#or eat it all before anyone else gets some

[bjlipss]

— heaven;

cw: 18+, talks of erectile dysfunction, angst, hurt/comfort kinda, fluff, internal shame, smut, reader’s pussy so good it cures his psychogenic erectile dysfunction (jk jk )

nanami kento is twenty-seven, and he’s tired.

not just tired in the way most people are. not the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep can fix, or a strong cup of coffee, or even a weekend off. no—this is deeper. it’s marrow-deep, soul-deep. a weariness that clings to his skin like damp fabric, that coils around his spine and never quite lets go. he wakes up tired, works tired, eats dinner with aching jaws and leaves dishes in the sink because even that feels like too much. he falls into bed exhausted, but sleep doesn’t come easy anymore. it never really did.

he tells himself it’s just the job.

and maybe that’s partly true. being a jujutsu sorcerer is not a career so much as a death sentence delayed. he’s seen too much already—too many curses, too many mangled bodies of young sorcerers who were brave and dumb and sixteen. too many higher-ups pretending to care, pretending it’s all for the greater good, while they sip their tea and send teenagers into war.

but it’s more than that.

nanami feels like he’s rotting from the inside out.

like the life he’s built has been sanded down into something sharp-edged and joyless. he clocks in. he clocks out. he does what needs to be done. he’s efficient, dependable, clean-cut and quiet. people like him. respect him. some of the younger ones even look up to him.

but nobody knows him.

and he’s not sure anyone has, for a long time.

so one night—after a particularly bad day, after a body too small and a scream too young—he tries. he thinks maybe what he needs is something simple. human. physical. something warm to remind him he’s still alive.

a woman from another division has been flirting with him for weeks. she’s pretty, soft-voiced, always smiling a little too long when they talk. so he takes the outstretched hand. they go back to her place. she lights a candle. she kisses him slowly.

he feels it at first—some spark of arousal, like muscle memory—but it’s distant. like watching fire behind glass.

his body won’t move with it. won’t rise. won’t react. he breathes harder. tries to push through it. thinks about her hands, her mouth, anything to stay there in the moment.

but nothing happens.

he goes soft before he even really gets hard.

the woman doesn’t say anything cruel. she gets dressed in silence, touches his shoulder like she’s sorry for him, not angry. she tells him not to worry about it. says it’s okay but there’s underlying pity in her words and shame on her face.

the next day, she requests a transfer.

he books a doctor’s appointment that same week.

and of course—because he’s nanami—he does it methodically. picks a reputable clinic, shows up fifteen minutes early, fills out the intake form with precise handwriting. he answers the doctor’s questions with cool detachment, as if he’s talking about someone else.

yes, he’s under stress. yes, his job is demanding. no, he’s not in a relationship. yes, he’s been feeling… disconnected. not unhappy, not exactly. just empty.

the doctor runs some tests. blood work, hormone levels, a general check-up.

the results come back two days later.

nothing permanent. not uncommon. the diagnosis is delivered gently, like it might break him—psychogenic erectile dysfunction, likely triggered by chronic stress, emotional burnout, maybe even signs of depression. his testosterone is on the low end of normal. cortisol is high. his body is in a constant state of fight or flight, flooded with survival hormones that leave no space for desire. no room for softness. for sex.

he listens. nods. thanks the doctor. goes home.

and doesn’t talk about it to anyone.

he blames himself anyway. even if it’s not his fault. even if it’s chemical, environmental, emotional—he feels lesser for it. less of a man. less of a person. like his body has given up on pleasure entirely. like his mind and his heart have withered into something that only knows function, not feeling.

so he avoids it.

he avoids women, avoids flirtation, avoids anything that might lead to a bedroom. he tells himself he’s too busy anyway. that morning wood was a bother anyways. tells himself sex is a distraction, a complication. that intimacy isn’t necessary for a man like him.

and then he meets you.

you arrive in nanami’s life without warning. not with fireworks or drama, not like most people who crash into his world demanding space and time and more than he can give.

he doesn’t fall fast. nanami isn’t built that way. but you come into his life quietly, like sunlight through half-closed blinds—slow and persistent, until everything is washed in warmth.

you don’t expect anything from him. you don’t push. you laugh at his dry comments, share your lunch with him, ask about his day like the answer matters. and without realizing it, he starts to linger longer when you talk. he memorizes the sound of your voice. he looks for you in a crowd, without meaning to.

you arrive quietly. like a steady rain after a long drought.

it starts with casual conversations in passing. the kind that linger in his mind longer than they should. he notices how you don’t rush to fill the silence. how you laugh with your whole body. how you speak with care, even when no one’s listening.

it’s not just want. it’s not even just need.

it’s love, blooming in slow, quiet ache.

and he begins to notice himself, too.

how his shoulders relax when you’re near. how the sharp, cloying edge of stress dulls a little when you smile at him. how, after weeks and then months, the ache in his chest—the one he thought was permanent—starts to fade.

he starts to want again.

not just sex, not the raw, thoughtless kind of release he’d once tried to chase like a cure. but something real. something soft. something he doesn’t think he deserves.

you.

but that desire terrifies him.

because the last time he wanted something like this, he was left feeling less than whole. and now, even with all the space you give him—all your patience, your gentleness—he still hesitates.

he thinks: what if i can’t give you what you need? what if you take it personally? what if you think it’s you?

so every time you lean in, every time your kisses linger too long and your sighs get needier, every time your hands slide up beneath his shirt or your voice goes warm and breathy in his ear—he pulls away.

softly. politely. like he’s putting up a boundary with words too careful to hold the weight of what he really means.

“early morning tomorrow,” he says.

“long day,” he says.

“let’s just hold each other,” he says.

and you don’t push. but he sees the flickers of confusion in your eyes. the slow-blooming insecurity in your silence. until one night—months in—you ask. gently. hesitantly. like you’re the one afraid of breaking something.

“is it… me?”

the look on his face could split stone. he flinches, hard—because no. never. because you are the only thing in his life that’s felt right in a very long time. and the idea that he’s made you feel anything less than wanted makes his throat close up.

he tries to explain, but his voice breaks halfway through. says something about the stress. the burnout. that it’s not permanent, that it’s not you, that it’s him. and you just nod, not asking for more, just sliding your fingers into his and resting your forehead against his chest.

he doesn’t sleep that night.

and then—some weeks later—something changes.

it’s a quiet night. rain patters softly against the windows. you’re sitting beside him on the bed, legs tangled under a shared blanket, your head on his shoulder.

he looks over at you—and the softness in your expression undoes him.

because when you say “i love you,” it’s not a declaration. it’s a truth. said simply. like breathing.

you reach up to touch his cheek, your fingers trembling. you’re afraid too—he can feel it. your voice is gentle, your body slow, like you’re asking permission with every movement. you kiss him, slow and steady, and for once he doesn’t pull away.

your hand slips under his shirt, fingers trailing down his chest, his abdomen, your touch featherlight.

and then—your palm presses lower, and he gasps.

he’s already half-hard.

your touch stills.

he looks down at you, wide-eyed, disbelieving. “wait,” he whispers. “wait—i—”

your hand shifts, tentative but confident, fingers curling gently around him. he’s warm and thick and growing harder by the second in your palm. his hips twitch into the touch, and a groan escapes him—honest, startled, and wrecked.

“kento,” you breathe, eyes flicking up to his. “you’re okay.”

his mouth opens. closes. opens again. his hand shakes as it settle on your thigh as if to ground himself, his chest rising and falling too fast. “i—i don’t understand. it’s never—” he swallows thickly. “not in months. not like this.”

you press a kiss to his throat. “you’re not broken,” you murmur. “you just needed something real.”

his breath catches. his head falls back against the couch as he tries to absorb the weight of what’s happening—your hand on him, his body responding, his mind not swimming with anxiety or failure or shame.

only you.

your name falls from his lips like a prayer.

“keep going,” he whispers, voice rough with disbelief. “please—don’t stop.”

and when you lean in to kiss him again, he’s already pulling you into his lap, desperate to feel all of you, like something inside him has finally come back to life.

your hand wraps gently around him, and he groans like he’s in pain—but the kind of pain that’s thick with relief. his hips twitch, a raw reaction, and he stares down at you like he can’t quite believe what’s happening.

you stroke him softly, just enough pressure to keep him grounded. he’s hard—really hard—and you feel the pulse of blood and heat against your palm, see the way his breath stutters with every pass of your hand. there’s something deeply vulnerable about the way he looks right now—wide-eyed, flushed, almost awed.

you lean in, press your lips to his throat. “you’re so responsive,” you murmur. “so sensitive. is this okay?”

he groans again, tilts his head back to give you more access. “more than okay. please don’t stop.”

you slide down his body, kissing a trail over his chest, his abdomen—slow and deliberate. he grips the sheets beneath him, knuckles white, trying not to lose control too fast. you settle between his legs, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“can i?”

he swears under his breath. “yes. yes, please.”

your mouth replaces your hand, and nanami breaks.

his hand flies to your hair, not to push or guide, just to hold, to anchor himself. his thighs tremble under you, breath coming faster now, a desperate hitch to it like he’s been waiting years to feel this.

“shit—i’m not gonna last long,” he gasps. “i’m—this is—you’re—”

he spills out your name like a secret, fingers tightening just slightly as you keep going, steady, loving. he tries to warn you again, but the words collapse into a groan, long and low and wrecked. he comes with a stuttered gasp, thighs clenching, whole body drawn tight like a bowstring before he collapses into the mattress, boneless.

you crawl back up to kiss him, and he pulls you into his arms like you’re the last soft thing in the world. he’s shaking.

“i didn’t know it could feel like that,” he whispers.

you smile against his jaw. “you mean good?”

“i mean real.”

but he’s not done.

after he catches his breath, after the shock begins to fade, he looks at you—eyes dark with something steadier now. want. and something clicks in him, something hungry and focused.

“your turn, darling,” he says, low and deliberate.

and the way he touches you then—slow and thorough, with trembling reverence and careful pressure—makes it clear he intends to make up for lost time.

he shifts you gently beneath him, hands slow and warm as they spread across your hips, your thighs. there’s a reverence to him now, a steadiness—it’s like some long-locked part of him has finally opened, and all that careful control he’s always worn like armor has melted away, leaving only want.

but not greedy want. devotional.

“you’ve been so patient with me,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your knee, your thigh. his voice is low, steady, like he’s trying to ground you both. “i want to return that.”

his hands slide beneath your thighs, spreading you open with almost unbearable gentleness. his lips follow the path of his palms, mouth pressing kisses to the softest parts of you, slow and unhurried.

“kento,” you breathe, already trembling.

he glances up—eyes dark, intent. “tell me what you want.”

“you,” you say, helplessly. “just you.”

he exhales like that undoes him.

his mouth finally finds you, and the first drag of his tongue is soft, exploratory, like he’s memorizing the taste of you. and then he does it again, more confidently, more hungrily, and your hands fly to his hair, gripping hard as your hips rise into his mouth. he moans when you do, the vibration sinking straight through your spine.

he eats you like it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense. like your pleasure is sacred. his tongue flicks, presses, circles, learning every reaction you give him like he’s etching it into memory. and when you whimper his name, thighs shaking around his shoulders, he doesn’t stop—he slides a finger inside you, slow and deep, matching the rhythm of his tongue with deliberate care.

“you’re so wet,” he groans, lips slick. “i want to feel you come on my tongue. can you do that for me?”

you nod, gasping, your body already so close to the edge. it’s overwhelming—his mouth, his voice, the sheer intensity of how focused he is on you.

“you taste incredible,” he breathes. “you feel even better. i could stay here all night.”

you fall apart moments later, arching into him, his name torn from your throat as your release floods through you. and even then, he doesn’t stop—not until your body’s twitching, overstimulated, clinging to him.

he finally rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving yours.

“i’ve never wanted anyone like this,” he says, breathless, reverent.

he kisses you again—slow, messy, sharing your taste between your tongues.

and then, once your breathing steadies, once you’ve gathered enough strength to look up at him with pleading eyes—

he moves over you like a shadow—controlled, careful—but the moment he sinks into you, that composure shatters. his breath stutters. his hands shake.

“fuck,” he groans, burying his face in your neck. “you feel—god, you feel unreal.”

you wrap your legs around his waist, arms holding him close. he’s so deep, stretching you perfectly, filling you in a way that feels like coming home.

“you’re so tight,” he murmurs, voice fraying at the edges. “i don’t think i can—i want to go slow, i should—”

you arch your hips, driving him deeper. “don’t,” you whisper. “don’t hold back.”

and that’s all it takes.

he growls—a low, desperate sound—and suddenly his hips are snapping into you, strong and fast, each thrust sending a sharp crack of pleasure through your core. it’s messy and hot and overwhelming, the weight of his body, the heat between you, the breathless groans spilling into your skin as he fucks you like he’s trying to make up for all the empty years.

