#Now they're sick and have lost their hair

[longagoitwastuesday]

Going through the Utahim.e tag had me checking several times if at some point I had clicked on the G.ojo/Utahim.e one instead

[yawnderu]

K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter IV

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

What's a Lieutenant if not someone you can use as a stress reliever

Or

Being a gifted medic comes with free rewards

You weren't the only one catching up on some sleep. Simon was awake throughout Johnny's entire surgery despite having slept four hours the previous night, wanting to be available in case you needed his help, finally getting some much-needed rest after being practically forced by Price.

He wakes up six hours later, a small groan escaping his lips at the light entering his window. His burly arm comes up to cover his eyes, shielding them from the bright sun.

''Fuckin' hell.'' He muttered, getting up from bed and putting on a black balaclava. Shit went down yesterday, with Johnny almost dying, and Makarov is now free, able to continue killing civilians until they're finally able to catch him. At the very least, his best friend is alive and stable last time he visited.

Simon leaves his room, walking to the cafeteria to get a bottle of cold water and a few granola bars before heading to your quarters, knocking on the door softly in case you're asleep. No reply. He knows better, but... what if something happened to you? He uses the pathetic excuse to justify his actions, hand turning the doorknob carefully before stepping inside, footsteps surprisingly quiet for someone his size.

What a fucking sight. He stared at your sleeping figure for a while, taking in the details of your face when it wasn't pulled into a scowl or a bored expression, a small smile tugging on his lips at how peaceful you look before he realized how creepy he was being. He shook his head softly as if to snap out of it, putting the water bottle and granola bars before turning away to try and leave.

Try, because a much smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, almost making him flinch because of how sudden it was. He looks down at you only to find your eyes boring into his, tugging him closer by the wrist. A confused Simon followed like a lost dog before his feet rooted on the ground in front of your bed, giving you a questioning look with his eyes.

''Come lay with me.'' Your voice is much gentler than usual, laced with something he can't quite recognize yet. Simon knows better, really he does, but who is he to question the medic he's been pining on for months? He hesitantly removes his boots and climbs into bed with you, keeping a respectful distance despite his behemoth frame taking over half of the bed. His muscles tense up when he feels you cuddling up to him, being a painfully fitting piece against his body.

''What are you on bout, doc?'' You don't reply, simply examining his eyes for any hints of hesitation. You find nervousness, curiosity, doubt, and even the smallest hints of fear, but no hesitation at all. Your hand sneaks up to the bottom of his balaclava, pulling it all the way off before your lips crash into his hungrily. It takes him a few seconds of pure confusion before he kisses back, arms wrapped around your waist, and whatever questions he has on why you're doing this all of sudden pushed to the back of his mind.

Your hands grab at anything they can reach— muscle, skin, hair... anything, holding onto his much bigger body like a lifeline, his warm hands running up and down your back. He has fantasized about this moment so many times, yet the real thing is so different in a good way.

''Tell me I can touch you, bird.'' You simply nod your head and try to go back to kissing him, but he pulls away, gently squeezing your waist to make you look at him.

''Use your words.'' His words are almost pleading, wanting to make sure you want the same thing.

''I want you to touch me, Simon.'' Not a second passes before his lips are back on yours, tongues wrapping around each other's as his hands start to drift down, grabbing a handful of your ass. His touch is so desperate it almost makes you laugh, one of your hands sneaking down his shirt and feeling him up, defined muscles flexing under your touch. His slightly shaky hands fumble with the button of your jeans, breaking away from the kiss just to look at you and make sure you still want it. The half-lidded look you give him is enough confirmation, pulling down your jeans and getting on his knees, between your legs.

"Been wanting to do this since I saw ya." He confesses, too excited for his fantasies finally coming true to even feel remotely bashful about his words. He lifts up your shirt enough to reveal your tummy, gentle kisses planted on every single inch of skin his lips can reach as he slowly descends, planting open mouthed kisses over your clothed cunt.

"Fuck—" Your back arches at the feeling, eyes screwed shut as your hand goes to the back of his head, pushing him closer. His tongue is warm and wet, saliva mixing in with your growing arousal. He pushes your panties to the side, looking down at your gleaming pussy before digging in, tongue lapping the wetness before he latches onto your cunt, sucking and licking away like a starved man.

"You taste s'fucking good." He praises before going back down, the flat of his tongue moving around your cunt before slowly going inside, your whiny moans and hands gripping his short hair are all the encouragement he needs. He latches onto your clit next, long fingers teasing the entrance of your cunt, spreading your arousal all over them before he slowly enters you with one.

His fingers are thick and long, whiny moans escaping your lips as he adds a second one, making scissoring motions as he fucks his fingers deeper and deeper into you, tongue alternating between licking and sucking on your clit before hesitantly letting go.

"Sit on my face." It's not even a request, it sounds like a plea, though you quickly listen to his words for the first time ever, cunt hovering above his face as soon as he lays back down. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing the plush and pulling your body down to his face, eating you out like a starved man. His hands let go of your ass to unbuckle his belt, barely having the strength to pull his hard cock out of his jeans, eyes closing as he focused on the dual sensation of pleasuring you with his mouth and pleasuring himself with his hand, pre staining his fingers as his hand moves up and down his shaft faster.

"Fuck— Just like that, Si." Si. You never call him anything other than Simon. Sometimes Ghost, when you're needed during missions and hang around them in the helos, but the way you say his name... so much affection, even if it only comes from making you feel good. He's pathetic— God, he knows he's being pathetic, cock twitching in his hand at the idea of you reciprocating his complex and strange feelings for you, ropes of thick cum shooting out into his hand and stomach, a low growl coming out of his lips as he squeezed his cock dry of cum.

He focuses solely on you now, tongue swirling and flickering all over you, his clean hand coming up to rub your clit with his thumb while he assaults your dripping wet cunt with his lips and tongue. Your hands go down to his head, fingers pulling on his short hair while you use his face to feel good, getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Si, I'm gonna cum—" But he doesn't stop. Hell, his thumb moves even faster over your sensitive bud, tongue-fucking your pussy as deep as he can until he can feel your body shaking on top of him, thighs closing in on his head and squeezing as the intensity of your orgasm washes over you, his waiting mouth taking in all your juices, lapping at them greedily until you pull away from the stimulation, shaky legs managing to position yourself next to him, head against his chest.

"You hear that? Price is calling you." You lie, unable to contain the smirk on your lips as he flicks your nose.

"Piss off, doc." His burly arms wrap around you, a loud groan of protest escaping your lips when you realize you're forced to cuddle with him.

[PREVIOUS]

[imastrangeone98]

Homecoming

(A/N: boothill my cyborg my love my life my everything-)

WARNING: fem!reader, SMUT SMUT FRESH OFF THE PLATE MINORS GTFO ILL WHOOP YO BUTTS, probably ooc!boothill but whatever it's fine lmao, his exact birth name isn't known so I didn't put a name for him- if there is one I'll replace it; but I found some X art that called his baby girl "cherry" and I really liked it so I'll use that, and way too much plot as always

"Well, hello there! What'cha lookin' at, sweetie?" You bend down to the little girl's eye level, peeking at where the child's gaze is locked on, then smiling in understanding. "You like those ones? They're moon lilies; they're flowers that are really special!"

"Pe... shal?" the little girl babbles, and you laugh.

"Yes, dear. Special." You pluck one of the flowers, beautiful with light blue petals and golden pollen, and offer it to her. "They mean loyalty, and undying devotion, because they only grow in places they like, and they won't grow anywhere else."

"Loya..." the girl mumbles. You chuckle and pick her up, carefully tucking the flower behind her ear.

"Now, where's your mama? Or your papa? I'm sure they're worried sick about-"

"Cherry! Sweet pea, where ya at?!"

Your ears prick, and the girl giggles and claps at the sound. "Well, I guess we found him."

You maneuver through the crowd until you find the source of the call: a man, tall and lean, with flowing black-and-white hair and piercing gray eyes.

Oh. He's beautiful.

The little girl squeals with delight at the sight of her father, and his head whips towards your direction. He sprints over to you and takes the child in his arms, pressing her close to his chest.

"There ya are, ya little rascal! What'd I tell ya about runnin' off?! Ya had me worried sick!" He kisses her forehead, then looks at you. "Thanks, I would've lost her without ya."

"Of course!" You wave it off, hoping he doesn't notice your hot cheeks. "I will say, she has good taste in flowers! If you'd ever like to buy a bouquet, you should bring her along!"

"Flowers? Oh..." He looks at his daughter, finally noticing the moon lily tucked in her hair. His cheeks flush a bright red. "Aw, man, I'm sorry for the trouble, I can pay for it-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's on the house! But I do hope this won't be the last time I see her!" You wave at her, and she giggles.

The man laughs at that. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind." He then stretches out his hand to you. "I'm [???]."

"(Y/N)."

He repeats your name slowly, thoughtfully, then smirks. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, lady."

"I'll be looking forward to it, cowboy."

Your eyes crack open.

Instead of a bustling marketplace, you're in a small shack in the middle of nowhere.

Just a memory.

You rise, body aching with fatigue and heartache, but you force yourself to push it to the side.

There's work to be done. You grab your phone and send a message.

ML: The USB is ready. I'll leave it at the usual place.

BH: ca nt maek it cme her

You stare at the coordinates your contact sent you with a groan.

You don't do face-to-face, too much risk. And the information you collected is time-sensitive; you're not sure if you'll be able to make it to the abandoned planet of Mavorosa in time for it to still be valuable, and your spaceship isn't one meant for such great lengths.

But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: Oswaldo Schneider is likely to make an appearance at the upcoming IPC Centennial Gala, and BH has proven themself capable of terminating that sick bastard.

You know you're not strong enough to do it yourself, but BH is. And anyone capable of taking down the son of a bitch who destroyed your home, your planet, your lover, is worthy of your trust.

So you bite your lip and bear it. You'll work something out.

ML: ok. I'll be there tomorrow @ 18:00, don't be late.

BH: k

You roll your eyes. Never mind.

With a heavy sigh, you carefully take out the picture/ only one you have of him. With your little girl in one arm and the other wrapped around your waist, he stares back at you with a grin. Bright, beautiful, alive.

"Don't worry, darling," you whisper, tracing the lines of his cheek and hair on the photograph. "We're one step closer to our goal. That bastard's a dead man walking now that we got BH on the case. They're good; strong and capable, I know they'll get the job done for us."

You gently press your lips over his image. And for a brief moment, you let yourself pretend that the paper is a good replacement for his callous skin.

"Once everything's done, I'll go over and join you and our girl. We'll be together again, I'm sure."

He smiles eternally at you, and you find yourself smiling back.

"Wish me luck, darling. Help me be strong."

[...]

His little girl adores you.

Each time he comes by the market, the first thing she whines for is to see the flowers. And you always indulge her, lifting her in your arms so you can show her all the pretty little blooms you have in your small cart. You give names to each one, tell her what they mean as though she understands you.

And you laugh. And he finds himself thinking that his little girl is a good judge of character, because he's starting to adore you too.

And it's becoming obvious, since Nick and Gray give him the occasional nab and jab, wondering out loud when they're going to see him get married and give them another grandchild. His siblings too, always cackling and yapping about how he might be the first to hang up his boots and settle down.

He rolls his eyes, but he's not too displeased by the idea. You're soft and sweet, with a kick of spice to match- the thought of settling down with you and Cherry on the farm is surprisingly sweet.

So he leaves Cherry to her loving grandparents and invites you out on a moonlit stroll through the hillside meadow, the one with the perfect view of the blooming moon lilies and the spring lake that reflects the starry night sky.

"I've never been here before," you gasp in awe, eyes aglow as you absorb the scenery. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," he murmurs, gaze fixated on you and the moonlight in your eyes. "You are."

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. "Huh? Did you say something?"

"N- nothin'!" He faces the lake, and hopes you don't notice his red cheeks. "Said nothin'."

You laugh, and god, he melts at the sound. Then you rub the back of your head, and turn away, blushing. "I... I think you're very beautiful too."

His brain short-circuits. "Pretty... you think I'm..." Then he gasps dramatically. "So you did hear that! You sneaky mouse!"

He playfully tackles you, and you both laugh and chortle as you wrestle one another to the ground. But then he opens his eyes and finds himself on top of you, hands intertwined, faces so close he can feel your breath, smell your moon lily scent.

The moonlight bathes you in silver, and god, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you senseless, run his callous hands on your soft skin, wrap your plush thighs around his hips and-

"Can I...?" he whispers, weak and wanting. "Just... just a taste, I swear..."

You stare up at him, eyes so big and wide that he swears the moon itself disappeared to light up your gaze, that he doesn't notice you untangling your hands from his until you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Just a taste, cowboy?" you tease. "You don't wanna try... anything else?"

You raise your hips and grind on his pelvis, and he moans and kisses you, hard.

Eager hands dart across skin, tearing off clothes. He runs his hands over your plush tummy, hooks your thighs around his hips and moans when he finally enters you.

He'll never forget this moment. Even if he were to die and be reborn, he'll never forget you. Your pleasured moans as he slides himself inside your tight heat, your teary smile as you open your arms to let him press his chest against yours, your starry eyes so full of love and desire that mirror his own.

You make love for hours, the stars and moon lilies your only witnesses.

"-hill. Boothill."

His eyes crack open.

Instead of a blooming moon lily meadow, he's in the underground repair shop.

Just a memory.

He rises with a groan, mechanical joints creaking from the lack of use. "Done already? I was havin' quite the nice dream."

The mechanic rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I can tell. Anyway, speed upgrades are done; the rest of your body is the same- sensory receptors are good, memory chip still intact, et cetera."

She rambles on and on; he's used to tuning her out at this point. As long as his body is in peak condition, he doesn't need to know what else extra she's stacked on him.

"-and the dick. Make sure to test it out at some point."

He blinks. "What'd ya say?"

She groans. "The dick, Boothill. Make sure to test it."

"What dick are ya talking about? If you're trying to say I'm a piece of shi-"

"I added a dick attachment to your body, dumbass." She points towards his crotch. "I had an extra one that I really need to get rid of, so I'm giving it to you. Use it, rip it up and toss it, I don't care- just get it off my back!"

And with no further explanation, the mechanic practically throws him out the store, slamming the door with extra ferocity. Boothill lies on the ground, blinking a few times in shock, before checking his pants, and lo and behold, there is a silicone dick attachment. Sensory receptors and everything, he hisses when he pokes lightly at it, the wires in his body jittering at the unfamiliar sensation.

Doe eyes and a teary smile flash in the back of his mind.

He suddenly jumps to his feet with a vengeance and slams on the door. "You cheating, deceitful shirt-bag! Take this fudging thing off right now! You hear me, woman?! Take this shirt off right now!"

He's no doubt starting a commotion, a crowd drawing in to witness his rage-induced ranting and raving. But then his phone dings, and he's forced to put a pin in it, taking out the shitty device to hear the alarm: Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Be there or be square!

Ah, shit.

He can't miss this meeting, not even to blow a hole right between that shitty mechanic's eyebrows. ML is too valuable to lose, having provided him with incredibly detailed information on Oswaldo Schneider and the IPC time and again. Almost as if they have an agenda against that sick bastard as well.

Well. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, right? He'll take what he can get. And if they end up turning their back, well, he's sure his bullet is faster than their legs.

So he leans to the door, whispers a deadly "I'll be back for you, baby," and dashes to his spaceship to head over to Mavorosa.

And as he's prepping for flight, he looks over at the picture on the dashboard.

It's the only one Boothill has of you. The three of you, together- him holding little Cherry in one arm and your waist in the other, you wrapping your arms around him and your baby girl with your sweet smile and moon lily eyes.

He brushes a metal fingertip over your face.

"Just hang in there, moon lily," he whispers, a clump in his throat. "We're one step closer; ML's got some good intel on the son of a nice lady that destroyed our planet- our home. That destroyed you."

Boothill lost the ability to cry long ago, but the corners of his eyes itch all the same. He gnaws on his lip so hard, drops of blue blood trickle down his chin.

"I swear to you, darlin', I'm gonna get our revenge against that beautiful bench. He'll wish he never set his filthy sights on our home once I'm through with him." He gently picks up the photo and presses his lips to your image. "And then I'll come home. To Cherry, Nick and Gray, my siblings. I'll come home to you. We'll get started on that house we talked about, maybe some runts so Cherry can be a big sister..."

He swallows, then carefully puts the photo back on the dashboard. The lump doesn't disappear, so once the spaceship is cruising through the stars to Mavorosa, he sets it on autopilot and descends into the belly to go to his chest of valuables. He opens it up and delicately takes out the moon lily crown.

The one he was working on for you, a promise of his undying devotion. Before the world exploded in fire and ash. Before the IPC decimated his family, the moon lily meadow... decimated you.

He closes his eyes and raises it to his face. Even preserved, the petals are still soft to the touch, and smell just as lovely.

Just like you.

He won't let your death be in vain. He won't.

The lump in his metal chest morphs into rage.

Boothill opens his eyes.

[...]

If not for the Stellaron, Mavorosa would be a wonderful planet. A once lively city now stands abandoned, its skyscrapers and glass structures being embraced by nature once again.

You stand on the rooftop, mask and voice synthesizer on, fidgeting with the USB, simply observing everything when-

"So this is what you look like. I thought you'd be bigger," a male voice calls behind you.

Your body freezes. That voice... it sounds like...

No. You must be wrong. Maybe you've been so lonely that every male voice just starts to sound like your deceased lover.

"I thought you'd be here earlier," you reply with your warped voice. "Time is precious to you and me both, BH."

"Sorry, had to wrap up some... personal stuff on my end. I'm here now, ain't I?" The oh-so-familiar yet distant voice chuckles. "Well. Business ain't gonna settle itself. Where's the drive?"

"Where's the payment? We both know I don't work free."

He huffs. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Don't worry, I got your cash. Just fork over the drive, no need to make things difficult, not after everything, yeah? Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

"You realize how difficult face-to-face is? It takes a substantial amount of effort to get this intel, not to mention the possibility of being-" You turn around in your exasperation-

And you drop the USB.

