#and I want to just call him but that’s even more noticeable and I don’t want to cause tension for him or have her dislike me even more

[quarterlifekitty]

Just some more thoughts on König with a clingy girl.

He’s not used to physical intimacy by any means. He’s paid for girls plenty of times, have a few flings during different leaves, but never anything sweet. Never a girlfriend.

Before you even get together, you’re clingy. You like hugs. You like leaning on him when you’re sat next to each other, falling asleep on him. Which makes him fall in love so quickly, by the way. He’s addicted to feeling you warm on his skin.

And when he does manage to sweet talk his way into the boyfriend position? He melts under every crumb of affection. Every kiss to the cheek, every nuzzle, every time you park yourself in his lap.

Man is a death grip hand-holder. His height makes him hard to lose in crowds, but he still doesn’t want to be separated. Letting go of your hand is literally like his last resort.

And let it be said. This man wants to fuck you with as much skin to skin contact as possible. Sure, he’ll never say no to a quickie, but his favorite type of sex is when you’re both completely bare and have space to get in every position imaginable. He likes you pressed completely against him— chest to chest if possible, maybe back to chest (especially if a full length mirror is involved).

And then there’s the emotional clinging. He’s very insecure about the idea of wanting you more than you want him, so it always makes him so happy when you’re the one texting, calling, or just coming into the same room as him to hang out. He loves when you contact him for no reason at all— just to check on him. One time when he asked why you called, you said “I just wanted to hear your voice,” and he almost fainted from how giddy it made him. And he doesn’t have so much going on besides work, so he really doesn’t mind if you’re the type to want to spend every hour of every day with him.

The hardest fucking you ever got from König was a few weeks after you first moved in together. He had to be on base for the day, and you had a day off. You meet him at the door— you headed there as soon as you heard the car— and wrap him up in an embrace that he gladly returns.

“So, leibling, what did you do all day today?”

“I waited for you to come home,” you say absentmindedly, just rubbing his back and pressing your cheek to his chest. You don’t notice how he almost starts trembling from your words, his heart feeling like it’s about to burst.

He needs to be inside you— can barely hold it together enough to carry you to bed like a fucking caveman. Starts thinking you need something else to cling to when he’s away… something that can cling to him when he comes home. A baby would suit you both very nicely, yeah?

[thecoochiefairy]

mouthy. onyankapon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 blackfem!reader, drabble, onyankapon, grumpy!onyankapon, sweet!onyankapon,dominant!onyankapon, angry sex, drunk sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘����𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ link. link. link. link.

sorry y’all, i been celibate and just want the testosterone of a black man. i beg.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: you come back from the club, mouthy, tipsy and blabbering to your boyfriend. all that talking has onyakanpon give you just what you’re asking for.

STRAWBERRY FLAVORED MARGARITAS ALWAYS MADE YOU HORNY. You made the terrible decision of making that your choice of drink when agreeing to a girls night out, knowing where you really wanted to be— in bed, cuddled up to your man. But you missed your friends, and Onyankapon missed you even more. 

Although you were always together, his weekend routine felt incomplete without you. He had already gone to the gym, got something to eat, and took Cupcake—your American Bully—out for a run. The minute he left you to walk out the house in that fuschia dress, he knew you’d be trouble. The gold jewelry accents as your dark hair fell in crimped waves, the scent of Miss Dior along your throat that he couldn’t pull away from, skimpy heels combating the entire look together—he would have broken someone’s neck behind you. 

As you stumbled into the women’s bathroom, the dark red lights added onto the energy you felt of the song playing within the club—PHAT by Dababy—buzzing your entire body as you wanted to shake ass with your girls. But first, you had to have a little fun. 

You leaned yourself into the full body mirror of the bathroom, bending down as you arched your back into the camera, taking salacious pictures of yourself. They were faceless, only showing the curves of your body in the dress. You sent them to Onyankapon, a small, tipsy grin along your face. 

mama <3 : 

don’t i look pretty?

He was now within the mirror, clippers in his hand as he faded the sides of his head, beard trimmed down as well. You weren’t there to protest the cut, loving when his facial hair was more full, whether it was in between your fingers or deep in your— 

Back to the point, LARGER THAN LIFE by Brent Faiyaz was his current choice of album. He glances down at his phone as he sees the message, eyebrows furrowing. The sight of you under red lighting, filthily posing for the picture. It made him more irritated than anything. 

my ony <3 :

my pretty ass baby. drink some water.

The message back makes you feel a bit deflated. You wanted more. Your mischievous eyes glance around, seeing you were still alone in the bathroom. With that, you latch your fingers onto the top of your dress, pulling down the fabric to have your breasts spill out, nipples hardening from the air. You snap the picture, holding one of your tits in your palm, your brown lined Cupid’s bow lips also within the photo. You press send, sitting along the countertop of the bathroom, awaiting for a response.

Your phone buzzes after five minutes. You look down, seeing only a couple of words. 

my ony <3: 

yeah, aight. 

You can’t help the grin that spreads along your face. With that, you notice that your phone battery is lower than expected, and you know your friends aren’t ready to go home. You sigh, shutting off your phone in risk of it dying, heading back to the section to try to shake off some of this inebriety. 

Onyankapon goes to text you again, but this time it doesn’t seem to go through. It was in your habit for your phone to die, but tonight wasn’t the time. He even went as far as calling you. Straight to voicemail. Of course, your friends weren’t answering either. His eye could’ve twitched.

Getting your key into the door was your current mission hours later. Your phone was buzzing from the amount of missed phone calls as you turned it back on, a giggle stifling from your lips as you continuously shuffled your keys around, desperately trying to find the oversized Hello Kitty one. Your feet ached, heels high and tall as your ankles trembled, wanting nothing more than to be barefoot. 

When your eyes finally register the pink key—assuming you’d touched it a thousand times—you lean against the door as you swing it open, holding yourself up by the bottom of your feet. They felt extremely heavy. You step inside, slowly pushing the door to close, locking it behind you. The LED lights in your condo were a dark purple, blaring to the low beat of the music playing around the walls, PARTYNEXTDOOR accompanying your ears. He’d probably fallen asleep. 

Despite all the noise you’d been making, you try to tip-toe with your heels, realizing that your mission was successful. That’s you turn your head towards the kitchen, anyways.

You freeze momentarily in your steps, eyes widening. You knew he’d be angry, but you wanted to make a sneaky escape into bed next to him— Alas, your plan had failed miserably and you turned to face him with an innocent smile.

“Ony, baby—Why are you awake?” 

The room seemed to shrink in size because of his imposing figure. It didn't matter how many tattoos covered his muscular body—you would always remember his face card. Strident jawline, dark eyes that gave him the expression of annoyance or solemnity, but the tattoos that decorated his cheek made him stand out amongst men. His brown complexion shimmered under the light, as if he had oil on his skin. 

He just blinks at you, brows furrowing with obvious irritation. You were supposed to be home at ten. It was now two in the morning. He crosses his arms as you could see a vein straining on his neck, also glancing over the lipstick printed ink of your mouth tatted along his throat.  He was pissed.

“And where the fuck has your ass been?”

His silky black durag has a knot tied within the back of his head, shirtless, upper body exposed as his black sweatpants hang on his hips. He’d just woken up after dozing off.

You pout slightly, not liking his attitude. “The girls wanted to be outside longer. I wasn’t driving, so I couldn't tell them no.”

“The girls know you got a crazy ass nigga at home. You could’ve at least picked up my fuckin’ calls.”

“My phone was in my purse,” you try to defend, now walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Did I wake you?” 

Despite his annoyed demeanor, his arms make their way to your waist. He’s gentle, but you could pick up the way his fingers dug into your skin. 

 “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“Cupcake likes to cuddle,” you refer to the large dog, “Don’t be mean to her. She loves you just as much as I do,” you rub his beard, scratching it affectionately. 

He grunts lowly, “Gimme’ your mouth,” you standing on your heels as you give him a peck on the lips. 

You then groan, leaning down as you rub your ankle, “My foot hurts,” you pout, “Ugly bitch at the club stepped on my toes!”

He couldn’t help but soften up at your comments, a gentle hand rubbing at the back of your neck soothingly.

“She stepped on your shit on purpose?” He asked, brows furrowing.

“She gon’ say ‘bitch, move’ when she was all in my way. I didn’t move, so she stepped on my heel. Should’ve busted her fuckin’ head open,” you talk shit about the random girl in the club, “Baby, my feet hurt…” you repeat more softly.

“You gonna go back and fight her?” He poked fun, now lifting you up by your thighs to release the tension off your feet. You giggle as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, yelping, ‘wee!’ as He carries you to the living room, setting you down on the couch.

“Lemme’ see. I’ll ice your little ass foot.”

“Can you rub it? With the ice? Think they’re red,” you request, carelessly throwing the shoes in opposite directions, feeling the bottom of your feet throbbing even more. 

He hums, “Hollon’, baby,” disappearing into the kitchen as you wait on the couch. Cupcake comes running into the living room, jumping on you immediately. You giggle, hugging her head as she snuggles up against you, having the zoomies as she takes back off into her kennel. 

Ony returned with a bag of ice, leaning down in front of you, placing the ball of your hurting foot in his lap.

“You really couldn’t leave early?” 

You shake your head, “They wanted to hit up the after hours. I said nooo, my man wants me home. They said your man lame, you’ grown! I said, I am! But I miss my man! But ooh, baby, they had lemon drop shots for two dollars! Maybe that’s why I’m so drunk…” you ramble.

He listened attentively to your rambling, tilting his head to the side. He had a small smile on his face, his expression gentle at your drunken blabbering. He loved listening to you talk, even if you were saying nonsense.

“And you bought ‘em? You know you’ a light weight. You can’t handle your liquor, baby.”

“I had water too!” You protest, “But it was too late. I’m not like—super drunk, but because I’m home now, I can just…float,” you say with a hum, tilting your head, “….You’ happy to see me now?”

“Happy as fuck. I was about to go down to that club and shoot that shit up about you. Tryna’ get fucked up in that pretty ass dress, too. I got your pictures.” 

Your slender eyes blink at him, glimmering under the light, “I’m pretty?” You knew the answer, but your floaty mind wanted to hear it anyway. 

“Don’t be playin’ stupid with me.” 

You lean forward, poking your lips out as you sigh, “You’re so sweet. Gimme’ a kiss.” 

He leans forward, placing another soft, slow, kiss on your lips. He pulled back to look at your face, his large hands cupping your jaw, his brown eyes scanning your expression.

“‘Love your non-listening ass. Even when you come home later then I tell you to.”

Your demeanor changes, not liking how he worded that sentence. A reminder, your system was sugar-rushed off of several lemon drops.

“Tell me?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Tell? Don’t be funny, lil’ boy. You ain’t my damn daddy.”

"Lil’ boy?" 

He raises an eyebrow at you, “You’ talking shit?"

“Big shit, actually,” you roll your eyes, pushing away the ice he holds, “I don’t wanna talk to you no more.”

"Yeah? You don't wanna talk to me? Let your fuckin’ feet hurt then.” 

“That’s fine!” 

He becomes slightly agitated from you childish responses, gripping your ankle in his hold to keep you down, “Chill out. You’re still tipsy.” 

“And? I don’t give a fuck about my feet, you, or my mouth. Come shut me the fuck up then, bitch-ass-nigga.”

It’s like you won’t stop talking. Your mouth fires off curses as you attempt to stand from the sofa, wanting to just get out of your clothes. He hears that trigger word, bitch, a word he asked that you never called him. It was the ultimate disrespect. 

He stares you down for a moment. His gaze was intense, intimidating. But there's now a glint of amusement in his eyes, and a humorless chuckle follows.

You go to walk away, but he’s faster. 

He clutches you by the back of your neck as he twists you around, gripping you up as he kisses you, opening up your mouth as he sloppily puts his tongue in. You’re stunned for a moment, hands gripping for his skin, but it’s the alcohol that has the kiss throb in between your legs—You’re spent. 

He pulls back, his hand still on the back of your neck as he presses a kiss under your jaw, before grunting against your ear, “Big ass fuckin’ mouth,” he sharply gruffs, “Come suck some dick. Finna’ shut you the fuck up.” 

His voice is assertive, deep in your ear. You can’t help but be a little excited. You wanted this type of reaction from him. You’re kneeling yourself down without having to be guided, tugging for his black sweats, watching as his dick springs from beneath the material. His tip is a dark pink, veins prominent as it slaps along his belly button. Your mouth waters. 

You wrap your fingers around the base, staring up with your dark lashes, cheeks warm and red as you dig your teeth into your lip, “Want my mouth on you, baby?”

Your inner thighs throb again as he lightly smacks your cheek, gripping your jaw open to separate your lips, “You fuckin’ heard me. Don’t play right now.” 

He watches as you take him fully into your mouth, throat humming as you swirl your tongue around his tip, eyes closing as you nod your head back and forth. He reaches back, tangling his fingers through your hair as he guides your movements, dark eyes watching each time you take him deeper.

“Make that shit sloppy as fuck,” he grunts. 

You open your mouth wider at that, eyes dropping low as you nod your head back and forth, tip dragging along the roof of your mouth, sliding deeper in your throat. Your saliva begins to increase, jaw aching each time his balls slap along your bruising lips, yet you moan in pleasure, wanting more—needing more. 

Your eyes are practically stars to him. They glimmer under the lights of the living room, music strumming in his ears as you hollow your cheeks, back arching, ass poking out of your dress as you lean forward to be as close to him as possible. You watch him like a movie, his baby pink lips halfway open, head falling back as he groans, tightening his fist along your hair. 

“Oh shit,” his low voice moans, “Suck my fuckin’ dick just like that, baby. Need my shit messy.”

He knows how much you like him praising you on, your lips firmly wrapping around his tip, molding your mouth around it as you slovenly suck, the sound echoing along the room. Your jaw burns even more. But the sight of his large hands encapsulating your curls, inked abdomen tightening as he watches your every move, your saliva warm from how hard he’s thrusting in your mouth, it’s like a drug. An addiction. He slows down, holding your hair with both fists, pulling himself out of your mouth as you stick your tongue out, awaiting to catch him again. His tip slaps along your jaw, the giggle leaving your lips captured by your intoxication.

He feels your hot breath on his tip as he looks down at you, seeing your tongue hang out of your mouth, wet and glistening in the dim light. The sight alone sends a jolt straight to his already throbbing dick. 

"You're gonna swallow every last drop I got for you." 

His words were firm, almost demanding as he watched you take him back into your mouth. This time, he held onto your head aggressively, fucking your eager mouth at a slow pace, allowing you to savor the taste of him.

You drag saliva along the veins of his dick, pulling your mouth back as you hum, “Feel good, baby?“ 

“Feel good as fuck, baby. Good fuckin’ girl. Tryna’ get fucked like a princess,” he grunts back to you, watching as your thumb runs over his tip, rolling your hand in a motion all the way down to the base of his length. 

You circle your tongue back around his tip, sliding your lips around before pulling his length all the way to the back of your throat, the walls of your breath swelling as you gag, melting in his pleasure.

