#bum bag style

[vivrabag]

Hands-Free Glam: Elevate Your Look with the Ultimate Bum Bag for Women

Introducing Vivra's stylish bum bags for women, the perfect accessory to elevate your fashion game! Say goodbye to ordinary bags and embrace the trend with our chic bum bag designed for the modern woman. Function meets fashion as our bags for the waist redefine convenience and style. Elevate your outfit effortlessly with Vivra's bum bag fashion—keeping you hands-free and fabulous. Explore the perfect blend of utility and flair, because who says practical can't be fashionable?

[themancorialist]

Aytoun Street, Manchester.

[yarnings]

Look, I'm talking about diaper changes here. Specifically about factors that make them unpleasant. (Yes, we all know that the answer is "using disposables", but I'm being more specific.) You may well want to scroll past.

I will preface this by saying that yes, I know that commenting on public stuff on Facebook is a horrible idea, but sometimes the stupid is just too strong. The number of parents who think that changing cloth diapers is grosser than changing disposable ones was impossible to ignore. (If you are washing your own I will entertain the argument that you find having to deal with the disposable diaper garbage less gross than the diaper laundry, yes.)

But what gets me is that there are apparently large numbers of parents who not only don't dump diapers into the toilet (confession time: I've pretty much never done that, because when the change table in the airport washroom is located poorly, that's just not happening), they are unaware that that's what you're supposed to do. Not just "wait, you're supposed to do what?" but "that's stupid, why would anyone do that?". And yes, the follow-up wasn't "why would someone go to that much bother" but "why would they tell you to do it"

Can we maybe, as a society, agree that keeping biohazards out of the dump is a good thing?

[lemedy]

love when I love a book so much that it's like welp, guessing I'm reading the author's entire catologue then.

[avocado-writing]

i neeeed smth silly with wade and his s/o having a stereotypical teenage girls' sleepover- painting their nails, gossiping about boys (logan) and trying to style wade's wack ass wig.

sigh unfortunately i am in love with The Idiot

Honestly? You’re pretty fucking happy.

Wade is incredibly attentive. A goofball, sure, and the kinda guy to take things a little too far sometimes - but he can always tell when there’s something wrong. You’ve been far too stressed. Work has been getting you down, too much pressure with not enough appreciation, and it just feels like you’re being ground into the dirt by someone’s heel. Your usual enthusiasm when you come home has been ablated and you’ve barely been able to give Wade a smile recently. 

So tonight, when you walk in with gloom heavy around you, you’re pleasantly surprised when the apartment is lit with candles and your favourite album is playing quietly on the stereo. Wade looks up from where he’s judging between two facemasks. 

“Okay, we can go with ‘jasmine tranquillity’ or ‘rose seduction’. I’m feeling ‘rose seduction’, but maybe that’s because sensuality is my middle name. Well, one of my middle names. Wade Winston Sensuality Wilson.”

You put your work bag down and fix him with the smile which can’t help rising over your face. 

“What’s all this?”

“I couldn’t have my pookie ending their week on a bum note. I co-opted the place for ourselves tonight.”

“And Logan doesn’t care? Al?”

“Out drinking and at bridge, respectively. I’ll let you guess which one’s where.”

The image of your gruffest housemate sitting across from three retirees while playing cards makes you snort, and Wade knows he’s got you. 

Now? Now the facemask is smelling the room with soft perfume and you’re swilling your Merlot around in its glass, watching as Wade holds one of your bare feet in his lap and carefully applies red to your nails. There are curlers in your hair but none in his wig, because god knows you refuse to touch that thing any more than you absolutely have to. 

“This wine is nice,” you hum, slightly buzzed from the two glasses you’ve already had.

“It’s not, it was ten dollars, but once you’ve had enough you stop noticing that it tastes like ass,” he replies. Yeah, okay, he’s right. You down the rest of it and lean back against the sofa, watching him work as your vision swims a little. 

“You’re really good at this,” you hum. Wade doesn’t tear his eyes away from where he’s applying varnish in neat, diligent strokes. 

“I can sever a guy’s spine through his first and second lumbar vertebrae from thirty feet away. I’ve got steady hands, babe.” As easily as if he was commenting on the weather he holds up a small tray of press-on decals. “Now, do you want the little apples or the little cherries?”

You snort, gleeful. “Oh my god Wade, did you get those from Claire’s?”

“Yes I did. I went into Claire’s today because I’m confident in my masculinity and it’s a wonderful, joyous place to be.”

“… did Laura go in with you so you wouldn’t feel weird?”

“Yukio. I’m picking the cherries,” he decides with an air of finality. You cradle your woozy head in your arms and sigh, happily. 

“I love you, Wade.”

Finally he looks up, his face melting into a smile. 

“Yeah, I love you too. Now do you wanna watch Definitely, Maybe or Bridget Jones tonight?”

“Bridget Jones. You get weird when we watch the other one.”

“Heh, yeah,” he agrees. 

Taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13

[ratsummer]

Something I've been thinking about is cozy, fleecy ghoul hammocks... You know, like the ones for ferrets??

They're strung up in various parts of the abbey, like the library, sunny corridors, and the ghoul dens. All ghouls are welcome to use them: some are hanging high up in the rafters for nimble air ghouls, others are under skylights for quint ghouls to stargaze. Generally, water and earth ghouls are only tempted in by promises of cuddles from other types of ghouls, as they're more inclined to keeping their feet on the ground.

All this to say, I think Dew LOVES to be up in a hammock. He liked it fine when he was a water ghoul - he'd clamber up with Ifrit or Zephyr, rocking them gently by letting his tail drape over the side and swishing it about. But now that he's fire, he simply can't get enough hammock time.

His favorite hammock is in a quiet, south corridor, strung up high in front of two-story windows. It's not as lofted as the ones the air ghouls favor, but high enough that most of the larger ghouls don't bother with it - perfect for when he needs to hide away. This particular hammock is almost sleeping bag style, with soft, fleecy pockets he can tuck himself into. He's stashed a couple pillows and multiple soft blankets up there too, just for extra coziness.

When Phantom comes along, shy and touch-starved, Dew can't help but immediately introduce him to his favorite hammock. At first, he lets Phantom hide away there by himself when he needs some quiet time to adjust, or when he needs to feel wrapped up and safe with pack smell but he's a little too overstimulated for ghoul cuddles. But before long, Phantom is dragging Dew up for hammock cuddles almost daily.

Poor Swiss has on many occasions gone looking for his sweet little bug, hoping for a cuddle, only to discover he's been secreted away to Dew's hammock - soft purrs and tails poking out the only things giving them away from floor-level. He can't get in there with them: it's a little too awkward of an angle for him to get in without feeling like he's going to plummet to his untimely death, and it also can't support all three of them without ripping off the wall.

Once, Swiss was feeling particularly bummed that they were up there without him - he was feeling needy for his little ghouls, and they'd been up there for hours. Admittedly, he was feeling a little vindictive, so he climbed up the little access ladder to shake them around a bit and whine. Once he got up there though... Well, it was hard to snap a picture with the way his heart was melting, but it's now pinned up on the wall over his nest.

It was hard to see where one ghoul ended and the other began, the way they were pretzeled around each other, dead to the world. Dew was stretched and contorted so that more than half of his limbs stuck out over the sides of the hammock. His hair was loose, tangled up around his horns instead of neatly braided down his back, and his clothes were tangled and bunched up in a way that simply couldn't be comfortable.