“missed this,” he pants. “missed the way it feels—you, around me like this—fuck.”

he kisses you like he needs to taste every gasp you make, teeth grazing your lower lip, tongue deep and messy. your nails rake down his back, and he shudders, cock twitching deep inside you.

“you’re perfect,” he groans. “you’re perfect.”

but even in his hunger, he doesn’t forget you—his hand slides down, finding your clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles. “want you to come with me,” he says, voice wrecked. “need to feel you fall apart.”

“kento—” your voice breaks, too close, body already starting to tense.

“that’s it,” he groans. “give it to me. please.”

you break with a cry, clenching hard around him—and the feeling of you, pulsing, squeezing, milking him—that is what finally drags him over the edge. he moans your name as he comes, hips grinding deep, spilling into you as his whole body locks up.

he doesn’t stop moving for a while—gentler now, drawn-out, like he can’t bear to leave your body just yet. his forehead rests against yours, both of you gasping, sweat-slick and trembling.

he kisses you softly. “i don’t know how i lived without this.”

you smile up at him, lazy and dazed. “without me?”

he lets out a breathless laugh, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“yeah,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “without you.”

you’re both quiet in the aftermath, tangled together in the warmth of each other’s skin, his head resting against your collarbone, his breathing deep and heavy. but slowly—slowly—you feel the unmistakable twitch of him still nestled inside, and your breath catches.

you shift slightly, just a roll of your hips, and he groans into your throat, voice deep and hoarse and still utterly wrecked.

“you’re insatiable,” you tease, breathless.

his voice is rough when he answers, low and reverent. “you have no idea.”

nanami lifts his head to look at you, and there’s something different in his eyes now—less disbelief, more possession. awe replaced with intent. he cups your cheek with a hand that’s still trembling, brushes his thumb over your lower lip.

“i thought something in me had just… broken. like i’d worn myself down past the point of wanting. but you…” he leans in, kisses you slow, “you woke something up.”

he kisses you again—deep, slow, tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owns it. and as he moves, you feel him swelling inside you, hardening with each gentle grind of his hips, still sheathed deep. the sensation pulls a soft moan from your throat, and he smiles—a real, almost smug curl of his lips.

“still so wet,” he murmurs. “still perfect.”

he pulls out slowly, and you feel the slick warmth of his cum spill between your thighs, but he doesn’t go far—he shifts down your body, spreading your legs again, and runs his tongue through your folds with a sound like he’s dying for it.

he devours you this time—not gentle, not worshipful, but needy. his mouth is hot and relentless, tongue stroking through the mess he made, sucking at your clit until your hips are jerking and your fingers are in his hair again, dragging him closer, closer—

you gasp his name, trembling under him, and he pulls back just enough to rasp, “you’re going to come for me again. i need you to. i want to feel it when i’m inside you.”

your stomach twists, tight with anticipation, and you nod, hips rocking helplessly into his mouth until you come again, loud and sharp and aching. nanami groans like your orgasm gets him off, like the sound of you falling apart is the only thing he needs.

he moves over you fast—lifts your leg, presses your knee back toward your chest, and sinks back into you with one rough, deep thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

“fuck—so good,” he grits out, already moving hard and slow. “so goddamn tight.”

this time, there’s no hesitation. he takes his time, but he owns every movement—drives into you with long, deep strokes that press your body into the bed, each one punctuated with soft, dirty praise.

“you feel this?” he growls against your neck. “feel how deep i am?”

you nod, too overwhelmed to speak. he’s everywhere—inside you, all around you—his scent, his voice, his heat. the steady slap of skin against skin is dizzying.

“i could stay here forever,” he breathes, one hand bracing your thigh up, the other moving down between your bodies. “feel you like this—tight and wet and mine.”

his fingers find your clit again, rubbing in circles that match his thrusts, and the pressure spirals fast—he’s hitting every spot, every angle, like he’s been memorizing your body since the beginning of time.

you come again with a sob, and this time he doesn’t stop—his pace picks up, thrusts more frantic now, deeper, rougher. wild.

“want to come inside you again,” he gasps. “want to fill you up, fuck it deeper—fuck—”

your name breaks from his throat as he drives deep one last time and comes hard, hips shuddering, breath gone ragged. he stays inside you, body shaking, arms braced on either side of your head.

for a long moment, neither of you moves.

just breathing.

just feeling.

and then he collapses beside you, pulls you into his chest, still buried deep, still twitching with the last pulses of pleasure. his lips brush your forehead, your temple, your jaw.

“i didn’t know it could be like this,” he whispers. “not just the sex. this.”

you hum, pressing your lips to his chest.

“i’m not going anywhere.” you say.

and his arms tighten around you—like he believes it, finally. like you’ve given him something back that he thought was lost forever.

[kisses4themissus]

Just A Fool | M.R X Reader

a/n: happy mothers day y'all...why not celebrate mother's day with some cuteness...and angst.. pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Single Mom!Reader wc: 5.2k (idk I blinked and it was at 5k)

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Chatter and clicking of plates and cups filled the restaurant.

“So?” Robby began, glancing over to Lacey then to you beside her. “How did you not know she’s mine?” You asked, confused how he had assumed she was your niece. “I wasn’t thinking, does anyone else know?” he asked, glancing over to see Lacey already staring at him.

“I thought everyone knew i was a mom, lovebug stop staring at him.” You said, patting lacey’s hand on the table.

“He looks like the guy from josh’s game!” Lacey realized after staring intently at robby. “If having a kid turns you away then– what did you say?” you turned to lacey who sat next to you smiling at robby.

“He looks like the army guy!” She laughed, before turning to robby, sitting up on her knees. “My mommy likes his face hair.” She told Robby, who chuckled and titled his head. “Army guy?” Robby questioned.

“She thinks you look like a call of duty character.” You explained, chuckling to yourself. 

With a shocked expression, Robby stared at Lacey for a bit before turning to you. “She plays call of duty?” he asked, shocked as the little girl began to nod proudly.

You laughed and shook your head. “Her older cousins play but they let her get on the mic to talk shit.” You explained, looking over to see Lacey searching for her restaurant crayon. 

Robby nodded at the explanation. “I’ve dated a single mom before, she had a son…his name is jake.” Robby spoke softly as he watched you recognize the name.

“The boy who lost his girlfriend at pittfest?” You questioned, earning a slow nod from robby.

“He told me that he had gone to a therapist and said that it didn’t help but when he went to the hospital, he ran into someone..” Robby hinted, making you nod.

“I know the grief he’s going through, told him I wished Adamson was here so I could give him a proper apology.” you told robby, running your hand over the back of lovebug’s head 

There was a beat of silence before Robby asked.

“Was the person you lost her dad?” Robby motioned for lovebug who was too busy following the little maze on her place setting to listen to the adults.

You shook your head. “I wish he was her dad, he would’ve been a great one.” You sighed, looking down at the little girl. Robby saw the look of sadness and backed off the topic. 

Feeling eyes on her, Lacey looked up and saw both you and robby staring at her. “What?” She asked, looking a bit upset. “Got a problem?” She asked, raising her crayon to point at robby and you.

Robby chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “I haven’t said anything.” 

Lacey sighed and nodded before flipping her place mat to face Robby, handing him a yellow crayon. She tapped the paper and pointed to her little tic tac toe board where she had placed a big X in the middle.

Glancing over you took in a deep breath and looked at robby with a smile. “Good luck, she’s good at those..” You sighed, picking up your drink.

Robby had begun to play with Lacey, at first letting her win but slowly grew to be competitive as she managed to trap him each time before running her red crayon over a line of hidden X’s. He leaned across the table and looked at Lacey in a mix of shock and awe.

“How do you keep doing that?” He laughed as Lacey shrugged before turning to you.

“How much longer, I'm hungry!” She dragged out her letters, flopping over on your shoulder.

You laughed and rubbed her head. “I’m not sure lovebug, we’re not the only people in here eating.” You explained, motioning towards the other booths and tables.

She sighed and placed her hands under her chin as she sat back down. She looked out the window before sighing once more, a bit more dramatic.

Both you and robby exchanged a look.

“Why does your family all call her that?” Robby asked, earning a laugh from you.

“Before I found out I was pregnant, I claimed I had a really terrible stomach bug, that’s why I was always tired, vomiting, and grumpy. So when I took a test and it was positive my brothers teased me by saying I had a lovebug in my stomach.” You explained.

Robby chuckled and nodded. “She’s more of a bedbug though!” You teased, tickling her sides. 

“Stop it mommy!” She laughed, wiggling from you.

You let her go and smiled as she sighed and moved back to her part of the booth, leaning over the table, Lacey looked at robby.

“Dr. robby. what’s your favorite color?” She asked, tapping the table with her pink painted nails. Robby chuckled and pretended to think.

“Blue.” He answered, earning a nod from lovebug.

“I like blue, my favorite is green.” She smiled at the doctor. 

“How was rat practice?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink, watching as Lacey perked up.

“Great, me and the older kids said on opening night we should do WWE rats, and– and I'd be the flying rat off the couch!” She explained, her eyes bright as she said her plan. You and Robby laughed.

“And the boys agreed?” You asked, laughing into your cup.

“Yep, Jason said to do it!” She nodded, waiting for you to finish your drink before asking for a sip.

Robby’s heart warmed as he watched you and Lacey across from him.

Lacey happily drank the lemonade, streaks of the drink on the sides of her mouth, she sighed and wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“Here honey.” Robby handed the little girl his napkin, smiling warmly as she nodded and wiped her face and arm. “Thanks dr. robby!” She grinned.

“You just call me robby.” His heart grew as you laughed.

“But you’re a doctor!” Lovebug tried to reason. “Like when mommy isn’t nice, I call her dr. mommy.” She explained before taking gulps of more lemonade.

“What’s your favorite food lacey?” Robby asked, making the little girl stop her gulps, she let out a deep gasp before answering.

“I like cheesy noodles!” She explained, making Robby tilt his head in confusion. 

“Fettuccine alfredo.” You clarified, lacey nodding in agreement. She turned to your purse and searched through it. Leaving you and robby to your own conversation.

 - - - - - - - -

Leaving the restaurant, you attempted to carry lacey who looked around the street, her sugar rush going crazy.

Robby noticed the look on your face as Lacey chattered and attempted to climb around you and quickly stepped in.

“C’mon monkey.” He took lacey and held her up. You smiled at the two. Lacey settled down a bit as Robby placed her on the ground before giving her a piggyback ride.

“Sure, your old man back won’t give out?” You teased, earning a laugh from robby; the fluttering in your stomach resumed. “I can’t guarantee it.” he joked, following as you walked to your car down the street.

As you passed an ice cream parlor, you took a deep breath and waited.

“Ooh, can we stop!” Lacey squealed, making you chuckle. Robby glanced at you with a grin. 

“It is nice to have dessert after dinner.” Robby teased, making you sighed before nodding at the pair, who cheered and walked inside. As the tired employee greets you three, staring at the ice cream flavors you turned to ask what everyone was getting only to see a sight that’d melt your heart.

Robby had moved Lacey to be in his arms, nodding as she pointed out different flavors she had liked the sound of. You felt red as robby’s free hand fell to your lower back and guided you to the counter.

“We’ll take a waffle cone with, what did you say you wanted honey?” Robby asked, looking at Lacey who sat comfortable in his arms.

“Cotton candy!” She squealed, making robby chuckle and nod at the employee before turning to you.

“What do you want?” he asked, not noticing how flustered you were. “Um- can i get a brownie sundae please.” You ordered, your face feeling overwhelmingly warm.

The employee nodded and typed something on the register screen. “And one fudge sundae.” Robby finished, removing his hand from your back to get his wallet out of his back pocket. 

“Hold this honey.” Robby told Lacey who nodded and held his leather wallet as he got out a twenty. At the same time you had pulled up your digital wallet on your phone.

You and robby looked at each other, robby looked almost offended as you attempted to pay. “Put that away, I'm treating you girls.” He playfully scolded you, making you nervously chuckle, nodding as you turned your phone off, letting him hand over the bill.

“Could you get the change for me, Lacey's shoe is falling off.” He asked, not waiting for a response, walking over to a booth and sat lacey down before helping the little girl with her Mary Jane shoes.

“Cute family.” The employee smiled at you, handing the change over.

You stuttered to get the words out. “Thanks..” You smiled and quickly walked over to the two.

After you and robby had shared your sundaes with each other, you three continued the way to your car.