“Gonna nut, baby? Talk to me.” 

"Finna’ nut all in that pretty ass mouth, baby,” he promises to you, and he does, his voice dropping to a low growl as he pushes you further, forcing you to take his entire length between your lips, the inside of your mouth becoming warm. 

When he pulls back, his dick slides out slowly for you to lap up any leftover drops of cum that dribble out. He then tugs on your hair, bringing your face up to meet his. 

You instantly stick your tongue out to show that you swallowed, giggling as you run your tongue against your lips, “Cleaned you up so good.”

You know he’s sensitive. You flick your eyes up as you kiss his tip, the giggles faltering off your lips like nothing as you tipsily moan, “Pretty ass dick, baby.”

“Don’t be fuckin’ greedy.”

He grunts as he pulls you up by your hair, smashing your lips against his in a kiss. You’re encapsulated by his mouth, tongue thrusting in between your lips, the feeling making your eyes roll back, moaning as you open your mouth wider. You loved kissing him. His dark pink lips were full, nearly overlapping yours as you made out with him. 

He pulls you back, fingers around your throat as he commands, “Get on the sofa. Spread your legs.” 

Ony’s already on his knees as you bend over the black velvet furniture. You spread your legs as you arch slightly, face hiding within your shoulder, eyes turning back to meet his. He’s trailing kisses along your thighs—it’s torturous at this point. Your pussy throbs as he’s blowing his breath against your core.

 He spanks the skin of your ass as he growls, “Nasty ass. Always wanting me.”

He’s already down there, his lips wrapping around your clit, bottom lip dropping lower to rub against the entirety of you, tongue swirling to spread you open. You reach your palms behind, spreading yourself for him, forehead kneeling against the furniture as you breathily whine, “Yeah, baby. Always love when you eat my pussy.”

“Watch that fuckin’ mouth,” he warns in between your flesh.

He’s eating you like desert—Licking you from bottom to top. His hands find their way to your hips, pinning you down to the couch as he shakes his head from side to side, deepening his tongue against your folds. He halts as he comes up, pulling your face towards his as he grips your chin, commanding, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth,” the moment he says it, your tongue sticking out as you drop saliva in between his lips. He accepts it, going back down as he coats it along your pussy, the feeling making your thighs tremble. He’s rough. And sloppy. Just how you liked it.

Latching back against the sticky walls of your pussy, you become more wet as he French kisses the throb of your clit, head swaying up and down as he flattens his tongue against the overall of you.

He’s lapping you up like a thirsty man. His tongue is thick and heavy against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. His tongue continues its assault on your pussy, licking you in circles until you start squirming underneath him, desperately trying to hold your mouth.

His hands leave your hips, moving to grip your ass to expose more of your dripping entrance to him. Without warning, he buries his tongue deep inside of you, his lips sealed tight against your wetness as he starts fucking you with his mouth.

“Pussy tight as fuck, baby. Even on my tongue,” he grunts.

“Come fuck me, Ony,” you pout, “I’m so fuckin’ horny,” you almost cry at the pressure between your legs.

He doesn’t talk shit like you expect him to. Instead, he pulls his mouth away from you, your body lightly jumping as you feel his tip sloshing around your opening, patting against it, kissing the outside of your walls. 

“This’ what you want, huh?” 

He brings his hand around the front of you, palm clutching around your throat to pull you up closer to him. You try to nod your head, pushing your hips back to relieve the friction. You thought you were going to faint. 

Your mind is still buzzing. Every inch slowly sinks into you, an ache itching in the depths of your walls, making your hips tremble as you gasp lightly. You push your body forward to escape, which only makes Ony grip you back, rolling his hips forward as he tsks, “Nuh-Uh, don’t do that,” making your eyes flutter shut as you whine, “Ooh, fuck. Daddy.” 

Your whining makes him grunt, spanking you in response to your mouth, sensitivity spiked as you whimper. He smacks his lips, “Cut that shit out. You’ crying for my dick, take all of it.” 

The heaviness of your ass drops against his abdomen, air spurring in between your hips, the suction making you quiver in response.

You turn your head, jaw dropping lightly as you suck in a breath, moving your body to adjust. You lift your hips as you watch yourself, eyes flicking up to meet him as you slide back down, listening to the skin connect, stomach cramping as you shudder out another whine. 

“Gonna take all of it,” you desperately gasp, digging your fingers into the material of the couch, beginning to swirl your hips around as you fuck yourself, walls gushing at your eagerness. Each time you come up, his tip coats with more of your cream, moans progressively losing sense behind them each time your ass claps against his hips.

"Needy ass fuckin’ girl," he grumbles, gripping onto your waist tightly. "I be’ spoiling you too much.” 

His right hand reaches onto the left side of your waist to get a good grip on you, dropping you up and down to watch your bodies move in sync, matching your rhythm as he starts fucking you harder. With every thrust, he slams into you, filling you completely, making you gasp out loud. He leans down, whispering in your ear, "Pussy wet as fuck. You hear my pussy? She’ talking. Just as loud as your fuckin’ mouth.”

You do listen, skin slapping against each others, your pussy squelching and sloshing as he now has a hold along the back of your dress, using that to tug you down, the air secretion igniting loud sounds with it. Your cheeks are red, something that usually happened when you became shy, turning your head back towards the wall as you moaned.

"Don’t be all shy now. Look at me. Need to see your face while you creamin’ on my shit like that.” 

The command is sharp, leaving no room for refusal. He feels you tense under him, your inner walls trembling around his dick. He keeps pounding into you, your juices flowing down his shaft and onto his balls.

When you don't obey immediately, he spanks your ass to make you shriek, hard enough to leave a bruises before demanding again, "Look at me."

You instead kneel your head against the sofa. It’s not long before he becomes impatient, and he pulls you to stand flat on your feet. He keeps your back perfectly arched, rubbing his tip along your folds as he’s already sinking back in, making you lightly groan. He then takes your arms, palms tight around your wrists as he pulls them back and raises them slightly above your body, thrusting his hips forward, skin loudly echoing together as he gives you mean—almost enough to bully you—thrusts. 

The moans you give are shocking, standing on your toes to escape from him, pussy tightening as the back of your thighs sting, friction against his hips, arousal dripping against his balls and abdomen. 

“Agh—fuck—baby, ooohshit. Oohshit, Ony,” you’re rambling to him, unable to move as you’re trapped in this position.

"Shut the fuck up. I ain't wanna hear none of that noise." 

He goes back to pounding you, ignoring your high pitched squeals, the arch of your back deepening as you want to jump out of your skin. 

"Quit fuckin’ running. Take this fuckin’ dick. You’ wanna be grown, be fuckin’ grown, big girl,” he talks, skin harshly meeting with his, his dick painted with your arousal, ignoring the way you messily sob, a darkness in your vision as your eyes are staring into the back of your head. 

“Ooohh, daddy. Ony—baby. Fuckin’ me so good, baby. Fuckin’ love you. Oh my god, love you, babyy.”

“You’ need more? You’ still talking?”

You feel defeated, senseless as he continues to fuck you, uncaring if he’s mean about it.

Yet turn your head, erotically giggling in between your manic episode, unable to stop your mouth from talking.

“This your pussy, Ony. You’ hear her? She missed you so much,” you whimper, wanting him to forgive you from your insults earlier in the night.

“I don’t wanna hear all that."

He picks up the pace, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You sing to him, gasping and whining pathetically. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, drowning out everything else. He feels you tighten around him, your walls clenching down on his length.

"You' gonna cum? Or you' just gonna keep talking?"

“Baby…” you softly cry, “Ony, keep talking to me, baby…be nice…” you whimper, missing that side of him. 

You’re sorry for coming home late. You’re sorry for talking shit. You’re just sorry. But this punishment feels all too good.

"You' sorry now?" 

His tone is mocking—he knows he's got you right where he wants you. 

"Keep talking. Mean it.” 

He continues to fuck you mercilessly, his words cutting through the pleasure like a knife.

“Sosorry, baby. Sosorry, Daddy. Fuck me harder. Wanna cum all over your dick. Fuckkk, cum in me. Don’t stop,” your eyes well with tears, digging your teeth into your lip.

He releases your hands, his fingers stretching around your throat as he pulls your back to meet his chest, mouth along your ear as you stand back on your tip-toes, taking everything he gives you.

You messily moan as you lean back against his shoulder, using the strength you have in your hips as you circle your ass around, wanting to match his rhythm, jumping as you feel him spank you again. You were in a lustful haze.

“Look at you’ taking my dick, baby. You love it?”

“I love it,” you whine back, face warm as you take his other hand to put it in front of you, putting it in between your legs as you want him to rub your clit. Sometimes you were bold. Sometimes you weren’t.

You can hear the arrogance in his chuckle along your ear, his fingers rubbing in circles against your clit as he grunts, “Cute ass,” which makes you whimper, putting your head down to hide your warm face.

Your mind falls back into the fuzziness of before, the intimacy of it all making you feel drunk again, your legs feeling numb as he fucks your brains away. You feel yourself wanting to go limp, hooking an arm around yourself to hold his head from behind, his lips latching along your throat. 

You’re whining, “Babby,” gasping in between, warning him, “I’m—I’m gonna cum…”

“You’ think I don’t know when my pussy about to cum? Look how tight you’ getting,” he grunts, spanking you again, your ass probably red by now. 

You can’t stop the orgasm that comes, pathetic moans leaving your lips, your hand shaking as your brokenly whine into his mouth, body wanting to collapse as he grabs for your free hand, trapping it under his that clutches your throat you keep you in place.

You’re stuck in place again, creaming heavily on his dick, gushing and cumming in intense waves, pushing out the arousal as your eyes clutched shut, body trembling to ride out the wave. 

“Ooh, that’s good as fuck, baby,” he grunts, “Cum just like that.”

You seem to sober up the minute your orgasm behind to subside, and your eyes are terribly heavy, just wanting to sleep. You feel a kiss along your neck as your legs come off the ground, being carried as your wrap your arms around his neck. 

“You’ ready to cuddle?” Is all he asks. 

Your eyes peek up despite how tired you are. You ask, “That’s it? Am I ready to cuddle? After you did all that?” 

“Do you need it again?” 

“No.”

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” he kisses your forehead, “Let’s go to sleep.” 

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés with: Riddle Rosehearts

Cliché: The Grand Romantic Gesture

Others: Leona ; Azul ; Vil ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil

The moment you decided to court Riddle Rosehearts, you knew you had to bring your A-game. And by A-game, you meant memorizing all 810 laws of the Queen of Hearts.

Did anyone ask you to? No.

Did anyone want you to? Probably not.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was Riddle noticing you.

The first rule you put into practice was Rule 178: "When presenting flowers, they must be in groups of three, six, or nine." So, naturally, you showed up at Heartslabyul one day holding a perfectly arranged bouquet of nine red roses.

"For you," you said, holding them out with a bow that lingered precisely three seconds, no more, no less (Rule 12).

Riddle blinked, his face shifting from neutral to the faintest pink. “You— You’re following the rules?”

“Of course,” you replied smoothly. “I wouldn’t dare present flowers improperly to the Heartslabyul Dorm Leader.”

Cater whistled from somewhere behind him. Trey raised a brow. Riddle, meanwhile, looked like he might short-circuit.

“W-Well, good,” he managed, clutching the roses like they were something sacred. “It’s refreshing to see someone with proper manners.”

You grinned, internally high-fiving yourself. Step one: complete.

You’d researched extensively for your next move. Rule 47: “A surprise tea party must include the guest bringing their own cup and saucer.”

When Riddle called an impromptu tea party, you arrived armed with not only a cup and saucer but a tiny tray of perfectly portioned sweets, arranged in compliance with Rule 290: “Desserts served at tea parties must be bite-sized and arranged symmetrically.”

The silence as you set them on the table was deafening.

Trey looked mildly impressed. Cater snapped a picture. Riddle, on the other hand, stared at you like you’d just recited Shakespeare in iambic pentameter while juggling teacups.

“You…” He cleared his throat. “You’ve been studying the rules?”

“Of course,” you said, taking your seat and stirring your tea exactly three times counterclockwise (Rule 723). “It’s only proper.”

“I—Yes, well—” His ears turned bright red as he took a bite of one of your desserts. “You’ve done well,” he muttered, almost too quietly to hear.

You didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you for the rest of the tea party.

By the time you hit Rule 810—“A declaration of admiration must be made with precision, sincerity, and a token of affection”—Riddle was this close to losing it.

You didn’t plan to deploy it that day. You were just practicing it in your head when you ran into him at the rose garden. He was inspecting the flowers, his brows furrowed in that way that somehow made him even cuter.

“Rule 810,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Riddle turned to you, confused. “What?”

Crap. No turning back now.

You cleared your throat, stepping closer. “Rule 810 states that a declaration of admiration must be precise, sincere, and accompanied by a token of affection.” You pulled a small, hand-embroidered handkerchief from your pocket. It was decorated with roses and a tiny “R” stitched in the corner.

You held it out to him, your hands only trembling slightly. “I… I’ve memorized all the rules because I wanted to court you properly. Because I admire you. And because—well—because I love you.”

Riddle’s mouth opened, then closed. His face turned such a bright shade of red that you worried he might actually faint.

“You—” His voice cracked, and he quickly cleared his throat. “You… love me?”

“Yes,” you said, letting out a nervous laugh. “Honestly, after memorizing 810 rules for you, I don’t think I could possibly love anyone else.”

Riddle stared at you, his gloved hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. For a moment, you thought he might actually explode. Then, all at once, he stepped forward, took the handkerchief, and pressed it to his chest like it was something priceless.

“I—” He took a shaky breath. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

You blinked. “I—what?”

“Who memorizes 810 rules for someone?” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You’re—You’re maddening! Impossible! Utterly—” He cut himself off, taking another breath before meeting your gaze.

“…And yet, I can’t imagine anyone else doing something so utterly… thoughtful.”

You felt your heart leap into your throat as his expression softened. “You’ve done all this for me,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “And I… I’d be a fool not to accept such a heartfelt gesture.”

“So… is that a yes?” you asked, trying (and failing) not to grin.

Riddle’s blush deepened, but he nodded. “Yes.”

And then, to your utter shock, he stepped closer, reaching for your hand. “But I hope you realize,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips, “that now I’ll expect you to uphold all the rules of the Queen of Hearts from now on.”

You laughed, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Masterlist

[unrealisticlea]

since everyone is telling Buck to move on from Tommy, when they get back together (they go to couple’s therapy and they put in all the work to make it work) Buck tries to keep it a secret.

but he’s too overjoyed to be normal. he gets into work smiling like an idiot, he spends all his time on his phone, he receives flowers from “a secret admirer” once a week and he takes some time off to go on a romantic getaway.

Everyone obviously clocks this new person very quickly and everybody is super happy for him. Hen says “I’m glad you finally moved on” and Eddie says “I liked Tommy but this new person is clearly good for you” and Bobby wants to meet them but Buck says he wants to keep the relationship for himself a bit more

cue hilarious hijinks. They run into Hen at the grocery store and they only have one cart so Tommy pretends to read something from the nearest shelf and Buck hides in the frozen isle (Tommy’s reading tampons. He only notices when he hears “hey Tommy. Why are choosing tampons?” and he goes “uhhhh. It’s for my cat. It’s a female” because soulmates).

