truck with how sore your legs had been. Frankie was gone to work early, a sunrise flight tour scheduled and he had been the only one willing to take it. But maybe that was for the best because you felt like it would all be too much for him so witness the way you almost dazedly went about the errand and returned home.

Conversations had been surface level, more of a curious ‘what if’ than an actual conversation. A more in depth one with the doctors and the concerns they had should you end up in the situation you were in, if the piece of plastic on the vanity counter could be trusted. It had been advised that you really weight the pros and cons of wanting it, of how much you were willing to alter in order to make it a reality. There were no concerns for your health aside from the way it would affect your hips, the extra weight that would rise as it went on, the claim that the only way for a safe delivery would be to schedule a procedure.

From the cravings to the increased libido, to the nausea and the zipping emotions.

The way you had been easily riled up at the simplest things, the way everyone around you seemed to exude brimming sexual energy, the way your body had responded to not only Frankie, but Taylor and Joel. The bursts of energy combating the spells of next to no energy. The way you had been seeking out specific foods and feeling intense dislike for others. The annoyance that had flared up far too quick along with hurt and sadness at the most mundane instances. The tears you had shed while bidding both Taylor and his son goodbye after the celebration a few weeks ago and the Miller family before that.

Ears pricking at the sound of steps, you look up and see Frankie reflected in the mirror. He’s stood in the doorway with his brows furrowed in concern. You were supposed to have gone to the bakery today, but your rather hectic start had dissolved the idea completely.

Turning from the vanity, you pick up the thing that had been holding your attention. You brandish the small screen so he can see it from his spot, hand unconsciously going to your middle. He’s watching you closely, concerned as he looks over your face that breaks out into a watery smile. To the item in your grip. Frankie’s breath gasps as he reads what the screen has displayed and his own lips stretch out into a wide grin, adorable dimple on display.

“Frankie, I’m pregnant.”

previous chapter || end

taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981

@anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime

@peppermintfury @tuquoquebrute @readingiskeepingmegoing @christinamadsen

@heareball @soft-persephone @vivian-pascal @undercoverpena

@undercoverpena-fics @littlemisspascal

[littlemisspropaganda]

Sukuna Ryomen's Novelette: To Take her out; Uno style

These can be read out of order C:

Prt: 4 Previous: Prt 1 Prt 2 Prt 3 Next: Prt 5

Prècis: Brief mentioning of Yuji and Uruame, fluff, Sukuna bluffing

Somehow this happened. And once again, the King of Curses didn’t even know how or why he was allowing it.

You and him were playing uno. And you both made a bet.

If he wins, he gets to kill you. But unfortunately for the king, you were just unbeatable at the game.

“I WIN!!” You shout, extending your arms high in the air. Sukuna’s face grumbles up in an irritated fashion. “You humans and your moronic—half witted, confusing games" Sukuna mocked as he leaned his chin in his own palm.

“What was that?” You screeched a little too happy with your hand cupping your ear. Sukuna rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time.

“I can’t wait to take you out.”

Your face widen, Sukuna saw the way your eyes extended and how your face drained of that smile you had before.

Did he…..go too far?….

Then without a second— as if you could read his mind. You grinned ear to ear. The sparkle once more in your eyes as if it never left.

“You can’t wait to take me out….ON A DATE? Since I won, you practically have to” you giggle as you hum your victory in his face.

A date huh?

Sukuna leaned back on the ginormous skull as he watched you dance in victory.

He, unfortunately couldn’t fight the smirk that carved itself on his face.

Winning that game would’ve been easy. Too easy. But making you smile is even easier.

Sukuna snorts and tells himself he only did it because it’d be fun making you think you won, so the next time (why would there even be a next time?) he’d crush that little smile you had thinking you won.

But the next time you both played. You won that round too.

BONUS (Cos I'm cool like that)

"Uraume" the king spoke as he sat powerfully on his throne.

"Yes master.." Uraume came to his aid, as always with their knee bent, head to the ground.

Uraume was ready for any request of the master. To kill someone? Done. Spy? Done. Prepare a bath? Done. Sacrifice themself? Done. Prepare a meal? Don--

"What would be a--.....methodical... expectation for an event these humans call a date?"