Phantom was koalaed around Dew's middle, half underneath him, but somehow wormed around to have his head pressed dead-center on Dew's chest. Their sweet bug is happiest sleeping when he can have an ear pressed over someone's heart, the steady beat and purrs soothing him all the way through.

Dew doesn't really sweat much anymore unless he's actively running around wreaking havoc... but poor Phantom was drenched. He looked like a toddling kit gone down for a hard nap - his hairline was damp and shining, hair curling up where it wasn't plastered to his skin. His cheek was mushed hard against Dew's shirt - when he got up he'd have crease and wrinkle marks impressed on his face for hours. He also had his mouth hanging wide open, a puddle of drool steadily soaking into Dew's shirt.

Swiss couldn't help but purr and stare fondly at them for a few minutes. When Phantom's brow started to scrunch up like it does when he's having a nightmare, Swiss started gently, gently rocking the hammock to soothe him. Almost instantly, the little ghoul's face was smooth and peaceful once more, hands clutching at Dew's waist and squeezing him tighter as he snuggled down. Dew made little grunting sounds as he wiggled too, scooching and squirming until he got Phantom tucked up under his chin.

Accepting that he'd just have to wait until after dinner to get Dew and Phantom snuggles, Swiss sighed and skulked back toward the ghoul den. Maybe he could snatch up Rory for some little ghoul snugs...

Anyway... yeah... ghoul hammocks <3 <3 <3 Thoughts??

[isabellamagic]

Diana and 47 things I commissioned part 3, aka my favorite batch

Let's kick it off with the thing that actually started this entire "isa throws money into the fire for hitman commissions" journey

Airport chibis

I wanted a custom fourana figure so I made the drawing above for the clay artist to follow (I had more refs but this was the main part)

For the figure, I love the hair shading, it's super cool, the way the artist matched my chair design 1:1 was pretty neat, and the tiny bag next to Diana was so carefully made, it's impressive

One thing to note is that I wasn't given any updates during the figure making progress, so I'm a little bummed about it. The expression didn't 100% match my idea, and the way they sit wasn't really natural lol. I had to do some adjustments after I received the figures (paint smears, cracks, leaning issues), so I wish they had allowed me to give feedback during the process

This was the first thing I commissioned, while it took a while to be finished (sep 2023-july 2024), I do like how they turned out, quirks and all

Bonus agent burnwood and miss 47, and also my nails I guess

Tiny posable dolls

Once again, my drawing was used as a reference. These cost so much for such a tiny size that I would probably never do it again lmao ($150!!!!!!)

I do have nendoroid dolls in mind for the future though, but they will require more time since I have to source many parts like faceplates, hair sculpts, outfits, shoes ect

Despite the insane price, these are indeed very cute, and I'm glad my design was just slapped onto their faces, they look like my drawings have come to life and that's super cool

Last but not least,

Papercut drawing based on @/inuitaiyo's fanart:

+ desk setup, I finally found clothes for the plushies

I saw SUN's fanart years ago and it's been lingering in my mind ever since, so when I found an artist that can do papercut drawings, my mind immediately went to that artwork. It's my favorite 47 diana fanart, it's so subtle and amazing, and SUN's gorgeous style was the cherry on top. I'm glad that the artist I worked with managed to capture what I love about the original artwork

I had total control over the entire process of this comm, so I added a neat little detail: If you look under Diana's hair, you can kinda see her eyes looking down at 47's lips ehehehe. I made sure that was gonna happen no matter what lol. I'm so happy it worked so well

That's all for now. Next time should hopefully be me finally getting custom fourana nendoroid dolls + a 1/6 scale mendoza diana doll. We'll see, money is a limited resource after all

One more link to SUN's art to end this because I think it deserves so much more love

[mommahughes19-23]

Introduction & Explanation ; MASTERLIST

ˏˋ⋆ ᴡ ᴇ ʟ ᴄ ᴏ ᴍ ᴇ ⋆ˊˎ ‎‧₊˚✧[my mutuals]✧˚₊‧ @leclerc-drives-in-circles @babygirlboeser •ᴗ• above : gifs that bring me joy below : all you need to know Prompt List Who I write For

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

"I'm gonna do Mackie because he's an island boy." - Mark Estapa #94 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 �� 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 about your author : 「 ✦ ma ✦ 」 im a mom, im 26, and a cancer survivor. I LOVE all things hockey, and I love to chat! I will forever be in debt to Quinn Hughes. requests : open trigger warnings ; mentions of the following may be included in some works : use of vape/weed & body image issues. DISCLAIMER FOR MEDIA : I don't personally own any pictures used in my works unless stated otherwise. All media comes from PINTEREST or DIFFERENT PLAYERS SIGNIFICANT OTHERS SOCIAL MEDIAS. Credits to rightful owners.

TO BE ADDED TO MY TAG LIST DM ME :D

xoxoxoxo, M

🥀 = INSTA EDIT

🌷 = WRITTEN

New Jersey Devils ✽ :

Nico Hischier♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

OFF SEASON JEALOUSY 🥀

2 MONTHS 🥀

PUPPY LOVE 🥀

SWISS SWIM 🥀

THANKS DEVIL BABIES 🥀

I TOOK A PILL IN IBIZA 🥀

EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO NINA 🥀

SWISS STYLE 🥀

THANKS FOR HAVING US 🥀

13 FOREVER 🥀

TOO FANCY 🥀

TROPIC NEEKS 🥀

MY MEN 🥀

RUDE 🥀

MINI GOLF 🥀

INTERNATIONAL LOVE 🥀

Curtis Lazar♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

LITTLE RED DEVIL 🥀

Jack Hughes♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

BABY DEVIL 🥀

BEACH BUM 🥀

BOAT DAY BITCH 🥀

LIL HUGGY 🥀

I TRY TO BE SUPPORTIVE 🥀

HAPPY 9 YEARS MY BABY DADDY 🥀

FAMILY 🥀

LIL FUN FRESH OUTING 🥀

FINSTA 🥀

WELL THIS IS A THING 🥀

WELCOME TO THE WAGS ROOM 🥀

WHY YOU SO MAD 🥀

Dawson Mercer♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

HC - AFTER A FIGHT 🌷

TILL NEXT TIME 🥀

Vancouver Canucks ✾ :

Brock Boeser♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

UNCLE QUINN 🥀

MOMMA AND PAPA OF THE YEAR 🥀

CLOSE AS STRANGERS 🌷

FAMILY 🥀

THE DISRESPECT 🥀

BBC 🥀

Quinn Hughes♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

NO ONE ELSE BUT YOU 🥀

CAN'T HIDE FOREVER 🥀

OCEAN EYES 🥀

LUKE IS CRYING IN THE CAR 🥀

MOMMY MODE? 🥀

CEO OF BEING A DICK 🌷

ENOUGH BAGS 🥀

LIL HUGGY 🥀

FAMILY 🥀

LAKE HOUSE WILL BE FUN THEY SAID 🥀

MEDIA DAY 🥀

IM A TATTOO ARTIST 🥀

UNTIL NEXT TIME POSTY 🥀

UNCLE QUINNY 🥀

AWARD SHOW 🥀

MAN IN ACTION 🥀

I WAS WOKEN UP FOR THIS 🥀

MY LIL HOCKEY PLAYER 🥀

Toronto Maple Leafs ✿ :