Maddie shows up at his house unannounced and Tommy has to hide in the bathroom. She leaves Jee. Tommy is sure Jee doesn’t remember him so he introduces himself to Jee as “Casey” so she won’t blow their cover but Jee says “but you’re Mr. Tommy the pilot. You can’t be Casey”.

Eddie finds out because they meet Tommy on a call and they try to play it so cool. Tommy says “Good morning Station 118” and Buck says “Firefighter Kinard” in the coldest voice he can manage. and they think they fooled everyone because Chim comments “yikes. That was awkward!”. But when they’re alone Eddie looks at Buck dead in the eyes and says “You’re sleeping with him” and Buck has to explain that no, it’s not just sex, they’re actually in love and he’s pretty sure it’s forever.

anyway, they keep digging themselves deeper. at some point Buck implies he has a girlfriend to throw everyone off. Tommy keeps receiving horny DMs so he has to set his FB status to “In a relationship” and everyone starts treating Buck like he just suffered a loss (Buck is so stupidly happy they’re official on FB even if he stopped using it ten years ago). Eddie casually asks Buck “is Tommy done with the Chevrolet he was working on?” in front of everyone.

everyone figures it out at some point or another (Hen knew since he run into them at the grocery store, Jee started talking about wanting to becoming a pilot like Mr. Tommy the moment she got home, Bobby just knows because he’s Buck’s dad and also he’s Tommy neighbor and he’s pretty sure Buck moved in).

but they wait for Buck to come to them.

Bobby gets tired of waiting and eight months after Buck and Tommy got back together, says “you know, you can bring Tommy on Saturday. Officially introduce him to the family. Again.” and Buck starts laughing hysterically and says “what. I’m not with Tommy. I don’t know Tommy. Who even is this Tommy you’re talking about” and then realizes everyone is smiling and looking at him and Hen takes his hand and says “Buck. It’s okay. We like Tommy. As long you’re happy” and Buck gets all smiley and says “I’m happy. He makes me so happy” and then they all hug.

they arrive at Saturday’s bbq holding hands but Tommy is very tense because he thinks everybody hates him because he did break Buck’s heart. But he’s done therapy and he’d do anything to keep Buck this time so, before anyone can even say anything, he says “Hi. I know you don’t trust me and you don’t have to like me. But you’re Buck’s family and your opinion is very important to us so I just ask you respect his choice to give me a second chance” and then Eddie says “come here, you idiot” and everyone hugs him and Buck looks at his family hugging his boyfriend with tears in his eyes and thinks that this is it. this is what he’s been looking for all these years. the secret to happiness.

[vroom--vrooming]

Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader

University AU. Lando despises libraries, but missing you drives him to the one place he swore to avoid.

The library is quiet, except for the faint sound of pages turning and pens scratching against paper. It's your favorite place on campus, especially during exam season. The tall shelves are packed with books, the air smells faintly of old paper, and the warm lighting creates a cozy atmosphere. You’re at your usual corner, surrounded by an intimidating stack of textbooks, your laptop, and your trusty sketchpad and notebook.

Your hair is tucked back behind your ears, and you’ve barely touched the iced coffee sitting on your table. Architecture exams are brutal, and your mind is buried in blueprints and calculations.

Meanwhile, Lando is pacing in his dorm, looking at his phone every five minutes. He hasn’t seen you all day, and it’s driving him insane. He’s texted you twice—no response. Called you once—you declined. You told him you were studying for your exams, but he misses you too much to stay away.

So, for the first time in his university life, Lando decides to do the unthinkable. He heads to the library.

The moment he steps inside, the quiet buzz of the room shifts. Heads turn, whispers ripple across the space, and people glance at him with wide eyes. Lando Norris? In the library? It’s practically campus legend that he’s never set foot in here.

But Lando doesn’t care. His eyes scan the room until they land on you, sitting at your usual spot, completely absorbed in your work. A soft smile spreads across his face. You’re beautiful, even in your stressed-out, focused state.

He walks toward you, his sneakers squeaking slightly on the polished floor. The sound draws even more attention, and now people are openly staring. Lando Norris, campus joker, actually in the library? It’s like a solar eclipse—rare and impossible to ignore.

You don’t even notice him. Your pencil moves furiously over the paper, your brow furrowed in concentration. Lando stops right beside you, watching you with an affectionate grin. He sits down quietly, resting his chin on his hand as he admires you.

For a few seconds, he just looks at you, soaking in the sight of you biting your lip in concentration. It’s adorable.

You turn the page of your notebook and finally notice him sitting there. You let out a small scream, your eyes wide with surprise.

“Lando!” you hiss, your voice a mix of shock and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you,” he says simply, his voice soft but with a playful edge. “And honestly, this place isn’t too bad. Quiet, cozy... I think it’s a great spot for a date.”

You stare at him, still processing the fact that he’s here. In the library. You glance around and immediately notice the other students staring, some whispering to each other.

“Everyone’s looking at you,” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Let them. They’re probably just jealous I’m sitting next to the prettiest girl in here.”

You roll your eyes, your cheeks flushing slightly. He’s ridiculous. “Seriously, Lando. What are you doing here?”

“Told you, I missed you,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been ignoring me all day. How could I not come find you?”

You shake your head, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. You get up, heading to a nearby shelf, and return with a thick textbook. You place it in front of him.

“Since you’re here, you might as well study,” you say firmly.

Lando stares at the book like it’s a foreign object. “Study?” he echoes, looking at you like you’ve just suggested he run a marathon. “I didn’t come here to study. I came to watch you.”

“If you want to stay, you’re studying,” you insist, crossing your arms.

He groans, flopping dramatically in his chair. “You’re so mean to me,” he whines, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Start reading,” you say, pointing at the book.

With a dramatic sigh, he flips it open, but within seconds, his eyes drift back to you. He drags his chair closer to yours, the legs scraping softly against the floor.

“You’re so cute when you’re serious,” he whispers, his tone low and teasing.

“Lando,” you warn, trying to keep your face stern, but your cheeks are already warm.

“I can’t help it,” he says, smirking. “You’re irresistible.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. The students around you are still sneaking glances, some clearly entertained by the scene.

“Focus, Lando,” you say, turning back to your work.

“I am focusing,” he retorts, resting his chin on his hand. “On you.”

Despite his protests, Lando eventually starts flipping through the book, though it’s clear he’s not actually reading. Every now and then, he leans closer to whisper another ridiculous compliment, making your face heat up even more.

After about an hour, the teasing stops. You glance over and see Lando slumped over the book, his head resting on his folded arms. He’s fast asleep, his messy curls falling across his forehead.

A soft smile spreads across your face as you watch him. You shift closer, leaning gently against his shoulder while you continue studying. The library feels a little warmer, a little cozier with him there.

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 2 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, adult themes (not smut lol) (yet) (jk) (unless...), the mission finally starts, so much plot from here on out y'all so buckle up

a/n. i didn't get to include the most important bits that were supposed to be presented in this chapter because i got carried away with the buildup lol. exciting times ahead y'all. i have so much in store for you with this series. don't be a stranger and let's talk!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

You can only stare back at the woman peering at you, her face painted with a thick layer of makeup, her hair styled to staged ‘effortless’ perfection, and her body wrapped in an outfit that’s equal parts provocative and refined.

Her image is so flawlessly curated—so much so that you barely notice the apprehension that’s hidden amidst her features, if it weren’t for the fact that that woman is you.

You can barely recognize yourself—and perhaps that’s the point of all this.

Asahi and Moriyama didn’t have to explicitly state it yesterday—they need you to put in every ounce of effort to make sure that you succeed, and that includes doing everything you can to supplement your quirk all the while keeping your real identity lowkey.

Even if it means looking like this.

You’re about to give in to your second thoughts and change out of the black, low-cut tank and beige cardigan you have on when an array of knocks echo from what you think is your front door, and you freeze.

With a cautious glance at your bedroom’s wall clock, you think you’re supposed to feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that it’s 9:00 PM on the dot, the exact time Bakugou said he’d pick you up, which means no villain or mal intentioned person is at your front porch, but that doesn’t come.

Instead, the sense of dread that’s been stirring in your gut ever since you got swept by Asahi’s men yesterday only magnifies, leaving you a bit cold and…are you shaking?

You don’t get to dwell on that, though, because another round of rapping resonates from your foyer again, which somehow pulls you out of your nervous stupor. You hurriedly run to the door, not even bothering to check through the peephole, opening it with a turn of the knob to see Bakugou.

Wearing a white face mask and decked in a fitting black hoodie, with his ash-blonde hair peeking through the sides of a dark baseball cap.

His fist is frozen mid-air as he stares at you, eyes slightly widened in shock, as if he didn’t believe you’re capable of this thing called punctuality. He promptly brings it down, though, schooling his expression into a neutral one, but not before giving you a quick once-over.

“Hey,” he offers, voice gruff and way lower than you remembered it back in high school.

“Hello,” you counter, looking back at your messy apartment out of habit. “I’m almost done. I just need to grab my purse.”

And, because you genuinely need to know for the sake of what you’re about to do, you ask: “Do I look okay?”

He must’ve not been anticipating that question, because his eyebrows furrow ever so minutely like you just caught him off guard. “Yeah,” he eventually replies after studying the entire length of your body once again.

And, you may have just imagined it, but you swear to god his eyes linger on your chest for a beat longer than necessary before he meets your gaze.

“You clean up…” he pauses, like he’s grasping for the right adjective, before settling with: “…decent.”

At that, you feel yourself deflate a bit. Maybe you wanted a more affirming answer, definitely not because you want that from him, but because you need to look good. However, if there’s anything the rumor mill told you back when you were still teenage students, it’s that Bakugou Katsuki was a man of few words when he was serious, let alone appreciative, so you take his comment in stride.

Besides, in comparison to how you looked yesterday, anything is an improvement, really.

“Thanks,” you respond, and you debate for a second whether or not to say the next thing but ultimately decide on it. “…And you look mildly disguised.”

That seems to ruffle Bakugou’s feathers. “Mildly?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling unsure about your honesty. “I get the hoodie and the cap and the face mask, but there’s no hiding your hulking frame, man.”

And really, there isn’t. How are you supposed to conceal a torso as large as that?

You gesture to his chest and shoulder area for further emphasis. “I don’t think you can pass up as a regular citizen but like as a non-descript athlete, maybe?”

To your dismay, Bakugou merely grunts before shaking his head. “This’ll work.”

Apparently already over your suggestion, he glances past your shoulder as he shifts his weight on his other foot. “Can you grab your purse now? We’ve to get going.”

Now, you’ve got half a mind to argue and try to convince him that maybe going for a better disguise is better in the long run but you’re silenced by his domineering gaze. So instead, you nod before rushing back to your bedroom and grabbing the bag you already prepared beforehand, as well as your phone that’s charging on top of your bedside table.

Although it won’t be of much use later, or in the coming few weeks, if everything goes according to plan.

“Ready?” he asks when you return to the doorway with your things in tow.

“Yup,” you retort as you lock the door behind you, and just like that, you’re well on your way to a potential death sentence.

You’re in the elevator going down to the ground floor by the time he speaks up again. “We’re commuting,” he starts, not looking at you but instead scrutinizing the barely hanging on floor buttons. “Can’t risk raising suspicion by driving there.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” you ask just as the elevator dings, signifying your arrival.

The doors burst open, and he steps out. “You’ll see.”

The commute to wherever the hell it is you two are going is quiet.

Bakugou didn’t divulge any further details as you stepped out of your building, wordlessly ordering you with a stern look to just follow. Frankly, you don’t like how you’re being kept in the dark, but you don’t contend. You’re acutely aware that you have a limited number of cards to play with Bakugou, and you have to play them right, if you want to even survive this mission without your partnership falling apart and jeopardizing the entire thing. Wasting a card on stupid information would be downright foolish on your end.

Even the walk to the bus stop is silent, and so is the entire ride. Despite it being quite late into the evening, the vehicle is still somewhat crowded, which you chalk up to it being a Friday night. You find yourself relaxing in your seat as the realization dawns on you—perhaps there was no point in getting too riled up about getting noticed.

And besides, you’re taking extra precautions, too. You’re not sitting next to each other, because he’s trying to stave off attention while you’re straining to catch it. Maybe not of these strangers, but of the people you’re going to meet later on.

Roughly 10 minutes and a short subway ride later, you climb up the underground stairs to a stop you vaguely remember hearing from your coworkers about. You recall how she described an old party district right in the middle of Musutafu, and sure enough, the text on the street signs match the name she recounted during one of your lunch breaks.

“Over here,” Bakugou calls out from a few feet ahead of you. You quickly quit your observing and follow suit, mindful of keeping an appropriate, not at all questionable distance between the two of you.

After what felt like walking five blocks from the subway, you see Bakugou halt and make a left into a poorly lit alleyway. You hesitate for a second, having been on autopilot and going straight for the last how many minutes. You’re able to swiftly gather yourself, though, steering in the same direction.

The moment that you do, it instantly registers to you that you’re not just in the party district anymore. If the dingy signages and the palpable seediness of the alley are any indication, you’re most likely in the red-light district now.

Suddenly, everything feels a bit too real, and you barely catch yourself stumbling back on your feet. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who instinctively moves to reach out for you from where he’s standing. He pauses, though, when you’re able to regain your bearings with a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry,” you offer meekly.

He eyes you with the very same inexplicable expression from before. “You good?”

You’re not about to tell him you’re scared shitless, so you give him a half-hearted nod. Turning to study the exterior of the small building, you take in the lightly peeling paint and the booming music emanating from it. “This the place?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat. “Are you sure you’re good?”

You whip to look back at Bakugou, who, if you didn’t know any better, is now looking apprehensive.

You decide then and there that you have to get your shit together.

Bravery is contagious, but so is fear.

For a second, you contemplate using your quirk on yourself to calm your nerves down, but eventually decide against it. There are much bigger fish to fry tonight, and what’s the point of learning all those damned breathing and grounding techniques if you’re not going to use them?

“I’m ready,” you finally tell him after a moment of both of you standing there. “Let’s go in before we start looking unusual out here.”

If Bakugou notices the unease you’re sure you’re radiating, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gives you a curt nod, before turning to open the door.

And when he does, you’re almost instantaneously flooded by the music that was just escaping through the cracks and crevices of the run-down building. You fight the instinct to cover your ears as you step into the large room behind Bakugou, eyes quickly darting all over the place to drink in the scene before you.

Right in the back of the space is a stage that extends in the center as a runway to the middle of the room. The orange and pink mood lights illuminating the area are relatively dim minus the bulbs lining the set and walkway. And, beneath the elevated platform are what have to be pleather seats littered all over the floor—all of which are occupied by decidedly rambunctious men.

You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose as their boisterous laughter fills your ears, opting to face Bakugou instead.