As you unlocked the back door and loaded Lacey in, she sighed and whined. 

“What’s wrong babybug?” You asked, running a hand on her leg, trying to sooth her. “I don’t want dr. robby to leave!” She sighed, looking at Robby with puppy eyes. “Please come home with me and mommy!” She pleaded. 

You sighed at her. “Eat your ice cream before it melts some more!” You pointed to the waffle cone, she followed your finger and quickly jumped up to start eating it.

Both you and robby chuckled, softly shutting the door. You turned to robby and looked around the parking lot to see a few cars.

“Which is yours?” You asked, finally looking at him who smiled at you. “I walked.” He shrugged, watching as your eyes widened. “What?!” You scoffed at him. “And I thought carrying lovebug would’ve taken your back out..” You lightly laughed.

He nodded and motioned for you to get in the car. 

“You can’t be serious, I'm not gonna drive off and leave you to walk back to your apartment michael..” You said, noticing the flushed look on robby’s face. “What did you call me?” He asked, a sly grin growing.

You recalled your words and froze at the slip up. “Robby…I meant robby!” You attempted to cover. He nodded and grinned. “Nice cover slick.” 

“Are you getting in the passenger or what?” You asked, turning to the driver’s seat.

Robby laughed and nodded, opening the driver's door for you before running to the passenger side.

 - - - - - - - -

Somehow lacey had managed to convince you and robby to go back to your own apartment, robby agreed on staying till lovebug had passed out.

Unlocking the door, you sighed and smiled as Lacey ran into the living room and threw herself at the couch. Robby stayed at the doorway and admired the apartment, hanging plants in every corner of the rooms, a small kitchen and living room, two doors on each side of the apartment; easily you could tell which was Lacey's the colored construction paper and stickers stuck on the white door.

You kicked off your shoes and walked to your kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a cold water bottle, you turned to robby and offered one. “No thanks, nice place.” He nodded and looked around.

“Thank you.” You smiled, walking around the kitchen and poured the water into a bottle with cartoon characters before going to the couch and handing Lacey the plastic cup, “drink it for me please!” You smiled as the little girl began to chug it down.

She hopped onto the sofa, and patted the spot next to her for robby to sit, you sat on the opposite side of lacey and picked up the remote.

“Movie or bluey?” You asked lovebug who paused before looking at robby then back at you. “Movie since dr. Robby hasn't seen bluey!” She sighed, motioning for you to pick a movie out. 

Robby chuckled as she slouched down, and watched as you scrolled through movies, waiting for someone to pick.

“OH ALADDIN!” Lacey popped up from the couch and pointed at the screen. You hovered over the disney movie and turned to see Robby watching with a smile as Lacey bounced around, waiting.

He glanced at you and nodded.

It had barely gotten half way through when Lacey's sugar high hit, causing her to crash on the carpet in front of the hung tv. “She looks like a bug that’s been squished.” Robby chuckled, leaning over as you got up and prepared yourself to pick her up.

“Oh that’s because she’s tired from her long day, normally she’s fighting off demons.” You joked, you picked up the half full water bottle and placed it on the table to the side of the sofa.

Robby got up from the couch and carefully scooped up lovebug and looked at you. 

Too busy staring at robby’s broad shoulders you hadn’t noticed him gently shushing Lacey as she whined in her sleep, gently patting her back. Snapping back, you led robby to her room and watched as robby sat her down gently, you walked over and settled her in.

Robby smiled at Lacey's room; fairy lights were strung up across the room’s ceiling, painted stars on the walls, he looked back and blushed; It had felt oddly right to be domestic with you.

With a forehead kiss, you backed away from Lacey's room, turning on her fairy lights before leaving the room with robby.

Robby quietly shut her room door, noticing as you walked to your kitchen to clean up. 

He sighed and walked over to you. “I’ll be taking my leave now.” He smiled as you turned to him, two wine glasses in hand. “So soon?” You grinned, placing the glasses down on the island before turning to an upper cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine.

Robby chuckled and sighed, looking down. “Alright, you got me.” He shook his head and walked further into the kitchen as you popped open the bottle. 

Robby took it gently from your hands and began pouring some into the glasses.

You scoffed at the amount. “Give me that, stop trying to be cheap with it!” You both laughed, taking the bottle from his hands.

He watched as you poured more wine into the glasses.

“Trying to wine and dine me?” He asked, a sly grin on his face as you froze in place.

“...possibly..” You looked at him quickly before taking a long sip of the wine. “I mean, I'm not opposed.” he told you before taking a drink. Feeling flushed, you watched as he drank more. “If you think you can stay quiet then absolutely..” You shrugged, placing down your glass.

There was a beat before both you and robby leaned into each other and let your lips touch, it was exciting, your stomach curled in as he reached to cup your face, bring you deeper into the kiss.

You pulled away first, smiling as he followed your lips. Placing your hands on his chest you motioned to your bedroom. Robby smiled and picked you up, cupping your bottom as he carried you to the bedroom, shutting the door and locking it behind you both.

 - - - - - - - -

Waking up to the smell of food was unusual for robby. He looked up from where he laid, all the memories of the night before rushed back, the late night chat with you.

He grinned and got up, putting on his clothes from the day before. Opening the door he saw you in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you made coffee and prepared something. Walking over he stopped at the kitchen island, smiled as you turned and grinned at him.

“Morning robby..” You said a bit shyly. He chuckled and walked over you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Good morning, sleep well?” He asked, you closed your eyes and leaned your head against him. “Be quiet!” You giggled.

Robby had begun to help you make sandwiches, he raised an eyebrow as he placed another into a zip lock bag. “What are these for?” He asked, slightly confused.

You chuckled as you finished another sandwich. “Every other weekend, I get lacey all dressed up and cutesy and we go have a picnic.” You explained.

“That’s sweet.” Robby smiled.

As you both talked about your date, Lacey's door swung open to show a tired and crazy haired lacey. Her pajamas all messed up, one pant leg was hoisted up by her knee while the other was on the ground, her shirt was now backwards.

She walked out and rubbed her eyes as she yawned, she dragged over a stepping stool and hopped onto a stool nearby to sit down.

Robby quietly chuckled at the sight while you smiled and walked over to your crazy little girl. “You ready for our picnic?” You asked, earning a nod from her.

“Is dr. Robby coming with?” She asked, quietly. You looked over your shoulder and shrugged. You leaned in and shrugged at you. “I think you should ask him.” Your words made her light up.

“Do you want to go with us dr. robby?” Lacey asked, sitting up looking at robby with her puppy dog eyes once more.

He sighed and nodded. “I’d love to!” He grinned. With an answer lacey nodded and motioned for you to help her down.

Lacey ran off to your bathroom to brush her teeth and her hair. Leaving you and robby alone again.

Robby looked down at his clothes before nodding to himself, with a deep breath he walked over to you and leaned in. “I need to go back to my place, I need an outfit for the picnic with you lovely ladies.” He grinned as you got flustered and nodded, robby leaned in and kissed your cheek before leaving your apartment, out walked lacey, toothbrush in her mouth, her comb stuck in her hair as she looked around and shrugged at you. 

“Where’s dr. robby?” She mumbled, making you giggle before walking over and guided her back to the bathroom. “He went home to change, just like we need to change you into your dress.”

 - - - - - - - -

Robby had sent you a text about a park he knew that had good shade and a playground to take lacey to. You had agreed to meet there, packing up the picnic basket, a big enough blanket and getting lacey into the car; thankfully you had gotten there peacefully and quickly.

You carried the basket while Lacey insisted she carried the blanket, she walked through the grass, smiling as little kids ran past and towards the big playground. You had spotted robby across the park and walked with lacey over to him.

“Hi Michael!” Lacey yelled, making Robby turn and smile widely at you both.

You laughed and looked at lacey. “How do you know his name?” You asked, the little girl shrugged.

“After ice cream you called him michael.” She explained, running over as Robby knelt down to her height.

“Look at how pretty your dress is!” Robby smiled and spun her around, making her skirt fan out.

She laughed and sighed as he stopped and turned to you, his cheeks tinting pink.

You stood before him in a matching dress with lacey, a basket in hand and a warm smile on your face made his heart palpitate. “You look wonderful too!” He told you, taking the basket from your arm as lacey attempted to lay the blanket out.

“Thanks robby!” You smiled, helping lacey before sitting down on the blanket. Turning back to him, you chuckled as robby stood still, watching over you both.

“Come sit.” You patted the spot next you, robby nodded and with a groan sat down, placing the basket to the side. 

Lovebug began to buzz on her knees as kids ran past laughing, she turned to you.

Without having to ask you nodded at her and watched as she zoomed to the playground. “She could hardly wait.” Robby laughed, his arm going around your waist. You watched with a smile as Lacey joined a group of kids easily and began to play.

“I didn’t get to tell you but you look very nice as well.” You complimented, turning your head to robby who was looking over his shoulder. “I don’t look as good as you in that dress though.” He winked, making you both chuckle.

TIme had passed, you and robby had ended up cuddled together under the tree, watching as Lacey played with other kids, talking about anything and everything. 

You sighed and turned to look at robby, he had opened up about his struggle with adamson’s death then jake and his fallout. Your mouth frowned as you opened your mouth.

“Her dad’s name is nicholas callahan..” you started, earning a look from robby as you opened up. “He was my ballet partner, he and my ex boyfriend were best friends, everyone at the studio was surprised to find out that me and him had begun dating rather than me dating nick.” You looked down at your palms, not meeting robby’s gaze.

“When everything had happened, Nick comforted me...I was a fool, he took advantage  of my grief and convinced me to sleep with him; he said it’d take the weight off..” You sighed, feeling Robby's grip tightening on your waist in anger at Lacey's father.

“When I realized I was pregnant and went to tell him…he had left for Scotland, saying he didn’t want to be stuck in one place; I told my mom I wanted to quit ballet and the reason why.” You finally looked up to see Robby's eyes of remorse.

“That dick..” Robby muttered under his breath.

“He’s only seen lovebug a few times, she knows who he is, what he does for work; and how rarely she sees him.” You began to tear up. “My ex’s family knows about the whole thing, they adore lacey.” You chuckle, looking up to see robby looking distracted behind you. 

“She really likes you y’know.” You added, noticing the far off look in robby’s eyes but brushed it off.

He absentmindedly agreed, a pain struck your heart at his actions. 

You looked over to see lacey on the monkey bars, playing chicken with another little girl. As you turned back to robby, you saw him with his phone out, typing quickly.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, robby sighed and got up from the blanket. “I need to deal with something but you and Lacey have a good picnic.” He gave a peck on your lips before giving a quick smile before running to the other side of the park, leaving you alone on the gingham blanket.

Calling lacey over you had pulled out the sandwiches and ate as lacey talked your ear off about her new friends, part of your mind listened while the other half wondered why robby left urgently.

 - - - - - - - -

Going back to the hospital after spending the weekend with robby was lonely, no help with lacey’s questions of medical things she’d hear you both talking about.

As you scanned your badge into the ICU a mix of night shift and day shift all stood together around the nurses station, watching you with wide grins. You ignored them and placed your things down before going to log into a computer.

The night doctor stared at you before sighing and walking over to your desk. “So, how was your weekend?” She asked, smiling down at you.

You chuckled as you scrolled through files from the night before. “It was good, took lovebug to the park, got into a fight at my parents studio oh and made cookies!” You listed before turning to see the pile of workers.

“You forgot your date with dr. robby!” She giggled, making your face drop. 

“What? How did you know about that?” You asked, standing up, your face feeling warm. She quickly pulled out her phone and showed you a photo.

It was of you and robby at the coffee shop, both smiling at each other almost looking like a couple, it was clearly taken across the street.

“We met up for coffee…so what?” You asked bashfully, glancing back down at your new lockscreen. She laughed and leaned against the desks. “So what? You got your biggest hater to go on a date with you!” She laughed and began to clap at you.

You quickly stopped her. “Can we stop talking about my love life in front of all the patients, please?” You asked, gesturing to the open room doors.

She sighed and waved you off. “Most are intubated or probably want to hear something other than a depressing diagnosis.” She insisted; making you sigh.

“Fine, it was a date, he may have also stayed the weekend at my place..” You smirked shyly. 

A bunch of squeals and gasps came from the ICU workers. “Are you dating?” One of the respiratory nurses asked, grinning widely. You sighed and tilted your head to think. “Umm– I’m not too sure, he hasn’t officially said..” Your words made everyone stop and stare at you.

“And he stayed over?” The night doctor asked once more, making you nod.

Quickly the excitement disbursed. “I knew he was a player..” One of them sighed, shaking their head.