Uraume head popped up, mouth wide open. Eyes meeting the master, Uraume had to confirm. He had to just been pulling a leg as a joke.

But his face was stone straight. The type to send shivers up your spine. He was serious.

Nonetheless, Uraume's face sparkled with joy. "Master I never thought the day would come. Who is it? I bet I know" Uraume said, voice slick with tease as your name fell. "I don't know master you may not be ready." Uraume teased once more, not able to help themselves.

Sukuna's eyebrow perked in irritation. Uruame just had to do this..."Don't tell me master--" Uraume faked gasped, with fake concern. "Don't tell me you need step. BY STEP. instructions on how to prep her for a kiss." Uruame kept teasing, not noticing the obvious bulging vein on Sukuna's left side temple.

Suddenly, a new voice chimed in. "A date..." and it just had to be idiot brat Itadori. "Sukuna has a date?" Sukuna could literally hear the shock and amusement in the brats voice.

Sukuna's finger bounced with irritation. Unlike you-- these two where definitely dead.

Stole this gif from a post I reblogged 😜.

But like I updated my blog page and im SOO proud of it. Like I did soemthing productive todayyy

I literally have sukuna smut sitting casually in my notes 😭

Also my stomach hurts so bad. Idk why.

[masterofengene]

&TEAM reaction to you catching a cold.

Warnings: none mild cursing but nothing crazy.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

K

This poor man. He's so worried. He knows he has to balance his responsibility with being an idol, but he is ready to cancel his schedules at a moments notice.

Brings you hot tea and calls his mom to ask for home remedies.

If you're running a fever, it's over. He's staying with you. Cancel all his plans. He is gotta have a cool wet rag pressed to your forehead at all times.

He will help you out with anything and everything.

He tries to give you space not wanting to overwhelm you. But the moment he notices you sniffling he is at your side.

"I'm on my way."

Fuma

He is gonna be smiling through the pain.

He wants to help you out any way he can, and he knows that if you are sick the last thing you would want is for someone to be putting a damper on your attitude.

He's gonna try and kep your spirits lifted, while taking care of you. He's gonna sing to you while giving you medicine.

Putting on your favorite movies are a must.

He is gonna massage your sore muscles while telling you stories.

He will carry you everywhere, you don't even have to ask.

He does /not/ want you to over exert yourself.

He will bring you your favorite food.

He's gonna make you take so many naps.

"Nap time, movie time."

Nicholas

If you are sick, he is too. It was probably his fault to start with.

You guys are attached at the hip. So if one of you starts sneezing, it's GAME OVER.

It's like both of your colds feed off of eachother.

Both of you are whining and complaining like babies.

You guys are hot and cold at the same time, struggling to find that happy medium.

The rest of &Team can't help but laugh out loud at the two of you.

Both of you bickering because "I can't believe both of us are sick."

Buying a thing of tissues to keep on the bed at all times. Calling it the "emergency stash"

EJ

He is gonna buy you all of your comfort foods. He is more worried about your emotional well being, he knows you're gonna be fine in a day or two.

Ice cream. Bubble tea. Whatever you like he is gonna give it to you. All you have to do is mention it and he is gonna order it right away.

He let's you control the thermostat, so it soothes your fever even if he is sweating or freezing.

He is gonna be so worried about you. If he can't be with you he is gonna be texting you every 20 minutes to check in and make sure you are okay.

Please he worries so much. Especially about you.

He's gonna kiss your cheek ever so often. But he claims he is checking your temperature. (He just wants to love you)

Yuma

Since he is very into herbal tea and things like that, be prepared to have so much hot tea.

He's gonna make it every way that he knows how. Just for you, so feel special

When he walked into your apartment and only saw you on your bed under a mass of blankets, he felt it in his soul.

He didn't say anything at all and just went straight to your kitchen and started to work his magic.

You felt better the next day.

When he came back he pulled you into him (like a baby) and was very insistent on you finishing the cup of tea he had made for you.

Makes sure that you do get up every once in a while and walk around.

Plenty of hot water and tea.

Jo

He has no idea what he is doing pt. 1

Please, he loves you, but don't come near him. He does not wanna get sick.