Tall and metal. Flowing black-and-white hair. Piercing gray-and-red eyes. Sharp teeth.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to be a gunslinger, just like Nick," [???] cackled, whipping out his revolver and making dramatic poses with it. "Maybe be one of those boothills of legend."

"I'd rather you not," you murmured as you brushed off some dirt off of his shirt. "Those boothills always died on their feet. I'd rather you not die at all."

He softened, and with a smile, he put down his gun and sidled up to you, bringing you in his embrace, warm and strong. You breathed in his comforting scent and sighed happily.

"Don't you worry about that, hun." He kissed your cheek, then square on your mouth. "I ain't goin' nowhere. You can't get rid of me that easy!"

BH. Boothill.

How could you not notice earlier?

Your mouth dries. You can't move a muscle.

It's him. Mechanical, but very much alive.

"Hey, watch the merchandise!" he hisses, pointing at the fallen USB. "I need that, don't you forget it!"

"How are you..." you weakly gasp, then you grab the USB. "Here. Take it. Forget the money."

You slide it over to him, and he stops it with his foot. But his eyes narrow at you.

"Whaddaya mean, 'How are you,' huh?" He walks towards you, slow and leisurely, like a coyote cornering its helpless prey. "You say that like you're shocked I'm still around. What'd ya do, huh? Sell me off to the IPC?"

"No!" you cry, shocked. "I would never-!"

"Why so jittery, partner? What are you hiding?" He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "How about a show of trust, huh? You take off that cute little mask of yours, I don't shoot you dead, and we keep our little arrangement goin'. Sound fair?"

You turn around, eyes searching for an escape route.

Aeons above, you need to leave. You can't show him your face. You can't remind him of everything he lost, the people he couldn't save. You can't hurt him any more than you already have. You're afraid. You want to hide. You're selfish. You want to tell him. You're in love.

You want to die. You want the ground to swallow you alive. You want to hole away in your shack and wallow in your grief, descend into a spiral of what-ifs: what if you tried harder to find him? What if you searched the whole IPC ship you snuck on trying to resolve things peacefully until you found him? What if you ran out earlier and tried to bring him with you? What if, what if, what if-

"Now that you got some measure of my grit," he whispers in your ear, suddenly standing behind you, "I'm sure you know how this ends, yeah? C'mon now, take it off."

You pant heavily, head dizzy with his close proximity- god, even with the metal, he still smells the same. "I- I can't-"

"Feelin' shy? Alright, I'll do it for you."

"No! Please, no!" You swat at his hands and try to break free of his iron grip, but he grabs you hard and pulls you against his chest.

He cackles, metallic and bitter. "And here I thought I finally had an ally, but no- you're just like the rest of 'em shirt-bags." He whips out his revolver and raises it to your head. "Take. It. Off. Now."

You want to cry. You don't want to hurt him.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you take off your mask...

And his gun falls to the floor.

Doe eyes. Soft cheeks. Scars. Floral scent.

"What made you wanna be a florist?" he asked you once, helping you water the rainbow roses. "They're pretty and all, don't get me wrong. But don't you want somethin' more exciting?"

"On the contrary, I think they're very exciting," you explained. "They all have their unique personality; some need lots of love and care, and others don't mind if you go missing for a week or two. There's flowers that only stay with you for so long, and there are others that will love you for as long as you'll let them."

He grunted. "Sounds like you'd do just fine without me."

"Oh, please." You put down your watering can and embraced him from behind. And just as planned, he melted at your touch. "Moon lilies love the moon, but they need the sun to grow. And that's exactly what you are to me."

"The moon?"

"The sun."

ML. Moon lily.

It's so obvious, how did he not realize it sooner?

He lets you go. You immediately stumble away from him, hands covering your face in shame.

Boothill has no lungs, yet he feels his chest collapse.

"(Y/N)?" he calls to you, weak and desperate. "Moon lily? That's really you, right?" He reaches out, hand shaking. But when he grazes your shoulder, you hunch further into yourself. "I- I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to scare ya. Please..."

Boothill willingly let go of his humanity. But right here, right now, he wishes he still had his skin.

"Please, darlin'... turn around? Let me see you, please."

You shiver, tears spilling down your cheeks, and slap a hand over your mouth. You can't hurt him, you'll never hurt him. "I can't... I can't see you."

His body wants to collapse. He wants to grab you by your shoulders and kiss you senseless, look at you from head to toe and sing praises to Lan for protecting you and keeping you safe.

But you won't see him. You won't turn around.

"Why?" he whines, like a pleading child. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not the same anymore!" you sob. "I'm not your moon lily anymore! I don't want to remind you of everything you lost! I don't want to hurt you anymore! You don't know the things I've done, the blood I spilled, all to destroy the IPC!" You sink to the floor in despair, echoes of the dead haunting you, swarming your mind. "I can't bear to see you hate me for being alive when everyone else died. I already hate myself so much, hated myself because I couldn't save anyone else! I thought I lost you, but now I realize I didn't search for you at all! I didn't even try to find you, I..."

You cry and sob and scream. You pound the floor with your fists. You pull at your hair, your clothes, your skin, so hard that drops of blood water the cement.

Boothill's eyes itch with tears that will never spill. His chest burns with a profound grief that will never truly be his own.

"You think I don't feel that way about myself?" he finally whispers. Bravely, he takes a step closer to you. "From the moment the bombs fell, I was never the same. I changed too much to be that man you met at the market- hell, I don't even have the body anymore." He sits just behind you, close to touch but not close enough. "The blood I spilled would be enough to fill oceans. But I'm still here. I still remember everything. I still remember you." His hand, feather-light, brushes your arm. You don't pull away. "I thought I lost you. When I went back to the ranch and couldn't find anyone there, I thought you were one of the piles of ashes on the ground." He chokes as he speaks, but he pushes on. "I never hated myself more. I failed to save them; I failed to save you."

You shake your head, but he gently rests his head on your back, right between your shoulder blades. He breathes you in- dust, machine oil, and moon lilies.

You smell so alive.

"How could you think I'd ever hate you," he whimpers, "when there's no one I hate more than myself? No, sweetheart, I could never hate you. I never will. Nothing you do could ever make me hate you. So please, turn around..." He grabs a fistful of your shirt and tugs. "I'm begging you. Let me see your face, please."

Your heart breaks. You couldn't fathom how much he suffered, how lonely he must have felt, the self-loathing that coursed through his wires every time he looked in the mirror.

Just like you.

"Don't hate yourself," you sniffle, rubbing your eyes. "Nothing you do could ever make me hate you either. What happened wasn't your fault; you didn't know what the IPC was going to do until it happened."

He lets out a small huff. "I could easily say the same about you. It wasn't your fault either- neither of us could've known until it was too late."

You exhale shakily. "Do you really mean it? Not hating me?"

Boothill smiles. "Every word."

For a moment, you're afraid. What if he doesn't like what he sees? You know he's not a superficial man, but you're still not the sweet florist he remembers anymore.

You suck in a deep breath. He's not the same man you remember, but he's still your cowboy, your Boothill.

Slowly, you turn around, and...

Oh. His face is just how you remember. His beautiful silky hair, the red targets in his eyes still framed within familiar stormy gray. When you reach out with trembling hands to cup his smooth cheeks, he melts in your touch just how he always did.

And melt he does. He nearly moans at your soft touch, pressing his cheek into your palms to keep your focus on him. He drinks up every detail of your face and commits it to memory- your beautiful moony eyes and the dark circles under them, the faintest hint of a scar curling from the edge of your jawline into your neck, your soft hair that smells of moon lilies.

You're still you, the sweet florist he fell in love with all those years ago. And now you've returned to him, and this time, he'll never let you go.

He sits you on his lap and embraces you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and savoring your scent. You wrap your legs around his waist and make yourself comfortable, admiring his metal body, tracing patterns into the steel.

"I love you," he whispers with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I never stopped loving you, not for one second."

"I'm sorry I didn't look for you," you confess. "But I kept you in my heart every day. Even when we weren't together, you were always a part of me."

"I'm here now." He pulls away to admire you, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he gazes at you with what you could only describe as reverence. "I'm right here with you. I'm not leaving you ever again."

Boothill didn't realize how much his world lacked color until he kisses you, but now he swears he can see every color in the spectrum flash before his eyes. You taste just how he remembers, sweet and salty with your tears. When you pull away for air, he dives back in to reclaim your lips, hooking a hand around your neck to keep you in place.

He won't let you slip from his fingers again. And you clearly feel the same way, because you tangle your hands with his hair and tug him closer, pulling him on top of you.

"Please don't be a dream," you cry in his shoulder, and it damn near breaks his heart. "I don't want to wake up if it is."

"Darlin', those dreams are better off in Penacony; I'm right here. Does this," he kisses your cheek, "or this," he squeezes your ass and relishes in your squeal, "or this..." He grinds into you, and you gasp, squeezing his shoulders with a whimper. And fuck, maybe he was a bit too harsh with that mechanic, he should send her flowers or something, because your face contorted in shock and a hint of reawakened pleasure is a drug he will happily become addicted to. He nibbles on your ear and whispers, "Any of that feel like a dream to you?"

"...No." You stare at him, moon lily eyes abloom with hearts and love and fuck, he wants you, he needs you.

And your eyes are reflected in his, because you're so captivated by how the targets in his gaze morph into blood red hearts that drip with love and devotion. You want to give him everything, bring him under your skin and into your heart so you'll never be separated again.

"I love you." You smile and open your arms for him. "Let's never be apart again."

Boothill's brain short-circuits. He can only remember the minutiae of what happens next- tearing off your clothes, your hands running across his metallic chest, his sensors working in overdrive to let him process your touch, your smell, your taste, as he kisses, nibbles and sucks his way across the canvas of your body to reach your core.

But just as he's about to taste your liquid gold, you tug on his hair. He immediately moves up to your face, nuzzling into your neck to comfort you.

"What's wrong, moon lily? I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassures you, but you bite your lip and shake your head.

"I know. But I don't want that right now; I want you to fuck me."

You spread your legs, once again revealing your soaking pussy to his hungry eyes, and fuck, his mouth goes dry at the exquisite feast before him. And his new dick feels the same way, as the electricity in his body jolts it to life, straining against his pants.

He swallows. "Yeah, baby. I want you too, but I gotta prep ya, or it's gonna hurt."

"Don't care!" you whine, and on Lan's Arrow, you're so cute with your pouting and wailing. "I need you, Hillie, I need it, I need it-!"

Ah, fuck. He can't say no to you, and he won't start now.

So he rips off his pants, and after a few quick pumps of his new cock (yeah, he'll send some flowers to the mechanic as a thank-you), he grabs hold on your hips and thrusts forward.

You shriek at the burning sensation, scrambling for grip on his shoulders as he penetrates deeper and deeper. Fuck, it's been so long since you had sex of any kind, and it shows. You moan loudly, shamelessly, so sensitive to the buttons his cock presses perfectly against your walls, that you cum instantly when he bottoms out, hips meeting yours with a soft thud.

"Fuuudge," Boothill groans, each syllable drawn out in pleasure, "you're so tight, sugar~ I can't even move..."

His brain might just melt from the overload of sensations. Your pussy's so tight, so wet, he's damn sure he near ascended to aeonhood. And your face is so adorable when cumming, he makes sure to engrave every part of it into his neurochip and brush the hair out of your eyes, moving his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, guiding you out of the afterglow.

When you finally blink the stars out of your eyes, you see Boothill hovering above you, rubbing your cheek with hearts in his eyes.

"God, you're so fudgin' gorgeous." He grins, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, and a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. "Think you got another for me?"

You whine, "Still sensi- AH!"

He immediately sets a vigorous pace, hips slamming against yours in a hypnotic rhythm. He fixates on your breasts, and leans over to take a hard nipple in his mouth to suck and lick and nibble. You squeal and pull on his hair. He bites your skin in retaliation.

"Easy, moon lily," he moans, quickly stifling it with a kiss. "Hold on to me."

He grabs under your arms and lifts you onto his lap. His cock sinks impossibly deeper inside you, the tip nudging at your cervix. With a shriek, you bite his neck to try and ease the discomfort, but it only excites him more. With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into your sopping hole, bouncing you up and down with rough hands to set an even rougher pace.

You're still so sensitive; too much, too fast, and his cock fits so snugly inside you that you're already spiraling towards another release. But you don't want to make that journey alone, you want Boothill beside you.

So you grab his face and devour his mouth, pressing your tongue against his to savor his metallic taste. He moans against your lips, hips stuttering in an effort to keep up with you.

"Wanna make you feel good," you pant heavily. You carefully slide up and down on his thick cock, head thrown back as it hits your sweet spot. "Wanna... wanna cum with you!"

"Y- you are, baby," he groans against your neck, each word punctuated with a deep thrust. "You're makin' me feel so- darn- good-"

You're so close, you can see the faintest glimmer of stars again. Or maybe that was the sparks from his body as it overworks to keep his sensors running, so he can keep feeling you, tasting you, fucking you.

"Hillie," you gasp when the stars start to overwhelm you. "Hillie, I-"

"I know, baby, let go, I'm right with ya." He kisses you, over and over, thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, sensors working overdrive, wires sparking to further push him over the edge. "I'm- fudge, fudge, fudge-!"

He chokes, and you both come undone together, chasing that relentless wave of pleasure side by side. Stars collide and burst in showers of gold and silver, and your strength all but fails you, so you collapse in Boothill's arms, rubbing your cheek on his cool chest.

He catches his breath, letting his sensors rest as he basks in that afterglow. His wires are probably fried after such an intense sensory overload, but he can't bring himself to give a damn. Not when you're sitting so pretty in his arms, eyes just barely able to stay open.

You're so cute when you're sleepy, it's hard to not bite your cheek like he used to do. But tonight, he'll be generous and resist the temptation; you need your rest.

He runs a hand through your hair, and he once again finds himself wishing he still had his skin. But he sets that aside, preferring to be lost in your sleepy smile instead.

"Love you, Hillie," you coo drowsily, head nodding off.

"I love you more, moon lily," he whispers back with a kiss to your forehead.

In a moment, he'll bring you on his spaceship and clean you up, then tuck you in the spare bunk next to his charging port. He'll have to look at that USB you painstakingly put together for him sooner or later.

But for now, right here, he's not going anywhere.

His moon lily came back to him.

Boothill has finally returned home.

[Post-Credit]

"What the actual hell is this..." the mechanic sighs as she stares at the large bouquet of blue flowers.

She wonders if she should toss them out before she notices the card.

Thanks for the added bonus, Doc! - BH & ML

Her eyebrows raise. The handwriting's too nice and legible to be that Galaxy Ranger's, so...

She chuckles. "I figured it'd come in handy sooner or later."

She sets the bouquet on her desk and continues on with her work.

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

A/N: holy shirtballs BOOOTHILL MY LOVE AAAAAAAHSHDHDBSK I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIKE I NEVER LOVED A CHARACTER BEFORE

...if only he loved me back just the slightest, cuz I lost 50/50 and went hard pity to get him. But I did win his lightcone so I guess it's even...?

[stevie-petey]

blurb idea? stug isn't having sex yet obviously but maybe dustin walks into bug's room while they're lying really close on her bed reading together and he flips his shit like OH MY EYES and they're like ...boy we're literally just sitting here. and steve's over for dinner and dustin refuses to look at him and claudia's like ok what's up and you're like literally nothing he's so dumb

i love dramatic dustin with stug so YES !!

enjoy <3

"so jo just rejects laurie? like, flat out, brutally rejects his marriage proposal after years of being best friends and basically already in love?"

"i mean, there are some nuances youre missing, but yeah. basically."

"what kind of sick book is this?" steve shoves the book away from him in disdain. his nose is scrunched up, offended, and you refrain from kissing it all better.

you fix a piece of hair thats fallen in his face as he lays next to you on your bed. "jo and laurie are tragic, i'll admit." your words are rough from reading for hours. steve always insists that you read the books for him, he claims youre better at it, but you know its because he loves the sound of your voice. "but its what makes the book so wonderful, dont you think?"

steve rolls his eyes at you. "your obsession with tragic romances concerns me. what, are you going to reject my proposal next? make me beg on my hands and knees for you?"

"technically you already did beg on your hands and knees for me-"

"wait, you didnt say youd accept my proposal."

with a sly laugh you clear your throat and bring the book back up to your face, continuing to read. steve stares at you as you read the heartbreaking words aloud, his eyes travel the length of your neck and the slope of your nose. the scene youre reading breaks his heart more than hed care to admit. youve been reading little women to steve for a few weeks now. he really thought itd be jo and laurie in the end.

lost in the way you voice lilts between jos soft rejection and lauries broken pleads, neither you nor steve hear dustin calling for you until its too late.

the boy barges into your room and nearly shrieks his head off when he realizes steve is in bed with you. "my eyes!" he cowers to close the door, covering his face with his grubby little hands.

"dustin!" you shout at him, throwing a pillow at him to shut up him. hes being dramatic, you and steve werent even doing anything. your boyfriend is lying next to you while you read him a long and horrendous breakup scene from a classic book. if anything, the two of you should be doing literally anything else.

steve rolls off your bed and lands on his feet in one fluid motion before running over to your brother. grabbing dustins shoulders, he shakes him to try and stop the screaming. "hey! alright, can you quit it?"

"no! you were-you-my eyes!" dustin scrubs at his face with utter turmoil. he hadnt even known that steve was in his house. normally the asshole makes his presence known, stops by dustins room to say hi. its why he barged in in the first place.

had dustin known hed walk into steve in your bed, he wouldve brought a goddamn flame thrower with him instead.

"we were reading, you moron!" youre next to steve now, desperately trying to quiet your brother before your mom asks whats going on. hes already bad enough, but if your mother finds out steve had been in your bed as well, thered be permanent hearing loss.

"read at your desk! thats what those damn things are built for!"

steve shoves his hand through his hair, agitated. "oh, and who are you? the desk police?"