“What do you mean?” you asked, watching as the ICU workers began to pick off some post it notes off the fridge, groaning at each one.

“Do I have to tell her?” The nurse sighed, earning a nod from the others. She sighed and walked over to you and rubbed your arm as she sat you down.

“There’s rumors of dr. robby dating dr. Collins and for a while the rumor was dead but… lately all the other departments have been talking about them,” She sighed, your stomach tightened before releasing. 

“Apparently, one of the girls in CT saw them snuggled up together just this past weekend at the park by that one deli shop..” She finished, watching for your reaction.

The park…the park he had suggested for you, Lacey and him go for your picnic, the park where he kissed you at–.

You sighed and shook your head. 

“Their exes so what, maybe he needs closure..” You tried to excuse, your stomach began to sink as you thought about it some more. “I need to go get some fresh air..” You quickly got up from your chair and exited the ICU.

As you passed through the pitt, you were stopped by Langdon and McKay who both smiled widely at you. “Wanna place a bet?” Langdon asked, making you look at him confused.

“What kind?” You sighed, looking around for robby, but failed.

“Rumor has it, Robby's got a girlfriend, and I'd place a bet quickly if I were you..” Langdon smiled, you froze and shook your head. “No thanks, left my wallet upstairs anyways.., hey where’s robby?” You asked, turning to mckay who shrugged and glanced around the ED.

“No ones seen him since he got in.” Dana replied, sighing as she placed her hands on her hips.

You nodded and excused yourself to go to the ambulance bay, as you stepped outside by the bush you sighed and closed your eyes.

As the feeling of bile rising slowly washed away laughter caught your attention.

Opening your eyes you froze as you saw robby with Collins by her car; both laughing together. The bile quickly rose up as you saw the look of love in robby’s eyes.

Finally leaning over, preparing as the bile rose to your throat. Looking up for a final time to see robby rubbing over Collins stomach before cupping her face with a longing look.

The EMTs nearby jumped into action as you vomited into the bush. 

One held your hair back. “Are you alright?” She asked, you nodded and took a shakily breath before wiping your mouth. “Peachy..” You sighed, watching robby and collins off in their own world.

You stood up before walking back into the ED, rushing to the nearest bathroom. Thankfully being a single stall, you locked the door and bent over the sink.

Once again you had been taken as a fool; thinking a man would love you with no bad intention; was him being sweet to lacey just to get you to sleep with him faster.

Sighing, you glanced in the bathroom’s mirror and fixed the stray hairs as tears began to form. Silently crying as you perfected yourself.

Rolling back your shoulders you sighed and wiped away the tears. You stared at yourself before walking back out. As you exited the bathroom, Langdon laughed and shook you by your shoulders. “I won the bet, I knew him and Collins were together again!” He laughed.

You looked over to where the group of ED workers all cheered for the pair.

Among the workers, robby found your eyes, watching as they went from lovingly to sharp. He went to excuse himself but you had been faster as you slipped to the staff elevators with a blank expression.

 - - - - - - - -

The ICU had noticed the subtle shift of your personality; it was only seen on your worst days.

Everyone had quietly spoken about it. You had been snippy with any ED call, denying any bed space and allowing any OR patients the bed first. 

While on a cafeteria run, you walked through the ED, ignoring the gaze stuck on your back.

As you passed a curtained room, someone calling your name made you stop. You turned and opened the curtain and begged for your day to be over or to keel over and be bedridden.

“Nick..” You sighed, fixing the end of your jacket, feeling insecure around him; Nick the man your whole family hated, the man your heart still had affection for, Lacey's father.

He sighed at the sight of you.

“You still look pretty as always.” he smiled, admiring as you looked around the room. “What are you here for?” You asked, avoiding his gaze.

“Got trampled by some folks during a fire drill.” He explained, smirking at you. “Are you my doctor?” He smiled charmingly at you.

As you opened your mouth to speak the curtain was pulled back to show robby, collins and santos.

You saw robby and shut your mouth before turning to nick. “I got bumped upstairs, better patients and doctors.” You told him, using santos as a shield from robby walking closer to you. 

“These will be your doctors, dr. Collins, dr. santos and…dr. robinavitch.” You motioned to the three, seeing robby’s hurt expression from the corner of your eye.

“You still have my number right, let me see you and lovebug this weekend?” He asked, you turned and noticed robby’s furrowed brows at the patient.

“My apartment’s still the same.” You told Nick before walking to the elevators, leaving Robby to brew in his anger.

robby taglist!! @nerdgirljen @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @evans-dejong @lovebuggyies @snowflames-world @whimsicalfungiforager @itschelseacisneros @kmc1989 @foolishseven @rhysology @delicatetrashtree @equallyshaw @qardasngan @fallout-girl219 @dantemorenatalie @18lkpeters @ohmystrawberrycheesecake @blackblueberries @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @isla-finke-blog @baileythepenguin

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Downward Spiral | LN4

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: It's been weeks since the breakup, and they're both on a downward spiral. It's getting so bad that now their friends have to intervene. Guess it's time for project "Save Dumb and Dumber"

A/N: This is part of my Playlist Roulette series, where I shuffle my playlists and write a story inspired by the first song that pops up. This is Part 2 of the story inspired by the song Too Precious by Em Beihold.

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It was weird, the things you miss. Like the sound of his laugh echoing off the kitchen tiles. The way he’d talk to himself when he thought no one was listening. Or how his hand would always find hers without even looking.

She didn’t talk about him. Not to anyone. But some days, he was all she thought about.

And it wasn’t like she missed everything. The loud nights, the arguments that started small and spiraled into something ugly. But there were moments. The soft ones. Mornings in bed when everything felt still. His thumb brushing her cheek. His voice, quiet and raspy.

Some days she did fine. Went to work. Came home. Read books. Answered texts. It was almost like she was normal.

But some nights, the weight of missing him made her feel like her ribs were collapsing inward. She’d cry quietly in the shower, wiping her face before facing anyone. She avoided their usual haunts, blocked half his friend group on Instagram, and stopped listening to music altogether.

It all reminded her of him.

Meanwhile, Lando was coming undone in louder ways.

He went out every night. Ibiza, Monaco, wherever the afterparty was. Girls draped over his arm, drinks in both hands. He laughed too hard. Said yes to everything. He burned through days and nights without blinking, too high or too drunk to care if he was crashing.

He didn’t really notice how fast it got out of control until he woke up in someone else’s bed and couldn’t remember her name.

The parties helped. So did the girls, for a while. But nothing stuck. Nothing felt like her.

Max pulled the joint out of his hand. "Mate. You look like shit."

"Thanks," Lando muttered.

"I mean it. This isn’t you."

Lando snorted. "Don’t act like you know me."

Max didn’t rise to it. "No one knows you anymore. Not since she left."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Lando stood and grabbed another drink. He didn’t answer.

The sadness came in waves. Some days she was fine. Other days, she’d see something small — a hoodie he left behind, a stupid meme he would’ve sent her — and it knocked the breath out of her.

He was still everywhere and it was getting harder to pretend she was okay.

"You’ve gotta snap out of it," Layla said, sitting on the edge of her bed. "You can’t keep rotting in here."

"I’m not rotting."

"You’re literally lying in the same hoodie you’ve worn for four days. You barely eat. You barely talk. You’re spiraling, babe."

She didn’t answer. Because it was true.

She stopped going to brunch with her friends, stopped answering FaceTime calls. Every little reminder of him chipped away at her—his mug in her cupboard, the perfume he said he liked on her, a half-used bottle of hair gel in her bathroom drawer.

She was unraveling. Some days she didn’t brush her hair until noon. Her appetite vanished. Her eyes looked duller. Even her laugh had a hollow edge.

He was getting mean.

Short with his engineers. Cold with his friends. His trainer, Will, had stopped trying to get him up for workouts after Lando told him to "piss off" for the third time in a row.

It was like something in him had cracked — and everything that came out now was bitter and sharp and empty.

She’d stopped pretending she was okay.

The tears came easier now — over empty coffee mugs, over old songs on the radio, over the sweater that still smelled like him even after three washes.

Her best friend, Layla, didn’t push her to go out anymore. Didn’t force pep talks against her will and just showed up with food and tissues and sat beside her while she broke down.

"He didn’t even fight for us," she whispered one night, eyes red, throat raw. "He just let it happen."

Layla ran a hand down her back. "You both did. That’s why it’s so sad."

She nodded, curling tighter on the couch.

Some days were worse than others. On the worst ones, she barely left her room. She’d reread old texts and convince herself that maybe it was all an act. That never cared at all.

Max shoved the door open. The flat reeked of stale weed and whatever had spilled on the carpet.

Lando was passed out on the couch. Again.

"This is getting out of hand," Max muttered.

Pietra crossed her arms. "No. It’s already out of hand."

Lando stirred and blinked up at them, groggy. "You guys have the keys to my place now?"

"We’ve always had the keys," Pietra snapped. "Because we don’t trust you not to OD in here."

Lando laughed. It was dry and lifeless. "I’m not that bad."

"Trust me, mate you don't even know what you are anymore," Max said.

"I’m not going," she said, arms crossed.

Layla didn’t blink. "It’s my birthday."

"So?"

"So you owe me. Remember who held your hair while you sobbed over The Notebook and tequila?"

"That was one time."

"You broke my Dyson. That vacuum cost money, bitch."

She blinked. "You’re emotionally blackmailing me."

"Damn right I am”

“I thought you were going for high tea for your birthday? Why did you suddenly change it to Jimmy’s? I thought you hated that place!”

“Hate is a strong word. Also, it’s my birthday and I want to party for once. You better be there or else I’m telling your mom about the broken vase.”

“For fucks sake no need to blackmail me!” She said exasperated, “I’ll go”

Taglist: @sltwins @verogonewild @anunstablefangirl

[midnghtprentiss]

yours - jack abbot x f!doctor!reader

a/n: this is for “ a doctor day” which i am so happy to be a part of. it took me some time to think about something cool but i tried my best to work with this prompt. so i really really really hope you enjoy it as much as me. i tried to be subtle about the color cause in my head it means something really bigger. 

a big thank you to @letsgobarbs @ananonymousaffair @clubsoft for creating this project!!!

prompt: The nights feel dull and tasteless without you, I try to get through them but they seem so endless.

color: pink.

word count: +3k

Everything started with an offer for you to go teach at a hospital in London. You were so excited, it was your dream since medical school and you’ve worked hard to experience the things you always wanted. It started small: residency, then you got masters and a doctorate. The job offer wasn’t out of the blue, they were watching your every move, gluing to the details of your incredible brain. 

You loved working at the ED, the adrenaline, the sight of doing something good and to actually do what you loved. You found valuable things there: friends, family and love. You found Jack there. He was your rock, the biggest supporter you could ever get and he couldn’t get in the way of you getting what you always wanted. The moment you told him what they offered he knew being selfish would kill him and letting you go would kill him either. 

The breakup was clean with a lot of tears and feelings. Too many words were said meaning the same thing: you loved him and he loved you more than anyone. 

“Will you miss me?” You whispered, cuddled with him. 

“Every day til you come back to me.” He smelled your hair, pulling you closer. 

So he let you go, even if meant to put his plans on stand by. The house, the ring, the children. He would wait and so did you. 

The day you left was the day he lost himself in his own mind. Jack was quieter, more introspective and a little sadder, Robby pointed out for Dana once. He was still capable of doing his job, of course he was. But you weren’t there to help him, to make funny remarks about him or to share a candy bar when the chaos finally stopped. You weren’t there for him to take you home, in fact, you were making yourself a home somewhere else that wasn’t with him. 

He was terrified of you meeting another person that could easily erase him from your mind. The idea of you marrying someone else haunted him more often than he could admit. He would never forgive himself if the children of another man had the eyes of the girl he couldn’t forget - his girl.

You stopped talking to each other as a silent agreement. It was easy to do your jobs if the anxiety of someone waiting for the call or text wasn’t on your mind all the time. Suddenly three months became three years and the lump in your throat, the knot in Jack’s chest, got loose. 

The countless nights you almost called him to hear his voice or text to know how he was doing, if he was eating, sleeping and trying to be a normal person. Jack almost did the same too. He dialed your number and gave up, he wrote you letters and a journal to inform you about how he was dealing with the distance.

You moved on, made friends, got yourself a home with the things you only dreamed off before and got your shit together. You were a really popular name among the medical teaching. You did some impressive research, amazing experiments and innovations on the field, especially on emergency education, the top of your field. Jack watched you from afar the whole time, he read your papers, he watched your online classes, he did everything to keep you close to him. And he waited patiently for you. 

Pitt was watching you again, they needed someone like you to teach new doctors on the night shift and to take the hospital to the next level, so they offered you another deal. 