“Hey,” you call out to him, who stops in his tracks to look at you. You sneak a glance at the people at the bar nearest the two of you, just to make sure they’re not listening in, before you continue. “Are you sure this is the place?”

You don’t have to peek beneath his mask to know he’s now scowling at you.

“What am I, a dumbass? I told you, this is it.” He then shifts away from you, far enough that you barely hear his next words. “…It has to be.”

Well.

That’s not exactly comforting.

Your discomfort only heightens when the already faint lights dim further, and the music switches from a pop song to which you know a bit of the lyrics to a rap that, if you were to base it on the first phrase, is all about having explicit, unprotected sex. The crowd of men cheers in anticipation, and as if on cue, a woman dressed in nothing but a two-piece lingerie emerges from the back of the stage, confirming your speculation of what the place is.

A strip club.

You watch as the woman confidently struts towards the center, and apparently, you’re no better than any of the men here because your gaze slowly roves over her slim and toned body, eyes catching at her cleavage that’s leaving nothing to the imagination. You can’t help it—you look down at your own chest, sinking in disappointment at the contrast before promptly looking up in embarrassment, only to find Bakugou studying you closely.

“It’s a strip club,” you blurt out, flustered at getting caught in the act. His eyes only narrow in a way that tells you what you’re already telling yourself: Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, much to your relief, only moving to the far corner of the room where there are miraculously two seats unoccupied. You follow him with no further questions asked, plopping in the chair to his right, thankful you’re wearing black trousers so that your skin doesn’t have to go into contact with the sticky furniture.

You take the opportunity to clock the rest of the room, cataloguing the bar at the other end of the area near the entrance where a barista is swiftly taking and making orders all at the same time, while the men seated on the stools struggle to decide whether to look at the man or at the stripper now performing an elaborate dance around the pole. Amidst the decorated wall adjacent to the bar is a door with a restroom sign on it, and you squint just enough to see it’s only one stall for everyone. You make a mental note to hold in your pee, at least until you get out of here.

And, because you’re feeling nice, you shift to regard Bakugou with a good-natured smile on your face. “I hope you peed right before leaving your house.”

“What?” he says loud enough for you to hear him over the noise they’re calling music. “I can’t hear you.”

“Shit, right.” You lean in ever so minutely, and Bakugou mirrors you. You try to ignore the new-found proximity. “I said,” you repeat, with a little more volume this time, “I hope you peed right before fetching me. I bet the toilet’s filthy as shit.”

To your delight, not that you’d admit that to him in this lifetime, Bakugou smirks at your little quip after confirming the lone comfort room with his own eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he starts, and you stiffen at the nickname, “I’m not the one who has to sit on one.”

You’re about to retort with something along the lines of what if he has to poop out of the blue, or at least try to, because the pet name has you gagged against your better judgment, when a ridiculously tall man clad in all black appears out of nowhere, startling you.

“The f—”

“Dynamight,” the behemoth of a guy cuts you off, eyes trained on the pro-hero beside you and completely ignoring your presence. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Took you long enough to approach me,” Bakugou sneers, oozing with the confidence you can’t find within yourself right now. “I hate sleazy places like this.”

To that, the man only bows his head slightly, face solemn but devoid of remorse. You watch him as his eyes finally drift to you, albeit for only a split second, before looking back at Bakugou. “Follow me, sir.”

The ash blonde does so, perhaps a tiny bit begrudgingly, and you speedily get up along with him. The two men turn to move, and you’re about to take a step closer towards their direction when a long arm shoots up in front of you, keeping you in place.

Any protests die in your throat when you look up and see the guy’s menacing glare.

“If you don’t mind,” he grits through his teeth, “Only Dynamight is needed.”

“She’s with me,” comes Bakugou’s commanding tone. You chance a glance at the pro-hero, whose countenance is so serious you’d be afraid if you were the one he’s talking to.

“But, sir—”

“It’s the two of us or we’re leaving,” Bakugou demands.

The two engage in a stare down which you witness for what feels like a few minutes before the man finally looks away, frustration etched across his intimidating features. He glares at you once more, as if you’re the one who’s insisting on being Bakugou’s plus one, and you’re about to be convinced that he’s mentally chanting a spell to make you disappear when he gestures for you to follow him with a flick of a head.

You gradually release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you shadow them as they enter one of the doors on the wall perpendicular to where you were just stationed. It leads to a staircase that swerves in the middle, and you lock eyes with Bakugou as he makes the turn ahead of you. Neither of you says a word, opting to keep on trailing the man, even as you land on the second floor, which looks more and more like a prostitution den.

Once again, your conjecture is confirmed as you walk down the hallway and past several sets of doors on both sides, from which emanate a cacophony of sensual moans and groans. You wonder what Bakugou’s thinking right now, although you can’t get a read on him as you can only observe his backside.

Finally, after what seems like a tortuous eternity, the man stops right in front of the door at the end of the hallway, and you pause right behind him.

He looks back at Bakugou and you with what you’re pretty sure is caution, before knocking on the door twice, and then another two times but in rapid succession.

“Come in,” is what the muffled voice on the other side says.

And so you do.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, because you’ve never actually been in a service room before, but you at least anticipated a bed on which certain…activities can be done.

But what you’re met with instead seems to be a refurbished lounge room with floor-to-ceiling brick walls, black and red quilted couches, and a bar at the far side all lit up with moody orange lighting.

And smack dab in the middle of it—sprawled so languidly all over the furniture—are three individuals.

Three individuals who immediately look at Bakugou.

It’s them, alright. You don’t need your extensive training in reading people to know that these are the ones you came all the way here for.

You quickly take note of their appearances. The seemingly old man who has to be in his late 50s is seated—quite relaxed—in one of the scarlet solo chairs. He’s slim, bordering on frail, but the glint in his eye as he peers at Bakugou tells you that it’d be unwise to rule him out as one of your main threats.

Juxtaposing his age which is further revealed by his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair is the young woman plastered on the couch adjacent to his.

Or maybe ‘woman’ is a bit too generous…

It’s not obvious at first glance, but you immediately notice how some of her body parts appear to be outright robotic in the literal sense. Perhaps it’s her long, pin-straight, jet-black hair that softens her entire look, but there’s no mistaking what seems to be an artificial left eye, a metallic right arm, and angled, silver lips. She’s wearing long pants so there’s no telling which other parts of her are made up of what you think is steel, but the ones visible to you already tell you enough.

And then there’s the third and last man, who, in comparison to the other two, is remarkably…plain.

There isn’t an air of age-induced wisdom around him, nor is there anything peculiar about his body. He looks like just about any other 40-year-old-ish Japanese man you know, with short black hair, an unassuming face, and semi-formal clothes that are quite loose on his not-buff but not exactly thin body either.

But to your surprise, it’s him that the hilariously huge guy from earlier directly reports to.

“Pro-hero Dynamight, sir, as you requested. And…” the ‘escort’ trails off, and for a split second, you feel kind of sorry you’re here and making things complicated for him. “…he brought company.”

“Finally,” the plain-looking man pipes up from his seat, and even his voice is generic. “And here we thought you were never going to come meet us.”

Placing what suspiciously looks like a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, the man shifts to fully regard Bakugou. “I see that you’ve deciphered the messages we’ve been sending you?”

“No shit,” comes Bakugou’s blunt response, and for a beat, you seriously consider using your quirk on him to make him calm the fuck down.

You decide against it.

To your chagrin, he drones on. “Y’all gotta do better. That was barely even a code.”

At that, the old male barks out a laugh while the plain-looking man only chuckles. “Of course, we expect nothing less from the #2 pro-hero. But…” the latter trails off, eyes finally landing on you. You quickly put on the most endearing smile you can muster, suddenly regretting not touching up your makeup upon sitting earlier. Thankfully, though, he smiles back, before redirecting his focus back on Bakugou.

“I see you brought precious cargo. Is there any reason why she’s here with us?”

“We want in your organization,” Bakugou replies without hesitation. “The both of us.”

And when none of them say anything in response, Bakugou presses.

“You need me, right? I heard you’re planning an attack. I want to join.”

“Yes,” the old man finally speaks up, not even denying it yet his voice is riddled with misplaced humor. “We do, in fact, need you. But what use do we have of this girl?”

“She’s got a useful quirk,” Bakugou supplies, before turning to look at you and then back at them. “Luck. She boosts the success rate of anyone she works with.”

“Luck?” the old geezer says back so incredulously, you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. If he only knew what you were fully capable of. He can’t, though, if you want to get out of this entire situation alive. “I don’t think we’ll need that as long as we have you, boy.”

“Well, tough luck,” spews Bakugou, a little bit too sarcastically for your comfort. “Because, as I’ve told your little lackey here,” he gestures to the definitely not little guy from earlier, “It’s both of us or I’m out.”

“The both of you, huh?” muses the plain-looking man who’s seeming to be more and more like the leader of the group by the second.

Once again, silence envelopes the room when none of them utter a single word, with you and Bakugou watching in anxious (you) and impatient (him) anticipation. You observe their facial expressions as they have a wordless exchange, and judging by how the ancient and the robotic girl are looking at the ordinary man, you guess your hunch about him is right.

Eventually, they appear to reach an agreement, and the leader adjusts just enough to look at the both of you directly.

You brace yourself with bated breath.

He flashes you a modest smile.

“It’s a deal, then.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe

[mattscoquette]

how do you think matt would react if he found his girl sh-ing? (u should make a one shot on this <3) would chris react the same as matt?

matt finding out his girl is sh

. detailed mentions of self harm and anxiety !! pls read with caution <3 this is also in no way romanticizing sh ! remember u are loved :)

you shakily pried open the back of your phone case, carefully removing the small blade you’d taken from your shower razor. standing over the sink as water poured from faucet, you slid up the sleeves of your sweater, an array of both fresh and healed scars adorning your skin. you felt tears prick your eyes as you began to slide the blade against your skin, slashing new cuts into your wrists.

as hard as you tried, you just couldn’t stop yourself from hurting yourself. it had become your way of coping with your anxiety, and your solution to every situation that arose. and matt, poor matt, was so observant in your change of behavior. the way you only wore long sleeves, how you seemed to panic whenever he held your hand. you two stopped having sex months ago. and you noticed how it affected your relationship. you noticed how everything that you did affected your relationship. and that only made you want to hurt yourself even more.

matt deserved a better girlfriend. or so you thought. in your head, you were ruining matt’s life. you were barely there anymore, feeling like you were a ghost watching your life from the outside. and you loved matt so much, so much that it hurt, and all you wanted was for him to be happy. but to you, if you weren’t happy, matt couldn’t be happy.

lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize the mess of blood you were making in the sink, and matt knocking on the door softly. “baby are you good? i’m home with food.”

you cursed underneath your breath, hurriedly turning off the sink and holding a fist over your cuts, trying to stop the flow of blood. i’m okay was all you could unconvincingly rasp out.

“are you sure? can i come in?” matt called out, his voice as sweet and caring as ever. because why wouldn’t it be. you were matt’s entire world, the only thing that mattered to him was you.

“i’ll be right out, i’m okay.” you spoke, trying your best to stop your voice from shaking. you looked down at your cloth covered wrists, dark stains seeping through the sleeves where your hand was clamped around them.

but, matt knew you. he knew something was wrong, and he knew you weren’t okay. so, matt being matt, pushed his thumb against the lock, twisting it as it unlocked. slowly, he turned the doorknob, opening the bathroom door where he saw you standing inside, a panicked expression on your face as you held a hand over your wrists.

matt’s eyes scanned around the bathroom, his face falling as he realized what you were doing. the blade on the counter, the blood in the sink, the way you were drawing your arms into your body. and suddenly, the last few months made sense. "sweetheart.” he couldn’t even manage a whisper.

matt swiftly made his way to you, wrapping his arms around your body as he held you tight. you couldn’t stop the sobs that racked your body, crying hard into matt’s chest while he just cradled you. he kissed the side of your head repeatedly, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he pulled you both down onto the tiled floor, letting you climb up into his lap.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffled, burying your face into his shoulder, “i’m sorry i’m so messy.”

matt pulled away, his expression as if you had just personally offended him. his ran a thumb across your tear stricken cheek, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “don’t be sorry, i’m not upset.”

he continued to comfort you, rocking you back and forth in his arms on the bathroom floor.

“i’m always gonna be here for you.” he mumbled into your hair, feeling his own eyes begin to well with tears. “no matter what.”

“always?”

“always.”

© mattscoquette

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ i kinda wanna start trying to write more angsty stuff like this, ty for this request ! can’t lie i lowk cried writing this but i feel like it lowk helped me in a way bc i used to struggle w this. anyway i hope u guys like <3 and if anyone needs someone to talk to im here !!

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 3

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3

———

“I’ll be there in thirty!” Dustin said. He slammed the phone down and dashed to his room to round up his notes.

“Bye mom love you gotta go!” He shouted as he hustled out the door and jumped on his bike. Dustin had just made it out of the suburbs and into town when he spotted a familiar Maroon Beemer in the lot by the Quickie Mart.

Steve was standing beside his car in a fluorescent windbreaker, leaning on the open driver’s side door. He was staring at the bouquet of flowers in his hands like his nose was about to start bleeding.

Dustin slowed.

….He could probably spare a few minutes to see what the hell that was about.

Really, it’s been a while since Dustin made peace with the fact his curiosity would almost invariably get the best of him.

“Hey Steve!” Dustin hollared, dinging his bike bell a few times.

Steve startled, comically jerking to attention. As a thoroughbred jock, Steve could be ever so slightly air-headed at times. But that usually didn’t extend to a total lack of situational awareness.

Steve waved at Dustin as he approached.

“Why are you angry at those flowers?”

“What? I’m not - “ Steve cut himself off with a sigh. He shot the flowers another grimace. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m being a total idiot right now…”

Ah, Dustin realized. Must have pissed off Robin.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up, I think. And flowers, that’s my go-to right? That’s the move. But…” he tapped above his temple with the side of his fist - as if to dislodge the stupid. He rested it there for a second. “I can’t help but think I’m becoming totally neurotic.” He said, vaguely concerned.

“Girls like flowers.” Dustin offered a simple shrug.

“Yeah, girls do.” Steve agreed. Then sighed again, shaking his head distantly.

Jesus, he must be gone bad.

And Dustin likes Robin. More importantly, he liked her for Steve, they were a perfect match. But most importantly of all - if Steve fucks this up, Dustin spends the next who knows how long listening to him complain about his endless strings of unfulfilling dates.

“And red roses? Can’t get more romantic than that, right?” He said, trying to sound encouraging.

“You don’t think they’re… I don’t know. Lame? Christ, what the hell am I even - I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.” Steve groaned, sounding totally defeated. He dragged a hand through his hair, displacing his artfully styled do. And too distracted to even notice? Dustin was very nearly starting to get worried. “Never mind forget it. Just, forget I said anything…”

“Who even is this guy? Your Steve.” Dustin scoffed. “Legendary lady killer of Hawkins High. Remember? You’re great at this.”

““Yeah, that’s different though. I guess... I don’t know.”

“Different how?” Dustin demanded.

“How about because this is important. That’s how!” He said.