"'desk police'?" you stare at the teen, disappointed. "thats the best you could come up with?"

"im under a lot of pressure right now. cut me some slack."

"i want you dead."

both you and steve turn to dustin, shocked and disturbed by his words.

"okay, thank you for sharing your feelings, dustin." awkwardly you pat his shoulder. at least hes being honest and open with you. "not necessarily what i wanted to hear, but im proud of you for sharing-"

"he wants me dead and youre commending him?"

"not now," jamming an elbow into steves side, you shut him up and focus on your brother again. "now, is there a reason you barged in or can we go back to reading?"

dustins grimace on his face seems permanent now. his nose is slightly upturned, his eyes distrusting. narrowing them at you, he takes slow, calculated steps back out of your room. "dinner is ready," he says tersely before leaving entirely.

"well, this will be fun." steve sighs, and you nod grimly.

dinner is not fun.

dustin doesnt look steve in the eye the entire time. he sits as far away as possible from the teen. when asked to pass the bread, dustin pointedly ignores steves request and throws a roll to you. the bread nearly knocks your mothers water over and shes finally had enough.

"goodness, dusty! what has gotten into you tonight?" she exclaims, settling the glass that threatens to spill.

mouth full of mashed potatoes, his eyes light up evilly. before he can even think about opening his obnoxious mouth, you kick him underneath the table. your foot connects with his shin and dustin wheezes mashed potatoes all over his meal.

"dusty!" your mother gasps, alarmed. she looks at you in concern while steve snorts into his glass of water. "what is going on with you three?"

"nothing, mom." grabbing the bread that was thrown at you, you pick it apart with your fingers and make a delighted sound. "dinner is lovely tonight, by the way."

"i love what youve done with the mashed potatoes, mrs. henderson." steve is quick to add, jumping in. he makes a whole show of scooping up the mashed food and shoving it into his mouth, moaning in pleasure. "is there garlic in this?"

your mother, always easily distracted, claps her hands with joy. "why, yes! i wanted to try something different. do you really like it?"

"i adore it."

later that night you find yurtle the turtles mealworms underneath your pillow.

[idontknowwhatimdoinglol]

yandere mother hera x reader x yandere father zeus (forever) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

you have always been adventurous, even when you were little you always tried to run from olympus and explore the mortal lands. much to the dismay of your parents who had to chase you down everyday, to stop you from continuing to run and keep you safe with them they promised you that when you had come into your full powers that you could be free to go wherever you want. of course the promise was a lie and they had just hoped that you would forget about it by then but unfortunately for them you never did. today was your birthday and the day that you had finally gotten your full powers, you had planned to leave for the mortal realm as soon as the celebrations ended but your mother wanted you to join her for tea afterwards, you knew how hard it was for her to let you go so you went just to reassure her that you would be alright.

-----

you sat across from your mother in her room, one of her crows laying in your lap as you sipped your tea. hera stared at you a bit sadly, with anger behind her gaze. "so you're leaving so soon? you dont even want to stay until morning and gather your things?" she asks bitterly. you sigh setting your tea cup down. "mother we've talked about this, you and father promised when i was a child that i could go explore the world when i got my full powers, and now that i have you have to follow through on that promise." you explain softly, not wanting to hurt her further. her hands ball into fists under the table but she quickly calms herself down. "we we're not expecting you to remember that by this time" she says before giving a soft smile. "but if you insist and this will make you truly happy then i will not stand in the way." she says standing up with the tea pot, taking it to the other side of the room to refill it. you pause for a moment not believing what she said. "really? i can go?" you ask hopefully. she nods returning and filling your cup wit hmore tea. "yes my darling, if it makes you happy then i will not ruin it." she smiles with a glint of evil behind her eyes, but you miss it picking up your cup. "speaking of, where is father? i haven't seen him since the celebrations." you ask taking a sip of the tea, cringing a bit at its strange taste but not wanting to be rude and tell your mother that she made the tea wrong. "oh he is simply, unpacking some things" she says setting her cup on the table, you miss nearly all of what she said, a sudden headache setting in. you clutch your head a bit grunting in pain. "is something wrong my dear?" she asks with fake innocence. "suddenly i feel quite sick" you say, the room starting to spin. "i think i may go lie down a bit before i lea-" you start, but faint before finishing, the only sound in the room in your cup hitting the ground. before you fell hera managed to catch you with her powers. she sets you back on the chair stroking your hair. "I'm sorry my darling but i could not let you leave me." she says kissing your forehead. a few moments later your father walks in. "are they alright?" he asks walking closer, hera smirks. "of course, i would never hurt them their our child. they're simply unconscious for now. by morning they will have no memory of anything that happened today" she says stroking your hair. zeus leans down and picks you up, before taking you to your room with hera following close. both already discussing the lie they would tell you of how you had gone to the mortal realm and been hurt to the point that you lost your memory, but dont worry they'll keep you safe. after all youre their precious child, why would they ever hurt you? besides now you can remain theirs forever

- - - - - . o 0 O 0 o . - - - - -

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

SxF Crack Theory: The Identity Of [REDACTED]'s Father

Hear me out here.... but, maybe, Twilight's father could be Yuri's boss, aka, the SSS Lieutenant.

Now, this might be a crack/joke theory, but here is the evidence I have to back up my claim (yes, I'm presenting it because I'm just Like That):

(Warning: Manga spoilers ahead)

Exhibit A: Physical Characteristics

Here is a picture of Agent Twilight:

Here is a picture of Yuri's boss (who, from now in, will be referred to as YB, for my own convenience):

We can see that Twilight and YB have very similar facial characteristics: bluish-grey eyes, blond hair, and a similar face shape (nose, jaw).

We never see Twilight's father's full face: only the lower half, because he has presumably forgotten his face, along with his mother's (King of Emotional Repression™️), but we can see that his jawline and shape of his mouth are very similar to Adult Twilight.

Oh, and look at that- rather pronounced cheekbones, if I do say so myself. Where else did I see those? Hmmm

Exhibit B: Ambiguous Fate

During the War Arc, we're never told about [REDACTED]'s father's fate. We just know he never returns to his family: and the reason why he left for the very last time, was that, "Things have been heating up at the border. I need to take a little business trip." The fact that his, a (presumably) rather important man's, body was never recovered: nor were [REDACTED] or his mother informed of his death. Of course, his body could have been lost in the bombings, or the part of [REDACTED] finding out about his father's dead could have been omitted, but for most of the part, we're left to assume about his father's dead. And... this sounds familiar to another instance...

Like the instance of [REDACTED]'s friends. He (and we) assumed they'd died in the warehouse as children, but later we see that they're alive and in the army (only to die a second time, RIP), but this time, for their deaths to be confirmed: for [REDACTED] to only receive their dog tags after the failed campaign.

This may have been a setup: for Endo to reintroduce [REDACTED]'s father, later in the story, as YB.

Anyway, one thing I've learned after reading and watching so many books, comics, and TV shows: never assume a person's dead, not unless their body/proof of their death has been explicitly shown. This belief was only reinforced after [REDACTED]'s friends.

And, [REDACTED]'s father's last known place was around the Westalian-Ostanian border. He could have escaped in the crossfire, theoretically...

Exhibit C: Fatherly Nature (?)

We all love a good found-family dynamic in the workplace. It's there with WISE, it's there with Garden, and it's kinda there with the SSS.

My main argument about this stems from the chapter which focuses on Yuri's work.

We see YB continuously worry about Yuri's physical health, in panels like:

Obviously, this doesn't happen only in this chapter. Whenever Yuri's there, YB is also there, yelling at him to a) go to sleep, or b) STOP GETTING HIT BY BUSSES OH MY FUCKING GOD IT CAN'T HAPPEN SO MANY TIMES TO ONE PERSON-

And, of course, there's the Yuri Sick Fic chapter:

Not gonna lie, this point is extremely weak, if I brought this up in court I'd be laughed out of there-

Anyway, I just wanted to put this in.

If it does turn out that YB is [REDACTED]'s father then. Bestie. Buddy. How are you managing to be a better father-figure to some insolent kid who gets hit by busses than you were to your actual son, like 20 years ago. Maybe he learned along the way.

Exhibit D: Symbolism (???)

Oh, look, another point I'm pulling out of my ass! But whatever, you're reading it <3

During the War Arc, we see Twilight sustain two major injuries:

One, as a child, when his home is bombed:

And two, as an adult, in the army:

and these injuries are both to his left eye.

Of course, this has given rise to theories of him not being able to see his left eye, it being his blind spot, and Yor guarding his blind spot on missions, etc., etc., which I love bc ✨Twiyor✨

Getting back on point, if we look at YB, we see that he has injuries too... or rather, remnants of them, what with the scars he has...

which, are also on his left eye. Huh! Interesting... this might just be me, but could this be parallels to how similar he and his father were? Are? His father also wanted peace between Ostania and Westalis: but he taught his child that in a very harsh manner (by slapping him), but Twilight wants to teach Anya that in a kind manner. Whenever we see him teaching her, he never loses his cool with her (of course, he loses a lot of hope, but this man's a pessimist, what can we do).

Also shows how much kinder Twilight is, compared to his father.

---

Of course, these points are very weak, and it might just be that Endo reused some character designs for efficiency, but let me be, ok!! This is a crack theory!!! Let me be a clown!!!! AKDFJSJF

If I'm being honest, this post was inspired by a convo I'd had with my friend, around the time Chapter 86 was released. She was theorizing that [REDACTED]'s dad is the Shopkeeper, and I was theorizing it was this dude. Of course, our theorizing was sidetracked by Chapter 86, and a certain panel within it, but... WHATEVER.

So, what are your thoughts? Obviously, my own theory is very weak (for example, why would the SSS accept a Westalian citizen into their ranks? Why would he even join the SSS? Could he have defected? Abandoned his wife and kid?), but this was fun to think about, lol. What are your theories? I think the Shopkeeper-is-the-dad theory and the YB-is-his-dad theory are both cool, so, what do you think?

(Also, yeah, I know, his dad could very well be dead. I just refuse to believe it, bc I'm just Like That <3)

[annwrites]

⸻ forever. ⸻

· pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & billy go to a vegas casino. the next day, you have a scare & make a commitment. · word count: 7,560

The next day, you and Billy stay snuggled up in bed watching TV. 

Even though Billy continuously changes the channel every few minutes as soon as you get interested in something just to drive you nuts. The two of you nap, eat, talk, and every once in a while, get on each other’s nerves just for fun. 

But, as you lie with your head on his chest and he with his fingers in your hair, you’re completely content to fall back asleep listening to his steady breathing and the beat of his heart.

You wake in the middle of the night to Billy tossing and turning beside you while muttering unintelligibly. 

His brows are furrowed, and his body is slick with sweat.

You cup his cheek in your hand, and quietly shoosh him, while telling him to wake up.

When his eyes do finally open, they're full of fear. 

He gazes up at you and his face crumples. 

"Oh, baby doll," he says before burying his face between your breasts and wrapping his arms around you.

You twine your fingers in his hair and hold him to you. "It was just a nightmare. It's okay."

"I lost you," he whispers. "You...fuck, you stopped breathing. I—"

"Shh, it wasn't real. I'm right here. Shh."

You let him cry softly against your chest until you eventually manage to coax him back to sleep by reassuring him over and over again that you're all better now, that you're still here.

"I love you. Just try and go back to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up, okay?"

He nods, pulling you closer. "I love you, too."

While still a tad under the weather, you feel far better the next day, and are honestly itching to get out of the motel room, even if it's just to go sit outside, or ride shotgun while Billy drives around letting you sight-see.

You're just coming out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to go, when Billy comes back into the room carrying breakfast with him.

He kicks the door closed with his boot, and he has a brown paper bag held between his teeth, with to-go cups in one arm, and a couple more bags in the other.

He looks up to you with a raised brow as he begins setting everything down and then he nods toward the bed. "Take all that off and get back into bed."

You come over to him. "I feel better today. I'm tired of being stuck in this room, Billy. It's been days now. Can we please go do something?"

You bat your lashes at him, then press yourself against him, and he groans as you slip a hand in his pocket. "Pretty please?"

Before he can tell you, yet again, to get back into bed, you swiftly remove your hand, with his keys now dangling from your fingers.

He sighs, holding out his hand. "Yeah, you're hilarious. C'mon, give 'em."

You back up a step and hide them behind your back. "As soon as you promise to let me out of here."

He studies you for a moment. "Maybe in another day or—"

"No, today."

He crosses his arms, his jaw flexing. "I said no. And that's final."

You step closer to him and reach out for his hand, but he snatches it away.

"No. Do...do you have any idea what you put me through? I thought..." He shakes his head. "Don't ever fucking do that again, alright?"

Your lip twitches. "I will do my utmost to never get sick again. I promise."

You press yourself against his chest then. "Now let me outside."

He sighs. "Only once you've had breakfast."

You snuggle closer. "Deal."

"If you so much as sneeze, I'm taking your ass back."

You roll your eyes. 

He's been like this since before you stepped out the door. He even forced a thermometer under your tongue before letting you go out, which had read a perfect 98.7°—a temperature that should've pleased him, but he'd instead frowned.

You've tried joking that he just wants to keep you all to himself for another day, but you know it’s because he’s terrified of you getting sick again.

You turn in your seat to face him and run your fingers through his hair.

He fights against his lip twitching at the tender gesture, and then he sighs. "Alright, where to? Unless you want me to pick?"

He looks at you then with a smirk now on his face. "We are in Sin City. Could always hit a sex shop, then head back and create our own entertainment for the day."

You lean over and kiss him deeply, and when you pull away, he has a brow raised, thinking he's talked you into it.

"Nice try."

He leans back, and rolls his eyes as he turns the car over.

"Billy, stop, we can't go in. This is ridiculous. They're never going to buy your fake; I'm sure they see them everyday."

Billy is currently pulling you alongside him...into Caesar's Palace. 

He'd gotten the idea to go gambling, and not even offering to go to a sex shop to try on skimpy lingerie manages to talk him out of it. You even throw in that he can finally cuff you to whatever he wants and have his way with you if he’ll only turn back around, but he doesn’t listen to a word.

You've tried tugging unsuccessfully against his hand, unable to pull him back an inch in the other direction. Instead, he leads you further inside. And, just when he thinks—ignorantly—as he passes the hotel lobby, headed in the direction of the casino floor, he’s about to get away with it, a large man dressed in a suit, who’s probably twice the size of Billy, steps in his way.

Billy doesn’t shrink away from his authoritative presence, but you hide yourself just the least bit behind him as you glance up shyly to the security guard.

"Somewhere you're headed?" He asks—his voice a deep baritone tune.

Billy looks up at him with a bored expression, nodding behind him. "Got a few greenbacks that're just burnin' a hole in my pocket."

He goes to step past him, but the man side-steps, once again blocking him.

"ID card, pal."

Billy retrieves his wallet, and hands him the requested piece of information.

He studies it with a raised brow, then looks at Billy. 

"Billy Squier? You really thought someone would buy that?" He tosses it back to him. "Go on, get out of here."

Billy shrugs, tucking his wallet back away. "Like I can help that we share the same name." 

He smirks, flashing him a dazzling smile. "The Stroke is a damn good song, though, ain't it?"

He glances at you, then back to the security guard.

The man chooses to ignore Billy, honing in on you. "You got a fake for me, too? Let me guess: Stevie Nicks? No. Cindy Lauper."

You hold Billy's hand more tightly. "I—"

Billy interrupts you. "She left hers in the car." 

He lets go of your hand. 

"Listen, man, what's it going to take? My money's good, ain't it?" 

He pulls out a wad of rolled up cash, counts out a few bills, then reaches forward, and he feigns shaking his hand—the bills disappearing into the other man's grip. "Just trying to show my girl a good time. What, you've never been young and in love before?"

"You ever been employed before, kid?" 

He shoves the money back against Billy's chest. "Go on, before I have to use force."

Billy gives him a glare before turning back around and wrapping his arm around your waist. "C'mon, baby, we'll go blow a grand at Circus Circus instead."

Somehow, you and Billy get lucky at the next casino. You show up just when the security guards are changing shifts and sneak right in. Your heart is pounding, and you can’t tell whether it’s your palm or his that’s sweaty, but you eventually come to wrap your arms around one of his as he weaves between slot machines and craps tables.

You glance around and lights twinkle in your wide eyes in the dim lighting. The space is illuminated by colorful overhead chandeliers, and neon slot machines. There's even a section of the room that's modeled after a carousel.

You look up to Billy then, continuing to walk alongside him. 

"Can I play a slot machine?" You ask sweetly.

"Once I win at blackjack."

You frown. "Do you even know how?"

He stops, turning back to you. "Baby, I've got skills you've never seen."

You hook your finger on his black half-unbuttoned shirt. "That's likely."

He shakes his head. "Keep it up."

When he turns away, you smack his ass and he laughs.

You stand behind Billy, actually impressed. 

He'd not been lying about knowing how to play cards. While nearly every other person sitting at the table had eventually folded, or busted more times than they were comfortable with, and thus left with bruised egos, Billy's chips are just continuing to pile up.

You don’t like the way some people are eyeing his winnings, however.

You lean down close to his ear as he holds his cards close to his chest. "Billy, I think that's enough—"

"After this hand."

You sigh, frowning. "You said that twenty minutes ago."

He taps two fingers against the table and the dealer slides another card his way.

"Like I can help that I'm on a roll." 

He looks up at you, smirking. "Think you might be my little good-luck charm."

You shift on your feet. "You have way more than you came in with now. Can I please just go try a slot machine?"

He glances at the dealer and watches as he turns over a card, and a smile breaks out across Billy's face as he throws his own cards down before slamming his fists against the table. "Woo! Winner winner, baby!"

He pulls more chips in his direction, which you quickly grab in your fists, heading in another direction with them. You hear him curse from behind you, but he quickly gathers the remaining ones on the table before following you to go cash in.

After finishing up with the casino’s teller, Billy securely pockets away a few hundred dollars—practically beaming from his winnings. He then hands you a five and nods toward the slot machines. “Go nuts.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Only five dollars?”