You accepted right away. No questions asked. 

Your first call was to Robby and Dana, you decided to let them know you were coming back to work at the hospital again. They were really happy, especially Dana for getting her coffee partner back. You thought about texting Jack, but the uncertain feeling if we ever wanted to hear about you again made you tremble with fear, so you didn’t. Perhaps he already knew you were coming back. 

He did. 

The cold Pittsburg breeze brought back the familiar memories once again. The laughter, the tears, the pain and the comfort. You needed that so bad, you almost didn’t feel the moisture on your cheeks and your heavy breathing. 

Nothing like home, right?

You got into the hospital fifteen minutes before your shift started. You were overjoyed to be there surrounded by so many familiar faces. Princess and Perlah were the first ones to see you, for a fraction of seconds you almost missed their hugs. 

“You are so back! Thank God.” Princess held you tighter, shaking you in her arms. 

“I’m so glad to be back.” They let you go and you went straight to the nursing station, catching Robby and Dana’s attention. 

“I can’t believe my eyes.” Robby’s words made you blush, embracing them. “We missed you here, London.” 

“London?” You questioned him with eyebrows raised. 

“Only the best of us came back, I’m glad you did.” Dana whispered, kissing your temple. 

“I can’t wait to see you making these guys peed in their pants.” 

“It’s going to be a pleasure to make them fear me.” Robby gasped, making you laugh a little louder. 

The nurses joined in for a warm hug and some small talk, even Garcia showed up to see you and you were really surprised to find out she’s literally dating a girl from the residency. She just mouthed you that you talk more later and moved back to the OR. You really missed those people and suddenly life was so much better and lighter. 

He was watching everything from the other side of the room. His heart filled with something he couldn’t give a name right away. You looked different in his eyes. Maybe your hair, your bone structure, your cheeks. He didn’t know. Still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.  You were there, so close to him and he was paralyzed. Frozen in his own world. 

Jack spent nights imagining how he would react when you come back, how he would take you in his arms and forget the rest about the rest, kiss your face and plead you to not walk away ever again, to make his arms home once more. But you were right there and he lost his ability to move and be a fucking person. 

You caught his eyes and gave him a shy smile. Not going straight to him, giving the time you knew he was going to need before doing something else and besides, you were so involved with the crew that for a millisecond you forgot about the butterfly in your stomach almost making you throw up there. 

He wasn’t ready to talk to you. Not yet. Jack heard the rumors, he knew you’ll be back soon to be in the hospital again. Same shift, same people, different you, different him. He hated the change. At the same time, he needed to have you right over there next to him to make sure you weren’t going anywhere far from him. His mind was racing with millions of things and most of them were about you.

By the time the shift started, you were already with the students, talking about your work and what you expect them to do and learned from you. They noticed how smillish and nice you seem just for the way you lead them through the trauma bay introducing one by one to the team. First Shen, who was too energetic by your return to stop talking and then Ellis, who were all sweet and great with everybody else. Bridget couldn’t keep her hands to herself, hugging you in all the opportunities she had. And then Jack, he was serious the whole time, shaking the students hands and quickly looking at you. 

“This is the night shift crew. If I’m not around you can always ask them for help. Doctor Shen is the sweetest person here but you don’t want to piss him off. Dr. Ellis is an amazing teacher if you want to learn something and I’m pretty sure you want to, again guys, don’t piss her off.” You took a deep breath and looked at him. “This is doctor Abbot, he is the best trauma surgeon here and if I were you, I’ll try to be nice to him, he’s a surprise box to solve problems and rage Dr. Walsh.”

You tried your best to focus on them, ignoring his hot gaze on your face, reading you microexpressions like it was his newspaper. His presence made you overwhelmed enough to stumble in a few words. They introduced themselves to them and led them to the patients they were looking for at night. 

Jack liked the new version of you. Confident, smarter, better. Watching you teach was absolutely incredible, you delivered everything without problems, making these kids really think and understand what took him years to do. The more he looked, the more he wanted to take you home and forget about the three years you were gone. 

“Want a picture, Abbot?” You teased him, leaning against the counter with a tablet in hand. 

“If looking at a pretty thing is a crime put me in the fucking jail.” He crossed his arms, locking your gaze. 

“Good to know your taste hasn't changed.” 

“We’re talking about something really serious and I don’t play about anything that revolves around you.” He admitted, coming closer to where you were. “You were missed around here.” 

“I missed being here too.” Your words sounded like a whisper as he was getting closer. 

“We need to talk.” Jack held your arm, softly caressing your skin. 

“Abbot’s pancakes?” 

“You’re still bossy, wow.” He would do whatever you asked. “Whatever you want, gorgeous.” 

“Asshole.” You dismissed him, going the other way shaking your head. 

The next hours felt like you’ve never gone away for three years. The crew was the same you remembered but better and your tiredness didn’t turn out to be an issue. At 07 am you were pretty awake, the adrenaline was making you excited and you couldn’t stop moving around the room. 

You spent at least twenty minutes explaining about your patients to the day crew before really leaving the ER. It was a great day for you, the familiar taste of doing what you love with people you love made your heart ache with happiness. You were glad to be there again. 

Jack was waiting for you at the parking lot, hands in his pockets and eyes on you. You approached him slowly, stopping a few steps away. He watched your face with a discreet smirk, shaking his head. 

He followed you to your car, making sure you were safe enough to drive to his house - the same one you shared for almost two years. The unease on your chest was making you almost throw up in your car. You parked in the driveway, watching the house from the outside for a while. He was still watching you, he couldn’t stop himself from that. 

The small garden you cultivated was still intact, the pink flowers you loved and a few other plants that weren’t there before. He took care of the garden religiously for you. That was his way of hoping you come back to him. You walked towards the entrance slowly, capturing the details you missed while away. Jack finally put the swing on the front porch, like you planned on doing to make the house seem more cozy. 

“I thought it would be nice to sit here sometimes to watch the neighborhood.” He mentioned and opened the door for you. 

The inside was the same you remembered. The picture frames, the decoration. He changed some furniture but the rest looked the same. He still kept the picture of you two above the fireplace with the same flowers you used to put there. In your heed, when he did those things brought him some hope to believe you were coming back to him.

“You still buy the flowers?” You asked, turning your face to look at him. 

“Every wednesday at the farmers market.” He nodded, walking to the kitchen. 

Everything looked the same, like you never left. Even the cinnamon smell you absolutely loved lingered in the air. 

The kitchen was absolutely your favorite place in the house. You got to spend hours sitting at the table doing your shit or just baking whatever came to your head, sipping tea and being loved. Jack had the perfect vision from the living room when you were in the kitchen. He never told you but he had a lot of pictures of you sitting there existing like you’re the only God he believed. 

He served you some coffee and went back to the other side of the counter, putting the ingredients to do the pancakes you asked. The comfortable silence was pleasant, reminding you of the morning you shared in the same way: him doing the breakfast and you enjoying the view. 

“How was London? Last time I heard you were the chief of the trauma department there.” Jack was trying his best to avoid the topic he needed to talk about. 

“It was good. Cold, rainy and absolutely no pancakes.” You joked, crossing your arms over the table. “I had a good time, did things I only dreamed of, taught a lot of people and got to travel a bit.” 

“You traveled? Where did you go?” He seemed interested. 

“I went to visit Greece, did a tour around Italy with a couple of friends, my nephews came to visit me during winter and we went skiing in Switzerland.” You sipped more coffee, smiling at the memories. “I went to a safari, Jack!” Your words slipped in a funny way and he recognized how happy you were. “You would’ve loved that.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” Suddenly he stopped in his tracks to finally watch you. 

You appeared relaxed, leaning against the chair, hair messed in a bun, jacket already off and barefoot. Looking like an absolute dream. Like the love of his life. 

“I missed you, you know? A lot.” You admitted, looking away from him. “I almost called you so many times and never had the courage to do it.” 

“I would’ve picked on the first ring.” He chuckled, mixing the ingredients trying to not stare for too long. “I wrote you some letters and a journal.” 

“You did?” Jack nodded, making you smile larger. “I may have taken some pictures of things and places that reminded me of you and kept them on an album to give to you. I hope you enjoy the crazy selfies and the endless comments on the people.” He laughed, picturing the scenes. 

He took his time to finish the pancakes, putting them on the table and sitting across from you with his cup of coffee. The dynamics between you haven’t changed at all, he still knew what you needed before you asked and you still read his face with ease. 

“I thought I had lost you forever.” Jack declared, making you stop. “The day I let you go was the worst day of my life, I felt so powerless and selfish. I couldn’t be the reason you give up your dreams because they were in you before I was present in your life and being the motive of your unhappiness was going to kill me.” You felt your stomach drop. “The nights feel dull and tasteless without you, I try to get through them but they seem so endless. The night shift sucked without you there, our bed was cold, I barely slept thinking about you.”

“The idea of you finding somebody else and deciding to marry and have children.” He didn’t continue and you held his hand. 

“Jack, I am yours and yours only.” You squeezed his hand. “I spent a few weeks crying before bed, wanting to run back to you. The day I went on that plane I left a piece of my heart with you. The life we were building, the plans, the marriage, the children.” You mumbled with tears, chuckling. “Never crossed my mind doing those things with anybody else. It’s always been you and it’s always gonna be. Besides, European guys are not that attractive.” His jaw tensed and you burst out laughing. “I’m just messing with you.” 

“I hate this.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. 

“Whatever you say, honey.” You winked, giggling under your breath. 

“Does this mean we can start over?” He asked, holding your gaze. 

“Always, Jack.” You smiled. 

That’s how after breakfast you ended up moving back to your place. The countless boxes with your stuff, bags filled with clothes and your favorite book collection around his living room. You were tired but nothing like the feeling of being home with him. Jack sent you to sleep a while later, finding you curled in his side of the bed, holding his pillow to smell his scent. 

He enjoyed the quietness of the morning to go through the album you made him. Pink cover with some shells and his name in gold letters. On the first page he found a small note you wrote. 

“To Jack.  I hope you know I thought about you a lot and these memories are an extension of my endless love for you.  Love, your girl.”

He couldn't contain a smile with the note, sighing as he passed to the next pages. The first real picture was you outside the hospital in London, bright smile, fearless, beautiful as ever. The note under the picture made him giggle, flushed.  

“You wished me good day before I took this. It was in fact a good day ‘cause I imagined you with me all the time.”

He kept passing the pages, amused by the great photos and the small remarks that sounded too much like you. His favorite was one of you sitting at the safari cart, wearing a pink cap, caressing a giraffe with one hand and with the other showing the necklace he gifted you a few years ago, the largest smile he’d ever seen, eyes shining and cheeks red from laughing. A look he recognized damn well. What made the picture even better was the small text. 

“I was in the safari in this. When theguide was tooking the picture the fucking lion roared next to the cart, almost peed my pants. Definitely not like Lion King, Disney lied to us. The cap was a gift from a child at the village I visited, he said it was to protect me and I truly believed in his words. The necklace is to represent you with me there and the giraffe, well, I’m in love. You would’ve loved this trip. I want to come back with you. Honeymoon maybe?”  Love, your (not so) wild girl.” 

He saw fragments of yourself, a version he was glad you enjoyed while doing the things you loved and still think about him so highly. He didn’t deserve you. Jack would never admit that you’re the light of his life, the shining star that guides him home every time he feels lost. 

You were exactly where you’re supposed to be. 

In his life, in his home, his bed, laying in his sheets with your favorite pink pajamas, being absolutely his. 

[xjulixred45x]

Wahhhhhh

Your neglected child Yuu was so cute and now I can’t help thinking about the Vices

Trey probably dotes on them a lot. He might even see it as a way to redeem himself for being unable to help Riddle as a kid

Ruggie def has a soft spot for kids and you can fight me on that. Would probably be a great babysitter

Jade… what can I say about Jade. Idk actually

I can’t imagine Jamil would be as gung-ho about brainwashing a child but he’d also definitely want to use Crowley’s favoritism to his advantage

Rook would probably find child Yuu adorable. I can imagine him teaching them how to shoot a tiny little bow (no one knows how he got one)

Ortho and child Yuu bestie supremacy. That’s all I have to say. No it’s not. I imagine Ortho and Yuu would have this whole “discovering the world together dynamic” due to their separate circumstances but they’d also do it together

Lilia would see child Yuu and scoop them up before presenting them to Silver like “new sibling just dropped” especially if he felt they weren’t being properly cared for

Aww, this is so sweet.