“Ok? That’s a good thing, Steve.” Dustin said, which even to his own ears sounded just a little bit demeaning. Maybe he did need to work on his tone…

“Is it? The last time I really thought there might be something there, it was Nancy. So of course, I manage to fuck the whole thing up. Because that’s my thing I guess.” He deflated. Then quietly, as though speaking to himself, he said. “Things were going so good too… I just had to start a stupid - “

He finally looked back up at Dustin. He closed his mouth and the far away look cleared. He shook his head, like was done thinking about it right now. Or at least done talking about it because he said,

“Henderson, what are you doing running around this early anyways?”

“Pft, what are you doing running around this early? You and Eddie. I’m surprised you’re not sleeping off your… illicit activities.”

Steve made a face. “No. Don’t call it that. I - we… called it an early night last night.”

“Figures. I’m headed to Eddie’s right now.”

“Ah...” He muttered to himself. He looked down at the flowers again and his shoulders wilted. Then he chucked them into the the passenger seat.

“Woah, man, careful with those.” Dustin scolded him.

“No, it’s fine. Look, I gotta go pick up Robin soon. We have a shift together later. See you around, man.”

Dustin frowned. Why were adults so goddamn weird? Is Dustin gonna start acting like this in a few years.

“Good luck.” Dustin offered, tilting his head optimistically. Steve just waved him off, still very obviously distracted.

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Dustin watched him climb into his car. Steve would figure it out. Dustin had faith in that, at least. He could have a thick skull, but give him enough time and eventually he got it together.

Steve drove off and Dustin started pedaling again, in the opposite direction, towards the Forest Hills trailer park.

Dustin was at the trailer almost till dinner time, fine tuning what will soon be the very first one shot, nay the very first D&D session Dustin will ever orchestrate. He can’t help violently oscillating between excited and nauseous, but Eddie’s advice genuinely did provide a solid foundation to work with.

Eddie even assured Dustin he’d act just as shocked as the rest of the party, gasping during the big moments. Stuff like that - even though he knew pretty much every story beat he had planned just from helping Dustin sort it all together.

They were just packing up to leave when the phone rang.

“Shit. Give me a sec. That’s probably Wayne.”

“He’s not at work?”

“A buddie’s house. He got the weekend off.” Eddie said, picking up the receiver.

“Munson’s Mortuary Services. You got the purse, we got the hearse. Are we picking up or dropping off, cause - ” Eddie cut out mid bit. He grimaced, looking back at Dustin. “I - uh, hey. Look this really isn’t a good - “

Dustin was only really half ease dropping as he tried to order his session notes correctly. Eddie was talking quietly for the first time in his life, holding the receiving close to his mouth, which was making it kind of difficult.

“No, it’s fine… I’m serious, it’s fine. Yeah, I’m sorry too…. Well, I was being an asshole. Look this really isn’t a good time…” Eddie glanced back over his shoulder at Dustin. Dustin tried to look busy. “Just, don’t worry about it, seriously…. Yeah. Sure, talk to you later, ok?” Eddie started to move the phone away before bringing it back to his ear.

“This week? I’m not sure… Maybe. I’ve just - I got a lot of stuff going on… I’ll call you… Yeah, bye.”

Eddie hung up, hand lingering on the phone for a long moment.

“Who was that?” Dustin asked, so casually it was probably immediately suspicious.

“Funny how you think I won’t make you walk home.” Eddie said, a bone dry threat. That roughly translated to, it was definitely totally my secret girlfriend. “Pack your shit, dude. I’m calling Wayne so you better be ready to go by the time I’m done.”

It seemed like Eddie took it to heart what Dustin said about them never hanging out anymore. That week, Eddie really seemed to be making an effort to start making time for him again.

And the rest of the party of course.

On Monday, Eddie suggested Hellfire (plus Max!) hit the arcade after school. He didn’t give them any quarters, but that was fine, they had enough loose change to have a good time. They’d just need to plan ahead and bring Steve next time.

After school on Tuesday, Dustin called to see if Eddie wanted to keep working on the one shot. Which he couldn’t cause Corroded Coffin had band practice.

So instead, he invited Dustin tag along. It came with the strict stipulation he kept his mouth shut, his ass glued to the couch, and he not try to touch anything, on pain of a swift and merciless death. But Dustin’s come to understand Eddie’s threats have a lot more to do with his penchant for dramatics than any honest hostility.

Eddie was just heading out the door when Dustin called so he said he’d come grab him from his place on the way to Jeff’s.

Dustin thought for a moment about changing out of his pun-derful shirt but ended up scrapping the idea for time.

He kind of regretted it when Eddie rolled up. Music loud and looking, as always, too cool for school. Summer was still fading, so he was wearing a loose, faded Cult shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had more tattoos than Dustin realized (all of them ugly.). There was a red flannel tied round his waist and he was wearing a thin leather bracelet.

Dustin couldn’t pull off a leather bracelet in a million billion years probably.

“Little mans sitting in on practice tonight.” Eddie announced as they walked into Jared’s garage. He got a scatter of hey’s and what’s up’s.

Dutifully, Dustin belined it for the couch. He sat next to the plastic Halloween skeleton that was already sitting there posed to watch (Dustin was introduced to him as Manny).

Eddie seemed to switch into DM mode, someone had to keep the boys focused and on track.

Dustin sat still and didn’t touch anything, which was easy enough.

But come on, their music was way too awesome for a passive listening experience.

Gareth, Jared, and Jeff seemed to appreciate his enthusiasm. Still, Dustin made sure to keep distractions to a minimum. A reasonable minimum, at least.

“God, you guys are just so - “ Dustin rambled. It had gotten dark outside and they were started to pack up their gear.

“Metal?” Eddie said, winding up his guitar chord with a smile.

“Metal as hell.” Dustin agreed, standing and walking over.

“We’ll make a public menace outta you yet.” Eddie said proudly.

“You can always bring the kid around more during practice.” Jeff said to Eddie. The rest of the band nodded around and shrugged.

“Actually having a live audience every once in a while couldn’t hurt.” Gareth said, nodding his head at Manny. Him and Jeff were dragging his drum kit back into the corner of the room.

“Yeah?” Dustin asked, grinning.

“Maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.” Eddie grinned back, shoving at him a bit and fucking up Dustin’s hair.

“You’d teach me?” Dustin asked, swatting him away. Eddie shrugged easily.

“Oh man. That’d be so cool!” He said. “Maybe next time I could bring some of the other guys? Oh, and Steve could come too!”

Jared practically choked on his instant laughter.

“The King?” He said sarcastically. “Yeah, sure - you wanna bring King Steve here, to sit on the ratty couch in my garage and listen to us thrash around and scream for a few hours?”

“I dunno, could be pretty entertaining.” Gareth elbowed Jeff, nodding down towards Eddie. He was on his knees, focusing intently on tucking his Warlock away in its hardcase. Gareth leaned in closer and whispered. “He’s getting a little too cocky with those guitar solos, don’t you think? Could use a chance to play under pressure.”

“Oh, that does sound entertaining.” Jeff snickered, just as amused by the prospect.

“Can it.” Eddie said, without looking up.

“Eddie?” Dustin insisted, looking to his DM for backup. They were talking like Steve was gonna march in here and just start heckling. Or throwing tomatoes at them or something.

“Sorry kid, they’re right. He’d probably hate it.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, it’ll be cool! I could at least ask? You don’t know he’ll hate it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Steve Harrington would think our heavy metal band is so totally cool.” Jared said flatly, as he leaned over to grab the handle on his bass amp.

“Hey. I saw a Metallica tape in his car the other day!” Dustin said to Jared. Jared’s eyebrows climbed, surprised. Maybe even a little impressed, though clearly too stubborn to admit it.

Dustin turned back to Eddie. He was still expecting him to come to Steve’s defense. But he stayed quiet, barely a part of the conversation. “Come on, I thought you two were friends now.” He accused.

“Sure, Harrington’s fine.” Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah he is.” Jeff muttered under his breath. Gareth puffed up with a badly contained laugh.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Right, you blow us all off to go to go smoke weed with him at the drive through, but he’s just fine.”

Jared, who had been bending over to put his amp against the wall, froze in place.

“No fucking way.” Gareth’s head shot up, his eyes blown wide. But it didn’t sound like he was pissed at Eddie for crossing party lines. Not with the massive, disbelieving grin on his face. “You and Harrington? You fucking took him to a drive through?”

“What movie was it?” Jeff shot out, equally delighted.

“Was it a scary movie?” Gareth said. They both scrambled out from behind the drum set, their task wholly forgotten.

“Guys.” Eddie huffed. “Fine. Yeah, ok, we went to go see a movie - So what?”

“And you just, what!? Forgot to mention it?”

“Sure!” Eddie grimaced. He shrugged defensively. “We just - caught a movie. It’s not a big deal.”

Gareth barked out a laugh. Like that, that right there, is the funniest thing Eddie’s ever said.

“Guys.” Jared looked at Jeff and Gareth pointedly, before glancing at Dustin.

“Sorry it’s just…” Jeff paused with his mouth open, incredulous. “Didn’t know you guys hang out now.” He finished. “Ya know, outside the whole - coparenting.”

“We don’t.” Eddie said, tensely.

Dustin frowned as he watched the guys continue to stow their shit. Gareth and Jeff went back to sorting out the drums. “Not a big - “ Gareth scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

The rest of the boys were struggling to contain shiteating grins and Eddie was just pretending not to notice.

Dustin had never known these guys to be such… jerks. Why would it be such a big deal if Eddie and Steve were friends?

Could it really be all because they’re just so - different? The idea of hard rocker Eddie kicking back with a jock even once was just patently absurd? Ridiculous enough they jump straight to teasing him for it?

Dustin’s frown deepened. For a bunch of freaks, that all seemed pretty judgmental.

These guys would come around on Steve. Seems like Dustin would just have to make sure of it.

On Thursday Eddie agreed to pick him up from school.

He was late of course, so Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max had all started towards home by then.

When he did roll into the parking lot, it was in a sweeping wave of orchestral heavy metal.

“Pick it up.” He said impatiently, as Dustin opened the door. Eddie evil eyed the school building while he turned down the music. “Don’t like being here any longer than I need to be outside D&D hours.”

Dustin hopped in. He had a VHS copy of Jaws in his hands. He had left it behind at Lucas’ like two weeks ago and promptly forgot about it. A week later Lucas brought it to school and Dustin had only just re-unearthed it from his locker today. It was daunting just thinking of the fees that were sure to be stacking up by now.

His only salvation was Steve. Who’s thankfully working today.

“I need to drop this off at the movie store and before you say no - “

“Sure.” Eddie said, already starting the van.

“I - that was easy.” Dustin sat back and relaxed against the seat.

Eddie kept his eyes on the road and shrugged.

“I was thinking about renting something anyways.”

They drove straight to Family Video. The door dinged as they walked in.

Robin was sitting behind the counter. Still focused on her crossword she said, “Hi, welcome to Family Video, can I help you find - Oh, hey guys.”

“Hi Robin!” Dustin said, walking up to the counter.

Eddie lingered by the displays. He traced a finger over one of the tapes on the shelf. “Harrington, here?” Eddie asked, inspecting the cover.

Robin rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “You just missed him. It was seriously slow today and he won rock/paper/scissors so - he clocked out early for the day.” Eddie hummed and put his hands in his jean pockets.

Dustin handed Robin his VHS tape.

“This is eight days late.” She frowned at the computer.

“So - “ Dustin said, thinking fast to distract her from errant thoughts of late fees. “how’d you like the flowers?”

“Flowers?” Robin scrunched up her nose at him.

“The flowers Steve got you?” Dustin blurted out before he clamped his mouth shut again. She squinted at him. Suspicious.

“What are you on about?”

Shit. Steve hadn’t got those for Robin had he?

“Nevermind.” Mayday-mayday. Pull up!

Hopefully Steve wasn’t too pissed at Dustin for letting that little detail slip. And Dustin could barely feel bad for blowing Steve’s cover because, what the hell Steve?

Robin’s lip twisted. She looked down her nose at him, regarding him uncharitably. He forced a smile as she stared him down for a moment longer. Then her face cleared. Raising her eyebrows innocently she turned back to the monitor.

“So about that fee. That’ll be five fourty-“

“Ok! I - “ Dustin hesitated. Sorry Steve - that was five dollars he really did not have. “I don’t know. I ran into him a few days ago. And he’d just bought a big thing of roses.” Dustin caved, shrugging and holding his palms up defensively.

“Ooooh.” Robin’s eyes crinkled with a warm smile and her gaze slid somewhere behind Dustin shoulder. Then quickly snapped back into place.

“Oh.” Robin said again. She looked baffled, like the implications of that just hit her and clearly didn’t sit with her right.

“Maybe they were for his mom? His parents are in town aren’t they.” Dustin offered.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s probably it.” Robin nodded vigorously. The poor, love struck girl just immediately latching onto the explanation.

“Nah.” Dustin turned around to look at Eddie. He was still feigning intense interest in that copy of An American Werewolf in London. “His mom is allergic to roses.”

“That doesn’t mean he - ” Robin scrambled. “Maybe he just… forgot, or something. I mean, you know Steve. Total ditz.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah.” Robin said cautiously. She seemed confused more than anything.

Eddie said cooly, hands still in his pockets. A perfectly neutral smile on his face. “Steve’s a free agent, right? He’s free to play the field.”

Jeez, did Eddie have to be so blunt? What ever happened to letting a girl down easy?

“Uh…” Robin said, looking between the two of them uncomfortably. Like maybe she didn’t quite know the answer to that anymore but it was also something she really didn’t want to sort out in public.

Dustin honestly felt a little bit bad for her. Sure they both always say they’re not dating, but clearly she seemed none too thrilled at the idea of Steve going around giving another girl flowers.

Dustin had hoped with the way Steve was talking the other day, he had finally got his head out of his ass and was ready to go public and make them official.

“Hey, man, I’ll meet you in the car, yeah?”

“Sure.” Dustin said.

“Eddie - “ Robin said. Eddie looked over his shoulder, lingering half way out the door. Robin glanced at Dustin. “Uh. Bye.” She finished lamely.

He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

Robin went back to the computer. She worked in complete silence. Suddenly the thick clack of the keyboard and the low murmur of the movie on the screen in the corner were way louder. Her brow was set like it gets when she’s stuck on a troublesome crossword.

“Sorry.” Dustin said, his face twisting up with guilt.

Robin glanced side long at him.

“I can talk to him you know.” He said.

“Huh?”

“I can talk to Steve. He shouldn’t do that to you.”

“Jesus, for the last time. We - are not - dating.” Robin said through gritted teeth. She made a frustrated noise. “Do you have to be so… ergh, meddlesome.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He lied, taking a step back.

“You need to stay out of your friends love lives.”

Yeah well, how about Dustin stops meddling when his friends stop being so dumb about everything. Till then they’ll just have Dustin to thank for sorting out their messes.