He leans down close to you. “You want more, guess you’ll have to blow me.”

Your expression then morphs into a scowl. “You’re so—”

“Y’know, my dice, when I play craps later?”

You turn your back to him, and head toward a slot machine. “That is so not what you meant.”

“Not my fault that my cock is all you can think about.”

After losing once, you’d been ready to burn the entire building down. But after a few times? You’re seething. 

You yank on the arm one last time and it then demands more money.

“Oh, that is such bull. It took all my money!”

Billy glances at a few others who are seated at nearby machines, and a muscle in his jaw feathers when he sees them looking your way as you continue to make a scene.

“I didn’t win once. This game is rigged. I want a different machine!”

He can’t believe you’re getting this upset over losing five dollars that hadn’t even been yours to begin with, anyway.

“Honey—”

“Don’t honey me, I want another five,” you state, holding out your hand.

He crosses his arms. “I think someone might have a bit of a gambling problem.”

The vein in the middle of your forehead makes an appearance—he’s never seen that trick before. “I wanted cherries. I kept getting fucking bananas and—”

He steps closer to you, needing to calm you before someone calls security. “Sweetheart, I will give you all the banana you want when we get back to the motel. But right now—”

“I said cherries! See, you’re not even listening to me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

Good Lord, you’re acting like a little kid. And he typically relies on you to be the mature one. Seeing you so pissed had been funny at first, but now you’re getting a bit scary.

“Alright, fine, I will pop your cherry when—”

You lean your head back and groan in irritation. 

“Too late for that now, isn’t it?” You state, leveling him with your gaze.

He finally reaches up and squeezes your cheeks until your lips are puckered. “You want to get us kicked out?”

“No,” you mutter through fish lips.

He smirks. 

You look adorable like this. So tiny and angry with your face all squished in his strong grip. Like a pissed off kitten. “If I give you another five, will you promise—if you lose—to control your temper, and behave yourself, and not be a sore loser?”

“Yes.”

He releases you, giving you the promised amount of cash.

“Motherfu—”

He yanks you up from the stool by your upper-arm before you can finish that expletive. “Alright, time to go. You’ve had enough.”

“Just give me another—”

“Nope, you’ve had enough.”

“But—”

“No buts. C’mon. You’d leave us high and dry if I let you have your way.”

“You are so not getting lucky tonight.”

“Already did. Sounds like you’re the one who didn’t.”

“Oh, you son of a—”

Once the two of you are back at the motel, you’ve thankfully calmed down. 

Billy is almost afraid to leave not just his money, but the keys to the Camaro anywhere you can get to them, lest you return to the casino for a second round. Third, really.

But, once you’re in a bubble bath and softly humming to yourself as you wash up, he figures that you seemed well-enough over it.

After bathing, you stand over your bag of toiletries with shaking hands and wide eyes, and your heart hammers in your chest as you stare down at a tampon that’s been hidden at the bottom of the bag.

You’re late. Very late, by your standards. Your period has always been like clockwork. If it is ever ‘late’, it’s by no more than a day. Ever. And even that is a rare occurrence. Far and few between times has it happened.

But today makes five days. 

The two of you have used protection every time. But…what if there had been a hole in one of the condoms? Or some of his semen somehow leaked out or… 

That night on top of the Camaro. 

But he’d finished on your stomach. Not inside of you. 

No. 

This isn’t happening. 

You are not—

“Are you about done in there? I need to take a piss.”

You jolt, and drop the plastic tube on the floor, before turning to stare at the closed door, unable to form a single word. Until you manage to choke out, “just a sec”.

“Gettin’ all dolled up for me just to go to bed?”

Your eyes sting with unshed tears. 

God, you want him to just leave you be for a few more minutes so you can collect yourself. Because right now? You feel on the verge of a hysterical breakdown.

You glance at yourself in the mirror. Your face has gone pale, all blood is now drained from your lips, and your eyes are wide and terrified. And you’re shaking like a leaf.

You begin taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. 

Oh God, you feel like you’re about to pass out.

It’s nothing.

You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, that is all. Yes, that makes perfect sense. 

From the moment you left Hawkins, you’ve been on a non-stop rollercoaster of emotions. All the traveling, the fighting, worrying about money, worrying about each other, worrying about the future, you getting sick—it’s a perfect recipe for a late period.

And it’s only five days. Just because it’s typically always on time doesn’t mean it can’t be late every now and again, right? Sometimes bodies are weird. They don’t always operate how they’re supposed to. Obviously, or so many diseases and disabilities wouldn’t exist. And stress can wreak havoc on the healthiest of people. So, you have nothing to worry about. Right?

“Sweetheart?”

You quickly gather your things and do your utmost to ignore how your stomach is now in knots, and your shoulders are tense, and your jaw is locked tight.

You swing open the door and stare up at Billy. 

“All yours,” you say, stepping past him.

A moment later, you hear him relieving himself. 

You let out a breath of relief that he hadn’t noticed you’re now upset.

You barely touch your dinner. 

Billy notices, but you use the excuse that you aren’t all that hungry’. 

He stares at you for a moment before stealing one of your shrimp and telling you that he’ll eat them if you aren’t going to. He doesn’t notice your palm pressed firmly against your stomach beneath the table.

Once the two of you are in bed, you’d turn your back to him and try to fight back tears. 

If…if you are…will happen to the two of you? 

You’ve been so sure, since after that night in Texas, that you’ve finally found the one now. But this… A baby will ruin everything. He’ll leave you. This much he won’t stand for, you’re sure of it.

You’re both eighteen—kids yourselves. What the hell do either of you know about being parents? You don’t have any idea of how to be a proper mother, since you’d not been given an example of one yourself. And Billy has his history with his father.

You haven’t had that talk yet: what you want when it comes to kids. You don’t even know that he wants them in general. You don’t know what you want, either…

Just as your terror begins to grow, you feel his hand slide along your hip while his erection presses against your back. 

You feel sick at the sensation of it. That part of him has now destroyed your entire life. And you’ll be the one forced to deal with the consequences—the fallout.

You’d been right to be abstinent before. This is his fault. He hadn’t stopped until he’d buried himself inside your head. He’d pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled until you didn’t know where else to run but into his arms.

No. You can’t think like that. He loves you. He’s made some mistakes, but you understand why; have chosen to forgive him. You love him, too. And what if you’re just getting yourself all worked up over nothing? What if you aren’t indeed pregnant, and are only causing yourself further stress, which will only serve to delay your period further?

Billy presses his lips to your neck, and he reaches under his t-shirt, which you’re wearing, cupping your breast. “Want me to help you get undressed, honey?”

You bite your lip until you taste blood—fighting back tears. “I’m really tired. Maybe not tonight.” 

You say it so quietly that he barely hears you.

He presses a soft kiss to the back of your head. “Told you that you should’ve stayed in bed. But no one ever listens to Billy.”

You don’t respond. You just take his hand and wrap his arm around your waist, praying to God he doesn’t notice that your own is shaking.

You toss and turn most of the night. 

At one point you lock yourself in the bathroom to cry while Billy sleeps. You clutch at your stomach and pray to God that you’re not what you think you are.

If you are, and he does leave you, what will you do? Where will you go? Everything will fall out from under your feet then. You’ll have nothing. No one. He’s your entire world. Everything. He’s everything. Your everything. You’ve come to lean so heavily on him—to rely on him at every turn.

If he leaves you behind… You want to die at the thought.

The next morning, you’re exhausted, and Billy quickly takes notice over breakfast, which you barely touch.

He brushes his foot against yours and he reaches for your hand, concerned with the lost-in-thought look on your face. Are you getting sick again?

“Baby?”

You look up at him. “Hm?”

“You alright, angel?” He asks before reaching up and pressing his palm to your forehead. 

You don’t feel feverish…

You nod slightly, then look back down to your cereal, which is now just a bowl of mush, and idly stir it.

“I think you’re still just getting over that cold. I should’ve made you stay in yesterday. How about you go lie back down and get some rest. We’ll just hang out here for the rest of the day. Alright?”

You nod, then get up and strip before lying back down. 

You quickly fall asleep.

When you wake, the TV is on and the volume is low.

Billy is sitting up, with one arm around you, holding you close to his leg. 

You stare at the closed curtains, wondering what time it is, but don’t want to ask, because you don’t want to talk. You don’t want him to notice that something more is wrong than you just ‘being under the weather’, even if you know you feel back to normal now. You don’t want him to keep digging until you’re finally forced to cave and tell him what’s really going on.

So, you close your eyes instead, and force yourself back into a dreamless sleep.

Billy lets you sleep through lunch, but he now stands at the foot of the bed frowning, considering whether to wake you for dinner. 

He’d gotten you a cheeseburger—one of your favorites—so he’s sure you’ll eat it.

He tucks some hair behind your ear, then gently shakes you awake.

“Dinner’s here, beautiful. Time to get up. Once you’ve eaten, you can go back to bed.”

You moan against the pillow, wishing he’d just left you be. 

You don’t want to eat, because the moment you open your eyes, your stomach starts twisting into knots again. But you fight the feeling of nausea down, telling yourself to, at the very least, act fine. Pretend like you feel as much.

You sit up then and smile slightly at him.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, and hide your face from his view. “Better.”

He sighs. “Good. That’s good.”

He leads you over to the table, and you force every bite down.

Billy makes another sexual advance that night, shortly after lying down. 

He slips his hands between your legs. “I can do all the work tonight, if you want?”

You simply pressed yourself into his chest. “Could you just hold me instead? Maybe…maybe tomorrow.”

He remains silent as he slides his strong arms around you and holds you close, whispering that he loves you and to get some more rest. That he’s sure you’ll feel better in the morning.

You do not, in fact, feel better in the morning. More rested than the day previous, yes, but your nerves are fried.

You’d raced to the bathroom to…expel your bowels from nerves at least twice in the night, and now your stomach is truly on empty. But just the thought of eating makes you feel sick.

You lie in bed awake—even if you’d rather not be—and listen to Billy quietly snore beside you. You sit up, then gaze down at him, trying to memorize every line and facet of his face and body before you lose him for good.

Tears sting your eyes at the thought of being alone again. Though, you won’t be totally alone, you suppose. 

If you are that…will it look like you, or him? Will it have his eyes? His beautiful head of hair? 

You don’t think you can bear it: having to look upon a perfect reflection—reminder—of him every day, while simultaneously knowing he’s never coming back.

How could you have let this happen? What if you get rid of it instead? Somehow, that thought makes you feel worse. A little bundle that’s equal parts you and him…gone. Just as a tear slips down your cheek, he begins to wake.

You quickly wipe it away, and smile as he opens his eyes, while he looks up at you, stretching.

He reaches a hand up to your cheek, cupping it. “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

“You been up long?”

You shake your head. “I just woke up a couple minutes before you did.”

“Admiring your sleeping beauty then, huh?”

You smile at the sarcastic comment. “Most certainly.”

He slides his other hand up your thigh, stopping close to your heat. “You want to?”

You shift under his touch. 

How to tell him no yet again? You’ve not been intimate in days, and you worry that continuing to reject him will only serve to hurt him, if not make him suspicious. But the thought of him buried inside of you right now… You simply can’t.

He notices your silence and his smile fades. 

“Guess not.” 

He removes his hand before getting up. You watch silently as he nervously runs a hand through his hair. 

“I’m gonna go take a leak,” he says before padding over to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Your chin wobbles, knowing you did it anyway: hurt his feelings.

Billy lays on the horn, waiting for traffic to move. He glances at you who is busy staring out your open window. 

He knows something is wrong, but you won’t tell him what.

He reaches over and slides his hand up your leg, and his ego takes a hit when you recoil at his touch. He sighs, then rests his hand back on the shifter. 

“Come the fuck on, man!” He shouts at the line of cars in front of him.

He then looks back at you. “What? Are you still sick?”

You clasp your hands. “No. I’m just…tired.”

He leans his head back, rolling his eyes. “Heard that a lot the last couple days. Don’t know how. It’s not like we’ve screwed much recently.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t really care about that. He’s fine with waiting on you. It’s the fact that you’re keeping something from him that’re starting to really get under his skin.

You begin to shake from anger. “After everything, and that’s still all you still think about. Not like I should be surprised. Since we met that’s all you’ve thought with is what’s in your pants.”

He jerks his head in your direction. 

The two of you haven’t fought like this in a minute. “Excuse me?”

“You want to get laid? We’re in Vegas. Go pick up some hooker on the strip. You should have enough for it after the other night at the casino, I’m sure.”

He grips the wheel tighter. “The fuck is your problem? Huh? You got somethin’ you want to say to me?”

You look at him, and his expression softens when he sees the tears gathering in your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice breaking before you bury your head in your hands.

He unbuckles, then reaches over and wraps his arms around your trembling frame. “Shh. Baby, please tell me what the fuck is going on. Did…did I do something?”

How to say yes and no?

You look up at him then with tears now streaming down your cheeks. “I’m late.”

His brows furrow. “Late? Late for wha—”

His face falls, and all color drains from it in an instant, leaving him lightheaded. He remains calm, as calm as he can manage—for the moment. 

“How late?” He asks, deathly serious.

“F-five days.”

“And the latest you’ve ever been is?”

“A day. And rarely, at that.”

He stares at you for a moment, then swerves onto the shoulder, parks, and he quickly gets out, slamming the door behind him.

“Fuck! Motherfuck! Why does this shit keep happening to me? It’s going great one minute, then it all just turns to shit!”

You turn away from the window then, refusing to listen anymore as you begin to sob while clutching your stomach. You reach forward, toward the dash, now hyperventilating, and you try to catch your breath as your ears begin to ring.

A moment later, Billy gets back in the car, then forces his way back into traffic.

“We’re not going to freak out until you’ve taken a piss test and we know for sure,” he states.

Both of you stand in the family-planning aisle of a CVS, staring at their plethora of a selection of pregnancy tests. 

Billy reaches forward with a shaking hand and he grabs a two-pack in a pink box.

“Should… Do you want this one?” He asks, looking at you.

You shrug, your lower lip trembling.

He puts it back, grabbing a blue box next. “This one sounds like it should be fairly accurate. Ninety-eight percent.” 

He tosses it back onto the shelf. “Why the fuck are there so many? What’s the goddamn difference? I mean, Jesus, it’s like buying condoms. I mean, the things are supposed to be fuckin’ fool-proof, right? Why make shit that leaves you guessing in a situation like this? It’s ridiculous.”

You stay quiet, knowing he’s talking more to himself than he is to you.

He picks the blue box back up in one hand, grabs your hand in his other, and he leads you up front to the register.

Billy tosses the test onto the counter, and the older woman behind it eyes up the two of you as she scans the box, telling Billy his total.

You just stare at the floor as he pulls out a bill, telling her to keep the change. 

“You all have a public restroom?”

Billy waits outside the door as you go, and silent tears slip down your cheeks as you place the cap back on the test, then set it on the sink to wait.

It’s maybe two minutes later before his patience has worn through and he pounds on the door, making you jump. “What’s takin’ so long?”

You walk over and crack the door open before staring up at him. “It takes fifteen minutes.”

His brows raise. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” 

He barges in and shuts the door behind him. “Why the hell don’t they put that on the goddamn box?”

“They did,” you reply quietly, showing it to him—right on the front. “See?”

He snatches it away from you, staring at it like it’s his own worst enemy, then tossing it in the trash.

He begins to pace back and forth in the small space with his hands on his hips. 

Meanwhile, you stand silently against the wall and watch him.

“I can’t believe this is fucking happening. This—coming out here—getting to California, was supposed to be a new fucking start and now… I’m eighteen-goddamn-years-old. I can’t be a dad yet. I’m not ready. I mean, Jesus, I don’t know that I want kids ever. I can’t stand ‘em now. Annoying little shits. And they’re expensive as hell. Even if you think you’re ready, you’re fuckin’ not. We don’t even have a place to live. What? Am I gonna stick a crib in the fucking backseat of the Camaro? Fuck!”

When he looks at you, his heart drops.

You’re standing against the wall shaking, with tears streaming down your face while you bite your lip to try and keep quiet. Both of your hands are clutching your stomach, and your face has gone pale. 

“I’ll get rid of it,” you whisper.

Then you continue, “Oh God, what’s happening to me? I can’t… I can’t do this alone. What am I supposed to do? How…how am I going to live? What will happen to my baby?” 

You hang your head and begin to sob.

You think he’s going to leave you? Alone? To this?

He steps over and quickly wraps his arms around you. “I’m sorry. Baby, I’m right here. Sweetheart, look at me.”

He takes your face in his hands. “Angel, I’m not going anywhere. If you are…it’s not like I didn’t play a part in it. You should know by now that I’m in this for the long haul—that you’re it for me. I know you deserve better than me. You always will. But I’ll try my best, alright? To be a good dad, I mean. I had a shitty fuckin’ example, but maybe I can learn from his mistakes. I’ll take care of you.”

He presses a palm to your stomach then. “Both of you. We’ll…we’ll get married. I’ll be better than he was. I have to be. You deserve that.”

You blink up at him, now speechless. Did…did he just propose? “You…want to get married?”

He smiles, kissing your forehead. “It’s the right thing to do. But I’m not gettin’ down on one knee, if that’s what you’re expecting. Not in this nasty fuckin’ restroom, anyway.”

You glance to the test. “I think it’s been enough time now.”

You walk over to it and fill with relief—joy—when you see the minus sign. 

You double over the sink, laughing lightly. All that stress and for nothing. Nothing at all. 

“Oh, thank God!” You exclaim, laughing some more, feeling like all is right in the world again. 

“I’m not pregnant. We don’t have to get married now! We can just—”

You stop talking when you turn around and see that Billy isn’t nearly as elated as you are. He’s not even smiling. Nor is he looking at you. Instead, his hands are gripping the metal support beam behind him, and his eyes are trained on the floor.

“I—”

He quickly brushes past you then, wrenching the door open. “Let’s go.”

Once the two of you have returned to the motel, he still hasn’t spoken another word to you. 