Trey goes into dad/big brother mode as soon as he finds out there's a little kid at NRC without parents and, above all, with clear signs of being malnourished. Trey tries to balance giving Yuu lots of sweets and sugary things with healthier options so they doesn't end up with any additional health problems. They've also developed a great habit of cooking together! This way, Trey knows exactly what Yuu likes and dislikes, ensuring he won't have a problem if the kid is picky—we all have our tastes!

Whenever Yuu says something related to the way they was raised or about their parents, Trey can't help but get a strange feeling of nostalgia that makes him feel sick. He tries to keep Yuu from thinking about their parents most of the time, but above all, he tries to be as assertive as possible about the fact that what Yuu's parents did was WRONG, that they're a good kid, that they're not a burden, etc. Basically, he's trying to do what he should have done a long time ago.

Ruggie initially thought Yuu was a lost child, maybe a teacher's kid. He doesn't trust Crowley AT ALL to take care of Yuu, so every time he sees them (be it in the cafeteria or somewhere else), he tries to check on them in a lively way (asking them if they're okay, if they're eaten anything recently, if Crowley is watching them). Yuu likes to be around Ruggie to play; they thinks he's fun, and Ruggie takes it as a compliment.

Ruggie is used to children and can read them well, so he notices something is wrong with Yuu (and at first, he thought Crowley was the culprit). Ruggie tells Yuu that if an adult hurts them, they should go directly to him for help (Leona owes him one, after all). But he calms down and feels bad when Yuu explains about their parents. At least he assures Yuu that they won't have to see them again.

Jade is terrifying to Yuu; whenever he tries to interact with them, Yuu runs away like their life depends on it. Ironically, they're friendlier to Floyd (because he's much friendlier to little kids in general), and they tend to play a few games when Yuu has nothing to do and Floyd is bored (things like racing Yuu on Floyd's shoulders, Floyd grabbing Yuu by the arms and spinning them around, etc.).

Floyd doesn't really realize that Yuu has a troubled past until Jade points it out. When he does, however, he assures Yuu that if their parents (or anyone, really) try to hurt them again, he'll happily squeeze them :)

Jamil has mixed feelings about Yuu. On one hand, they're the sweetest kid around, but on the other, he uses Crowley's favoritism toward them whenever he can. This doesn't mean Jamil doesn't take care of Yuu, of course not. He makes sure they eat at least three times a day, get some exercise, and study. He's like a mother hen, and he worries A LOT when Yuu gets hurt or starts crying for any reason. He has a younger sister, so I like to think he's relatively good at comforting them.

Jamil doesn't really treat Yuu any differently after learning of their past, but he does make a point of not doing certain things that might remind them of their trauma, things like leaving them alone for too long, yelling at them, and raising his hands when angry (along with teaching Yuu that if they feels bad, whether physically or emotionally, to go to him or an adult). Above all, Jamil got used to Yuu feeling SAFE around him and made sure it stays that way.

Rook thinks Yuu is the cutest little thing ever, constantly lifting them up in the air like they're a stuffed animal and hugging them (if they complains to him he'll stop, but if not, he'll carry on as if Yuu were his personal teddy bear). The idea of him trying to teach Yuu how to shoot a tiny bow and arrow is hilarious (everyone is worried about two things: 1- Rook using himself to prop up Yuu's apples for a target shoot, and 2- WHERE THE HELL DID HE GET A BOW FOR SUCH A YOUNG KID?). Vil is going to have a heart attack because of them both.

Rook is a big brother; let's just say he has a sixth sense when Yuu is feeling particularly bad. During these times, Rook tends to act especially theatrical in an attempt to cheer them up, or he even tries to talk to Yuu about how they're feeling to see if he can do anything for them (Rook definitely joins Floyd and Ruggie's "I hate Yuu's biological parents" squad, but he's more silly and discreet about it).

I've already talked about Ortho and the first-years here.

Lilia formally knows Yuu as a friend of Malleus, but he thinks they're the cutest things in life. he's constantly on their tail, appearing out of nowhere (scaring Yuu in the process, though Lilia is good at calming them down with a lullaby), showing up at Ramshackle to make sure they have food and good living conditions, though eventually he just shows up one day, grabs Yuu and Grim like a sack of potatoes, and decides they'd have better living conditions in Diasomnia (partly to spite Crowley. The custody battle will be legendary).

Lilia does the typical things a father should do with his children: read them a bedtime story, tuck them in, pack them lunch for the day (he doesn't cook it, Silver or Sebek does), and is very likely one of the few adults Yuu ends up accidentally calling "dad" (Lilia will have to be restrained from doing an express adoption right there). Overall, the little kid has made its way into the old general's heart.

For this reason, he is very patient when it comes to comforting Yuu about their original "family." He usually soothes them with a lullaby and puts them to bed in Diasomnia, but not before going to "talk" to Crowley about it.

Let's just say Yuu has all of NRC in the palm of their little hand, but it's not something the students complain about.

________

(ESPAÑOL)

Awwwww esto es tan dulce

Trey activa el modo papá/hermano mayor en cuanto se entera que hay un niño pequeño en NRC sin padres y sobretodo, con claros signos de estar mal alimentado. Trey trata de equilibrar entre darle muchos dulces y cosas azucaradas a Yuu, y cosas más saludables para que no termine con algún problema de salud adicional. Tambien un gran habito que tomaron es de cocinar juntos! Así Trey sabe con exactitud qué cosas le gustan a Yuu y que cosas no, le asegura que no tiene problemas si el nene es quisquilloso ¡todos tenemos nuestros gustos!

Cada vez que Yuu dice algo relacionado a la forma en la que fue criado o con relación a sus padres, Trey no puede evitar tener un extraño sentimiento de nostalgia que lo deja sintiendo enfermo. Él trata de que Yuu no piense en sus padres la mayoría del tiempo, pero sobretodo, trata de ser lo más asertivo posible en que lo que los padres de Yuu hacían estaba MAL, que él es un buen niño, que no es una carga, etc. Básicamente trata de hacer lo que debió hace mucho tiempo.

Ruggie pensó al principio que Yuu era un niño perdido que talvez era el hijo de algún profesor, él realmente no confía PARA NADA en Crowley para cuidar de Yuu, por lo que cada vez que lo ve (ya sea en la cafetería o algún otro lugar) trata de checar que este bien de forma animada (preguntarle si está bien, si ha comido algo recientemente, si Crowley le esta cuidando). A Yuu le gusta estar cerca de Ruggie para jugar, cree que es divertido y Ruggie lo toma como un cumplido.

Ruggie esta acostumbrado a los niños y sabe leerlos bien, por lo que nota que algo malo pasa con Yuu (y al principio pensó que Crowley era el culpable), digamos que Ruggie le dice a Yuu que si un adulto le hace daño, que vaya directamente a él por ayuda (Leona le debe una después de todo), pero entre que se tranquiliza y se siente mal cuando Yuu le explica lo de sus padres. Al menos le asegura a Yuu que no tendrá que verlos de nuevo.

Jade es aterrador para Yuu, cada vez que el intenta interactuar con ellos, Yuu corre como si su vida dependiera de ello. Irónicamente es mas amigable con Floyd (porque el es mucho mas amigable con los niños pequeños en general), y tienden a jugar algunos juegos cuando Yuu no tiene nada que hacer y Floyd esta aburrido (cosas como carreras con Yuu en los hombros de Floyd, Floyd agarrando a Yuu de sus brazos y haciéndole girar a toda velocidad, etc).

Floyd realmente no se da cuenta de que Yuu tiene un pasado turbulento hasta que Jade se lo señala, cuando lo hace, sin embargo, le asegura a Yuu que si sus padres (o cualquier persona en realidad) intentan lastimarle otra vez, el felizmente los apretara 

Jamil tiene sentimientos encontrados con respecto a Yuu, por una parte, es el niño más dulce que hay, pero por otra parte usa el favoritismo de Crowley hacia ellos cada que puede. Esto no quiere decir que Jamil no cuide de Yuu, claro que no, él se asegura que coman mínimo 3 veces al día, hagan algo de ejercicio, estudien, es como una mamá gallina, y se preocupa MUCHO cuando Yuu se lastima o empieza a llorar por cualquier razón. Él tiene una hermana menor, me gusta pensar que es relativamente bueno en el confort.

Jamil realmente no trata diferente a Yuu tras saber su pasado, pero si tiene en cuenta de no hacer ciertas cosas que puedan recordarle su trauma, cosas como dejarle solo mucho tiempo, gritarle, alzar las manos estando enojado (junto a enseñarle a Yuu que si se siente mal, ya sea física o emocionalmente, vaya con el o algún adulto). Por encima de todo, Jamil se acostumbró a que Yuu se sienta SEGURO cerca de él y se asegurara de que se mantenga así.

Rook piensa que Yuu es la cosita más adorable que puede existir, constantemente lo esta levantando en el aire como si fuera un peluche y abrazándolo (el para si Yuu se queja, pero si no, el seguirá como si Yuu fuera su oso de felpa personal). La idea de que trate de enseñarle a Yuu a disparar un pequeño arco y flecha es súper graciosa (todos están preocupados sobre dos cosas: 1- que Rook se use a sí mismo para apoyar las manzanas de tiro al blanco para Yuu y 2- ¿DE DONDE DIABLOS SACO UN ARCO PARA UN NIÑO TAN JOVEN?). Vil va a tener un ataque cardiaco por culpa de los dos.

Rook es un hermano mayor, digamos que tiene un sexto sentido cuando Yuu se siente especialmente mal. Para esos momentos, Rook suele actuar especialmente teatral en un intento de animarle, o directamente trata de hablar de Yuu sobre cómo se siente para saber si puede hacer algo por ellos (definitivamente Rook se une a Floyd y Ruggie al Squad de “odio a los padres biológicos de Yuu” pero es más silly y discreto al respecto).

Ya hablé de Ortho y los de primer año aquí.

Lilia conoce formalmente a Yuu como un amigo de Malleus, pero cree que son la cosa mas tierna de la vida. Constantemente está detrás de ellos, apareciendo de la nada (asustando a Yuu en el proceso, aunque Lilia es bueno calmándole con una canción de cuna), apareciendo en Ramshackle para ver que tengan comida y buenas condiciones, aunque eventualmente el solo aparece un día, los agarra como un saco de papas a Yuu y Grim, y decide que tendrían mejores condiciones de vida en Diasomnia (y en parte para molestar a Crowley. La batalla por la custodia será legendaria).

Lilia hace las típicas cosas que debería hacer un padre con sus hijos con Yuu, leerles un cuento para dormir, arroparle, aprontarle un almuerzo para el dia (no lo cocina el, lo cocina Silver o Sebek), y es muy probable que sea uno de los pocos adultos que Yuu termina llamando “papá” por accidente (Lilia tendrá que ser contenido de hacer una adopción express ahí mismo). En general el nene ha hecho su camino en el corazón del viejo general.

Por lo mismo, es muy paciente cuando se trata de consolar a Yuu con respecto a su “familia” original. Suele calmarle con una canción de cuna y lo pone en su cama en Diasomnia, no sin antes ir a “hablar” con Crowley al respecto.

Digamos que Yuu tiene todo NRC en la palma de su pequeña mano, pero no es algo de lo que los estudiantes se quejen.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[captain-huggy-bear]

girl omg i am EATING your celly pieces up, you truly never miss. you’re gonna be at 2k SOON i know it

could i request “Bet you they don’t make you sound like that, do they?” with Clayton Keller? since my brain has been locked in on that man since i found your blog smh

This wrecked me in the best sort of way to write. 18+ NSFW Smut: Clay realising that friends with benefits/casual maybe isn't for him anymore, Clay being a little bit of a possessive twat but in a hot way. I hope this is okay and not rubbish! I think it's okay??

1000 Followers Celly Finished Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

He's being stupid and he knows he is. You're not flirting with Jack. He knows you're not deep down, but fuck...it feels like you are. The way you smile at the guy, how you laugh at some stupid fucking joke and touch his bicep for a touch to long (in Clay's opinion anyway), the way you have to tilt your head to look up at him, how Jack seems to brighten at that touch, eyes twinkling...it's fucking stupid. It makes him want to tear you away from Jack, makes he want to tell Jack to fuck off...as if Bainer isn't one of his friends, his team mates, his found family.

You're not flirting with Jack...and even if you are he hasn't got a right to say shit, not when Clay's been refusing to put a label on what the two of you are for months, not when he's been keeping things casual, 'easy' while you beg him for more, for a crumb of exclusivity. While he's been acting like it's all physical...like he doesn't really care that much. You have every right to flirt with who you want, every right to fuck who you want, but the idea of you with anyone else has him feeling sick to the stomach, seeing red as his nostrils flare and his jaw locks.