Matthew Knies♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

SIGNING PUCKS N SHIT 🥀

Auston Matthews♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

BEACH DAY 🥀

ALWAYS WORKING 🥀

LIFE LATLEY 🥀

William Nylander♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

WEEKEND TINGS 🥀

Joseph Woll♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

MRS WOLL? 🥀

MERCH PLUG 🥀

Florida Panthers ✤ :

Matthew Tkachuk♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

CLUBYY 🥀

CHAMPS PT 2 🥀

CUP CHAMPS 🥀

Brandon Montour♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

VAMOS GATOS 🥀

SCF GM7 🥀

THATS MY BABY 🥀

BABY BOY 🥀

UMICH ❀ :

Luca Fantilli♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

#1 FAN 🥀

HEHEHEHE 🥀

BOAT DAY 🥀

Ethan Edwards♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

LOVERS 🥀

WEEK IN MY LIFE 🥀

EVEN THOUGH IM LEAVING 🌷

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FROM MOM AND DAD 🥀

ONCE AN ETHAN GIRL 🥀

I WAS WOKEN UP FOR THIS 🥀

PARTY 🥀

COLLECTIVE UMICH♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

UMICH DUMP 🥀

"FAVORITE NON-PLAYER" 🥀

SAY THANK YOU KAYLEIGH 🥀

IDK WHY IM HERE 🥀

Boston College ❁ :

Ryan Leonard♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

BEACH TRIP 🥀

WE BACK 🥀

DISNEY 🥀

Extra Baby Daddies Players 𓆸 :

Matt Rempe♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

MY POWER RANGER 🥀

SUMMER LOVIN 🥀

STADIUM SKATES 🥀

MY FAVORITE REMPES' 🥀

Brady Tkachuk♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

I WAS MADE FUN OF 🥀

WHAT A MAN 🥀

ENJOY 🥀

Trevor Zegras♥ ˋ°•*⁀➷

IMAGINE 🥀

[winterzxsoldierz]

Home Alone In The Avenger's Tower

Reader x Hydra agents

Authors Note: I was watching Home Alone earlier and wanted to make a one shot inspired off of it, Marvel style, in this you are Loki's kid, yes i said it, and the Avengers are not gonna be around for this one sadly, but hydra will and that meant fun for you, don't be too sad the avengers will come at the end. Warnings: Pranks, a lot of sadistic pranks, and blood, language Steve wouldn't approve of. Side note:I wanted to bring Christmas a bit early and add some glorious purpose to it. Reader is Female and around 17 & 18

The day started out normal, you waking up and doing anything a relatively normal person would do, brushing teeth and getting yourself together, the team had to go on a emergency mission on Christmas Eve, which had you a little bummed because you were actually starting to like them, your father said they weren't that bad and you agree.

Walking into the kitchen, you stop and smirk, and magically you conjure a full plate of breakfast out onto the table in front of you "Ha, beat that Sam." you murmur to yourself smugly. you take a seat down and begin to eat breakfast, you turn on the tv as well, watching the Grinch, Bucky's twin you called him. After breakfast you wander around the tower snooping around Tony's lab, touching things you have no business touching, you then find Tony's music playlist and grin, that's when you find it, the perfect song to blast around now that you're alone, Master Of Puppets by Metallica, and you ask his A.I F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn it on the common room loud speakers, and around the tower, you sing and dance without a care in the world, hell you even conjure your own electric guitar.

(Sun down) Hours had passed since the sun was up and there you sat on the couch with a tub of ice cream in your lap, with a spoon bigger than your mouth in your hands, "Merry Christmas you filthy animal." you imitate Kevin in the movie as you watch him quote the guy he's watching on his tv. (Meanwhile) Brock Rumlow creeps up the steps of the Avenger's level of the tower, and signals his buddy Grant Ward, to follow him, Rumlow felt a bit smug knowing that the Avengers were gone for the day and probably the night as well, he had it all figured out and Alexander Pierce would definitely be proud when he comes back with juicy information...But little did he know he was in for a rude awakening. A sudden crash awakens you from your power snooze and you look around noting the quiet, the television had cut off itself and the common room was only brightened by the Christmas lights and tree, your eyes narrow in suspension since you knew the team weren't home yet, and it definitely wasn't Peter because he would have texted you, you hear voices, whisper shouting to each other, it was definitely two men, none of who voices you knew, so activating your invisibility you began to your search.

Upon reaching Tony's lab next to the file room you see them, and your eyes widen, now you had two options call for help or handle things yourself, and you thought what the hell, 'I'm a god, i don't need it.'

Purposely you make yourself visible again and play scared child, both of the agents come up to you but you run and of course there's a little evil smirk on your lips. "Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y lock any source of exits in the tower for anyone who isn't me or the Avengers." you yell. and you slip into your fathers room.

(POV:Hydra's)

"What the fuck? Brock you said the place was empty! Grant exclaimed in annoyance, Brock shrugs and glares "How was i supposed to know there'd be a Teenager here?" Brock argues trying to defends himself, Grant rolls his eyes "For you to be the leader of the strike team you sure act like an obnoxious dick on a stick." Grant glowers. "Let's just find the girl." Brock grumbles and walks off "Besides, what can one girl do to us?" Brock yells cockily.

Running into the kitchen you go into the pantry and pull out some popcorn, you rip open the bag and lay out some kernels on the ground, you then grab a bottle of olive oil and pour it down on the ground of the kitchen and common room entrance, but you pour enough where it'll lead them into a large pool of green paint you conjured into the common room area. plan one was already in motion.

"Hey Brock i think i found- oh shit." Grant yelps as he trips forward on the kernels only to slip quicker on the oil, "Uh-oh" the words leave him as he tips over into the pool of green paint with a wet splash. All you do is smirk in the back ground and teleport to where Rumlow is heading.

"Where is that little bitch?" Brock growls and makes his way down the hall towards the file room and instead of meeting the room he falls, through a portal and he falls for about 30 minutes before you eventually let him fall into the paint pool next to his buddy.

Both Brock and Grant look at each other in confusion, before both of them get out the pool, but you have other plans for them. Teleporting the men into the training room, you have them held up against Clint arrow dart board and you speak into the intercom completely invisible to the men you speak "Ladies and Gentlemen, today we have two continents up on stage today to play a game of human darts, our weapon of choice, daggers!" you say excitedly, "But firstly let's give a boo for our gentlemen up on stage for being pussy's for making a move when my family aren't home. BOOO." you murmur dryly and in a wicked tone you speak. "Let's began."

With you still invisible you step into the room, handful of Bucky's daggers in hand, you watch in amusement as the men look around clearly worried about if you're around or not, but who cares.

You start by flipping the dagger in your hand and the swish the dagger fly's right by Grant's arm and plunges right into the board next to him, and then you throw another making a yelp leave him as it lands right by his head, you laugh. Then you turn to Brock, a look of distaste on your face, this guy creeped you out more than you like to admit, you throw not one but two daggers at him, one landing on each side of his arm almost hitting him but not quite. "I call this one, no kids in his sack." You quip and throw a dagger right between his legs, so close but not hitting him. but you laugh at his screams.