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[revelboo]

I miss my husband Ratchet owo

Wasn’t sure which doc, so went with TFP

The Weakends Pt 8

TFP Ratchet x Reader

• Stretching slowly, it’s the feel of something heavy against your back shifting against you that brings you wide awake. Relaxing when you realize you’re sprawled inelegantly on Ratchet’s red and white chassis, his servos draped across your back. He’s still out as you lift your head enough to see his face and you rest your chin on him to watch him, unwilling to wake him. As exhausted as you were, he’d been nearly dead on his peds and he needs this. Always pushing himself, driven to take care of everyone else and neglecting himself.

• There’s a spot of warmth on him, something soft under his servos as he comes back online. Starting to sit up and catching you against him when you start to slide. “I think that’s the longest I’ve ever seen you recharge,” you say as he grimaces and wonders how long he’s been out. He hadn’t meant to rest so long, used to recharging in short intervals at his desk, sometimes drifting off while working on research. How long has it been since he’s had any significant rest in his actual berth? Usually his mind is too busy, keeping him wound up. But somehow having you there, feeling the beat of your heart kept him still. “You really need to take better care of yourself, doc.”

• You wait for the cranky grumbling, but he just touches a servo to the back of your head in a gentle bump as a rebuke and sits up completely, warm servos pinning you in place. “We need to check on Bumblebee,” he says, but he doesn’t move or shift his grip on you. Like he’s reluctant to start the day. Leaning against his warmth, you listen to the hum of his spark. Feel his servos flex against you before he vents tiredly and slides off his berth.

• “I don’t think I’ve been so mad at someone as I was at you,” you say as his peds hit the ground and he pauses to look down at you. Your little head is leaned against him, avoiding his optics. “Do you know how hard it is to see someone you care about just not give a damn about themself?” There it is, the root of your anger before. The truth. That it wasn’t his grouchy act that set you off, it was because of the way he pushed himself. Working himself to exhaustion again and again, because of course you’d noticed. Even knowing you, being around you, it’s so easy to forget how observant you are. Always looking to him.

• “I’m fine.” Liar. It’s pretty much what you expect from him, though, to play it off. Everyone else so much more important than his own health and happiness. You expect it, because you understand it all too well. It’s the same way you worry over those three kids, anxiety cranking you tight when they leave with the bots and you want to go with them to watch over them, because they’re just kids. And they’re so easy to overlook, a wrong step, a wrong move? You hate that they might be in danger. Wanting to take care of them and Ratchet, all of the bots. Because as dysfunctional as this is, it feels like a family and you want to protect that.

• “Yeah, so am I,” you mutter in a tone that clearly says that you aren’t. At all. He can feel those walls going back up, but admitting the truth? That he’s so tired of this war, of fighting? That he just wants something to break their way. A place to call home once and for all where he doesn’t have to watch friends die right in front of him. He can’t say those things. Not without cracking wide open, because that anxious worry is all that’s keeping him together. That and you.

Previous

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Sorry - Chapter 8

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Series Masterlist

Jon barely shifted the Mustang into park before jumping out and sprinting toward the house's front door. “Dom!” he called, frowning as the house was deathly quiet. Glancing back, he noticed her car was not parked out front, and his heart sank further. He then walked over to the garage door, his frown deepening as he noticed it empty too. 

Sighing. Jon pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Dom’s number, cursing as it went straight to voicemail “Fuck” he muttered, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “So fucking stupid.” 

He tried calling Dom two more times before calling her sister. 

“Hello?” 

“Muf–” 

“You fucked up.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Jon replied, trying to keep his temper in check. “I need to talk to her, she with you?” 

“Mmhm,” Desiree, replied as she looked over at her sister who was sitting on the couch, staring off into space. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you, Jon.” 

“Look, just put her on the pho–” 

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that.” Desiree stood from her seat on the couch and went into the kitchen. “Going back to your ex is crazy Jon! What were you thinking?!” 

“I didn’t go back to my damn ex! I just–” 

“You just what? Went over there to chill?” She scoffed  “Just give her time. She’ll come  to you when she’s ready.” Desiree didn’t give him a chance to respond before she hung up the phone. 

“FUCK!” Jon yelled out and threw his phone down on the table. 

DominiqueWalkerr_

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DominiqueWalkerr_: felt cute, definitely gonna delete later 💋

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user: i miss jimmy with naomi!

↪user: YESS! was just talking about that on twitter! THEY complemented each other!

↪ jonathanfatu: don't do that! Take this shit outta my fiance's comments.

Friday Afternoon

Dominique stayed with her sister for the rest of the week. In her mind, she and Jon were over. There was nothing he could do to fix this. He ran back to his ex again ain't no way she was just going back to him. While she was in the wrong for not being honest about her stance on marriage he was even more wrong. 

Dominque let out an audible groan as she made her way into the arena that was hosting Friday Night Smackdown. She had tried every excuse in the book to get the day off, but it was short notice and they would have nobody to fill in for her. 

“Now whose ass do I have to beat for putting a frown on that pretty face.” Dominque stopped walking at the sound of a very familiar voice. She had a wide smile on her face as she made eye contact with Dave and walked closer to him. 

“Dave?! What are you doing here?” She said, giggling as he pulled her into a hug and lifted her off her feet.”

Dave Bautista looked like he hadn’t aged a day. Before Jon, Dave was the one Dominique thought she was going to marry. But after he left the WWE in 2014, their relationship couldn’t handle the distance. Their split was amicable,  with both of them being extremely civil with each other.  But as Dominique stood there in front of the first man she ever loved, she couldn’t help but think this was a sign. Maybe Dave was the one she was supposed to be with. 

“Y’all in my neck of the woods. Of course, I had to come by and see Hunter.” He said answering her question. “And you.” He muttered the last part, as his eyes did a sweep over her, she didn’t miss the way his stare locked on her bare ring ringer before meeting her eyes again. They stood there staring at each other before they both burst into laughter. 

“Whatever Dave.” She said as she rolled her eyes. 

“I had to try, I mean imagine my surprise when I found out you were engaged to little Jonathan Fatu. You know I used to hang out with his pops and uncles back in the day.” 

“You make it seem like you’re so old Dave,” Dominique said, rolling her eyes with a chuckle.

“I'm 53 years old Dee. I think that's pretty old.” They both laughed. 

“Oh fuck” Josh whispered, his eyes bugging out his head and she saw Dominique and Dave fucking Bautista talking. “Oh shit Uce… this ain’t good.” He said looking over to Joe who seemed very disinterested.  “Go interrupt them” 

“What?” Joe snorted, raising an eyebrow at Josh  Why me?” 

Josh sucked his teeth. “Cause ain’t you like friends with him or something.”  Joe let out a huff and began to walk towards Dave and Dominique but Jon stepped in front of him. 

“Um hello, you two don’t know how to answer a phone?” 

“Oh, uh..” Josh trailed off as his eyes flickered behind Jon. Jon frowned and turned around to see what Josh was looking at and his heart dropped into his stomach. 

“What the fuck?” He whispered as he watched Dave lean down and hug Dominique. his voice thick with disbelief as he watched Dominique respond to Dave's hug. Jon couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dominique’s face. The way she looked at Dave—it wasn’t just a friendly exchange. It was something else, something that made Jon’s chest tighten in ways he hadn’t expected. He could feel his pulse quickening, the jealousy crawling up his throat, even as his mind tried to catch up with what was happening.

“Jon…” Josh said hesitantly, but Jon wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. His eyes were locked on Dominique and Dave, his body tense with a mix of frustration, helplessness, and raw jealousy. “Aye man, relax.. They could just be catching up.” 

Josh and Joe shared a look before returning their attention to Jon who was glaring at Dave and Dominique. “Uce, do not go over there and start shit… Be level-headed. That’s Hunter’s boy… we don’t need no shit coming our way.” Joe warned. Jon sucked in a deep breath and gave Joe a curt nod before walking over to Dominique and Dave. 

Jon clenched his jaw tight as he made his way over to the pair. He cleared his throat as he got closer, causing Dom and Dave to look over in his direction. Dave looked between the of them before excusing himself. “Can I talk to you?” Jon asked her, his voice coming off more hostile and rough than he intended. 

“Jon..” Dominique trailed off with a sigh, her shoulder sagging as she turned her attention to him. “I don’t wanna fight with you.” 

"I don't want to fight either," Jon said, his tone softening slightly. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry. I just - You gotta know I wasn’t on no disrespectful shit Dom. I wasn’t even thinking... I was going to my mom’s and I just…” He trailed off with a shrug. “I shouldn’t have went in. I should have come back home to you.” 

“But you didn’t. Like honestly I’m at fault here too right? I mean I wasn’t honest about my stance on marriage but I have and would never do the shit that you did. Give that girl your number. Foul as fuck. And I forgave you for the whole Trinity situation the first time but now… I can’t” 

“I know I messed up,” Jon repeated, trying to keep his voice steady, but now refusing to make eye contact with her. “But, Dom, I didn’t go to Trinity for some… rebound or whatever you’re thinking. I just needed to clear my head. But that kiss.” He stopped himself, his eyes going wide as he looked over at her. He watched as Dominque inhaled a sharp breath and narrowed her eyes at him. 

“What kiss?” Dominique asked, he heart now pounding in her chest. 

“Dominique, please. I– she kissed me but I pushed her away immediately.” He tried to reach out and grab her hand but she shook her head and backed away from him. 

“Sure, okay,” She said as she rolled her eyes, not believing a word he said... “Here I was, just telling Dave that I was gonna swallow my pride and apologize to you and you out here running back to your ex?!” 

“I wish you stop saying that shit.” he hissed. “Ain’t nobody running back to Trin.” By now. Josh and Joe had walked closer to them ready to separate the couple.  Dominique snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“So if you’re not running back to her what are you doing then?! You got drunk and went to her. You left our home and went to her and then your standing here telling me you kissed her?!” Dominique scoffed as she started backing away from Jon. “Nah, you got it. It’s obvious that you wanna still be with Trinity so i’m not gonna stop you. Go feel the glow or whatever.” 

Josh coughed out a laugh whiched cause Jon and Joe to glare over at him. 

“Dominique wait! Just listent to me.” Jon called out as he started following her down the hall. “I want you. I want to be with you! I wanna work this out.” 

Dominique suddenly stopped, causing him to almost bump into to her. She turend on her heels and glared at him. “I wanted to work this out too. But.. I can’t.. Not after you just told me you kissed her.”  Dominique shook her head and turned around again to walk away from Jon only to bump into someone. Once she seen who it was, she wasn’t able to hold back her emotions anymore. 

Dominique watched as Trinity gasped and looked past her to look at Jon, and that’s when Dominique lost it. Dominique's fist connected with Trinity's jaw before anyone could react. The sound of the impact echoed through the hallway, followed by a collective gasp from the onlookers. Trinity stumbled backward, her hand flying to her face in shock.

“Oh shit!” Josh called out, him and Joe rushing foward to try to stop the fight along with Jon. 

“Dominique!” Jon called out, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her away from Trinity before she could land another hit. “Stop.. Chill baby.” 

Dominique wrangled her way out of Jon’s grasp and before she could stop herself, she slapped him in his face. “I swear to god... I’m done. Stay the hell away from me!” She hastily wiped away the tears that were now coming down her eyes, she gave him one more heartbroken glance before walking away. 

Authors Note: huh... i mean y'all did say Dom was gonna drive Jon into the arms of another woman 😬

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[mimikittysblog]

The Princess - Bonus Ending

Full story! ♡

Pairing: Mafia! Husbands! Poly! Ateez x Fem! Wife! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst if you squint really hard.

Synopsis: You found the traitor.

Warnings: Death, Violence, very slight MxM, some descriptions of gore. ⚠️MNDI⚠️ If I missed anything then please let me know!

Word Count: 1.8k Words

A/N: Hehe surprise! An extra ending 🤭 I wanted to add this on in the actual fic, but I liked where it ended off too much. So I decided to make this into a bonus ending where you could read it if you want, or just ignore it if you don’t. Hope you enjoy this too!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

It has been a little over a week since your kidnapping. Things also have finally gone back to normal.

Except…

“Joooooooonggiiiieee!!!!!”

The yell for the captain of ATZ can be heard throughout the entire mansion, along with the sound of stomping pretty pink high heels.

“Oh my.”

“Well aren’t you in trouble”

Soon the door to Hongjoongs office was bursted open revealing the little fireball of which they call ‘Their Princess.’

“Oh princess.. whats the matter??”

That question only made your frown grow and eyebrows furrow even more.

“You promised we’d finally go shopping today! You said you wanted to dress me up! I’ve been waiting in the living room for over an hour!”

“Oooohh good luck with that!”

“See ya later our troubled husband! Hope she goes easy on you!”

The boys in the room quickly scatter, but of course not before giving you a sweet kiss and a compliment to your pretty outfit.

“Oh darling.. I’m so sorry!! I got caught up with work! Things have gotten so hectic princess.. there are these idiots that are always giving us trouble! And just….” As he kept going trying to give you reasons he notices your expression hasn’t changed at all, which makes him sigh.

Ever since your kidnapping, your husbands have become too anxious. So now they can’t even put their trust into any new body guards. Especially since the one that has ratted out your existence is still unknown.

So they took it upon themselves to always be your chaperone when you go out. As much of a hassle you thought it would be, it honestly just gives them an excuse to be around you even more. So in the end you just let them do it.

“I’m sorry our princess.. I mean it I’m very sorry…” he says as he gets up and makes his way over to you, pulling you close.

“Do you still want to go now..?”

“Can you go?”

“I have to make it up to you, don’t I?”

“And those idiots??”

“Hmmm well.. why don’t you tell me what I should do to them sweetheart?”

“Hmmmph. Well if they’re giving you guys so much trouble and they’re idiots, I don’t see why you can’t just kill them off and take what you need. We have the resources and manpower, plus you’ve done it before! You did it literally a week ago. You’re ATZ for goodness sake. No one is above you!” You say like it was nothing.

And you were right.

Hongjoong chuckles as he sits down and brings you into his lap.

“While you are correct my love, unfortunately what we need from them, requires them to still be alive. For now.” He explains.

“Ughh fineee…” You groan.

As you opened your mouth to speak again. That’s when a loud shrill screech disturbed the peacefulness of the moment.

“What now?!” Hongjoong barked.

“Oh! That must be my doing!” You said with what can only be described as a maniacal glint in your eyes.

“Oh?”

“Come Joongie! I’ll show you! Then we’ll go shopping!”

“Whatever you desire Princess.” He says with a kiss to your new diamond ring.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“LET GO OF ME!! LET GO!! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG?! UNHAND ME AT ONCE!!”

“Then why did you run?”

“H-huh..?”

Here in the middle of your grand foyer, was a girl being held down by two men on her knees. Behind her, every single one of your maids stood their sights straight down.

While in front of her is where you stood. Tall and proud. Wearing a stoic expression however the glint from earlier still in your eyes.

“Princess?? What do we have here?” Seonghwa asks.

Your husbands have all now gathered around you on top of the staircase. Simply enjoying the show.

You spin on your heels to look up at them with a wide cheshire grin. “You’ll see my loves!”

“Sirs..! Sirs please!! Please help me! She’s mistaken!”