When you look over at him, mid-laugh at something Jack has said, you freeze. Eyes locking as you notice the way his jaw tenses, how his lips purse, that dimple in his right cheek clear. Clay's fists are clenched at his side for a moment before he crooks a finger at you in a 'come hither' motion. You should ignore him, should keep talking to Jack but he has you wrapped around his finger, always has done...so you excuse yourself politely from Jack who just looks between you and Clay knowingly, before shuffling your way towards Clayton.

You feel unsure, a little nervous, it's obvious Clay's not happy about something and yet you know he'd never be anything but good to you. Clay, for all his protests that things were just casual, that you were just friends who sometimes fucked, had always, always been gentle with you, good to you. He never raised his voice. He never touched you in away that didn't bring pleasure. The only way he'd ever hurt you was his refusal to become something more, his inability to commit. Something you couldn't truly be upset about when you'd agreed to casual in the first place, even knowing you couldn't do casual, even knowing you were going to fall irrevocably in love.

The moment you're within arms reach of him Clay's arm is sliding around your waist, hand resting there as he pulls you to his side and walks. You go along with it, feeling the way his fingers flex, tips digging into the fat on your waist with each movement.

"Clay?"

"Just give me a minute." His voice is short, tense, jaw only moving enough to get the words out and it's obvious he's processing something, trying to keep composure.

You let him lead you out of his living area where the entire team and then some had gathered for the evening, down a corridor until you're gently ushered into his bedroom. The door clicks shut behind you, the lock turns.

"Clay, what's wrong?"

He doesn't answer you, not a word is shared, instead the look that lands on you is heated, so heated your own skin begins to burn as his eyes trail you slowly. He starts at your own, baby blues meeting yours, until they scan you, trailing down your neck, lingering on the way your dress clings to your breasts, to your waist, the curve of your hips and down the expanse of your thighs.

It's the sort of gaze that feels like a touch, that feels like Clay's hands are sliding over your skin as goosebumps rise up and hairs stand on end, breath hitching and catching in your throat.

You watch, feeling rather helpless in the sort of way that only comes from wanting someone so badly who has made it clear he doesn't want you the same, as he loosens his tie, throws it off to the side. Each button on his shirt is loosened in the sort of intense silence as he watches you that has your thighs clenching, hips shifting in place.

It's like he's bewitched you, the way you can barely breathe, chest tight, lip bitten between your teeth, eyes unable to look away as Clay strips himself of his shirt. Broad shoulders, tan skin, that goddamn cross, coming into view. He looks like a daydream, like something unattainable, untouchable and yet he's the one who dragged you into his room. He's the one slowly unbuckling his belt, long fingers threading the leather through the loops of his trousers with a slow deftness that feels like he's stalking towards you.

There's no fighting it really, the way your panties dampen between your thighs, the flush to your skin, the impossible need to have him even if a fuck is all he'll give you...even if you'll never get anything more substantial. Any crumbs are enough for you right now as he strips down to just his boxers, cock pressing against the fabric like he's already thinking of what he's going to do to you. Heavy, thick, all for you.

"You think it's funny? Flirting with Jack like that, sweet girl?" The distance between you takes barely a couple of strides before he's on you, you stumbling a step backwards at how intensely he comes upon you. Your knees hitting the edge of his bed while he crowds you, so close your chests are touching.

"Cla-" You want to explain because you weren't flirting with Jack...because you hadn't even thought of another man like that since this whole thing started with Clay...because it was impossible to think of another man touching you, kissing you, loving you when you were so in love with Clayton.

"No, I get it...he's taller, he probably gives you the attention someone as needy as you needs, right?" He's being a little mean, mean in a way he never usually is, is a huff to his words like he's frustrated with you. Like he has a right to be.

"Clay, it-" The way he grips your cheeks between his fingers isn't painful, but it is firm, squishing until your mouth is a perfect pout, eyes widening, thighs rubbing together as your clit aches at the sudden show of dominance, of possession...because God, all you've ever wanted was for Clay to want you just as much as you want him.

"Shhh, baby, it's okay, i'm going fuck every single thought of Jack out of your head and remind you why I'm the only one you should be flirting with." The smirk he sends your way, teeth peeking out just a touch, brows lowered, it's evil, it's downright sinful and only deepens at the way you shudder against him. You're so utterly weak for him that he could ask anything of you in that moment and you'd do it, you'd say yes 1000 times over.

Clay's mouth captures yours, teeth tugging and nipping at your bottom lip almost meanly as his fingers release your cheeks, hand grazing down your neck until it wraps around your throat gently. There's a tenderness to the way he holds your neck, a gentleness that belies the heat in his kiss, the roughness as he tries to devour you and your taste.

You gasp against his mouth, lips opening up for his tongue when his hands leave you to grip your thighs pulling until you fall backwards against the bed in a mockery of a trust fall. Clay's on you immediately, weight pressed heavy into you, cock grinding against your cunt through his boxers, through your dress, your panties.

Your soaking through them, slick gathering between your thighs as his fingers trail down to hem of your dress, tugging it up past your hips. His kiss doesn't stop, a relentless pressure of his lips against yours, his tongue dancing with your own until you can barely breathe, nostrils flaring and working overtime to get any oxygen.

"You think he could make you feel like this, baby? Huh?"

"No, no, only you, Clay..." You're a babbling mess as his fingers push the gusset of your panties aside, rough tips gathering your wetness, trailing from slit to clit in a lazy sort of rhythm that has your hips stuttering, unsure if you want to move closer or pull away.

"You sure about that, sweet girl? Cause you were awfully fucking close to him out there." It's torturous, the way he just glides his fingers through your slick, not pushing into you, not circling your clit, not doing anything of substance as he leans over you, lips finding the hollow beneath your jaw, sucking harshly, tongue laving the skin until it comes up bruised, purpling. It looks fucking good on you, makes his cock throb in his boxers because shit, he's fucking yours and everyone, Jack included, should know about it. He's been yours from the first time he kissed you like that was just something friends were supposed to do, like he wasn't an idiot trying to resist falling in love, not realising he was already on his knees.

"Meant nothing, 'm sorry, fuck, 'm sorry, Clay..." You're babbling, voice breathy and light like you can barely breathe.

"That's right, baby, it meant nothing, cause you're mine, right?"

"Yours, all yours, Clay, please..." Clay likes to think he has restraint, control, willpower...but there's nothing like restraint, nothing like discipline as he tugs your panties down and out of the way. There's nothing like control as he pulls himself from his boxers, rock hard, throbbing, purple at the tip. There's no willpower, nothing that can stop him as he presses the head against your cunt and pushes in, head dropping to your shoulder at the way your warm walls grip him, at the scrabble of your nails digging into his back as he punctures a gasp from your chest.

"Clay, Clay, Clay..." His name is a mantra, a fucking prayer as he slides each inch in until he bottoms out, hips meeting flush with yours, lip dripping spit onto your skin as he breathes open mouthed and heavy against your skin.

Even like this, even as Clay's hips pull back and slam back against yours, thrusts hard, forceful, even then there's a gentleness to it, a tenderness to the way his hips cradle yours, how his tongue laves over your skin, pressing purple marks across every inch of available flesh. There's a sort of reverence to each touch of his fingers on your thighs that bracket his hips, a worship in the way he mumbles against your skin as sweat drips from his skin to yours, as strands of that brunet hair cling to his skin like he's just gotten off the ice.

He's so beautiful that you can't close your eyes, forcing them to stay open, even if heavy lidded as he thrusts into you over and over again. Each press of his cock into you getting deeper, until the head of his dick presses against the spongy spot inside you. A spot that has the most debauched moan falling from your lips before you can stop it, before you can hide the noise.

“Bet you Jack doesn't make you sound like that, does he?” It's spat out, frustrated and gives it all away, gives the jealousy a voice that's possessive and frustrated.

Your hand coming to your mouth to cover it, to hide each moan, each groan, each whimper as he presses into you at a hard pace that has skin smacking against skin. Your wrist is taken in Clay's hand and pressed into the mattress, tender even as it's firm.

"Wanna hear you, baby, want Jack to hear how good I make you feel, yeah? Show him that you're mine, not his, never fucking his, fuck..." You're clamping down around him, so fucking tight that it has his stomach tightening as you get closer to your end. Clay's fingers trail down your stomach, brushing over your clit in slow, practiced circles. In the way that makes you clench down on him, in the way that has your head dropping back, eyes finally closing, a guttural sort of moan falling from your throat as it stretches taut. The perfect canvas for his lips as he continues to turn you purple and red, until your chest and neck are a Jackson Pollock of hickeys and love bites.

"Fuck, 'm so close, baby, c'mon, sweet girl, cum for me, yeah? Wanna hear you let go, baby..." It's the tenderness in his voice, the devastation like you've utterly ruined him combined with his fingers on your clit that finally does it, that has you clenching around him as you cum.

He's not long after, whine falling from his throat, neck arching back, chain swinging as he spills inside you, hips continuing to rock on instinct through it until he's spent, sweat gliding down his neck and splattering on your collarbone like tear drops.

There's an extra level of gentleness when Clay pulls out of you, shushing you gently, soothingly when you wince before he walks off for a wash cloth.

It's cool and soft against your skin as Clay trails it over your face, wiping away the sweat there before trailing down your neck, over the constellation of his marks.

He's gentle as he does it, tender, eyes locking with yours as his voice comes out soft, almost shy, "I love you... you know that? I...I know I've been putting it off, labelling us..." The cloth stops at the junction of your thighs, a slower, softer touch as Clay becomes hyper aware of how sensitive you are, every twitch as he tries to clean you up.

"You told me you didn't want anything serious..." Your voice is just as small, scared that one wrong word, one loud exclamation might change his mind, might change what you think he's about to say.

Clay sighs out heavy, throwing the cloth towards the laundry basket as he leans over you, fingers reaching out for your hips but hesitating to touch, like he's not sure you'll let him.

"I know...but seeing you laughing with Bainer...I felt fucking sick...the idea of you with someone else...of not loving you openly...it makes me wanna die, so...maybe I'm an idiot but...but I want to be your idiot?" His smile is bashful, honest, sincere and God, it's all you've been waiting for for months. How many times had Clay said it was just casual? That he wasn't prepared for commitment? How many times had you let him into your bed anyway? How many times had you kissed him hoping that would be the moment he came to his senses? The moment he stopped running? God, you'd been so patient, but that smile? That look directed at you? It was worth it. Worth the tears. The nights wondering if he'd ever change his mind. Worth the patience. Worth every single moment.

"Is there a question in that?" You laugh at him giddy and joyous, a sort of lightness taking over you at the realisation that Clay's finally stopped running, finally stopped hiding from you.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" Not be my girlfriend, not be mine...but can he be yours?

Your silence feels like an eternity to him, unnecessarily cruel as your eyes glimmer, as your fingers grasp at his chain and tug him closer until your noses are brushing and his eyelashes are fluttering. There's a desperate urge to kiss you again even without your answer.

And then it comes, so soft, so quiet, a hairsbreadth away from his lips, so close it's like he can feel every single syllable, "I'd like that..."

"Thank fuck." Clay groans out in relief, forehead pressing against yours, grin so wide it's blinding. You're both laughing, giddy, overjoyed even as your dress, still half rolled up your body, clings to your skin. Even as sweat dries sticky on his own.

"You two done fucking like rabbits or should we go and leave you to it?" Jack's voice laughs from the other side of the door, booming, too loud, embarrassingly so. Your cheeks heating, warmth filling your face, roiling under your skin

"Fuck you, Bainer!"

"Think someone already did that, Kells!"

But, nothing...absolutely nothing can wipe that smile from Clay's face because you're his and he's yours and God, why the fuck did he wait this long to make that a reality?

[selineram3421]

Deer Demon Child Headcanons

Part 3

Part 2

Alastor & Child Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ protective Alastor, gn child reader, Disney mention, Brothers Grimm mention, cussing. ⚠

"Good morning my little royal/prince/princess!", Alastor greets you in the morning.

He's set up a nice little place for you in his room, something he conjured up but you picked out everything that was your favorite.

Originally, you were supposed to have a whole hotel room to yourself but Vaggie had said it would be safer with him. Which wasn't wrong. No stranger would dare enter his room unless they wanted to die a second death.

So, with a cozy nest (bed, it's a bed) and willow leaves acting as canopy curtains, you had a place of your own.

One day you ask him for books while eating breakfast with the hazbin crew and they all suggest fairy tales, Disney books that are very fanciful, and more.

He gets a range of books for you and suggests reading one story from each to see which ones you like more.

They watch and read along with you, Charlie picking out some with bright covers.

However, you end up picking out a book he recognizes. The Brothers Grimm fairy tales.