Three hours. it's been three hours, since Brock and Grant have been victims of your games, they can't find you anywhere but you have traps waiting for them every corner, Brock was covered in chocolate sauce and thumbtacks and Grant was still green from earlier but had burned shoes from stepping on metal steps you some how have heated up. Again the intercoms start up this time it plays Another one bites the dust by Queen, and the lights flicker off and on and both men walk on a trip wire and are immediately slapped with pans in the face and the fall back into yet another portal and falls into a pool full of flour, they don't get a chance before honey is falling down on them, but of course it wouldn't be funny without your laughter.

Once again, Brock Rumlow and Grant Ward split up, big mistake.

Brock walks down the hallway, his steps a bit squeaky from the mess that is him, he lost all his weapons, he leans up against the wall, and peaks around the corner seeing a round barstool with a metal bucket on it that says "Weapons." he walks towards it with fast big strides and reaches his hand in and hears a click his eyes widens and then Boom he's blown back into a wall rendering him unconscious and a bit bloody "Merry Christmas you filthy animal." You quote, with a satisfied smirk on your lips as the clock it's 12 on the dot. You follow Grant, you're invisible again, and watching him, the feeling he gets is uneasiness and he looks around, yet he keeps going forward, he walks into a room that looks Christmas gift wrapped, it's an empty circle looking room, the door shuts behind him immediately and with an illusion spell, you make him see spiders, that look like reindeer, and they start to chase him, he runs but runs into the glass walls repeatedly until you decided you were done with them, so you teleport in there and punch him in the face knocking him out. You drag Brock's unconscious form into the room with Grant, and tie their hands together with Christmas lights and then you add a Christmas bow on each of their heads. the room that the two men are in is Loki's old cell, you leave the cell locking it up and you put gift wrapping paper over the glass to keep any one from seeing in or out, you add a large golden bow on the door and a note that reads "To:Avengers, From:Y/N"

You cleaned the entire tower up with your powers and went to bed like nothing happened but only you'll know the real secret.

(Avengers Pov)

Everyone is tense and tired, the mission was a trap and bust but everyone is alive, and that's all that mattered, the jet lands on the helipad and the team gets off.

Upon getting into the tower the place smells of fresh chocolate and mint, they are first met with cookies and hot chocolate on the table in the common room, and they see the stockings filled with wrapped gifts, the anger and tension in the seems to leave as they see this and know your the cause, and then that's when they hear it, Jingle bell rock playing from a distance, they follow it until they reach the gift wrapped cell, each of them has their own look of confusion, before Tony steps forward and reads the card. "I'm assuming that the mission you went on was a trap, i hope you like the snacks and presents but i think you'll like this one more, i got em. from. Y/N Laufeyson-"

The rest of the team steps forward and starts to tear down the paper and there the two men lay fully conscious and tied up in a jolly way and all messed up. The team looks at each other before bursting out in laughter. "Well i'll be damned." Tony snickers "That's my darling little angel." Loki smirks, a proud look in his eyes. (The End)

Happy soon Thanksgiving and early Christmas, thanks for reading❤️💚

[octuscle]

There is this man I see on the train every morning in a full suit, probably a manager at one of the city firms, that pulls such a disgusted face when he sees young guys in tracksuits getting on the train with him. What setting do I pick to help him 'relate' more with his fellow man?

Suit fits perfectly, shirt is neatly ironed, shoes polished, hair styled. Samuel was very pleased with his reflection in the mirror.

He picked up his laptop bag and made his way to the subway. If he managed to get the promotion to department director next week, he would finally be entitled to a company car with a driver and, above all, a parking space right in the office building. He couldn't wait. He hated the subway. Dirt, bad air and horrible people. All the stupid conversations he had to listen to. He couldn't stand it any longer.

Bloody hell! Maybe it's good luck when a pigeon shits on you, but the jacket was ruined. Luckily, the dry cleaner was on his way to the subway stop. So it had to go without a jacket today. And he could take a trip to Savile Row during his lunch break. He would need a few new suits for his new position anyway.

The tube was packed. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn't wearing a jacket. It was warm enough as it was. But something was different today… He didn't mind the smell of other people. On the contrary. The guy in the nylon tracksuit reeked terribly of fresh sweat. And it gave Samuel a hard-on. But something else was different… Had he forgotten his own deodorant? Samuel secretly smelled his armpit, where sweat stains were forming. Hell yeah, that didn't smell like his Penhaligon's deodorant… He would have to freshen up in the office.

After changing trains, Sam finally had room to move again. Okay, he had to keep standing. But maybe it was also because of his body smell that the other passengers kept their distance. His back was soaking wet under his rucksack. Shit, the office container in the scrapyard wasn't air-conditioned, it was going to be another hot day. Only two more semesters, then Sam would graduate, then he would find a better job than the one in the metal recycler's office.

When he finally arrived at the end of the line, Sam wanted to buy a pack of cigarettes for the remaining short walk. Shit, he didn't have enough money again. But thank God he would get his pay later. And luckily he was able to bum a fag from one of the scallys hanging around the bus stop. He knew a few of the lads from the pub, and one even helped out in the scrapyard sometimes.

"Oi boss," Sam called out to his boss when he arrived at the scrapyard a few minutes late. "I'll just get changed, hav a piss n' then i'll be ready." His boss rolled his eyes. Sam was a good boy who could work hard. But like most chavs, he simply lacked discipline. And his personal hygiene was simply catastrophic.

Doumentation of Samuels way to Sam found @mensuited, @alphaincar and @workingdudes

[vivrabag]

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[themancorialist]

Blossom Street, Manchester.

[jacenbren]

Tokyo Jujutsu Tech students and staff and whether or not they can drive:

Gojo

Drives a hideous minivan he got off Craigslist to spite his parents

Claims to be a “responsible driver” but is super jerky on the brakes and blows through stop signs

The students love riding with him because he always stops to get McDonalds. Nanami fucking HATES getting in the car with Gojo and avoids it at all costs

Talks incessantly to himself and to passengers while driving and constantly sings along to the radio

Yuuji

Currently learning to drive from Gojo (aka driving around while Gojo sits in the passenger seat with a milkshake and overshares about his past while occasionally yelling at Yuuji to speed up)

Inherited a tiny shitty old car from his grandpa and refuses to part with it

Drives either way too fast or really damn slow and there’s no in between

Can’t drive without the music on full blast because he’s used to Gojo talking his ear off

Megumi

Taught himself how to drive and refused to let Gojo teach him

Always goes exactly the speed limit and bitches about it whenever someone cuts him off (has attempted multiple times to summon Mahoraga on shitty drivers)

Absolutely VICIOUS when it comes to the aux cord and is a staunch supporter of the “the driver picks the music” rule

Gojo buys him a new car every year for his birthday but Megumi prefers his first car (a jeep. don’t ask why.)

Nobara

HORRIBLE road rage

Always going at least ten miles above the limit and has more speeding tickets than she does overcharged credit cards (Yuuji is holding on for dear life whenever he rides with her)

Convinced Gojo to buy her a luxury sports car and managed to dent it horrendously after two (2) weeks

Her car is always so full of shopping bags and makeup and other stuff that you can barely sit down

Yuuta

Also learned how to drive from Gojo and it shows

Doesn’t like driving because it triggers his anxiety and when he has to. oh boy.