He instead goes into the bathroom and slams the door behind him. He even goes so far as to lock while he showers.

You press your ear up against the door and listen to try and ensure that he’s okay, but can hear nothing over the sound of water.

So, you instead sit on the edge of the bed and patiently wait and think of how best to apologize for what you said. 

You’d just been so sure that he would be relieved as well. He said it himself: that he isn’t ready for a baby yet. Then you wonder…had it been your comment about marriage that upset him?

Is…is he ready for that? Are you? When you think of it: wearing a ring he’s chosen for you and taking his last name while vowing to spend your life next to him, it doesn’t fill you with fear or doubt or unease. It fills you with love, joy, and a feeling of security.

When Billy emerges quite some time later, he tries to hide it, but you see it: his eyes are bloodshot.

Your heart breaks, now knowing what took him so long.

He had been crying.

You pad over to him and wrap your arms around his middle as he chooses a t-shirt for bed. He doesn’t do that, though: wear pajamas to lie down next to you. And now he suddenly feels the need to shield himself from you?

You press your cheek to his bare back. “Did you mean what you said about getting mar—”

“Just fuckin’ drop it, alright? You’re not knocked-up, so now we don’t have to get hitched. Let’s just go to bed.”

“But—”

“Like you’d want to anyway.”

“I do.”

He freezes, suddenly imagining you saying those words in a different context. 

He slowly turns back around to you. “What?”

You stand on tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck before running your fingers through his damp curls. “I want to if you do.”

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “Really?”

You smile, nodding. “I’m sorry for what I said. I wasn’t thinking. I was just relieved that I wasn’t pregnant. I…I’m already yours in every other way. Why not this one, too? Billy, no one else is ever going to love me the way you have—do. Just like you, I don’t want anyone else. You’re what I want. I can’t imagine having to start over with someone else after…after all of this. The thought of losing you…it was tearing me apart. Having to think of living a life without you in it…”

You trail off for a moment, swallowing down the lump that’s forming in your throat. “I’ll marry you.”

His lip twitches and his eyes grow glassy. 

He then crushes you to his chest and he holds you close while cradling the back of your head. “Okay.”

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

You and Billy are currently browsing through selections of gently-used clothing at a local thrift store, trying to pick out outfits to wear to the Little White Chapel. But every white dress you come across has something wrong with it: holes, tears, rips, yellowing, or it’s just a tad outdated, or way too frilly.

Until you find a hanger buried behind numerous other items. 

As you look the dress over, you begin to smile.

You then wander over to Billy, who’s looking through men’s dress clothes, and poke him in the back.

When he turns, a grin forms on his face. 

He grips the soft material, looking at you. It’s a white babydoll dress with silver sparkles that dance against the material from the overhead fluorescent lighting. There’s even a matching veil.

“It kind of smells like mothballs,” you say.

He smirks. “Don’t worry, baby, you won’t be wearing it long.”

Once Billy has picked out a pair of dress slacks that he feels are a tad too tight—until he notices that you’re unable to remove your eyes from his rear, which causes him to deem that they fit just fine after all—as well as a white button-up shirt, he goes over to the lingerie, and he gets lucky when he finds you a garter.

The two of you then go up, and you stand by his side and smile up at him as he pays for your purchases, and then he asks about using the changing room.

Once the two of you emerge, even he’s blushing. 

So, you take his hand in yours, and head back out to the car together.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

“Can we stop at a pawn shop first?”

He glances to you. “For?”

You reach in the backseat, grab a shoulder bag, then pull your dad’s Rolex out. “I want to trade this. For a ring. For you.”

He nods then, sniffling. “Course, baby.”

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

“What about that one?”

Billy shakes his head. “It’s fuckin’ hideous.”

You raise a brow. 

He’s worse than a woman when it comes to jewelry, apparently.

You squint while staring into the late-night pawn shop’s display case, before you kneel in front of it and practically press your face up against the glass. 

You smile and point while looking up to the middle-aged shop-keep behind it. “Can I see that one?”

He nods, then unlocks the display before grabbing the ring you indicated, and he hands it to you.

You grab Billy’s left hand, and slide it onto his ring finger. And it’s a perfect fit—a simple gold band.

You stare up at him.

He looks at the man. “Will the Rolex cover this?”

“More than,” he replies with a smile.

Billy looks back at you. “We’ll take it.”

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Once the two of you are sitting in the parking lot of the small chapel, it’s only then that you notice that Billy is shaking.

You reach for him, but he quickly exits the car, then makes his way around to your side and he opens your door for you.

He doesn’t look at you, however.

You then reach up and cup his cheek while taking one of his hands in yours. “Are you okay? We…we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If you want to wait, I’m okay with that. As long as we’re together—”

He shakes his head, his hand trembling in yours. “What if…what if I fuck this up? I’ve already done it enough times already. I nearly lost you back in Oklahoma, and then again in Texas. What if I turn out to be just like him and I hurt you, or—”

You brush your thumb over his lips, quieting him. “And I always came back. Or you came for me. Billy, neither of us are perfect. No one alive is. But…that’s the point, right? Of falling in love. You love someone despite their flaws. Or…help them through them. You don’t just give up when things get hard. I know what—who—I want. We’ve both said it: that we belong together.” 

You press yourself against his chest and he wraps his arms around you while kissing the crown of your head. “So let’s go make it official. No one is ever going to love me like you do.”

He rests his cheek against your veil. “Okay.”

You pull back and look up at him with hopeful eyes full of love.

“Let’s go get married.”

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

“And do you, Billy Hargrove, take this little lady to be your lawfully wedded bride? To have and hold tender and sweet, to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, for riches—God willin’—or poorer, for better or worse, ‘till death do ya part?”

Being married by an Elvis impersonator is most-certainly going to be a story to remember.

Billy tucks a lock of hair behind your ear before tracing your jawline with his thumb, his other hand is currently holding firmly onto your right one. “I do.”

He reaches into his pocket, and when he pulls out his hand, a silver ring is held between his thumb and index finger.

Your brows furrow. 

He told you back at the pawn shop that he had your ring already covered, but had refused to elaborate on how until you were standing before one another exchanging vows.

He swallows thickly. 

“It was my mom’s,” he states, glancing to you before sliding it onto your finger.

Unshed tears threaten to spill forth on both your parts then.

“And do you, lil’ mama—Y/N—take this young stud, to be your hubby? To have and hold tender and sweet, to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, for riches or poorer, for better or worse, ‘till death do ya part?”

Your lip trembles as you stare up into Billy’s beautiful, warm eyes. “I do.”

You slide the gold band you’d purchased less than half-an-hour ago onto his finger once again.

“Then, by the power vested in me by the great state of Nevada and the Lord Almighty, I do so pronounce you husband and bride. Now, my good man, kiss your lady.”

Billy leans down, cups the back of your head, and then he crushes his lips to yours while dipping you—his other arm wound securely around your waist.

A woman who works at the chapel snaps a few pictures of the two of you kissing, holding one another, and beaming at each other, as well as at the cheap, disposable camera she holds in her hands.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

After the two of you exit the chapel holding hands, laughing, and even crying a little, you get back into the car and Billy drives you to a bar, insisting on having some form of a reception, even if it’s just the two of you. 

In reality, he deeply wants to have his first proper dance with you.

You stand in the middle of the room—the place near-empty; it’s a tad dingy and small—and wait for Billy to select a song from the jukebox over in the corner. You know he’s found whatever he’s looking for when a small smile comes across his lips.

He comes back over to you, takes one of your hands in his, and he leans his forehead down against yours just as Bob Dylan begins to hum the beginning of Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door. He rests his other hand against the small of your back, pulling you in close to his chest.

You close your eyes, reach up, and tangle the fingers of your other hand in his hair while the two of you sway back and forth to the slow song.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You open your eyes, and tears slip down your flushed cheeks as you press your lips to his own. “I love you.”

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

When the two of you return to the motel, Billy leaves the door to the room open, and he blares the song Don’t Stop Believin’ from the car’s stereo outside. He tugs you up onto the bed with him, and the two of you begin to jump up and down on the mattress while holding onto one another. You smile, laugh, and feel happier than either of you ever thought you could be—would ever be.

He crushes his lips to yours while holding your face in his hands, and then he pulls back. “Promise me that you’re mine for forever.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Forever.”

[literallyjusttoa]

Finally got around to doing this, here are some rough sketches of my idea of how Lester looks each book! Some books are more different than others, like I don't think much changed between books 1 and 2, but I had fun doing this! Look under the cut for some notes about things I added for each design.

Book 1: Not much changes from how he's described in the books. All of the clothes he borrowed from Percy are a bit too big for him, but the flannel he borrowed from Will fits pretty well, only being slightly too long (I think Will has like, an inch over Lester)

Book 2: Basically the same as book 1 Lester. He keeps the flannel Will gave him, but it gets pretty beat up over the course of this book so he has to switch it out before book 3 :(. Hair is just a lil bit longer, and he gets clothes that fit a bit better. Headcanon time bc if Rick won't give me substantial Thalia and Apollo interaction I'll make it myself: Thalia gives Lester archer's gloves at the end of TDP, which he wears for the rest of the series. He didn't even think to wear gloves bc as a god he wouldn't need them, but Thalia noticed his beat up to shit hands at the Waystation and went "bestie... bestie no...." and gave him a pair.

Book 3: Will's flannel has been swapped for a big coat and Lester get his iconic pink camo pants. His hair is long enough to start getting weighed down a bit, and also way messier bc he's been in the labyrinth for like a month. The beat up sneakers he was wearing in books 1 & 2 get replaced with much more reasonable boots. Eyebrow scar shows up, a reminder from one of the many concussions this poor man has suffered. Also another HC time! Georgie gives Lester a little handkerchief that he wears for the rest of the series (I was gonna use Paolo's handkerchief, but Lester canonically gives that back so boo)

Book 4: The Lester looks like shit book /j. His hair is now long enough that he should really be doing something with it but he is not. He has a zip up hoodie now to cover up all his fun purple veins. Just more beat up in general honestly. Also I hc that Apollo actually lost some weight here (both bc he wasn't really eating well before getting to New Rome bc of stress/grief, and bc he got really sick and continued to not eat well while that was happening) But it obviously doesn't do anything to help his self-esteem or mood in this book. Kind've a visual way of being like "the superificial flaws Apollo clung to in the first book weren't the real issue, he was just hyperfixating on them to distract himself from what he was really upset about, so when the superficial issues get solved he doesn't even notice bc he's grown enough as a character to cut the bullshit and focus on what's really bothering him." or idk something like that. I like to contrast this with a hc I've mentioned before about the time between books 4 and 5, which is that the physical flaws Apollo whined about in book 1 (i.e. the acne and his weight) get "worse" throughout the road trip from California to New York, but Apollo truly just does not care that much about that shit anymore and that's why it doesn't come up in the narration.

Book 5: Final Lester! It's been over a month since the last book so I'm taking liberties and saying Lester's hair is long enough to pull up now bc I want him to be able to do that goddammit. Final outfit is borrowed from Percy again, so that's why it's so big. He also has a pendant that Lavinia gave to him bc they're besties. Also I forgot to mention it, but his shoulders are slightly broader here (and have been getting broader throughout the series) bc he's been working those muscles so much with the constant archery.

Also I didn't draw his quiver bc honestly I forgor, but I like to imagine he's been getting little pins and bobs from a lot of his friends that he's been sticking on his quiver strap. A few examples that come to mind are:

Kayla: A classic hot topic pin with a sun with sunglasses on it.

Leo: A pin made of scrap metal with the alchemical symbol for fire carved in.

Agave: Pinned a clover to Apollo's quiver for good luck. It didn't stay on there long, but it was the thought that counted.

Hazel: A piece of citrine decorated with metal cords.

Lavinia: Another classic hot topic pin, this one is heart shaped and has a picture of Hatsune Miku on it.

Jason: One of the monopoly houses he'd been using to mark the positions for the temples. A lot of the little houses had fallen off the diorama during the car crash at the beginning of TTT. The night after, Apollo asked Reyna if he could make sure the diorama was fixed. Reyna agreed, and he put it back together based on what he remembered. He spent an hour or so gluing on houses and hotels for Mars, Somnus, Fons, Salus, and on and on, until he got to the last one. A red hotel meant to show where the temple of Apollo would go. Apollo poked a little hole in it, and fastened it to his quiver with a bobby pin. It's nestled close to where the strap meets the quiver itself, so it's less likely to fly off.

Meg: Pinned a rose petal to his quiver right before he went to fight Python. It lasted for even less time than Agave's clover did, but again, it was the thought that counted.

[silv3rswirls]

taking care of their drunk girlfriend

Anon asks: Seventeen when they have to take care of their drunk gf? Maybe they're sick, or need a ride home, lost something? However you want to write it!

Note: Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Drinking/being drunk, throwing up in Vernon's, some light mentions of creepy men in Hoshi's

♡Seungcheol♡

Normally you wouldn’t go out much without Seungcheol, especially when you planned on drinking and having a carefree time, but your coworkers insisted. Everything was fine initially, until they all ditched you and you were left alone at the table. Your tipsy fun ending, and leaving you sitting there with a new bout of nerves sitting in your stomach as you looked around. So you text your boyfriend, complaining how they left suddenly, how you felt uncomfortable on your own and would be heading home soon.

Cheol on the other hand feels his face heat up in anger when he gets your messages. He can practically feel your sadness through the texts. He picks you up instead of letting you catch a car home. He fully plans to give your coworkers an earful if he sees them. For the rest of the night, he sighs in frustration and comments about how rude or angry he feels about it, how could they leave you like that? He stays in the rest of the night with you, cuddling and talking until you start to drift off to sleep.

♡Jeonghan♡

You went out for a friend's birthday, leaving Jeonghan with a warning that you wanted to really party with her tonight. He gave you the go-ahead, so long as you checked in now and again with him and kept your location on so he didn’t have to worry. So there he was, comfy in bed watching his show, enjoying an evening alone when he got about a dozen texts from an unknown number; you had lost your phone, your keys, you wanted to come home, etc., etc. etc. He’s out of bed to get you in an instant, but he’s complaining the whole time. How could you be so careless? What do you mean you can’t find your purse? Was no one in their right mind over there?

He’s bothering everyone around you for your lost items, looking everywhere he can think of. While you're clinging to him, feeling emotional over the whole ordeal as he drags you about the club. You’re very lucky that he found your items being held behind the bar. He takes you home and puts you to bed, still (lovingly) teasing you over your drunken mishaps, you won’t be forgetting this anytime soon.

♡Joshua♡

Oh no, you’re not feeling well? Joshua’s taking you home the instant you complain about a stomach ache and the drinks just not agreeing with you. You had gone out with him and some of the other members for dinner and then some drinks afterward, but it seemed your body just didn’t want to partake that night. He grabs your coats and makes sure you’re bundled up for the cold outside and then you go straight back to your place. You get comfy, he makes you drink some water and just take it easy- he doesn’t care if you think he’s overreacting, he’s in sweetest boyfriend in the world mode and doesn’t plan on stopping. 

♡Jun♡

He got home after you, shockingly enough. You had gone out to celebrate a big promotion at work, while he had been stuck late at the company. He felt bad not going out with you but had promised you to celebrate tomorrow. He even picked up a little cake for you on his way back, leaving it on the counter with some flowers. And when he went into the bedroom to greet and suffocate you in a big hug- you had already passed out. The sweetest boyfriend in the world mode activated instantly. When you refuse to get up he starts making you comfy. He takes your shoes off, tries his best to wipe your makeup away, and brushes your hair. He moves you under the covers, tucks you in and leaves a bottle of water and some medicine at your bedside table. He snuggles next to you, ready to celebrate a slow morning with you.

♡Hoshi♡

You were hiding in the bathroom. The stall locked and your eyes glued to your phone as you tried to focus on texting Hoshi, trying to ignore how the room felt like it was spinning. You had gone out with friends- you hardly ever went out, let alone drink much, but they had pestered and pushed for you to let loose for once. Of course, the night you finally decide to go out, they’re creeps crawling all over the place, and your friends have all wandered off. It was becoming too much, you didn’t want to go back out there, let alone wait outside for a car home. With nothing else to do, you texted your boyfriend pleading for advice on how to handle the man outside waiting for you. 

Hoshi tells you to stay put and comes to the club, pushing through the crowd of people and bee-lining for the bathroom. He knocks repeatedly, telling you to come out so he could take you home. And when the creep from earlier tries to stop you, grab at your arm and say something about you coming to dance with him- Hoshi argues with him instantly. He holds your hand on the car ride back to his apartment, he makes you lie down and rest until your tipsiness starts to calm down. He clings to you all night and morning, promises to never let you go out alone and be harassed like that, apologies, and is extra sweet on you.

♡Wonwoo♡

Lost? What do you mean you’re lost?? Wonwoo keeps texting you, but all he gets are messy, misspelled messages about how you’re lost, your friend left you, you want to go home, etc. Luckily, you still had your location on so he ventures out to find you. He hadn’t expected your big night out to end like this, lost? He can’t wrap his mind around the situation; especially when your location is down the street from the club where you met your friends. He’s pretty worried though, but hopes you found safety in the cafe it seemed your phone was at.

And there you are, sitting in the cafe and frowning as you wait for him; drunk and feeling far too silly to get up on your own. He smiles and lets you cling to him as he guides you and home. He’s laughing and shaking his head the whole time you stumble and babble on about nothing in particular. He makes you drink some water and settle into bed, and he sits up well after you fall asleep to watch over you.

♡Jihoon♡

If he didn’t love you so much, he would tell you off the moment you mentioned walking home alone that night. You went out with coworkers and called it a night when you started feeling tipsy. You tried getting a car home but failed. You missed the bus and the next wasn’t scheduled any time soon. So you walked home, it wasn’t that far. The next morning you off-handedly mention it to Jihoon, who nearly drops the plate in his hand. He repeated what you said with a question, nose scrunching a bit as he took it in. He’s mad and spends all morning telling you how dangerous it was, how you should’ve called him and he would’ve left the studio to get you or got you some kind of safe way home. 