SMACK

“Don’t you dare speak to my husbands.” You growl. “Ugh look at what you’ve done! You’ve gotten blood on my new ring!” Your finger now slightly dripping blood from where the diamond cut her cheek.

“Oh no.. No worries sweetheart, we’ll make you a new one.” San tells you.

“Oooh! Alright Sannie Thank you!”

“Please.. why are you doing this?? What did I do wrong?”

Your laugh then rings out throughout the foyer. Echoing beautifully off the walls.

“Stop your pathetic little act.” You say as you crouch down to her eye level.

“I know you were the one that snitched about me.”

At this revelation your husbands became even more interested than before. They all perked up and blood boiling again now that they finally have the culprit.

“What?! Who even are you??!”

They’re so angry they want to just run down and tear her limb from limb. However they know you have something plan. So they just let you have your fun.

You smirk widens at Wooyoungs question. As you know how reality shattering it is to her.

“W-what..? You don’t.. recognize me?? Sir Wooyoung! I’ve worked here for years!! ..None.. of you recognize me?” She asks pitifully.

As she looks up at all of them, she sees nothing but fury and confusion. Not a single one of them having any knowledge on who she is.

SMACK

“I told you. Do not. EVER. Speak. To MY. Husbands.”

You then got up and turn back to your loves above you.

“My darlings. This here. Used to be one of our maids. And she thought that by getting rid of me. She could have all of you.”

“What?!”

“How absurd!”

“How stupid is what that is!”

“No! Its not true! It’s not! It wasn’t me!!! I-I would never betray any of you!” She continues to plea.

“Then why. Did. You. Run?”

“I-I didn’t..”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice your absence ever since I was returned home? Hah! It’s what gave you away! And you actually thought they would? and what?! go searching for you?!” You laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“The day after I returned home from my kidnapping. I realized we were short staffed. It didn’t take me long to realize it was you. When I asked, Kim said you resigned due to health. I didn’t believe it for a second. So I had them search your room. And look what I found!”

At your signal, The head maid Kim stepped forward and gave you a pile of letters.

Love letters.

“Hmm. I’m sure you can guess what these are. You wrote them. Each and every one of them. You didn’t hide them very well. Not sure why you didn’t even just burn or take them with you.” You scoff.

“They’re quite romantic actually… If. They weren’t addressed to my beloveds.”

Her blood has gone cold. She doesn’t know what to do. She can only kneel there looking up at you as she fears her fate.

Unfortunately her fate was sealed the second she began writing these letters.

“I-it’s not.. no… I-I never even gave it to them! Please!! It’s not what it looks like.”

“You thought once you got rid of me. You could swoop in and take my place. However once I came back alive, you decided to run. Thinking I would never suspect you. You then also believed that any of my husbands would realize you stopped being around and come looking for you! Because somehow you have convinced yourself that they’re in love with you! They don’t even know you!!”

“THEY LOVE ME!!!”

SMACK

“Oh. That was the hardest one yet.” Mingi whispers to Yunho. Who nods in agreement.

While on the other side of the staircase Yeosang whispers to Jongho about how this maid is insane to ever think that.

“100%.”

“They don’t. Why would they?” You start then throwing her letters in her face.

“Why would distinguished men like them ever waste space in their brains for a lowly pathetic slut like you? Let alone space in their hearts.”

“…I just..”

“Enough talking. You’ve said far more than you deserve. And frankly I’m bored already.”

You then extend your hand out. One of the henchmen that was holding her down then hands you a syringe.

The girl then panics at the sight of an unknown syringe.

“Wait no please! Whats in that?! What are you gonna do to me?!”

“You could’ve had anything you wanted in this mansion. Anything. And I promise you. I would’ve happily given them to you. My clothes. My shoes. My jewels. My gold. Anything. I’m just that generous.”

You open the syringe cap.

“However the thing you decided to covet? Were the only things that were forbidden. My. Prized possessions. My husbands. And for that. You must suffer the consequence.”

Before she can even let out another sound of protest you injected her straight in the neck.

You and the men holding her down then stepped back as her screams quickly filled the foyer. Her skin and flesh melting straight off of her bones.

“So thats what she ordered acid for.” Hongjoong then mumbles.

“You knew she ordered acid?” Wooyoung asks

“She used my card.” Hongjoong shrugs.

It was a ghastly sight but none of them were even slightly bothered.

Well.

Of course the other maids were.

Once her screams come to a halt. And she was nothing but a pile of goop on the once spotless marbled floor.

You laughed.

Your husbands then descended the stairs.

Once your laughing fit was over you addressed the other maids who were still standing there. Mortified of what has become of their once friend.

“Now all of you. Remember my words. You are free to ask anything you want from me. I have more than enough for multiple lifetimes so I’ll be happy to give it to you. However. If you ever even for a nanosecond think. You could replace me or take any of my husbands away from me. Well. Ask her how that turned out for her.” Fire resonating deep in your voice.

“Thats all. Now all of you clean this up please!” You then say with a bright smile as if the past 20 minutes or so didn’t just happen.

“Come now darling. I believe I owe you a shopping trip.” Hongjoong then says as he puts his hand on your lower back.

“Ah yes!! Lets go! May all my beloveds come with?? Then we can have dinner?”

“Why not?” Yunho says with a bright smile.

Your husband then all lead you out to the car.

“You know no one could ever take us from you. Right Princess?” San says softly to you.

“Of course! I would never let them.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. We wouldn’t either.” Yeosang says.

“They literally can’t our love. You have us all wrapped around your pretty delicate fingers.” Wooyoung adds as he kisses your ring finger.

“I know.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

© mimikittysblog 2024

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[spicyspiders]

old man logan part 6

1.4k words

There's no smut in this, but it's really fluffy.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

“Hey,” you said, balancing the phone between your shoulder and ear, “what’d you need me to get again?” You questioned, placing the basket onto the floor. It was Logan’s turn to make dinner tonight, and he wanted to pair the pasta you had just placed into the basket with some type of fancy sauce you couldn’t remember the name of. 

“Want me to just text you the name?” He asked. 

Your brows lowered in confusion as you looked over the shelfs of sauce jars, hoping maybe one of them would jog your memory, “you said you hated texting.”

”This is important,” Logan answered, making you roll your eyes, “it has to be-”

”Found it! It’s the one with the old man on it, right?”

”Yes. And you got the rig-”

”The rigatoni,” you said with another roll of your eyes, “yes,” you said as you grabbed one of the jars, “hey, he kinda looks like you,” you observed, giggling after hearing the sound of Logan’s huff on the other end of the phone. 

“I don’t look like the guy on the sauce jar,” he grumbled. 

“I’d send you a picture, but it probably wouldn’t show that well on your dinosaur phone,” you said as you moved from the aisle to the next.

”I like my phone,” Logan said, sounding mildly offended. 

“You told me you hated texting because your fingers are too big for the buttons,” you replied, deadpan, “we could get you a bigger phone that isn’t a flip phone. They actually have some really fancy touch screen ones now,” you said as you grabbed the bottle of spices Logan said early paired well with the sauce. 

“Maybe I could upgrade to a different brand,” Logan responded, a smile in his words, “and then I could buy one of the holsters you like,” he teased. 

You cringed just thinking of the sight, “fine, you win. I’ve got to get a few more things, then I’ll be on my way.”

”Drive safe,” Logan responded, his voice full of seriousness. 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you said with a breathy laugh, “love you, bye,” you said ending the phone call as you stepped into another aisle. 

It wasn’t until you were checking out that your brain caught up to what you had said, “shit,” you said, startling the cashier. 

“Everything alright, sir?” She asked, a worried look in her eyes, “did you forget something?”

”No! No I- um,” your mind went blank, not even knowing how to begin to explain what had happened earlier. But actually, this poor cashier didn’t deserve to be subjugated to your blabbering mouth. You didn’t know how long it would take to even explain that you meant what you said to Logan, but you didn't want it to come out in such an unserious way. 

“Just remembered something I need to do later,” you said as you fished your wallet out from your pocket. 

——

All throughout dinner, you couldn’t focus on anything other than how you had ended the phone call earlier. You weren’t even able to focus on the delicious meal Logan made, the man being able to tell from the worried looks you could feel as you kept your eyes on your plate. 

“Was it not good?” Logan asked after setting his fork down onto his empty plate. 

“No!” Your head shooting up, “No, I mean it was great, not no, I didn’t like it,” you said quickly, hoping as you stood up and grabbed your dirty dishes that cleaning them would help you calm down. “It was great,” you said into the sink as you turned the hot water on. 

“If you say so,” Logan replied, like he wasn’t convinced. 

“Go relax, I’ve got this,” you said as Logan grabbed the sponge. 

“You wash and I’ll dry,” Logan responded, his hip brushing yours when he walked up beside you. 

Washing dishes was a quiet affair, which gave your brain the perfect opportunity to overanalyze. It made you nervous how Logan was being, save for the soft thank yous he said when you handed him a wet, clean dish. 

You hoped Logan hadn’t noticed the way your hands shook each time you handed him another dish, but if he asked, you could just blame it on the weight of the pot Logan used to cook the pasta in. 

“Your sink isn’t big enough for this,” you grumbled, trying to pour out the soapy water without getting it all over the counter. 

“It feels like you’ve been bitching all day today,” Logan observed as you passed him the pot, “first my phone, now my sink.”

”I’m trying not to get water everywhere,” you said as you cleaned the lid that went with the pot, “unless you want me to get it all over your counter,” you said, almost tipping the water over, but not before Logan grabbed your wrist. 

“You do this and I’ll bend you over this counter,” Logan said, “move,” he said, pushing the damp cloth into your chest before he manhandled you into the spot he was. 

“I wasn’t actually going to do it,” you groused, snatching the clean dish Logan gave you. 

You turned your neck to the side to hide your smile after seeing Logan’s glare. A few moments later, you felt Logan’s hip brush yours again as you heard his soft chuckle. Your mind, at least for a little while, was finally at ease. 

——

Though it freaked you out that Logan hadn’t said anything about it, you felt another wave of affection in seeing Logan in bed. He looked comfortable and warm, a sight that you were grateful Logan let you see. He lounged under the covers, sat up against the headboard, a book in one hand, and his glasses perched upon his nose. 

“What’re you reading?” You asked as you closed the bathroom door. You made your way through the dim bedroom, illuminated by the lamp beside Logan, to get in bed next to him.

“It’s about the first world war,” Logan said, not looking up from the page he was reading. 

“Was that the one you were in?” You asked, a smile stretched across your lips. A laugh burst forward when Logan glanced your way with an unimpressed look. Maybe it was from exhaustion from the full day you had, or the inner turmoil in your brain and going over what you said to Logan, but the look he gave made you burst out into laughter. 

Your body shook as you laid down onto his shoulder, trying to muffle the sound into the soft cotton tank top he wore. When Logan responded, you could hear the smile in his voice, “because I’m so old, right?”

You didn’t respond and instead sat up to grab the remote on the bedside table that was on your side, “you mind if I watch a little tv?” You asked once your laughter had died down. 

“Just not too loud,” Logan murmured, glancing up to look at you over the top of his glasses, making you smile once more, “what?” he questioned. 

You weren’t going to let yourself laugh again and instead settled yourself back down, your body curled towards Logan. You felt his hand brush your thigh under the covers as you turned the tv on, making sure to immediately make sure the volume was low. 

“Fuckin’ commercials,” you groaned. 

“Be patient,” Logan said humorously as he squeezed your thigh with a broad palm, “you could stand to read a book instead of watching that.”

”Once I graduate next semester, I’m never reading another book again,” not tearing your eyes away from the screen. 

It didn’t take long for your eyes to begin to droop, and you gasped awake when the remote fell from your hand, “I’ve got it,” Logan said softly as he clicked the tv off. 

He placed his book down on the table, followed by the remote, and then finally his glasses. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before leaning back over to turn the lamp off, the room falling into darkness. 

Tiredly, you rolled onto your side, away from Logan, only having to wait a few seconds before his arms were wrapped around you. 

“I do love you too, you know,” Logan said softly as his lips brushed the back of your neck.      

“Yeah?” You asked into the darkness, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Wanted to tell you earlier,” Logan said, one of his hands, sneaking under your shift, “but didn’t want to say it with my mouth full of pasta,” he said, hiding his smile in the back of your neck.

”I wouldn't  have minded,” you said, placing your hand on top of Logan’s through the shirt. 

“Cause you love me?” He asked, rolling you over onto your back, his body hovering over yours. 

Wordlessly, you pulled Logan down into a kiss, suddenly not feeling tired. 

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina,

I’m in Europe, so I’m just waking up to all the discourse on your blog about SC. Maybe it’s because I’m older, maybe it’s because I’m more jaded or just the fact that I tend to look for the motives behind the obvious, but SC’s actions yesterday struck me as being very calculated. I forced myself to watch the footage of mourners leaving the service and what I noticed was the boys very discreetly leaving, one by one, trying not to attract too much attention to themselves. Then Liam’s devastated parents escorted Liam to the hearse waiting in front of the church to begin his last journey. It was at that moment that SC made his way towards them and ‘broke down’ in front of them, which basically forced these sweet, kind people to console him in view of the paps and the spectators.

SC has been getting a lot of bad press lately. His search for the next boyband turned out to be a flop. The interview he gave where he talked about his single greatest regret with 1D did him no favors. He tried to use Harry’s name when he told an interviewer that Harry had called him up for a little chat about the good old days and as recently as a month ago he implied Liam had paid him a nice little visit only last summer. He used those boys names to keep himself relevant and to boost his PR, even though Liam’s death had created a lot of backlash for him. What better way then, to clear his name and get back in the public’s good graces, than being seen breaking down in front of Liam’s poor parents and being consoled by them. He’s a narcissist and a master manipulator, so he must have known very well that these sweet people would never do anything to dishonor their son’s memory by pushing him away in full view of the press. And judging by some of the anon’s you’ve gotten, his nefarious little plan seems to be working, because he’s now being seen as the heartbroken friend of the boys and we are the heartless a-holes who refuse to forgive his transgressions.

Anyway, this is just my two cents. Maybe I’m too harsh, but this feels in line with everything else we know about the man, so I wouldn’t put it past him to have orchestrated this entire interaction.

On a side note, thank you for being a voice of reason and a port in a storm for all of us in these difficult times. Your blog is the first thing I turn to every single day and I want you to know how much I appreciate you being here for us all. Don’t forget to take good care of yourself! Sending you much love from Belgium!

Hi sweetheart. Thank you for this. I 100% agree with you. There's absolutely no way he didn't do that as a calculated move.

And thank you for the sweet personal message, too. I'm logging off shortly. Yesterday was super draining. ❤️

[lumitoiile]

xiao : [crapbag.]

☆ — fluff; he takes care of you while you're sick. gn! reader (no pronouns.)

"achoo!" 

you sniffle, nose red as you stare up at your ceiling in annoyance. ugh. you've been bedridden all morning, sneezing and coughing up a fit. you can't even remember how you got sick in the first place... it's all a blur. your head feels light and your thoughts have started to grow delirious. 