Needs the car to be DEAD SILENT whenever he’s driving and sits hunched over in his seat with the look of a crazed chimpanzee in his eyes while he grips the steering wheel so hard he’s shaking

Doesn’t have a car and usually bums rides from Maki

Maki

A surprisingly decent driver but always goes way too fast and is notorious for tailgating people

Has at least two of the windows down at all times as long as it isn’t raining and always has her music on full blast

The only student who knows how to drive a stick shift. is weirdly proud of this fact.

Has a stereotypical straight-white-man-style lifted pickup truck that she refers to as “her baby”

Toge

Whips around corners at 20 miles over the speed limit and casually breaks every traffic law known to man but has never gotten a ticket thanks to his “expert persuasion techniques”

His car was one of Megumi’s cars before he stole it (Megumi doesn’t actually mind but he pretends to be annoyed on principle)

Drags Yuuta out every weekend to hotbox the car with him

Has like six of those little air fresheners that hang off the rear view mirror but they don’t exactly cover the weed smell

Panda

Somehow has a valid drivers license. no one knows how he got it.

Chews on the interior out of boredom when he’s stuck in traffic and the car constantly looks like a wild animal got loose in it

Has Yaga’s old car (a beat up old station wagon that doesn’t look great but hasn’t broken down in ten years)

Is the designated driver whenever the second and third years go out

Nanami

Owns the most beautiful classic car that he keeps spotlessly clean

An excellent driver who ALWAYS uses his blinkers and almost never loses his temper

Secretly salty that the students only to like ride with Gojo (it’s because Nanami never stops at McDonalds and always says something along the lines of “we have food at home”)

Curses out other drivers under his breath when he sees them driving recklessly

Shoko

Drives with one hand on the wheel and the other dangling out the window with a cigarette while blasting 90s dad rock

Bought a hearse years ago because she thought it would be funny

Would pick up Megumi and Tsumiki from school in the hearse if Gojo couldn’t make it

Megumi hates the hearse. Tsumiki loves it.

Yaga

Drives a tiny Kia soul and always has craft supplies all over the backseat because he forgot to bring them inside after his latest Joann’s shopping spree

Has a gigantic collection of mini plushies on the dashboard

Yells at people when they cut him off

Feels guilty about it whenever he has students in the car with him but can’t stop himself from yelling and ends up getting even more irritated and short-tempered because he feels guilty and the students riding with him are left in terrified silence as the vicious cycle continues

Hakari

Managed to single-handedly drive up Jujutstu Tech’s car insurance by thousands of dollars

[kikimurphys]

The Wrap Party (Part 4)

Warning: none

The late afternoon light filtered through your window as you stood in front of your mirror, carefully applying the last coat of mascara to your long lashes. Your heart raced in anticipation. Tonight wasn’t just any night—it was a proper date with Cillian. After everything that had happened between you, this felt monumental, and you couldn’t shake the nervous energy bubbling inside.

As you finished your makeup, your phone buzzed on the dresser beside you. A text from him: On my way. xx

Your heart did a little flip at the sight of his message. Butterflies danced in your stomach, and you felt a rush of excitement. God, why am I so nervous? You took a deep breath and smoothed down your dress, trying to steady yourself.

You’d chosen a black, loose-fitting long-sleeved dress that hugged you in all the right places, the hem stopping just under your bum, showing off your toned legs. It was simple yet elegant. Paired with matching black kitten heels, a bold red lip, and your hair styled in loose waves, the look was casual but effortlessly chic. The kind of look that didn’t try too hard but still felt undeniably sexy.

Just as you finished spritzing on your favorite perfume, the doorbell rang. He’s here.

When you opened the door, there he stood—Cillian. He was dressed in a dark, tailored shirt and jeans that fit him perfectly, his hair slightly tousled in that effortlessly charming way. The moment his eyes landed on you, they darkened with appreciation, and a slow, appreciative smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Wow," he murmured, his voice low as he took you in. "You look… incredible."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, heat pooling in your cheeks at the way he was looking at you. “Thank you,” you said softly, slipping your bag onto your shoulder and stepping outside.

He leaned in to greet you with a kiss, gentle and warm, his lips brushing yours as you gripped his shoulders for balance. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer for just a moment before he pulled back. “Ready?” he asked, his voice soft but laced with excitement.

You nodded, smiling as you followed him to the black luxurious car waiting outside. Of course, he had a chauffeur. As the car door opened, he gestured for you to slide in first. Always the gentleman. You settled into the back seat, the plush leather cool against your skin as he joined you.

The drive was smooth, the city lights flashing by as you both exchanged small talk about your day. There was a comfortable ease between you, but the undercurrent of attraction buzzed just below the surface. When the car finally stopped outside the restaurant, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves as you stepped out onto the pavement.

The restaurant was stunning—sleek and modern, with an upscale ambiance that screamed sophistication. You could tell just from the people inside that this was a place for the elite, the posh crowd who knew they were something special. But instead of feeling intimidated, you found yourself amused by it all.

As you were seated at your table, the mood shifted slightly, becoming more intimate. The candlelight flickered between you, casting soft shadows on his face as you both perused the menu.

“What are you thinking of ordering?” he asked, glancing up at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

You smirked. “Hmm, I think I’ll start with the lobster bisque. Very fancy, right? What about you?”

“Steak. Medium-rare. Can’t go wrong with a classic,” he replied, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Though, I have to say, I didn’t take you for the fancy-lobster-bisque type.”

You laughed, feeling the tension ease as the conversation naturally flowed. “Oh, I’m full of surprises. And I’ll have you know, I can also appreciate a good burger from time to time.”

His grin widened. “Good to know. We’ll save that for our next date then.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Next date, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m already planning on it,” he teased, leaning forward slightly. “Maybe somewhere less… posh.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, and the night continued with that same playful energy. As the courses came and went, you found yourself opening up more, sharing stories and anecdotes about your lives.

“So, tell me,” he said after a sip of wine, “how did you get into the whole acting thing? Was it something you always wanted?”

You paused, thinking for a moment before answering. “It’s kind of funny actually. When I was little, I wanted to be a writer. But I was always a bit of a drama queen,” you joked, “and in school, I just loved being on stage. It felt like the one place I could be completely myself—or someone else entirely. You know what I mean?”

He nodded, his eyes focused on you intently. “Yeah, I get that. There’s something about stepping into someone else’s shoes for a while. It’s freeing.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “What about you? I mean, you’re this big, successful actor now, but was that always the plan?”

He chuckled. “Not exactly. I actually wanted to be a musician. I was in a band when I was younger, but acting sort of… found me. I still miss music sometimes, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I love what I do.”

You smiled, feeling a genuine connection in that moment. It wasn’t just surface-level attraction—you both had these deep, shared passions that fueled you.

“So, rockstar Cillian, huh?” you teased, taking a sip of your wine.

“Don’t mock me,” he said with a playful grin. “I had my moments.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. You shared more stories—embarrassing moments from your youth, the worst jobs you ever had, the weirdest fan encounters. You laughed until your sides hurt, especially when Cillian told you about a particularly odd fan interaction where someone had asked him to sign their baby’s forehead.

“I swear, I didn’t know what to do,” he said, still laughing. “I just kind of… awkwardly patted the baby’s head and walked away.”