He's gonna try and help you feel better, give you your medicine and things like that.

But cuddles and things like that. No. He will jump away from you.

He cannot stand being sick. He's there for emotional support.

He makes it up to you when you are no longer sick.

Takes you out to eat and gives you all the hugs you could possibly want.

Harua

He gives off momma boy vibes. I can't explain it.

He makes you home made chicken noodle soup. Everything is from scratch.

He even went to the doctor with you. (If you wanted him to)

He googles ways to help you relax and feel better.

He gives you a spoonful of honey as a natural remedy when you mention your throat is sore.

Movie marathon. He will stay in bed with you all day, he is gonna make sure that nothing worries you.

Taki

Has no idea what he is doing pt. 2

He is slightly better than jo though.

He is gonna hold your hand ans kiss your knuckles, but. He will hold his breath when you breath in his direction.

Will give you a whole variety of korean and Japanese cold medicine.

Give him 8 hours and he will have you on your feet. TRUST.

He makes sure you aren't allergic to anything then he's handing you a glass of hot water and boom.

Medicine.

He's very logical though.

Maki

Surprisingly, I think he knows what he's doing

He gives off the vibe that he was the kid who always caught a cold. So he knows alot of remedies and quick fixes.

If none of his own tricks worked he would call his mom or dad.

"OKAY so I just got off the phone with my dad and he said to hold a cold watch to your chin and it will help."

It's the most ridiculous things. But TRUST they work.

Even you in your sleepy state could tell they were ridiculous. You just didn't have the heart to tell him that.

You're rather suprised when you're on your feet the next day

[oleever-does-stuff]

TADC Yapfest Timeee

As a certified yapper, the need to shove my random assortment of ideas down your throat has been tearing me apart. Therefore, I deem it yapfest time. Also, media literacy is apparently at an all-time low and I am nothing but a product of the environment I am molded in and I require you to understand that.

~♡~

Do you guys know that face Caine made when talking about mixing up NPCs and humans? What do you guys think that implied? Was it a red herring or hinting at something else? Because I so happen to have two things going on in my head.

Firstly and most obviously, I believe that some of the cast are NPCs in disguise. This first came to me with the realization that Jax, Pomni, and Ragatha all sound like real names (Jack or just...Jax, Penny, and Agatha) while Gangle and Zooble didn't (unless there are names similar in other countries I'm unaware of). Then I remembered that Kinger exists, and if Kinger is an NPC I won't recover. The idea that Zooble might be an NPC does seem likely to me for a multitude of reasons.

The first reason: Zooble's refusal to go on Caine's adventures. I doubt an NPC would like to go anywhere in a fake world after discovering what you were. Secondly, Zooble (to me) looks vastly different from the rest of the cast. She looks like she doesn't belong with the other circus members. I can't really find the description of what the rest of the cast looks like other than neat, while Zooble is just a jumble of objects and assortments. It looks like she belonged to a different world and ended up there. That might just be cool character design though and I'm an idiot. Overall Zooble just seems out of place but that might just be because it's episode ONE.

My second idea, one thats been lingering in my mind that Caine himself is human and just forgot after being there for so long. While maybe not as coherent or has as much supportive evidence as the previous it's still there. Perhaps Caine worked for the company that created the Circus, was put in there to run the first run-through, but never made it out. If he was the first trapee, maybe he would have been given host commands, and that would explain why he was the control of the circus (like a party leader).

~♡~

Within my no-sleep-filled fever dream of a mind, this led me to another conclusion. If people had been around this long, why was the game so unfinished? Why were people from the outside not helping. Now this is where my incompetency comes in because due to the Caine actually being human thing I had the idea, maybe the Circus project was abandoned, and that's why the game itself is so unfinished with people abstracting, no exit, things glitching in and out of the world so easily. After Caine they were just like "Oh shit, yeah let's not work on this no more", but people still end up finding their way in. (I also had the idea, as my boyfriend keeps trying to put random numbers in this paragraph, perhaps they queued too many testees. Every time someone abstracts, the next person in line joins but has no memory of that wait.) There's that one thing about Pomni working for the company that created TADC, +8and like I'm not well-versed in TADC theory and canon things I watched like maybe 2 episodes, saw a couple funny posts but...