♡Dokyeom♡

The two of you went out together to celebrate a friend's birthday. He decided not to drink, not really in the mood for it while you were happy to drink alongside the birthday girl all night. He takes care of you the whole time. He doesn’t let you wonder, holds your drinks, and watches your drink when you leave for the restroom. He even sneaks in glasses of water whenever he can. He takes you home with him, makes sure to help you get your coat and shoes off, and lets you flop onto the sofa with a happy sigh. 

You both had a pretty fun night, or so he thought until he noticed tears shining in your eyes. You throw yourself onto him, crying and rambling about how much of a good boyfriend he was, how much you loved him, and how he always took such good care of you. He’s about to start crying alongside you. Hushing your tears, and carrying you off to bed. You fall asleep cuddled together.

♡Mingyu♡

You went out with an old group of friends you haven't seen since graduating. You hadn’t been keen on the idea but decided to give it a chance. Unfortunately, old drama was brought up and you were caught in the middle. Nonstop arguing and jabbing at one another, the drinks weren’t helping so you decided to leave and let them hash the rest out on their own. Mingyu hadn’t expected you home for another few hours. But when you come home early, tipsy, and red with anger? He’s at your side in an instant. When you start to recite all the drama between your friends that happened? He’s listening intently, taking mental notes, and gasping at every twist in the story. He’s agreeing with you 100%, he’s so entertained hearing your drunken rants, and sides with you completely. 

♡Minghao♡

Minghao had advised you not to drink too much when you mentioned going out with your sibling for their birthday. You kept his warning in mind the moment you began to feel the room spin a little too fast and a nagging pain in the back of your head started to pound. You called it an early night and caught a cab to his place. He was a bit surprised to see you, as you had planned on staying with them for the night. But he can’t turn you down. You’re complaining about your head, how you’re not feeling well and just want to be around him. The sweetest boyfriend in the world mode activated. He gets you water and some medicine, offers to make you some tea, and maybe even tries to get you to eat something small. He lets you cuddle and lay on him all evening, rubs your back, and massages your head to try and help. If you’re still not feeling well the next morning, the sweet treatment continues.

♡Seungkwan♡

Honestly, he’s not above scolding you in your drunk state over how unsafe it was for you to drink so much tonight. He’s not truly mad at you, he just wants to make sure you’re taking good care of yourself and being safe. He doesn’t care if it's going in one ear and out the other, but the moment he notices your eyes well up with tears he’s lowering his tone and asking what’s wrong. He feels bad, holding your hand and apologizing if he sounded too harsh. He lets you cry all you want on his shoulder, cuddling into the crook of his neck and drunkenly ranting about any little thing that stuck in your mind.

He decides to put you to bed, urging you not to worry anymore and just to rest now that you’re emotionally drained, drunk, and getting sleepier every minute. He will properly pester you about your recklessness tomorrow, and for now, he’ll let you cling to his arm and drift off to sleep- eagerly of course.

♡Vernon♡

He’s trying his best, really he is, but his words offer little comfort in the moment. You’re drunk, hunched over in the bathroom throwing up everything that was in your stomach after a rowdy night out. He’s just standing in the doorway asking if you’re good at first. Eventually, when everything begins to calm down he’s kneeling beside you, rubbing your back and asking if you’re okay again. While you brush your teeth and rinse your face he gets some water and waits for you to crawl into bed and curl up next to him. He rubs your back and tells you it’s okay, he’s not upset with you for getting sick or drinking too much. He tries to stay up with you until you can fall asleep, and if he passes out before you he makes you promise to try and wake him up if you need him. 

♡Dino♡

You both went out drinking to celebrate a friend’s promotion. Laughing and enjoying the cheery atmosphere until it was time to head back to his apartment. You flop in the living room, both silent as you soak up the alcohol and comfy vibes; until you mention that you’re hungry. He sits up instantly because no way- he’s starving and takeout sounds amazing right now. He orders nearly the whole menu for you, not even caring what he ends up getting for himself as long as you’re happy with what he gets. You stay up late, trying and failing to finish your feast before going to bed. Giggling between bites and poking fun at each other.

[whirlybirbs]

Had a dream about having a relationship with all might and I needed to read a fic to get it out of my brain… bruised ego effectively ruined me for the better.

I am haunted by their dynamic and their relationship! hello secret lovers for decades!! they just make me sick with their lovey dovey eyes to each other

Toshinori Yagi's mouth is hot against yours, his hands bunched into the back of your sweater as you gasp and break away only long enough to take a breath. The kiss is tender and desperate and brimming with longing that's spilled over into a stolen moment in the dark of the fall evening.

The two of you are supposed to be doing rounds on the campus — it's Halloween weekend. There have been rumbles of parties planned in the dorms all week. Principal Nezu assumed assigning All Might and Derecho to the residence hall rounds would deter the shenanigans. After all, you're the two most respected teachers on staff:

All Might, and the ex-villain who served as his co-hero for nearly eleven years.

(That's certainly all you two are to anyone else; in private, it's a separate matter. It's love and it's home, it's holding one another's hearts in your hands. All Might and Derecho... the rumors are true but only you and him know that.) 

Toshinori's bangs tickle your nose, and the one huge hand that cradles your cold cheek brushes your scarf aside. He's pressed you to the brick wall of the dorm, out of sight and out of mind. He looks handsome like this — bundled up in a jacket and his patterned scarf. His dress shoes nudge your boots.

It feels like he's sixteen again. It feels like he's whole. He's loved you for years but this moment sits different in his heart. Everything he's fought for: you, these kids, this school, the sound of peace... It's all here, in the palm of his hands. 

He hunches over you to steal another kiss that sweeps you into the clouds, that drags you up into the stars; it's one you fight back from, one that makes you smile and giggle against his lips. 

He never had time for kissing back in school.

Even during the height of All Might, he had to make time for it. But with you, it was easy.

Things look different than they did all those years ago. 

You're both older now. He's lost weight, and his injury is waning the days of his career. Your hair is longer, there are more greys. You both have wrinkles when you laugh and it's a blessing. This age. All of it spent together, all of it spent playing this game of All Might and Derecho, of Toshinori Yagi and you. 

And still, he's got it.

"We've given them thirty minutes," you rasp against his cheek as he nips at your jaw; your breath curls in the cold air, "By now, the third years have definitely started in on the drinking—"

You're right. You are. 

"They're kids," he rumbles; his voice is like warm velvet, "Let them have fun."

"We're the fun police tonight, Toshi," you remind him as his hands wander beneath your jacket and sweater; greedy hands anchor themselves to the soft skin of your sides, "You know the rules, no parties on campus."

"I went to parties," he breathes against your throat, "Look how I turned out."

Maybe he's right. Another thirty minutes before the next round won't kill them. Right?

...Right?

Whatever. Their teachers deserve to have a little bit of fun, too.

— a reference to this fic here ;

[chosos-mascara]

all my love, suguru

chapter 5

summary: after an unexpected night spent with your close friend, you find yourself pregnant, and unable to tell him so. will you be able to come to terms with this news, or will it destroy the delicate relationship you’d had left?

chapter warnings: mentions of declining mental health (suguru), general angst, secret pregnancy/child

masterlist

⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆⋆₊⋆

30 months before

"I have something I wanted to talk to you about." You're watching him at his desk as you walk into his classroom, closing the door meekly behind you. The sickness coupled with this anxiety is overwhelming; exhausting. You're roughly ten weeks along, your first scan recently booked for two weeks time, all while Suguru is none the wiser to your current condition.

He's grading papers from a recent mock exam, and it's apparent he's much more interested in the stacks before him than you as his eyes barely rise, the red marker still between his fingers. You sigh. "Suguru, did you hear me?" He looks up from the reports, bags dark beneath his eyes. You pause in your actions as you mull over his expression. "Are you okay?" There's that concern you had for him that night, back again. You wonder if he realises that, too. Or perhaps you were only procrastinating by creating some sort of conversation, though it's better to open with something like this, isn't it?

"Sorry, what's up?" Suguru acts casual, but he can't deny that your visit is just adding to the mounds of stress he feels in this moment. He doesn't have the energy to pour into conversation, he can barely read these student's scrawny handwriting. "I was wondering if we could talk?" You begin to walk closer with some hesitance, stopping at his desk. He looks up at you, and finally puts that pen down.

"What about?" He's nervous. "Well, I just..." You trail off, your chest heavy. Your hands are shaking, even with one placed over the other. They're clammy, and god, you feel so sick. "That night, when we..." Again, you're not able to finish your sentence, instead averting your gaze to the wall and swallowing. "Listen," Suguru stands, and when you look back to him, you frown. "I don't think we should pursue anything." 

You stand in silence for a few moments; he's completely missed the mark. Raising your hands, you shake your head, trying to gesture to him that this wasn't what you'd intended, but it's lost on him when he continues.

"It was a misjudgement, I didn't consider how this could impact our lives, and for that I apologise." You stare wide eyed. You couldn't tell him how yes, this really has impacted your life, because you realise now how wrong this would go. This truly was a secret you'd have to bring to the grave, because you're sure he'd never speak to you again either way.

"You're right, I'm sorry." It's weak, and all you manage to push out.

Suguru feels reams of guilt when he watches your head bow, hearing quiet, defeated words from your lips. He's lying to himself if he truly believes this is for the best, because no one makes him feel quite how you do.

He replays that memory most nights, wondering if he should have given you a chance - he didn't even let you get a word out before he was pushing you away. He spent years wishing he'd done something different, wondering if anything would change if only he'd had opportunity to speak to you again.

He thinks of that memory when he's walking to Yaga's office, opening the door to be met with you.

Suguru thinks he's finally lost it, because why, after two and a half years would you be here, sitting at Yaga's desk like you'd never really left? His hands are brought upward to rub into his eyes, and he blinks once, twice, squeezing them closed before finally focusing back upon your seated frame. You're definitely there, you're definitely real. 

Suguru hadn't even noticed the child sat to your left until moments later, a small doll between her hands, her hair worn in a short ponytail. He doesn't linger over her presence for long though, because he's drawn back to you.

The door had clicked open moments ago and you had prepared yourself for Suguru's berating, though seconds tick by, and no words come. You're still sat in silence beside your daughter and opposite your old boss after a minute's pass, still an empty seat at your right. You know he's shocked by his hesitance to enter, but the suspense is only twisting the knife embedded into you upon his entry. In this limbo, you're left to ruminate on every doubt that had grown over the past few years, on every bad decision you've made leading up to now. 

Finally, after a minute or so of deliberating, Suguru decides to discern the reason for this meeting, and uses his curiosity as encouragement to come and sit in that empty chair.

You've no alleviation from his stare even when he's seated. He's taking you in, the new you, the mature you, still contemplating his sanity as he wonders if you're just a fragment of his madness. There's still an internal struggle while he wonders why you're here, and what this could possibly have to do with him. Suguru does manage to voice a few words through his turmoil, ever downplaying his mental state with his relaxed tone. 

"I thought you left jujutsu society?" 

His voice still feels like honey in your ears, his presence beside you causing your skin to prickle with cold, goosebumps breaking the surface. Eyes that had been glued to Yaga's desk finally lift, and you turn your head to face him after all of this time. Brown eyes greet you, purple bags weighing the skin down. The glint of hope that Suguru could forgive you begins to ebb, your lips tightening. 

"I did." Your answer rings true, at least. Your eyes falter when you can't take his gaze any longer, instead averting to sit at his lips, then shoulders. He looks the same as always, but his aura feels different. There's sombreness to him now, and you blame yourself for leaving. 

"Should we begin?" Yaga clears his throat uncomfortably, and you're reminded of his presence. You nod with deep reluctance, removing your sight from the man that still holds a place in your heart. "Geto," Yaga begins, and you focus on your breaths. This is it, it's really happening. "You're being assigned a special case; a new student." He gestures toward your Keiko, and Suguru leans forward so he can look past you, his emotionless expression interrupted by disgust. 

"She's a toddler?" His disapproval is thick. "Yaga, are you insane?" Suguru remembers the last person assigned to his care, and her untimely death. This was no world for a child, it was barely a world for him, either. Everyone seems to get on with their lives after witnessing tragedies, and he still doesn't understand how. He has never been left unscathed by the things he's seen, but he's sure to handle those massacres better than a child who would stand at his knee's height. 

Yaga peers to you behind his glasses, and you can feel the luxury of your silence ending. 

"She's at risk if she doesn't learn to harness her cursed energy." You speak, praying for his compliance. "I don't want her to get hurt, Suguru." 

Suguru stares at your expression, looking up, and down as he processes your words among the many racing thoughts he houses. Who was this child to you, why would you care? But after all these years he's brewed upon his actions, paired with the fact he can stare into you and see nothing but kindness and care, his objection merges into something else. 

He doesn't speak, but he doesn't have to, because you've already seen it on his face. He'll help. 

"Thank you." Your words of gratitude are genuine, and they're spoken to him with care. It feels a bit like you're the only two people in the room, studying the other with a sense of longing. He swallows back the old feelings that are trying to push through, and turns to face Yaga once more.

Throughout this meeting Suguru glances to that girl, a question pushing the back of his mind. Who was she to you?

Keiko's in bed when he knocks. At first, you're spooked by the sound and your cursed energy is focused into your fist, though looking through the peephole eases your fears. Your flame dissipates, and you open, not sure what to expect from your night-time visitor.

"What're you doing here?" There's a small dip in your voice. "It's late." You try and mask your unease, though he's able to read you like a book.

"That evening, before you left - what were you going to tell me?" 

When you look closer you realise Suguru's hair is loose, strays floating out from his bun, a redness at his ears from where he'd been toying with the lobes. It doesn't take you long to realise what he's referencing, and you open the door wider. You have to accept your fate, that it's now, or never. "Come, take a seat." 

Those are words Suguru didn't want to hear. Since your meeting, he's been asking himself the same question, who is this child? And why should Suguru of all people be summoned to teach her, when he's sure Satoru would've not only volunteered himself, but been better at the job in every way? 

Then he thought about her hair colour, and how he didn't get to catch her face. The timelines, the fact she's staying with you - the pregnancy test. He kicks himself for not questioning you at the time, and for dwelling over these surely disconnected details, until he thought to that afternoon, when he shut you down with haste. He thought about your body language, and how stupid he was to assume that's what you were going to suggest, how self centred he'd been the entire time. 

He sits down quickly with his heart feeling about to leap out of his mouth, a warmth coddling his ears. 

"A few weeks after we slept together, I realised I was late." You start from the beginning as you stand opposite him. You can't look at his face, arms crossed, you stare at his feet. "I wanted to tell you that evening, but you made it clear you didn't want anything else, and I got cold feet." 

His anxiety fades, morphing into a feeling he can't quite place his finger on. It might be that in this moment, Suguru can truly say he's experiencing heartbreak, and the repercussions of his own actions. If he'd have just checked up on you, things would've gone so differently.  "I have a child?" He speaks slowly, unsure of himself. It doesn't feel like it's sinking in, those words don't feel as if they are describing his own life.

"She's yours." Your confirmation sends prickles over his skin. Your things are still mostly in boxes, though there's a photo you've already set out beside the TV, one that you pick up and hand to him. It's you and Keiko, taken on her 2nd birthday. You'd had to celebrate alone, but you decorate anyway, a big '2' balloon within the background. She's smiling, her baby teeth showing while cuddled into your side. It'd taken a while to get a good photo with her, standing your phone on the couch and using the timer function, though after a few you had come out with this one. It was perfect. 

Suguru holds the frame between his fingers, looking at the little girl beside you. She looked a lot like him, the same eyes, the same shade of hair, but she housed your smile. Tears clouded his vision as he wonders how he's missed out on two years with someone he should've been there for, he's missed so much already. 

"Why did you come here?" Suguru asks, a warmth rolling over his cheek.  "She inherited your technique." You swallow. "A few weeks ago, we came into contact with a curse, but before I was able to exercise it, she ingested it, just like you. A few days after that, she was witnessed by a grade three, and we were called upon by the higher-ups." 

"I never wanted this for her, Suguru. I just wanted to watch her grow through normal means - I know it was a lot to wish for, but she's my baby. I can't bare to picture her dead in some ditch after they rinse her of everything she has." 

"I'll refuse to teach her." He's desperate through his tears, mind racing. "Then they'll just find someone else. There's really no point, unless you're really adverse."

"Why couldn't you have just told me?" He talks as if his words are sapping his lifeforce, and you only watch as he slumps forward, heartbroken and confused. That guilty feeling has hit a new high. "Same reason you shut me out after that night - I was scared, and decided it was better to leave than to face what we did." It's wrong to defend your actions, they should be unforgivable. But, Suguru doesn't seem to put much energy into his disgust with you, because he's just too upset. "I've missed out on two years of my child's life, that's not the same." His hands shake, whether it's rage or distress, he can't tell.

"I'm so sorry." You bow your head, ashamed. "I was so scared, please forgive me." Suguru looks up at you, a heavy breath on his lips. It's not as if you hadn't tried to tell him; he'd practically shunned you. It wasn't fair to give you all the blame, even if it would save his sanity. "Do you wanna meet her?"

"Keiko, baby." She's clutching a small bear against her chest when she walks through the door, rubbing her eyes. The small girl's brown hair is a little messy, and she's still in a pair of cutesy pink pyjamas. "I want you to meet someone." You voice to her slowly while holding her little hand, your heart racing. There's no textbook answer when it comes to difficult parenting decisions, and uncomfortable situations. How do you tell a two year old they have a father in which they've never met?

Suguru's reluctant to look at the doorway when he hears you two coming through. This is the biggest moment of his life, meeting his child, his heartrate reflects this in it's unforgiving pace, his breaths leaving him before he's ready to breathe back in. He'll have to count down, he thinks, to force himself to look at his kin - there's no way he can surely meet her eye otherwise. Five seconds and he'll look, four now. Three, and he's sweating, shaking at two, swallowing harshly before he counts one, eyes forced from their spot over the floorboards to flicker up at the little girl standing at her mother's side.