“Oh my god, that’s ridiculous,” you giggled. “I would’ve paid to see that.”

By the time dessert came around, the chemistry between you was undeniable. You both leaned in closer, sharing secretive smiles, your knees brushing more often under the table. Every touch, every glance felt electric, building a tension that neither of you could ignore.

As you walked out of the restaurant toward the car, his hand naturally found your waist, keeping you close as you both laughed, slightly tipsy from the wine. Your steps were clumsy, but you didn’t care—you couldn’t stop teasing each other, and every playful bump or stumble made you more aware of how close he was.

The moment the car door closed behind you, the tension in the air shifted again—electric, charged. You barely had time to think before your hand reached up, fingers curling around the back of Cillian’s neck, pulling him closer. His body pressed against yours instantly, his chest firm against the softness of your dress.

The kiss deepened, his lips parting to taste you as his tongue slid teasingly against yours, slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second. It was intoxicating—the way he moved against you, the heat building between your bodies in a languid, heated rhythm.

He pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your lips. “Couldn’t wait, could you?” His voice was a low murmur, teasing, his fingers still gripping your waist with a possessive touch.

You bit your lip, your pulse quickening. “You’re the one who can’t keep your hands off me.”

He chuckled darkly, his hand sliding lower to cup your bum. The soft, firm squeeze made your breath catch, your body responding instantly to his touch. “Can you blame me?” he whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Look at you... You’ve been driving me mad since the moment I saw you in that dress.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, your body aching for more. His other hand slipped down to caress the bare skin of your thigh, inching closer to the hem of your dress. His fingers grazed the sensitive skin there, teasing you, promising more without giving it yet.

“You’re killing me,” you breathed, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you.

His hand slid under your dress, finding your clothed core. His fingers brushed against the thin material of your thong, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips. The sound made him groan, his grip tightening as he pulled you harder against him. His lips crashed into yours again, hungrier this time, his tongue claiming yours with a slow, sensual rhythm that sent a rush of heat straight to your core. Every stroke of his tongue against yours was deliberate, a game of control and desire, each kiss deeper, wetter, as you both lost yourselves in the sensation.

“Fuck,” he growled against your lips, his voice rough with want. “You’re soaked already, aren’t you?”

You nodded, too breathless to answer, your body arching into him, craving more. His fingers slid teasingly along the seam of your thong, just barely pressing against your core, making you whimper in frustration.

“Say it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Tell me how much you want me.”

Your voice was shaky, but the need in it was undeniable. “I need you, Cillian... I can’t—” You gasped as his fingers pressed harder against you, sending a delicious jolt of pleasure through your body. “I can’t wait.”

A low, dangerous chuckle escaped him. “Good girl,” he murmured, his lips returning to yours in a heated, possessive kiss. His hand moved in slow circles, his fingers grazing you through the thin fabric, making your legs tremble. The friction was just enough to drive you mad, your body aching for more, desperate for him to take you right there.

By the time the driver pulled up in front of his building, both of you were on edge. The minute the car stopped, Cillian was out, offering his hand to you with a smirk that sent your pulse racing. You took it, your legs trembling slightly as you stepped out of the car. The heat between you was unbearable now, both of you too far gone to care about anything but each other.

The porter barely acknowledged you as you entered the lobby, but you heard him greet Cillian with a polite “Good night, Mr. Murphy,” while he pressed the elevator button for you.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind you, the heat exploded. You didn’t even wait for him to make a move. Your back hit the mirror with a soft thud, and you pulled him into you, your lips crashing into his in a fervent kiss. His tongue slid against yours, hot and slick, teasing you, making your knees weak as you moaned into his mouth.

He groaned against your lips, hands gripping your waist as he pressed his body into yours. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust as his lips found that spot behind your ear again, the one that made you shiver. His hand moved from your waist, slowly gliding up to cup your breast through your dress, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardened beneath his touch.

Your head fell back, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body arched into him. “You like that?” he whispered against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck. “You like when I tease you like this?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. “God, yes.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers teasing the fabric of your dress. “I bet you do. I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already falling apart, aren’t you?”

The elevator dinged, signaling you’d reached the top floor. As the doors slid open, you stepped out, and Cillian followed close behind, his hand gently resting on your lower back. When he unlocked the door and gestured for you to enter first, you felt a mix of excitement and anticipation pulse through you.

His penthouse was just as you’d imagined—sleek, modern furniture arranged against the backdrop of floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the shimmering city lights. It was breathtaking, but you barely had time to admire it before you felt his warm hands slide over your shoulders, fingers deftly sweeping your hair to one side, exposing the curve of your neck.

"Been waiting all night for this," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. The rasp in his voice sent a delicious shiver down your spine, his Irish accent making the words even more irresistible. His lips grazed the shell of your ear, and you could feel the heat of his body radiating against yours.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep control, but your pulse quickened when you felt his hands glide to the small of your back, slowly pulling down the zipper of your dress. "Waiting to feel you," he murmured, his lips trailing soft, lingering kisses down the side of your neck, making your breath hitch. "Waiting to taste you."

The way his voice curled around each word set your skin alight. You let your bag drop to the floor with a soft thud.

"Then do," you purred, voice low, laced with desire. You turned to face him, your lips finding his in a slow, tantalizing kiss.

His mouth crashed into yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. The kiss was deep, consuming—his lips soft but firm, moving expertly against yours, coaxing you to let go. His tongue brushed yours, teasing, exploring, as his hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the hard planes of his chest pressing into you, the heat of his body igniting something wild inside you.

You whimpered softly against his lips, your hands fisting in the fabric of his half-open shirt, tugging him closer. His tongue swept over yours again, this time slower, more deliberate. Each stroke, each flick sent sparks down your spine, and you found yourself melting into him, lost in the sensation.

He groaned softly into your mouth as his palms cupped your ass, squeezing firmly. The sound sent a rush of heat through you, pooling low in your belly.

“Believe me,” he growled, his voice dark, rough with desire as he pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, “I will.”

Before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. This was going to be a long night, you thought.

tags:

@mamawiggers1980 @xsweetcatastrophe @galactict3a @thistheivyseason @cillianmurphyvevo @sweetcheesecakesblog @cillianmurphyfanatic

[popcornforone]

Pride

A Marcus Moreno Fic

Day 12 of Pedrotober (Rainbow Pants Prompt)

Masterlist

Well this I didn’t know who to write this for & then a friend online said they really liked Marcus Moreno & I was like ahhh this is gonna be a good idea for him with this prompt so here we go. Let’s have some fun with our super hero.

Also we are all allies, & all people. To the girls, guys, they, them & I’s, I love you no matter who you love or who you are. Never be ashamed to be you.

Synopsis:- Marcus is not happy with his new super hero outfit.

Word count:- 700

Warnings over & above:- swearing, that’s about it really, a bit of teasing.

Thanks for the read peoples, thanks for the prompt @norththelemon @alyssamariag . I’m having so much fun.

“The fuck” he says as he hold up his new super hero outfit. “What are you making me wear?”you giggle.