The place looks run down, abandoned. What self-respecting office space would allow papers to litter the floor. Or a dusty, moldy-looking computer.

It looks like the company abandoned the workplace, this project, everything. Maybe Pomni got put in a queue of sorts, waited until there was an open space available to play. (Kaufmo. R.I.P)

~♡~

A different tangent. I saw something that mentioned TADC was inspired by "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream". Although I'm unaware how true that is, it does lead me to wonder what the end for Pomni will be like. Will she end up saving the others from the digital hell, but be stuck there forever in return? Would she end up as Caine or be stuck with him to live out eternity?

also this is 100% going to be a problem, look at all of them just chilling.

I wrote this tangent at almost midnight, please forgive me I will edit in the morning (Afternoon).

Edited: more well written

[sevi007]

Tales of the abyss, part 17

Gwah, I thought we will travel easy for a whole but anime cutscene means trouble yea? Epicness at least!

I will hurriedly put this under a read more because I think starting now there is CERTAINLY going to be spoilers!

Aha! Same face syndrom! Meaning there either IS a twin or, what I‘m more inclined to, clones!

If it is a clone, you messed up the haircolor *whisper*

So, I'm sticking with the clone theory for now, since I am certain hiding the fact that TWINS were kidnapped and only one came back is too complicated. Replacing someone is easier, yes.

But then, which one is the clone? Luke or Asch? So personally, I will go with Luke. He is the one with the memory loss (which in this case would mean he is a clone created "empty", read, no memories there - so rather than losing his memories, he never had any to begin with.) This would also add to the drama of Luke already having bad self-worth (his attitude is mostly posturing imo) and the truth will then hit it hard. While on the other hand, Asch's hatred against Luke would be explained, seeing as he was replaced by Luke.

Okay Jade suspected or knew this already

Ouch Luke’s face here. Poor kid.

Hey, hello? Are we like, not stopping for a bit so Luke can throw up and discuss what we just saw? I mean yea, saving Ion, but surely we have a few minutes? Is anybody giong to make sure he is alright, or going to discuss what just happened?

Ah, there it is. BUT. Note how Luke is not here to hear this. The party is leaving him in the dark AGAIN. Not to mention that Jade at least has a theory and is not saying anything about it.

Haaaah. This will not help in the long run. I feel like rather than acknowledge Luke's troubles (which, why he does not talk about, he still strongly projects outwards) the party is just always too focused on the next goal, and more like drags him after them. This will further stir up his ire, and make him mullish, and drive him towards Van.

Oh okay the link-thingy is getting more frequent.

So Asch is helping us now? Hm. Considering that Van and the God-Generals pointed out that Asch was acting against Van's orders, I assume Asch is not agreeable with whatever Van's goal is, and is working to stop Luke from blindly following everything Van says. He could then claim that not HE was acting against Van's orders, but rather Luke kept interferring.

I'm cutting the whole trip through the desert and the ruins, there's not much to say to that - oh, except I like that Mieu actually gets new abilities! It's kind of funny to imagine him breaking rocks tbh XD

Reaching the bottom of the ruins:

That looks like a door? *squint* I can't remember if anything in all this exposion said something about doors tbh.

The boss fight was pretty hard - took me three tries and figuring out which party works - so I was a bit depressed to hear this from Asch:

Rude man!

This was cool though. Does that mean they both had the same teacher? - My clone theory is going STRONG man.

??? Wait what's that reaction? Because she is the princess, or...?

(I tell you guys, everyone here has hidden agendas!)

Stop teasing me, game, I want to know if that means "twin" or "clone"! XD

You know... I like the characters, I really do.

But GOD do I wish they would TALK with each other. So Jade knows more than we do, Ion knows more than we do, Tear does - and now Guy too, and NOBODY is sharing stuff with ANYBODY.

If this goes all flying off the handle, I'm not blaming one person, no matter what everyone else says, I'm blaming everyone. You fucked this up in a group effort by being secretive as hell.

@magicmetslogic

@ahsokaisawesome