God, it feels like nothing on this planet has ever mattered to Suguru, because in those brown eyes, there's so much innocence. He can feel his heart melt as he recognises so much of himself in her, his DNA, used to build such a perfect daughter with the cutest version of his character. Her huge, wide eyes, cute roundish nose - but her lips are all you. 

This child is a part of him he didn't know existed, a jigsaw piece melded to fit right within his chest. There's some kind of primal urge to protect her at all costs, to hold her closely, which is why Suguru finds himself at his knees with open arms in search of her comfort, to have his forbearing body embraced by his entire world. A child he'd never known is suddenly the key to his happiness, because she is everything he isn't.

"Hi." He wants to say more, yet a million words couldn't describe how he feels. Suguru can't decide on what to say, so instead settles with that small greeting. She smiles at him nonetheless, and you watch as his eyes soften, a smile over his lips.  "Hello." Her voice is small, much like her stature, and she's still sleepy. Suguru puts a hand over her shoulder, and you find yourself overcome with a grin you can't hide. Despite your anxieties, you know Suguru will love her as much as you do.

"Remember I told you about your daddy? This is him." You're gentle, and you're not sure she'll understand entirely, only seeing that family dynamic on films and tv shows. You'd told her a few times she has a daddy, though she's never seemed all too interested beyond that confirmation. Though she stares at him wide eyed, a smile growing over her cheeks. 

"Daddy!" She repeats, and Suguru has to stop himself from breaking apart at that name. When he'd felt hopeless, weak and depressive, so many times he wondered if his existence would ever improve. Whether he'll be anything more than a sorcerer for jujutsu society to rinse, toss into battle and bury when things grew too difficult. He's grown to be Satoru's friend and not much more.

But with this child before him, he sees some form of light. There's a reason for him to keep going, because he doesn't want his girl to feel anything he's endured. He looks to you for the first time since laying his eyes on her, to your watery eyes, and his heart feels disgustingly full. This is what he's been missing out on. 

a/n: sooo this is it. i hope it met your expectations, honestly i really wanted to put more into this ending and i feel i could've done better, but life has been such a whirlwind as of late. i think this is the last post i'll make before finding myself on a hiatus, so think of this fic as a semi-good-bye. thank you so much for all of the love i have received, it truly means the world!

tags-

 @hojoslutoru  @itztamar @magey0412 @strflp  @kaeyakaikai @animeisforkings @emikisses @boredwithwrath @karazorel7 @tomiokasecretlover @mrsoharaa @magey0412 @thisbicc @aemiliabruno @zenys @sukunaspillow @caixgee @ssetsuka @pinkpunkdynamite @harlamarie @cephei-ea @dazailover1900

[miruac]

dating kozume kenma headcanons - part 2

masterlist

navigation

warnings: not proofread, movie and timeskip spoilers, very self indulgent

a/n: EHEHEHEHEH I LOVE MY INTROVERTED GAMER BABY | word vomit. this is just pure word vomit.

during nationals when they were away, kenma always texted you before and after a game(kinda shocking since he's dry asl)

he would be a little clingy, especially when he was sleepy since he had no filter then

but he literally like slept so late there...(THAT ONE SCENE OF HIM WAKING UP WITH BEDHEAD <3)

before their match with karasuno, he sent you a gif of a happy dancing cat(it was him trying to convey emotion)

after the match, he sent you a text that read 'i guess i'm coming home'

which made you happy he was coming back, but also sad that they lost

right when they got back home, you went over to his house to give him some congratulatory apple pie and cuddles

obviously he got a fever and was literally bedridden for a couple of days, so you had to wait a little while before seeing the poor boy

but when you did, he was still a little sick so he just clung onto you(

when he's sleepy, i headcanon he likes his hair to be played with and when you do it he just falls asleep

timeskip to the future, and its been like what, 7 years? you've moved in with him into his house, and it's pretty casual at this point

he always comes to bed late since he stays up on stream, and he ends up waking up so late

but before you go to bed, he's almost always taking a break from his stream to kiss you goodnight

sometimes if you're feeling clingy AND sleepy, he'll let you sit on his lap and sleep there while he's on stream

guys everyone writes kenma as if he's someone who's lazy as hell, and cant cook

BUT NOT ME!!! i know kenma can cook because he isn't that self-negligent, like if he moved out by himself then surely he knows how to somewhat provide for himself

he doesn't cook much because he doesn't like how much effort it takes, but when he cooks its kinda fire

you guys alternate, but its usually you cooking

i know he doesn't eat much canonly but loves seeing you in the kitchen its so domestic

when you catch him staring his lil bitch ass smirks at you and is like 'you look good in my kitchen.'

EPHASIS ON "MY KITCHEN" LIKE AODJSAOLDJASJDL

guys stop he's so cute when hes posessive

SPEAKING OF POSESSIVENESS OMG

ok now kenma's posessiveness varies from day to day

if he sees another guy with you, he doesn't rage immediately but when he sees them holding you in a way how he does? that's when he slides between you guys and takes you back

but also sometimes when you're about to go out in revealing clothes, he gets all pouty and clingy

he doesn't let go of you and looks up you with such pleading eyes(im so weak. im so weak for him omg)

guys he ALWAYS goes to pick you up himself

most likely he's going to bed by the time youre done, he can spare a couple minutes getting you

and plus i know he may not act like it, but your safety is like one of his top priorities

especially since you're the partner of a famous streamer, he does his best to make you comfortable

whether that's having you sit out of frame when he's on stream, or keeping you hidden

the media's really mean, and he'd do anything to prevent you from seeing or witnessing something hurtful just because you're dating him

he takes all the necessary precautions he knows of, and always tries to keep your identity anonymous

but when you felt comfortable enough, you slowly started to creep into his streams

at first it would just be a hand popping into frame, to you literally napping on his lap while he streamed

he told his fans that he was taken before and they thought he was lying, but since they've seen you they're amazed that he actually pulled

overall, his audience loves you and they literally see how kenma lights up when he looks at you

like his eyes are so soft and glassy and hazed with love(im gonna cry. why isn't he real. please i want him so bad)

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

2nd a/n: guys this is literally not proofread this is such shit work like im not even processing these thoughts in my brain IM LITERALLY JUST WORD VOMITTING RN ok im done thank you for listening to my ted talk GOODNIGHT

[aliferous-ly]

A ghost haunted season 10. Certainly not a malicious one, if a bit mischievous - and one had to keep a careful eye out to catch him.

Jevin heard him first, deep underground. He was hunting iron, early in the season, and he was having the worst luck. He even looked up where iron should be, to make sure the updates hadn't changed anything! Alas, the iron evaded him. Jevin might have to resort to begging and then jump straight to a farm.

And he kept hearing these crackly, faint snickers. At first he thought he'd been on a voice channel accidentally, but, no, his comm wasn't connected. Then, just to make sure, he disconnected it entirely - but the laughter prevailed. Jevin chalked it up to too many sleepless nights, and went to find an overachieving hermit already building an iron farm.

Stress heard him next, but as someone who heard murmuring monsters on a good day, she didn't give it a second thought. Clear as day she heard an, "oh, bugger." She thought, you and me both, monster, before going along with her day.

Then it was Xisuma, though he didn't hear anyone, he saw. It was a mere glimmer out of the corner of his eye. White hair, stout, pickaxe slung lovingly over a shoulder. When he looked back there was nothing. He resolved to run diagnostics on his helmet, because something was clearly haywire.

And in Joel's defense, he was both exhausted and brand new to hermitcraft. It wasn't like people had nametags on, they were a group of friends! So when an old man grumbled by, lost as could be within the shopping district, Joel furrowed his brows but ultimately was too tired to ruminate. He overheard the man saying something about shroomlights and called out, "Tango has the permit, but he doesn't have a shop up yet!"

The man startled, muttered something about "permits?" before scuttling off like a spooked horse. Joel shrugged. It was called hermitcraft, after all. There had to be loads of people he hadn't met yet.

Small instances added up. Scar fell asleep making a tree, hidden amongst the branches, and was spooked awake by the sound of a player dying. But when he checked his comm, nothing showed up. A dream, he thought uneasily.

I just need sleep, Tango thought.

Wow, someone's wearing a sick costume, Skizz thought. Too bad I'm too busy to go chat right now!

Who's messing with my hourglass now? Doc thought. Only, there wasn't anyone else on the server at the time. Probably an armor stand prank.

It all came to head when Hypno stumbled across his fifth stripmine in one mining session. He rolled his eyes, because of course Wels had created tunnels beneath Hypno's place just to be a nuisance. Except when he pointed it out to Wels, who was on call with Hypno but was busy caving, Wels expressed confusion.

"I've only made one or two strip mines. And they're not near you," Wels said.

Hypno saw a wisp of white hair turning a corner. "Haha, very funny, Wels. Come on out."

"I'm not joking?" Wels said in confusion. In the same beat he got the achievement for sneaking successfully past a shrieker for the first time and Hypno was far too high up to be near an ancient city.

"Maybe it's someone else?" Hypno murmured, checking who was online. Grian and Joel, who were having their own shenanigans blowing up the comms (it involved TNT, so the blowing up was quite literal). Impulse had just left. Etho, who could be a contender if Hypno didn't know he'd fallen asleep at the post office three hours ago. Plus, what sort of prank would this be, from Etho?

He explored the endless strip mines and got so lost that he had to dig his way up. When he mentioned the strangeness to Keralis, the man lit up and exclaimed that he'd found the same thing, how weird was that, huh?

Hypno investigated. If there was a bug in the world he'd need to know.

"You know, it might not be a bug," Cleo said meaningfully. They fidgeted with a tear in their clothes.

"What else would it be?" Hypno asked, mystified.

"Maybe it's a player. You know. Someone we never removed from the whitelist."

Cleo raised an eyebrow. It wasn't in their nature to beat around the bush, but at the same time they didn't want to act crass. Not for this.

Tentative realization trickled through Hypno. He nodded and abruptly left, unsure how to feel.

The information spread slowly through the rest of the server. Joe took to leaving boxes of torches and iron pickaxes about, and every so often would have to refill them. He didn't ask, but everyone swore they hadn't been stealing. Who would need an iron pickaxe at this point, anyway?

One night, Cub let off a slew of fireworks that were spherical and solid green. He heard a faint chuckle on the breeze, and raised a drink in quiet salute.

So, yes. A ghost haunted season 10. But ghost haunting had such a negative connotation, didn't it? The hermits, if they spoke about him at all, much preferred to call him the True Hermit who never left.

[junipers-archive]

✧ Princess *ੈ✩

Word Count: 900

Includes: SMUT, sub!reader x kinda soft!dom!lily, reader is obsessed with Lily's boobs- kinda perv!reader, dirty talk, teasing, reader has praise!kink & mommy!kink, multiple orgasms

A/N: Enjoy! First Lily smut I've done but I'm obsessed with her so let me know if you like it :]

Younger you would be freaking out right now. Because Lily Evans is straddled on your lap, talking about her day and playing with your hair.

You've had a crush on Lils since the day you met her, but now, well now you have her, and you just can't get enough. You've fallen so deeply into infatuation with the girl that your cheeks heat even thinking about her.

Okay maybe you're freaking out right now too. But its different because you're older...and the sight of her bra-less tits directly level with your face evokes a very different heat to develop.

Everytime she shifts even a little, they move, and if you brush them ever so slightly on 'accident' her nipples harden. Soon all you can think about is kissing, sucking hickies and completely having your way with them. The pretty noises she'd make.

A slight tug on your hair brings you out of your sick and perverted daze, "Y/n, baby are you even listening to me?"

It takes everything in you to refrain from burying your head in her chest out of embarrassment. "M'sorry Lils, just distracted."

You see her irritation subside at your doe-eyed appearance, realizing the unintended torture she's been putting you through for the past ten minutes. "Aw princess, you feelin' subby for mommy?"

"Well - I want - cause- and you-" you cut yourself off by tugging harshly on the very thin, very see through white tank top she's unintentionally been teasing you with.

The movement provides enough stimulation to have Lily gasp, which leads to you hiding your heated face into her chest, mouthing sloppily at the top her pretty tits poking out of her tank now.

When she makes no further movements or demands you begin fall deeper into subspace. "M-Mommy please jus' wanna make you feel good!"

When you hear her moan quietly you take it as your sign to keep going, leaving hickies on her breasts and lower neck as you make your way to her lips. With the help of her guidance and tugs on your hair of course.

But before you can give her the kiss you've been waiting for she slips off her small and in your opinion, quite burdensome tank top, leaving you breathless and flustered as ever.

She has to bite her lip to stop herself from giggling at your zoned out expression. She's about to tease you about it when you attatch yourself to her left nipple, teasing the other with your fingers.

In the end all she can get out is a few praises. "Mmm-good girl, such a good girl, making mommy feel so good-"

You don't know how long you stay like that, only slightly registering the passing time as she begins to grind down on your thighs. Her mini skirt providing very little barrier between your jeans and her clothed cunt. You here her praises and demands that you help her go faster but, again you're so focused on her beautiful tits its not until she's come twice that you look up.

And even then when you do its cause she pulls back your head, causing you to whine, ordering you to pull off your shirt and pushing you so you lay flat on your back.

She makes quick work of stripping you of your jeans and panties, teasing your clit as soon as they're off, which makes all sort of profanities emit from your small mouth.

"You're so wet f'me princess, how long were you perving on mommy's tits? So dirty, my pretty girl."

Her words almost make you cum right there and then, barely touched and pathetic as ever. "I-I wasn't p-perving mommy, jus' needed you and mmph-"

Your pathetic excuse for in fact perving on your girlfriend is lost as she plunges two thick fingers into your pussy. "No? So if you weren't staring a mommy's tits, then you were listening right? What did mommy say?"

Your mind is so fuzzy you barley register she's asked you a question, until she pinches your clit to get your attention back. "I-I-you were talkin about mmmph-"

She's edging you with no mercy curling her fingers perfectly to hit your sweet spot and switching between playing with your clit with her other fan and sucking on it with her pretty lips. "What was that baby? About what?"

You throw your head back, arching your back as you get closer to your orgasm, moaning as she circles your little bud with her tongue. Your hands immediately grab on to her red locks, fighting between pushing her closer and pulling her away.

"About-ah-the t-test in Slughorns class- ah fuck! Needa cum, mommy,mommy-please let me cum! Please, please, please-"

Your begging is so cute, Lily is easily convinced to let you, bringing your to your end with her soft and dirty words. "Go ahead princess, cum on mommy's face, make a mess on my fingers, be a good girl, you can do it."

Your orgasm tumbles over you like a wave of pure pleasure, white and hot, with you screaming out her name and arching your back off the bed. You're still recovering as Lily sits you to straddle on her lap.

When you blearily open your eyes you're still facing her tits, due to your height difference. But this time you see a white iridescent and sticky substance smeared on them, and with a sudden realization you know exactly what she's done.

With a smirk on her face she orders you once again, not missing a beat:

"Go ahead baby, lick your cum off mommy's tits."

[daenysx]

For fluff ideas for modern!aemond, maybe something with aemond and the reader at the beach with his family and he thanks the reader for putting up with them but they remind him that loving his family is part of loving him, even if they're crazy sometimes? If that sparks anything for you :)

- aemond-apologist 🐭

thank you for requesting, angel, i really hope you like this!!! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, please let me know your opinions if you like it guys <333333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

you hate the way aemond looks upset when he's supposed to have a good time.

he can't help it, not really. the beach days are lovely, when it's only you and him. he enjoys his time with you, he likes when you insist on sunscreen and snacks, he likes swimming and holding you close to his body under water. you still smile though, nothing stops your smile when you're with him. even his fucked up family.

everyone seems like they mind their own business but the air is tense. you catch them looking at each other with somewhat concealed despise. uncle daemon smirks at aemond's grandfather sneakily, alicent keeps looking at rhaenyra, jace and luke are thankfully mostly spend time with baela and rhaena, and aegon- he's busy getting drunk and no one pays him any attention. the only person who sits with you other than aemond is helaena. she reads a new book, looks lost in it.

aemond's father is whole another issue but aemond insists sitting separately from them. you find a quiet place, somewhere secured from sunshine. it bothers aemond's eye when it's too much, you make sure he wears sunglasses. he looks bored, sick of the dramatics of his family, and a bit embarrassed. you reach for his hand.

"hey." you whisper. "are you okay?"

he nods, gives you a reassuring smile. "i'm okay."

"you look sad." you say. "we can go swimming if you want."

he rubs the back of your hand. "i prefer waiting a bit longer, it's still sunny. i can come with you if you want now-"

you are quick to shake your head. "we can wait."

aemond pulls you to his chest. he kisses your hair with a gentle hand on your bare shoulder. at the beginning of your relationship, he was more hesitant to show any affection in front of his family. now, he doesn't care about any of their reactions. it's a nice thing, realizing his time with you matters more. you are happy with him being so comfortable with you, his hands always seek you, his lips always find an excuse to brush a small kiss on your face.

"i brought your book." you say, remembering you took the book from his nightstand when you're leaving the apartment. "it's in my bag."

"thank you, sweetheart." he mumbles against your head. "i can read it later."

you lift your head to see him. his hair loosely tied on his neck, sunglasses covering his eyes. you gently take it off to make an eye contact.

"we don't have to stay here, aemond." you say. "you're not having a good time, we could just leave."

"i'm enjoying." he says. "i have you. don't have to care about them."

"i mean, not because i'm bothered or anything, i like spending time with your family for you but- you look sad. i don't like seeing you sad."

aemond knows you mean it when you say you like spending time with his family. maybe normally you wouldn't wanna be in a room with so many troubled people, he knows his family is not easy but you endure your time with them for him. you're the kindest soul he knows and it's not your problem, he's a big guy and he should handle it if he doesn't want to spend time with these people. you smile knowingly, he kisses your curved lips.

"i'm not sad, i promise." he says. "i'll be better when we swim. i like being here with you, you know that."

you nod. he hides you to his chest, away from everyone. he's not gonna share you, he's got into his head too much but you don't mind. you wrap an arm around him to settle down.