“It’s not just you Marcus” you try to not laugh as he actually takes his glasses on & off again to check he’s not seeing things & that it is that bold & colourful. “Everyone in the team has something similar, it’s pride month after all”

“I get that but these…” he shakes his head, he’s trying to remain angry but he’s also trying not to laugh “it’s a bit over the top”

“Please Marcus just try them on & you should be lucky you’re not Lava Girl, she’s already complaining about too much glitter” he rolls his eyes & grabs the rest of the bag & pulls the curtain in front of him in the locker room to change into his new super hero costume, that the team had been working on for the last 8 months for everyone. The message needs fo be very on brand, after last year a couple of the older heroic had comments that were not very inclusive & had old fashioned values. Something you have been trying to remind them about. One of these heroics has since retired.

5 minutes later out he step & you laugh, bending over as you can’t even Keep it calm or quiet. He puts his hands on his hips & pouts. He smirking, he can’t hide it.

“I don’t see what’s so funny, it’s atrocious” there he stands swaying about & bending to his knees in his new rainbow styled super hero suit. The rainbow trousers were boot leg cut & he just keeps looking down at them & shaking his head. The more he gets pissed at them the more you love them. “Stop laughing” he says trying not to join you, your laugh he always finds contagious.

“Sorry Marcus, but it’s so funny that mr serious who’s almost always in dark blue or black is now in the colours of the rainbow. It does look cute.”

“I’m not meant to be cute or a certain brand depending on it being National coffee day or international cat day, I’m the leader of the heroics, what will aliens think if they drop in & have to fight me?”

“They will go oooh he’s an ally” you try to stop laughing, your face hurts from doing to much of it.

“You & costume know full well if I go out in this to fight crime & save the world that I’ll become a meme”

“& is that so bad”

“I have a teenage daughter…”

“She knows.”

“What” Marcus has no idea that Missy has been in on all of this & wanted her dad to be as vibrant as possible. He then finally does look in the mirror looking at the whole thing.

“I mean I guess it’s comfortable, they’ve made some worse outfits, but why is it so… colourful?”

“Cos you’re meant to be proud & out there” you stand behind him & run your hands across the back of his shoulders. “ & you are out there Marcus” you whisper & he turns to face you, looking straight into your green eyes. “You keep the world safe, & Missy & me are proud of you for doing that” you slowly stand on your tip toes & gently kiss his lips & slowly run your hands through his hair as he squeezes your bum.

“Hmmm if you weren’t head of marketing & such a good kisser I’d be very disappointed in you for making me put this on”

“Would it help” you say as you undo his belt. “If I said you don’t have to wear this if you really don’t want to but that I also have a rainbow tie, cufflinks & glasses for the next month?” You smile at him & see his frown soften. He then cups your face.

“I’d much prefer than sexy”

“Good,” you sigh before he caresses your cheek before kissing you again. A deep & sensual kiss. “Now let’s get you out of this stupid outfit”

“Only if you help me out of it”

[sadhours]

stuck in the middle with you - prologue

billy hargrove x mayfield!oc

series master-list • read on ao3

contents: 18+ minors dni, stepcest, psuedocest, forbidden love trope, slow burn ish, mutual pining

summary: the newly mixed hargrove-mayfield household is awkward and a little tumultuous. eldest teens billy and pamela struggle to find a good balance between them. billy was under the impression that susan and neil wouldn’t last long, but once the pair tie the knot, billy has to nip his attraction to pamela in the bud. that proves to be difficult.

It’s a sunny day in San Diego and Billy’s feeling good. Forgoes the numerous cassettes in his car for the radio, thumbs through the channels until he hears Bill Wither’s Lovely Day billowing through the Camaro’s speakers. He’s on his way to work. The grocery store is ten minutes from the Hargrove residence. He got an early start, got to hit some waves and did some shit he’s pretty proud of. His fingers twirl the volume dial up. He hits a red light and fumbles with his pack of Red’s, plucks one out and brings it to his lips. Lights it with a flick of his Zippo and turns his head to catch a red convertible, full of bleach blonde honey’s in swimsuits. They giggle and wave, squealing as Billy revvs his engine. Chuck Taylor on the brake pedal and the other on the accelerator, waves his fingers at the blondes and as the light turns green, he punches it. Life is good.

He clicks the turn signal, switching lanes before he turns into the grocery parking lot. Parks as far as he can from the entrance and uses up the rest of the free time he has, blasting his radio and finishing up his cigarette. There’s a view of the ocean from here, no doubt where the girls in the convertible were headed. Same beach he spent the morning.

Once Billy’s finished his smoke, he takes the walk from the edge of the parking lot to the Albertson’s entrance. Waves to Mrs. Jones, as she's walking out, makes a cheeky comment about how he’s bummed to have missed her and doesn’t miss the way she blushes. He’s the favorite bagboy around here. If not for his looks, then for his skill and diligence. But if Billy can find a way to compete, he’ll take it. If there was a competitive sport for bagging groceries, he’d surely have the first place trophy.

He makes it to the lockers, circles the dial for his lock and pops it open. Retrieves his apron and slides it on, ties it around his waist and reaches for his name tag next, slides the sharp point of the safety pin into his white button up and closes it up. Pops a piece of gum between his teeth before closing up his locker, nods to a coworker as he grabs his time card and slips it into the time clock. Two minutes early.

“How ya doing, Billy?” his coworker greets before grabbing his own time card and clocks out for break.

“Living the dream,” Billy chides, easy and all smiles.

He checks the clipboard to see where he’s stationed first and then makes his way to the check stands. Salutes the cashier as he takes his post at the bagging area. First customer of the day is an absolute babe. Soft, styled blonde hair and blue eyes. Wears a sundress and clings onto the strap of her purse with manicured nails. Red. Billy’s favorite color. He winks at her as he says hello as he smacks his gum.

“Hi,” she replies, cheeks pink and it might be powder blush but Billy would like to think it’s from him.

“How’s your day going?” he inquires, reaching for the groceries rotating his way. Even with the distraction of the gorgeous blonde, he bags with precision. Canned corn with canned soup, double bagged and placed in the cart.

The blonde purses her lips, glances behind her and then turns to Billy, “It’s fine. How’s yours?”

“Can’t complain, got to catch some killer waves before work,” he replies easily and then a familiar face appears behind the blonde. Makes Billy’s face fall.

Susan. His dad’s new girlfriend. She looks at him surprised and then smiles, “Billy! I forgot you work here.”

“Uh, yeah,” he chuckles, shaking his head ‘cause he doesn’t buy it. He heard she lives on the opposite side of town. No reason to do grocery shopping here. “Hey, Susan.”

“So, you’ve met my daughter,” Susan smiles, motioning to the blonde. Fuck. He was flirting with his dad’s girlfriend’s daughter. Gross. Why would Neil date someone with such a hot daughter? That’s like, totally unfair.

“Not officially. I’m Billy,” he offers.

“Pamela,” the girl replies curtly, glancing down at her feet as another, younger girl bounces up beside them. This one looks a lot more like Susan.

“And this is my youngest, Maxine,” Susan introduces the middle schooler.

The younger redhead scowls, turns her nose up at her mother and then looks to Billy, “It’s Max.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Billy plasters on the fakest smile. The few times he’s met Susan, he hasn’t liked her. Doesn’t buy the facade she puts on.

“You, too,” Pamela mumbles and Max looks disinterested.

Billy doesn’t miss a beat bagging their groceries, but he does notice that when he grabs the box of tampons, Pamela’s eyes widen and her face gets redder. It makes him smirk, but he feels like he really shouldn’t be finding his dad’s girlfriend’s daughter so hot.