"this sucks," you groan, reaching over for a tissue on the nightstand and nearly falling off your bed in the process. why'd you have to get sick today, of all days? you'd been planning to visit xiao this afternoon, but...that's obviously out of the question now, given the circumstances. you barely even had enough energy to walk to the bathroom this morning. 

you sigh, leaning back onto your pillow after loudly blowing your nose. after trying your best to make yourself a little more comfortable, you gently hover your hands over your eyelids, keeping them shut. mmn...cold hands. that feels nice. a yawn escapes your mouth, satisfied tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. "i wonder what xiao's up to right now," you whisper. 

well, it’s not like the two of you are particularly close or anything—you hardly even qualify as friends, and knowing him, no progress was going to be made there any time soon. ‘human interaction is quite troublesome,’ so he says. but something about him feels…lonely, in your eyes. or maybe it’s sad? you can’t tell. it’s hard to get a good read on that guy, mister ‘i don’t feel emotion like you mortals do.’ 

“it’s you.”

you jolt at the sudden voice, sitting upright and frantically scanning the room for its source. and low and behold, there he is, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. uh oh. he looks irritated.

”xiao…?” you blink a few times, rubbing your eyes to try and convince yourself he’s actually real, standing here before you. up until he spoke, you hadn’t even heard or noticed him. “wh—where the hell did you come from?”

he lets out a tired sigh, gold eyes narrowing. “you called out my name, did you not?” he says it like it should be obvious. “but you don’t seem to be in any danger…why have you summoned me?”

”what are you—“ oh. that’s right, you remember him saying something about that…whoopsie! you give him a sheepish smile. “s-sorry,” you mutter, voice raspy and laced in sick. “it was an accident. nothing's wrong, j-just feeling a little under the weather is all. you should leave before i get you sick too…”

he looks like he wants to roll his eyes. “you shouldn't worry over something so foolish. we adepti do not get sick," he scoffs. 

you nearly facepalm. ah, right. he said pretty much the same thing about sleeping a little while ago. regardless, you stumble out of bed, struggling to steady yourself as you plant your feet and lean onto the nightstand. "i still don't want to give you any of my icky germs. you should...you should go."

you're tempted to start pushing him toward the door, but that would defeat the purpose of trying to keep your germs away. he notices this and stares at you for a moment before letting out another sigh, speaking in a low voice. "you're in no condition to be left here alone."

"w-what are you talking about? i'm completely fine," you lie, holding back a wicked cough and chuckling awkwardly. "really, you don't to stay here. its...not even that bad! see?"

his gaze on you is intense and his eyebrows furrow. "your complexion is scaring me. please sit down."

"i'm telling you, i'm fine—" you try to take another step toward him, as if to prove that you're capable of doing so, but the archons don't seem to be on your side today because your knee gives out and you fall over again.

oh shit.

xiao's at your side in an instant, catching you and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding your own over his neck as he keeps you steady. "i told you," he scowls, eyes narrowed. "you need to be more careful." 

you start hastily start sputtering out apologies, but he pays you no mind as he effortlessly lifts you back onto your bed, pulling his touch away quickly as if he might hurt you somehow. "just—stay here. don't move," he mutters. "i'll...look after you."

your heart nearly stops and you start to feel your face getting warm, though this time it isn't from your sickness. did you hear him correctly? "y-you don't have to do that! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself...really, i'm sure you have other things to do."

he doesn't say anything. instead, he takes note of your red face and leans a little closer, very carefully brushing his fingers against your forehead. this, of course, only makes your cheeks heat up even more. he frowns, oblivious to your embarrassment as he pulls away. "you seem to have a fever...have you taken any medication?"

you nod, face flushed. "um...yeah, i took some a little while ago. i really am fine, you don't need to—"

but he's already dashed off to who knows where, the sound of rummaging through cabinets and water running easily heard from down the hall. he returns a moment later with a cold wet rag, wrung out for your use. he stares at you awkwardly for a moment before handing it to you. "...here."

you give him a soft smile and take it from him, gratefully draping the rag over your forehead with a content sigh. "whew. that feels...a lot better, actually...thank you. the cold feels nice."

he nods, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. "do you...need anything else? can i perhaps make you something?"

you bite back the urge to snort. "what, like cook? you know how to cook?" 

his expression changes, and if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was nearly pouting. "i'm not incompetent. of course i can cook. though i'll admit, it isn't particularly my favorite thing in the world. its not like i have any need for food in the first place."

you let out a soft chuckle. that's right...he doesn't need to eat. strange. he seemed awfully happy back when you made him that almond tofu...well, as happy as he can get, at least. he's so pissy all the time.

you nod at his question. "i was gonna make myself some soup earlier, but..." you shrug. "i've been stuck in bed all day and never actually got around to it."

"soup..." he gives you a single nod as he walks away back into your kitchen. oh, jeez. here we go...you call out a thank you as he leaves, really hoping he wasn't lying when he said he could cook. you can hear the opening of cabinets as he rummages through your stuff, looking for everything he needs.

a moment later, you call out to him again. "hey, xiao?" 

he stops what he's doing and the noises pause, perking up at the sound of his name. "yes?"

you smile softly. "please don't burn my house down."

[woodywood101blog]

Experimental: Delivery, Part 2

They were able to move Yazan into the car and urgently drive across to the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. Anna urgently dialled one of the other research assistants to arrange a private delivery room for Yazan to pick him up from one of the private entrances. The assistant managed to secure the room by declaring it a research facility, meaning the only authorised individuals in the room were Mike, Anna, the other research assistants, plus Randy and Yazan.

On the way, Yazan groaned more aggressively as the contractions became stronger. “Ahh, I honestly don’t know how much longer I can do this!”

“Yaz, we’re almost at the hospital. Once we’re in, we’ll see how far along you are and see if we can do a c-section, okay?”

“I -”

“I know, it’s not exactly our birth plan, but these kids are going to make a lot more calls over your life in the future, okay? Better start getting used to that.”

Yazan mumbled, before moaning when another wave of contractions kicked in.

As they were checking into the hospital, Yazan was speedily put into a wheelchair and strolled into the room, pulled out of his shorts and bra and into an open hospital gown. He felt comfortable holding one of the hospital bed rails and standing upright.

“Okay, Yazan, can I take a look and see how far along you are in labour?” Mike asked.

“No.”

“Yazan, now is not the time -”

“I said no. You are not going anywhere near me.”

Mike groaned and raised his hands in frustration. “Yazan, your babies don’t have time for this! You are in a really serious situation here. We need to see what is happening so that we can work out how to help you and the babies stay alive. Now, can I take a look?”

Yazan looked towards Anna. Anna meekly smiled to try and give support to let Mike take the lead. “No, let Anna.”

Anna looked across at Mike in confusion. She’s a medical student, she shouldn’t step on her research director’s toes. “Alright, fine. Anna, step up and inspect Yazan’s anal cavity for me, please.”

Anna’s eyes bulged as she looked back towards Randy, who had just walked into the room. He sensed there were issues when Mike stepped back and was walking around the room in frustration.

Just as Anna was about to inspect, another contraction hit Yazan, which felt much stronger than before. Everyone witnessed Yazan’s belly tighten as he moaned out in pain and frustration, “Ahhh, get them out of me!!”

Anna slowly moved two of her fingers into Yazan’s ass, and could sense the contraction easing. She noticed his ass felt loose. As she moved her hand further, she quietly gasped.

“I can feel Baby A’s head. I think we should try and get Yazan to squat to help speed the delivery of Baby A. If we can do that, we could then still consider a c-section for the remaining three babies.”

“Good call, Anna.” Mike smiled. He looked towards Yazan, who looked more exhausted than ever. “Right, Yazan, we’d like to have you squat so we can get your first baby delivered. Can you do that, or do you want help?”

“I want you to fuck off out of here, that’s what I want!” Yazan screamed.

Randy stepped up from behind and rubbed Yazan’s shoulders. “Yazan, Mike is really trying to help here. Please… I know it’s not a comfortable experience at the moment, but we’re all here to make sure you and the babies are safe. Okay?”

Yazan quietly sighed. Yes, this is a pretty shit experience. Four babies hanging on for dear life, stuck behind a ‘loose’ asshole which shouldn’t even be giving birth to babies in the first place. But Mike, for better or worse, was the doctor who got him in this mess, and he was going to be the doctor to get him out of this mess.

“Fine. I’ll squat.”

“Thank you, Yazan. I really am sorry for putting you through this.” Mike quietly replied as he walked towards Yazan, held his waist and helped him squat on the floor. Yazan held a deep moan as he felt the further discomfort of the babies shifting and kicking around.

Almost immediately, a new contraction hit and Yazan felt Baby A move even closer towards delivery. Anna guided him through the breathing, while Randy wiped the sweat and rubbed his back when the contractions were stronger. Mike stepped back and let Anna take the lead.

“Okay Yazan, Baby A is crowning. I think a really strong man like you could do this in two really powerful pushes. Ready, let’s go! And push!!!”

Yazan screamed as he felt a new contraction rip through him. He gave all his might as he pushed the baby. Yazan held Randy’s hand extremely tightly, to the point where Randy was worried he might break it.

“The head is out! Well done, Yazan! We’ll just let the shoulders move around and at the next contraction, we’ll get to meet Baby A, alright? Ready, and push!!!”

Yazan screamed even louder as he felt the shoulders shift around, and almost immediately felt the body start to slide out into Anna’s hand. Yazan cried out as he heard the first baby cry. He also looked briefly down at his breasts and saw more colostrum than ever before start spilling from his nipples.

“Your baby girl is here, Yazan!” Yazan and Randy started crying as they heard the baby cry. Mike grabbed the baby and took it to a nearby crib to clean the baby. He returned and brought the baby to Yazan, who had slowly moved to an upright position.

“Hey there, little one!” Yazan whispered as he kissed the baby girl. However, the joy was short-lived as Yazan almost instantly felt a new contraction rip through his body and crouched back down to the squatting position. “Ohh, fuck!”

Anna quickly stepped up and looked at Yazan’s butt. “Hey Mike, I think we might need to put a pause on the c-section. I can see Baby B’s head.”

Yazan groaned in more pain as he realised he had no choice but to deliver all of his babies naturally at the rate he was going. These babies really are calling the shots.

With each building contraction, each of the three sons moved closer to being born. About 5 minutes following Baby A’s birth, Baby B was born. 8 minutes later, Baby C was born.

“Alright, Yazan, I can see Baby D’s head now. You’ve done such an amazing job today. We’re in the home stretch now! You’ve got two more big pushes to do and then you can relax.”

Randy was worried Yazan was slipping in and out of consciousness with the extreme pressure and pain his body was experiencing. He tried to dab some icy cold water on Yazan’s forehead to keep him alert, plus the contractions were also helping him stay alert. Yazan deeply moaned then screamed at the peaks of the contractions.

Yazan could feel another extremely painful contraction come on, and could sense this was the last one he could do at full power. As such, he screamed so loudly Randy needed to move his head back to avoid hearing damage, and pushed as much as he could.

Anna was shocked at how much power Yazan was using to push Baby D out. While the ass was loose, he could still conserve some energy. However, Yazan wanted this to be done, so he kept pushing to the extent of the contraction and birthed the baby’s head and shoulders. Anna took the hint and tried to see if she could grab the baby’s shoulders and pull him out.

“Yazan, you might feel some discomfort, but I’ll see if I can pull Baby D out for you, okay?” Yazan nodded while trying to catch his breath. Randy could see Yazan’s eyes glaze over. He might actually pass out, he thought.

Anna was able to use a set of forceps to latch onto Baby D’s shoulders and slowly pull him out of Yazan’s ass. “And, here we go! Baby D is born! Well done, Yazan!” They waited a couple of seconds before seeing Baby D squirm then cry loudly.

Yazan smiled briefly as he saw Baby D being carried away by Mike. Almost instantly, Yazan collapsed into Randy’s arms.

“Yazan? Yazan! Yazan, can you hear me?” Randy screamed desperately as Anna and Mike ran across to see what happened. The team leapt into action as they helped Randy lift Yazan onto the table, and pulled Yazan’s gown off him.

“He’s unconscious. We need to check his vitals.” Anna and Mike strapped a new heart monitor onto his finger. “Low blood pressure. Is he bleeding?”

Anna checked around Yazan’s body. “No, I can’t see any external bleeding. Has he birthed the placenta?”

“Shit, no he hasn’t. We need to get the placenta out and check for uterine rupture.”

Anna turned around and saw Randy distraught. She turned to one of the other assistants. “Hey, I think we might need to take Randy outside.”

An assistant moved across to Randy and quietly led him outside and shut the door. As soon as the door shut, Randy burst into tears and dropped to the floor. One of the midwives on the floor ran across to help him and move him towards one of their family rooms.

“Hey there, it’s going to be alright, sir. She is going to get the best care from the doctors here. Let me get you a cup of tea and somewhere to sit.”

Randy struggled to process what was happening. There are four perfectly healthy babies, but the love of his life - a man - is fighting for his life.

[patolemus]

Wip Thursday

Got tagged by @gege-wondering-around and @dontcallpanic so here you have another snippet for my demon!stiles au!

“So. I know what this thing is,” because there comes a point where your only option is ripping off the bandaid, and also, Stiles has exhausted all his other resources. “The good news is I know how to get rid of it.”

“And the bad news?” Derek already sounds like he doesn’t want to know the answer. Stiles would feel guilty, he really would. Only, Derek brought this on himself, really, letting Stiles into the pack all those years ago. He should just accept that Stiles will do his thing and rest easy.

“Uuuh… I’m going to have to talk to my Father and that always sucks,” and he’d been doing so well, too, dodging his messengers and little notice-me calls. The fire had been a little too on point, though.

“The Sheriff? What for?” Scott tilts his head in that way that makes him look exactly like a puppy. Stiles has a sudden urge to squeeze him until he bursts.

Heh, good old cute rage.

“Oh, no, not my dad. My Father. Completely different people,” Stiles is met with blank expressions. Huh. Right, the puppies don’t know who his Father is. Eh. Not his problem. Derek can explain it to them on his own time. “Anyways, it’ll be a pain in the ass because I’ve been trying to avoid his calls for a while now and he’ll be so clingy and smug, but I’ll take one for the team,” he says, ever so graciously. Ugh, Belial is going to be unbearable, too. Stiles is so not looking forward to that conversation.

More blank stares. Stiles smiles, nods once and turns around. He’ll have to go kill an animal or something for his sacrifice, since his Father still refuses to get signal on Hell. So messy. Stiles hopes his Father understands he won’t be returning until he gets stable wi-fi connection because he is not giving up Google.

“What? Stiles that explains nothing!” Lydia says, exasperated. Stiles doesn’t know what she’s talking about, he made perfect sense of himself! “You haven’t even told us what this thing is!”

Oh. Okay, maybe that one’s on him.

Please don't take this seriously. I beg of you. Also I know this makes absolutely no sense at all but it will be. Eventually. Maybe. Hopefully. Tagging @oldefashioned @salty-fryingpan @novasillies @hedwig221b and of course @dontcallpanic and @gege-wondering-around again, thank you so much for the tag!