"can we have a nap?" you ask. when you wake up he'll be your aemond again.

"of course." he says. the summer breeze is nice on his face, carrying the smell of sea. he waits a second before saying, "thank you for being here. for dealing with all this."

"i love you." you say before closing your eyes to cool wind on your skin. "i don't mind all this. i just love you."

aemond whispers the words back into your ear. he likes when you sleep in his arms, when you trust him enough to close your eyes with him. he holds you until you wake up, that's all he was meant to be.

[theamberfist]

Like Father, Like Child | Part 3 | Alastor x Exorcist! Reader

Familial! Alastor + Exorcist! Adopted Child! Reader

Description:

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of murder, fallen angels) (gender neutral reader) (reader is Alastor's adopted child from when they were alive) (Part 3 of Like Father, Like Child)

Part 1, Part 2

❀ We've got a song in this one! (Sometimes I like to write in songs I find if they fit the scene since Hazbin Hotel is a musical after all!) ❀

Words: 3,687

"...Vox?" Velvette's voice finally called out, breaking the silence that had been enveloping the room. In front of her, the TV demon sat staring at the screen and panting heavily; almost like he'd just run a marathon that he'd been severely unprepared for. "You alright...?" When her companion didn't answer, she exchanged a glance with Valentino, who simply shrugged as if this wasn't her problem too.

Velvette rolled her eyes, leaning forward to gently touch Vox's shoulder in an attempt to wake him from whatever trance he'd gone into while watching the battle on TV. The second her hand made contact with him, he seemed to finally snap out of it with a start.

"Vox?" The fashionable overlord asked with a bit of concern in her voice. To her surprise and slight relief, the man demon with the TV head began laughing. It started quietly at first but as time went on, the sound got louder and louder, progressing into full-on cackles as he finally leaned back and cast his gaze upward. His laughter could probably heard from all the way down the hall as he brought a hand up to his head. Had he had any hair, he likely would have been running his fingers through it manically. 

Finally, the laughter subsided and he breathed a long, deep gasp. "Fuck, that was a show!" He exclaimed excitedly. The other two overlords watched him with interest, but also a bit of concern. 

"Who...Knew?" Vox finally asked as slowly stood from his chair and headed closer to the TV, which was paused on an image of Alastor and you right before you melted away into the shadows. "Who knew the great Radio Demon actually had something he cared about?"

"And an exorcist, too." Val added as he blew another puff from his cigarette. "I wouldn't have expected him to know anyone from heaven."

"If they're an exorcist then they're probably just as sick in the head as he is." Velvette said, returning to her phone now to post on her story, "Interesting how he seemed to defend them though, wasn't it?" 

"What the hell was that?!" Vox asked suddenly, putting a hand to the TV screen, "They were supposed to be fighting against the angels and then he just goes and saves one of them? What are they, friends or something?" 

"Don't get too jealous..." Velvette mumbled under her breath so that Vox didn't hear it. 

"He probably thinks he can use them for something," Valentino shrugged. It would be idiotic for Alastor to even try that, though; everyone knew the angels would never work alongside demons for anything, and especially not the exorcists. Unless, of course, the two of you had some kind of personal relation no one knew about. 

Vox laughed again, turning around to face his two companions. When his laughter died out he finally breathed in once more. "We can use this." 

"Can we?" Velvette asked, mostly uninterested in the idea. She and Val really didn't have the same beef with Alastor that their co-worker did and she'd always preferred to stay uninvolved with it. 

"If Alastor of all people cares enough to save them," Vox paused, an insane look on his face, "An exorcist, what will everyone think when they find out?"

"That he's lost his fucking mind, which we already knew?" Velvette suggested. 

"That he's gone soft." Vox replied, placing his hands behind his back and turning away as he headed for the next room over, "They'll finally see him for what he really is; a coward. The Radio Demon will lose his relevance, become a thing of the past, and we'll finally rise above like we were always meant to!" His plans were beginning to go off the rails now but no one wanted to stop him. "Mark my words; this time tomorrow, the V's will be the only overlords worth mentioning." His gaze darkened as he finished the sentence and walked out the door, slamming it shut dramatically behind him. 

"Does this mean we're not watching the rest?" Velvette called now that he was gone. She'd been looking forward to see the hotel residents cry after the loss of their home, as well as the broadcast that was supposed to come after it showcasing the full losses of the extermination. 

"Record it!" Vox shouted back and the fashionista overlord groaned but grabbed the remote to set it to record nonetheless. 

..........

You awoke to the sound of quiet jazz music playing somewhere nearby. At first, you thought your alarm had been changed. Today was the day of the extermination and, given the very detailed dream you'd had last night, you weren't looking forward to going down to hell at all. 

You knew Molly would come by your room like she'd done in your dream if you didn't wake up soon, but at the same time, you were just so tired. You didn't want to get out of your bed, which, you had to admit, was significantly less comfortable than you remembered. It was warm enough though, and you tugged the covers further up your body; in denial about your responsibilities for the day. 

At least the music coming from your alarm was nice. You'd always liked jazz; it reminded you of the kind of music that had been popular when you were alive; the kind you'd always listened to with your dad. 

...Your dad. Right; you didn't often allow yourself to think about the man. But he'd been in your dream last night, hadn't he? You thought back to the events, which were becoming significantly less blurry now. You'd gone to hell, seen him again, refused to kill him, and then been expelled from heaven...

Suddenly, your eyes shot open and you sat up straight; ignoring the dizziness in your head as you did so. 

"Ah, you're finally awake!" You froze. Yep, that had definitely not been a dream. You would recognize the voice of your father anywhere, but right now, it felt impossible to call that unfortunate. 

Finally, you turned to see the red deer-like demon standing to your left next to the bed you were currently laying in. He wore the same signature smile you knew so well; the one your dad had always wore.

But even as he stood in front of you now; his horrible past-actions clear from the fact that he was a sinner; you still somehow couldn't find it within yourself to denounce him as your father. He'd raised you, and like it or not, he'd also saved you yesterday.

That just didn't mean you had to forgive him immediately. 

"Where am I?" You asked, a hint of fear in your voice as you looked around the foreign room. The last thing you remembered before passing out was Adam ripping your wings off and stabbing you in the eye.

Speaking of, you reached up to your eye now, feeling that it had been heavily bandaged and probably cleaned as well. Shifting where you sat, you could also feel more bandages placed on your back where you'd lost your wings and anywhere else you might have been injured. They had no doubt been the work of the sinner before you, and you weren't sure whether to feel touched by that or angered. 

"Why, the Hazbin Hotel, of course!" Alastor replied as he set a glass of water you hadn't realized he had on the table next to your bed. "I know the owner quite well, and I managed to get you one of our better rooms!" It seemed like he expected you to be thankful, but instead, you met him with a look of confusion. Still, that didn't break his demeanor. "Of course, I'd do anything for you, my dear!" 

Slowly, you nodded, pushing yourself up straighter in the bed. You'd heard about this hotel from Adam's many rants; he'd been particularly angry about its existence after Charlie had come to heaven to attend angelic court, which you weren't present for. However, you'd never expected your dad, of all people, to be a part of some kind of rehabilitation center. 

"And...The rest of the angels?" You managed finally, unsure of what else to ask. No matter how many questions you for your dad, it seemed you couldn't manage to get them out right now. 

"Oh, they're long gone!" Alastor replied as he took a seat at the end of your bed and adjusted his bow-tie casually. "So it appears you'll be stuck here in hell for quite a while! What a shame." When he said the last part, though, he sounded anything but disappointed about it. 

You took a second to process that. Of course, you'd expected the other exorcists to leave you behind if something went wrong, but even though the job had never been your first choice, it was still...shocking to know that you really had fallen from heaven while doing it. Alastor seemed to notice your shock because his smile widened and he continued. 

"Not to worry though, my dear! You're welcome to stay here at the hotel for as long as you need!" You weren't sure how to respond to that. Did you want to stay here? You didn't have much other option, but at the same time, that feeling of betrayal that came over you after your dad's death still hadn't gone away. 

"I..." You weren't sure what to say, "Does the hotel owner know I'm..." You trailed off.

"An angel?" Alastor questioned, "Why, of course! How else do you think I explained your sudden arrival here? And it seemed our own fallen-angel resident recognized you too." At that, you perked up. Fallen angel? Did he mean Vaggie? Was this where she had ended up after being kicked out of heaven?

That wasn't what you were getting at though. "No, do they know you're..." You couldn't say it; not after all this time.

"The Radio Demon?" Alastor replied, though he knew exactly what you were referring to, "Why, of course! With a reputation like my own, it's hard for anyone down here not to know!" 

"No-" You started again, only for Alastor to interrupt you once more by gently taking your arm and pulling you up off the bed. 

"Now, I know we have quite a bit of catching up to do but it seems the rest of the hotel residents would love to meet you!" He explained as he pulled you along towards the door. Unsure of what else to do, you followed him out into the hotel, glancing down at your still-tattered exorcist uniform. 'What a way to make a first impression...' You thought. 

Luckily, Alastor seemed to notice this concern of yours too because he suddenly stopped. "Right, I suppose we can't have you looking a mess when you meet the other guests!" He decided, snapping his fingers and instantly making your clothes shift into a completely different outfit. It seemed to be modeled after what you'd worn back when you were alive; your favorite outfit, actually. You were surprised he still remembered which one you'd liked best. 

"There we are!" he spoke, gesturing for you to follow him down the hall. 

"Thanks..." You said quietly.

"Why, of course!" The Radio Demon replied, opening the door to what you assumed was to be the main lobby, "Now, prepare to meet the pathetic, hopeless sinners that are trying to redeem themselves." With that, he stepped through the door and you followed behind him. 

The second you entered the room, streamers and balloons were tossed your way, momentarily blocking your view. 

"Surprise!" A high-pitched voice shouted; accompanied by a few others. There was a brief moment of silence as you wiped confetti out of your face before you finally looked up to see a group of people gathered in the lobby. There was a tall girl with blonde hair and rosy red cheeks, a similar looking but much-shorter man, a tall spider-like demon with pink dots and heart shapes on his head, some sort of cat with wings, a tiny cyclops girl, and a girl you recognized very well who immediately looked away from your gaze. 

Above them was a huge banner that read 'welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!' You wondered how long you'd been out if they'd had this much time to prepare for your arrival. 

"Welcome to the hotel!" The tall blonde girl finally said, taking a step forward from the rest of the group, "I'm Charlie, the owner, and you already met Alastor." She gestured to your dad, who simply stood off to the side with a smug smile.

"Well, I would hope so-" You began, only for him to cut you off.

"It would appear so!" He exclaimed, "Now, why don't the rest of you introduce yourselves to our new guest? After all, you wouldn't want to be rude!" Something in his tone made them all shiver but when you looked back at him, he wore the same smile as always. It was creepy, sure, but it was no different than his usual demeanor. 

Still, the rest of the group came forward, introducing themselves one by one. The shorter man was Lucifer, the king of hell himself because of course he was here, and then there was Angel Dust, who made you slightly uncomfortable, Husk, whom you guessed worked for your dad based on their dynamic, Nifty, who honestly scared you but seemed to like you enough, and finally, Vaggie. 

"Hey." She said when it was finally her turn for introductions. 

"So this is where you ended up after you disappeared?" You asked, feeling a little ashamed you hadn't realized it sooner. Adam had just told the rest of you she was gone and that she wasn't coming back. 

"Yeah..." She admitted, rubbing the back of her neck, "And now you're here too."

"I guess so." You smiled, feeling a little better now that you knew you weren't alone in this situation. Once introductions were done, Charlie immediately pulled you away for a tour of the hotel, which your dad oversaw.

Though, you beginning to realize no one here knew he was your dad. You weren't sure what he'd told them when he brought you back to the hotel, but it seemed he often did things without reason- or at least, without reasons they could understand- so they weren't questioning it. You considered bringing it up yourself, but based on the side-eyes Alastor kept giving you, decided against it.

If it became important later, you would tell them. But for now, your dad was unfortunately the only person you knew well enough to trust here, despite all he'd done. 

Finally, the tour came to an end and you collapsed on your couch, exhausted. Charlie had way too much energy for you but you liked how cheerful she was. Vaggie came over to sit by you; a sympathetic look on her face as Charlie went off to work on her 'lesson plans' for the next day. It seemed she really was the only person in this hotel that took redemption seriously, which didn't seem very promising for its success. 

Angel Dust came over now, plopping down on the other side of you on the couch and noticing your tired-out state. "Charlie already got you running around, huh?" He asked and you nodded. "Well, get used to it, toots. That'll pretty much be your whole life from now on." You sighed but if you were being honest, you didn't have much of a problem with that. Charlie was sweet and since you had Vaggie here, you couldn't help feeling a little more hopeful about your situation. Even with your dad here...

"Can ya turn on channel 6?" Angel asked now, glancing at Vaggie, who was closest to the remote. You looked up, not realizing there had been a TV earlier. When you'd died, they'd been growing in popularity, but hadn't quite taken off yet, so you weren't used to using them. 

"I don't think they should have to see whatever it is you're watching." Vaggie replied as she crossed her arms, making no move to grab the remote. 

"What? The season finale of 'Yeah I Fucked Your Sister. So What?' is on! It's nothing like that!" You, being new to hell, weren't sure what he was referring to but decided to help him out nonetheless.

"I'll do it!" You chirped, grabbing the TV remote and flipping to Angel's requested channel. A smile grew on his face and Vaggie glared back at him. 

"Thanks, kid." The spider demon nudged you as he got comfortable on the couch. You leaned back too, deciding to watch the show with him and see what it was all about.

As it turned out, Angel's favorite show was actually pretty interesting. There was just so much drama ensuing at every turn! Once you got into it, you didn't want to stop watching. It seemed fate had had other ideas, though, because just a few minutes into the episode, it was interrupted by a surprise broadcast from a news channel you'd never heard of. Vaggie seemed to recognize it though because her eyes narrowed.

"Vox..." She said, crossing her arms over her chest. You turned back to the TV with a frown, only for your eyes to widen when a picture of you showed up on the screen as he spoke. Not only that, but the things he was saying about you were...Less than flattering.

"Hey, first day in hell and you already made the news!" Angel spoke, nudging you. You couldn't take your eyes off the TV, though.

"Why would I be on the news...?" You asked. No one had answer; simply watching as the TV overlord continued to slander your name.

..........

"Put this broadcast on every channel we have!" Vox barked to his assistant, who immediately scrambled to do as he said. 

"Sir, we have a few other programs set to run already-" He began, only to be cut off by the terrifying (in his opinion) overlord. 

"I don't care! You'd better make sure everyone in hell sees this news or I swear I will rip your intestines out of your body!" That was enough to make the other sinner get moving and Vox immediately went to plug himself into the broadcast system like he always did. He had a plan to not only ruin Alastor, but also lure him out of his little hiding place within the hotel for good.

If things went well, the Radio Demon would no longer be a problem after today. 

Vox set his broadcast so that it took place in a regular news setting, waiting for his assistant to cue him in. He knew one of the best ways to get through to the citizens of hell was through song- ironically- and so that was what he planned to do. His assistant signaled so he drew in a breath before beginning. 

"My good people of hell!" He spoke in that typical newscaster tone, "Are you aware that the last extermination left us with more than just confusion and a lack of dead bodies? Have you felt that there's been something amiss? Did you know an exorcist still walks among us right now?" He put extra emphasis on the last part and let a photo of you from during the extermination appear on the screen. It had no doubt gained the attention of anyone who was watching from the streets.

"Now is not the time to be complacent!" He told the cameras, "We should do something!" Then he changed the setting in an effort to keep everyone's attention. Now, he was among the crowd that always populated the bottom floor of the V's tower. 

"Something is lurking, something is near!" He sang, darting between people in the crowd, "Something is feeling stranger, stranger! Stirring up discord, whipping up fear! Whispering softly 'danger, danger!'" He pushed two people out of his way to step forward. 

"Outsiders creep up slow and steady, wings glistening, halos at the ready; think what they could do to the status quo!" He knew a photo of you was no doubt appearing on the screen as well and relished it. 

"Oh no!" His assistant chimed in for extra dramatics. The scene changed again so that they were now standing somewhere in Cannibal Town. 

"They're gonna steal, plunder, and pillage!" Vox announced to an old woman who looked very angry at the idea, "They're gonna take over the village!" The cannibals seemed to be foaming at the mouth with rage so he decided to use that. "Don't just sit on your butts and do nothing and wait; let's enter a blind, irrational state!" 

People began gathering around him; some of them from the cannibal colony and others from various other places in hell. He knew it his plan was working now; all he had to do was lead them to Alastor and you. 

"Better get nervous, better get tense!" He ordered the group following behind him down the street, "Better not let them catch you blinking!" He slid over to a group of people that had yet to join him. "You don't need a reason; ladies and gents! This is no time for sober thinking!" Seeing the look on their faces, he knew he'd convinced them too.

"Mob!" He announced.

"Mob?" One of the people following behind him questioned. 

"M-m-m-mob!" Vox confirmed.

"Mob? Mob?" The people repeated. 

"Angry angry mob!" Vox demanded, beginning to march down the street. Luckily, it seemed his powers as an overlord hadn't run out because the rest of the sinners followed with furious looks on their faces. 

"Mob, mob, m-m-m-mob!" They chanted, "Mob, mob! Angry angry!" 

"Sharpen your senses!" Vox ordered as they got within sight of the hotel now, "sharpen your tongues! Sharpen your moral indignation!" The more he sang, the more people seemed to join the mob behind him. "Gather in groups and ready your lungs! Holler with pent-up aggravation!"

"Mob, mob! M-m-m-mob!" The sinners behind him chanted, "Mob, mob! Angry angry! Mob, mob! M-m-m-mob! Mob, mob! Angry angry!"

Vox cackled as they reached the hotel now, ready to bang down the doors. This was going even better than he'd hoped; why hadn't he tried something like it sooner?

After all, sinners were so easy to control when they scared and confused.

..........

Part 4