“Well, we’re heading to your house. You were supposed to meet my girls at dinner but it looks like we got a jump on that,” Susan says, voice all cheery.

“Yep,” Billy smiles again, still forced. This kind of put a real damper on his mood. Seeing Susan does that but knowing her daughter is such a smoke show and so off limits really drives it home.

He doesn’t say much else, keeps bagging the dinner he’s doomed to eat. It’s unlike Billy and the cashier notices and gives him a look. He’s typically a chatterbox. Charming his way through the whole process. Susan pays, and Billy notices she used food stamps. He doesn’t express any judgment but his dad talks real negatively about single mothers who take advantage of the government. Billy has to wonder if he knows he’s sleeping with one.

“We’ll see you at dinner, Billy,” Susan grins, behind Pamela who pushes the cart.

He meets her eyes, tries to read them as he says bye. She averts hers and Billy has to wonder if she’s just as attracted to him.

—

He’s been dreading the dinner his whole shift. Even considers skipping it all together. Sits in the Camaro for a good twenty minutes before he even starts it up. He’s pretty sure there’s a bonfire at the beach but Neil would kill him. And also, there’s a big part of him that wants to see Pamela again. Even if she’s off limits, he can still look, can’t he?

The drive home is too quick and Susan’s dumb station wagon is in his place in the driveway. He sits outside and has a cigarette, listening to the radio as he just watches the door. Half expects Neil to come out and yell at him, or worse, Susan. It doesn’t happen. Of course his dads gonna put on a front for these women. Which buys him something. But the second they leave, that’s another story. And Billy’s gone a month without a black eye, he’d really like to keep that going so he turns off the Camaro. Tosses his cigarette and trudges his way up to the house. Upon entering, Max is sat on the couch, looking bored to hell while Neil’s nursing a beer, sat on his recliner as the news bubbles out from the TV.

“Billy. How was work?” Neil asks, absentmindedly. He’s not really paying attention, doesn’t really care. His eyes focused on President Reagan, talking some bullshit on the TV.

“Fine,” he mumbles, closing the door behind him as he reaches down to untie his Converse. Looks at the three pair of shoes discarded by the front door. He slips his off and holds them between his fingers as he trails down the hallway to his bedroom. Tosses them to the floor and closes his door. Leans against the cheap particle board and heaves a sigh. He can’t be in here too long. Neil’ll come looking for him. Tell him he has to mingle.

So he takes the short time he has to change his clothes. Just slips out of his button up and pulls on an old t-shirt. And yeah. He walks over to his mirror, checks how his hair is looking. Sure as hell can’t flirt with the pretty blonde in his house, but who says he can’t look good for her anyways. A spray of Aquanet can’t hurt and shit, he smells like work so a few sprays of his cologne ain’t gonna kill anyone.

Looking in the mirror, he catches his cat on his bed. Locked in here because Susan insists she’s allergic. He doesn’t believe her because Gloria’s fur is all over this house and Susan never has a reaction. He collapses on his bed and Gloria stands up, stretches all exaggerated and struts her way over to Billy. Cozies up on his lap and nudges her head against his hand. He gets the idea and scratches at the gray fur behind her ears, pouts as he looks at her.

“Wish I could be locked in here with ya,” he mumbles out. Gloria purrs, eyes closing as she nuzzles against his chest.

Then there’s a knock on his door and he huffs, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he calls out, “Yeah?”

The door opens slowly, his eyes catch her feet first. Simple black kitten heels, tights adorning long legs up to her flowy black skirt and baby pink blouse with a frilly collar. Yeah, this night is gonna suck. Pamela’s hair is tied back in a haphazard bun and he wonders if she’s been in the kitchen, helping Susan.

“Salad is re— you have a cat?!” her plush lips pulling up into an excited smile as she moves in closer.

“Yeah, shut the door,” Billy tells her, “Your mom’s allergic.”

Pamela closes the door and steps closer to the bed, “So she says. We had cats when I was a kid, though. What’s its name?”

She reaches her manicured fingers out for Gloria to sniff. Gloria does, looks up at the girl curiously and then nudges her head against Pamela’s knuckles. She scratches the cat's head, smiling all fondly at her.

“Gloria, or Glo for short,” Billy says.

“Such a pretty girl,” Pamela praises with a pout, voice all babied.

Billy smiles, watching the interaction and ignoring how close Pamela is to him. But he can smell her perfume, citrusy and floral. His instinct to flirt is weighing heavy on him and it’s kind of painful not to. Off limits, he tells himself and clears his throat, “So uh, dinner’s ready?”

Pamela nods, hair bouncing with the movement as she keeps scratching at the cat's neck. “Well, salad is. Meatloafs almost done.”

“Meatloaf, eh? Sounds tasty,” he tries to sound like he means it but Pamela catches it.

She laughs, breezy and a sound Billy wants to hear over and over. “Don’t worry, I did all the heavy lifting. But don’t tell your dad that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grins, sitting up and picking up Gloria. Pamela turns towards the door and Billy can’t stop his dumb mouth, “You’re really pretty, by the way.”

“Oh,” she turns slightly and her cheeks are redder. “Thanks.” Pamela exits his bedroom and leaves Billy feeling like a creep. The hell is wrong with him? Why the fuck did he say that?

He puts the cat down and walks out behind Pamela, but he doesn’t follow her out into the kitchen yet. Detours to the bathroom so he can splash his face and get a grip. Off limits, he repeats. Fixes his hair some more and decides he’s not gonna talk to Pamela if he can help it.

She’s already sat at the table by the time he gets there and wouldn’t you know it, the only empty spot is right across from her. Awesome. They’ve pulled up an old wooden chair for Max, next to Pamela. Neil and Susan sit at the other ends. There’s a salad plated for him. He sits down and gulps some of the water placed for him while he waits for his dad to start grace, but he doesn’t. And all the girls are already eating. Neil gives him a look, then looks up at the ceiling so Billy does the same. Tells God thanks in his head and starts in on his salad.

Susan talks a lot so it’s easy for Billy to zone out on his food and not look up at the pretty girl across from him. But apparently, this dinner is supposed to be about the teens getting to know each other. Susan says, in her shrill voice, “Billy! You and Pamela are in the same grade. Isn’t that neat?”

“Yeah,” Billy offers a soft grin, doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Max is about to start the eighth grade,” Susan continues and Billy just nods, pretends he’s listening as she keeps rambling. Then she says, “Max skateboards, your dad says you surf, that’s pretty much the same thing, right?”

He scoffs, a smile that’s not at all joyful plays at his lips as he looks at Susan, “I mean, no. Not really, at all.”

Neil shoots him daggers, he can’t see them but he can feel his dads eyes hardened on the side of his face so he offers, quickly, “But I skate, too. Not that often but I’ve got a board. I like surfing more, been doing it longer.”

“I only started this year,” Max mumbles, luckily getting the attention away from Billy.

“That’s cool,” Billy tries, mostly for the sake of his dad. Neil hasn’t dated seriously enough to introduce his girlfriend’s kids before. And really, Susan’s made an effort to get to know Billy, though fruitless. But perhaps he can play nice for the time being. And when Neil and Susan inevitably fizzle out, he can make his move on the daughter. That’s his plan, at least.