"Oh, uh. That one's a little scary, don't you think?" Charlie says and lifts up one of the books she picked. "Why not this one? It's got really nice pictures!"

"But I like this one..", you pout and hold the book closer. "It has a lot of stories in it, not just one."

Alastor smiles and pats your head. "Whatever pleases you my little fawn! Might I suggest one?", he says and hands you another book. "It has poems and short stories."

"That's fucking Edgar Allen Poe!", Vaggie says. "Why are you giving them that book?"

"Just a suggestion. If they don't like it, they can always get rid of it.", he counters and snaps a paper into existence. "If anyone else has suggestions for them, write it down."

You have your own little bookshelf of your favorites by the end of the month.

Then there is the day when Lucifer comes over.

"And these are our hotel residents!", Charlie says and begins introducing everyone. "Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, and-", she looks around for you, noticing you're hiding behind her. "Oh, there you are."

Lucifer finds you adorable.

"Why, hello there!", the King says and kneels down to meet your gaze. "I'm Lucifer, and you?"

You mumble out your name and hide a little more behind Charlie.

Then Alastor shows up soon after.

"I'm Alastor! The Radio Demon. I'm sure you've heard of me from my broadcasts.", he says grinning down at the King. "You're much shorter in real life."

"Never heard of you."

The two butt heads with sarcasm, insults, and Alastor covers your ears as he curses at the short King.

"Haha! Fuck you."

"O-K!", Charlie quickly pushes the two away from each other. "Let's get back on with the tour.", she guides her Dad away quickly.

Alastor pats your head before lifting you up, resting you on his hip for a moment to adjust you in his hold.

"Were you two fighting?", you ask.

"Oh no, we just had a small disagreement my deer.", he says and boops your nose. "Let's join Charlie on the tour, yes?"

You nod and snuggle into his chest.

With a gentle smile and a wave of his hand, he poofs your stuffed voodoo doll in his hold before giving it to you.

"Ok, why is no one else concerned about this?", Lucifer gestures to Alastor and you.

Vaggie speaks up. "Alastor is their main caretaker, and he does a surprisingly good job. The little one hasn't made any complaints about him."

The King "sneakily" hands a note to you, and Alastor looks at the paper confused.

You unfold it and end up reading it out loud. "Blink twice if you need help-"

"Oh for goodness sake-!", Alastor holds his hand out for the note.

You give it to him and watch as he burns it in a green flame.

"Let's get on with the tour already, we are wasting time here."

Then a flapper barges into the hotel singing and Alastor tells you to stay away from her.

"She may be a friend, but she is a reckless one. Mimzy won't care if you get hurt. Stay clear of her, understand?"

"I understand.", you nod.

After leaving Mimzy at the bar, Alastor hands you off to Vaggie when Husk stops the deer to talk.

Lucifer asks why you're in the "red place" and Charlie pulls him away to talk.

Vaggie continues walking with you in her arms and pats your head. "So.. Do you like your books?"

"I love them!"

"Really? Which one is your favorite of favorites?"

You excitedly told her your favorite.

Charlie and Lucifer return with small smiles.

When you are all on the balcony, and the conversation turns more serious, the hotel suddenly shakes.

Vaggie holds you tight as she runs down and gets her spear. She passes you along to the King.

"Uh.., hi.", the blonde man says awkwardly, holding you at a distance. "Let me just..", he adjusts his hold on you and now carries you like a football on his hip. "Yeah, that's fine."

The King walks over towards the bar and tells you to hide under the counter before going to the front door near Charlie.

It's loud outside.

You sit on the floor and wait. Things somewhat calm and then you hear Alastor do his radio noises.

"￦h€re ar€ +he¥?"

"I gave them to Lucifer.", Vaggie says.

"I put them behind the bar counter.", the King replies.

Alastor walks around and finds you hiding under one of the corner shelves and picks you up. Mumbling about how dusty your clothes are and brushing off the dust bunnies from your clothes.

"None of you lot know how to take care of children.", the deer grumbles.

Alastor and Lucifer end up arguing about who is a better caretaker. Then you're surrounded by stuffed toys, blankets, books, clothes, and games.

Charlie finally has enough and scolds the two for messing up her lobby.

You do get to keep some things but most of it is poofed away.

Lucifer gives you a duck before leaving.

At the end of the day everyone is in the dining room. You are sleepy and finish what you could of dinner before placing your utensil down.

The Radio Demon notices and stands up, going over to take your plate.

You hold your arms up at him as soon as he is within reach. He chuckles and picks you up. You quickly get comfortable as he holds you close.

"Niffty, be a dear and take care of the clean up."

"Ok!", the little bug demon says and scurries around the room, cleaning up.

Walking back to the hotel room, Alastor speaks up. "Did you enjoy today my little deer? I hope you ignored that silly stuff the small man was saying. He doesn't know anything."

You yawn and sleepily rub your eye. "Hm? About what?"

"The King, dear. Nevermind, it's alright. He just wanted to feel better about himself.", the deer demon rolls his eyes. "I'm obviously far more skilled than he is."

"It's ok. I know you are a good Papa..", you nod off to sleep.

Alastor stands in the middle of the hallway, shocked.

He gently pats your head before continuing to the room. Once he gets to your little nest, he sets you down, taking off anything that might hurt you in your sleep or cut off blood flow, and tucks you into bed.

"Good night my little royal/princess/prince.", he whispers softly and pecks your forehead.

Finally got this done! Yay. I wanna take a nap now.

~Seline, the person.

@taglist @wh1sp @+? @+more in the comments+

ML II Alastor 🎙️| HH Bundle🗝️

[contamination-zone]

5 times Fresh acted like an animal, and 1 time Color 'Got it.'

[first chapter - prev chapter - next chapter]

beta read by @/calamarispider

[UTMV fic] Contains: Platonic Fresh & Color, Fresh & Killer, and Color & Killer, misunderstandings, abuse, food warning [forced to eat dog food] [4,000~ words]

“What would you do if you got out?” It took Fresh a moment to realize it hadn’t imagined Killer speaking. “Nightmare knows we all want out. Saying something to me can’t make this any worse with him.” “I don’t know, run off? Hide in a ditch? What do you want me to say?” Its voice got scratchier and more rough as it spoke, leaving it to end the sentence coughing. Killer was quiet as he watched it, his eyes those same empty black pits. “Okay.” He finally said. What was that supposed to mean? He believed it? Got what he wanted? Just felt like saying that? It stifled a growl and just silently followed him. 

Fic undercut or on ao3!

“You look tired.” From behind him; Killer, he recognized instantly.

Color turned to look at him, smiling something small, “how can you tell? You were looking at the back of my skull.”

The other didn’t answer, just slinking closer so they could settle their head on his shoulder, and their hand on his other. Color laughed; the slant of his shoulders told them all that? Trust his closest friend to always notice when he felt off.

“Is it really that bad…?” He asked. Sometimes it wasn’t. They were scarily observant, and when they pointed things out to Color, it wasn’t always something anyone else would notice.

His hopes were dashed when Killer huffed, annoyed, “Yes.” 

“Sorry about that…” Color said, lifting a hand to cup Killer’s cheek, “you know why.”

He leaned into the touch, but let his eyes fall half-lidded in a ‘done with this’ expression. “If I’d know you’d want to keep it, I wouldn’t have brought it here.”

“Hey!” Color chided, “don’t talk about Fresh like that. And I’m not ‘keeping it,’ it just… needs a little help getting on its feet. I’m sure it’ll strike out on its own when it’s feeling better.”

Killer gave him a piercing stare [it resembled all his other expressions, but Color could guess the intention]. He was still happy they felt comfortable enough to get snippy with him; it hadn’t been too long since Killer got away from Nightmare, and any agency they showed couldn’t help but make him smile.

“Okay,” he huffed, “even if it doesn’t, I’m happy to give it a place to stay. You know that.”

They wrapped their arms around his shoulders, more of a hug than the lean they were doing beforehand. “Yeah yeah, just the type of monster you are.” The words were blasé, nearly apathetic, but Color knew there was affection underneath. It made the guilt worse.

“Yeah.” It felt bad to agree, when he knew Killer clearly felt a little jealous of all the attention Fresh was getting, but he really couldn’t do anything else. Even without the six Soul’s influence, he didn’t think he could leave a monster to flounder without help, let alone one as clearly traumatised as Fresh.

“I’m going out tomorrow,” Color said, instead of any of the words he’d wanted to about duty or greater good, about how really, he was sorry, “just ah, to get clothes for Fresh. Want to come with?”

A silent stare, so he knew Killer was really considering it. Finally, just before he could take it back, affirm that Killer didn’t have to do anything they didn’t feel comfortable with, they answered, “sure, Color. Sounds good.”

He smiled. It’d be nice to spend some time with his best friend.

———

He woke early, because he knew he’d need that sort of energy.

Any type of routine was difficult to manage for him, after so long in a space without time or need for anything of the like, but he thought he’d been getting his morning routine pretty locked down lately. Brushing his teeth, getting dressed, cooking breakfast- all things he’d struggled with right when he got out of the void, but not as much these days. It made him feel good, that he’d made such clear progress, hopeful for those he was helping to be able to do the same.

Of course, there was more than just him who relied on that routine [probably the only reason he tried so hard with it]. With that in mind, he knocked on Killer’s door, letting him know breakfast was ready.

They were opening the door before he even stepped back, already awake and waiting. A little unsettling, but he knew Killer just liked to follow the routine they usually did, even if it wasn’t enforced at all; that meant, of course, leaving his room when Color went to fetch him for breakfast.

“Breakfast is on the table,” he told Killer, already moving to Fresh’s room. Killer followed him instead of heading to eat right away— a clingy mood already, probably because Color promised to hang out.

“Joining me?”

They gently pushed their shoulder to his as they walked, a silent confirmation. He smiled, “Got it.”

He gently rapped his knuckles against the door, with a warning that Killer would be joining as well. 

Fresh made an acknowledging noise, and he wondered if everyone woke up before him.

Just like always, when he entered it regarded him with wide eyes and an attentive posture. Nothing too nervous though, and he smiled at it, glad Killer’s presence didn’t seem to be a problem.

“Morning, Fresh.”

“G’morning.” It mumbled back. It eyed Killer and gave him a slight dip of its head in acknowledgment, to which they regarded it with a blank stare in turn. Neither seemed to be blinking.

“Ooookay-“ Color interrupted, “Got breakfast! Bacon and eggs good?”

It turned its attention right back to Color at that, giving him a shaky nod before standing up, silent in its movements. It was almost alarming how such a large and imposing monster just disappeared into the background. 

On the way to the dining table, Killer and Fresh regarded each other again with nothing but a quick meeting of eyes before their attention went back to him, and he wondered how well they knew each other from before they got out from Nightmare’s thumb. There had to have been a little affection on Killer’s half, else Color didn’t know why he’d decide to take Fresh with him at all. Neither showed it though, barely even acknowledging the other ever, so he wondered if his theory was wrong. Still, the little glances could mean anything. He knew they were both very clever.

They made it to the table before the silence got too awkward, and the three settled in to eat breakfast. He passed Killer the bottle of ketchup for his eggs before he asked.

“We’re, me and Killer,” he said, once they were all sat, “going out to buy you some clothes. Got any preferences?”

It shifted awkwardly at that, frozen with a fork halfway to its mouth. “Uh- I’m good with anything, man.” 

“It likes colorful things.” Killer said as Color was trying to figure out how to press for more info without spooking it.

“Killer,” he hissed, though there was no vitriol. While he did trust Killer to be right about things like this, he just… wanted Fresh to feel the agency of choosing to reveal facts about itself. Make it feel like what he got for it was its choice. 

Killer had no remorse on his face, though he did do a token, “sorry.”

He sighed, though didn’t push further. There was no was no way he’d be able to stay mad at him anyway, and they both knew it.

Looking back at Fresh, it had a pinched look on its face, eyebrows pressed downwards and mouth in a frown. When it noticed him looking, it quickly schooled its face into something more ‘open’ looking [though he doubted it really was].

“Were you confused on something?” He asked.

It was silent for a bit, but after a glance at Killer [for support?], it mumbled, “You ain’t mad? That sorry was sooo off base.”

There was a well of sadness in his chest at that. Did Fresh think he’d get angry at Killer and treat them as badly Nightmare assuredly was when he himself got mad at the two of them?

“No, no,” he reassured it, “I love Killer, he’s my best friend- I just got a little annoyed is all. And even if I did get mad, we’d talk it out.”

Fresh hummed, the picture of easy acceptance, but he could tell it was going to be mulling that over for a while underneath the surface. 

Coughing into its fist, it changed the subject, “I do like colorful things- brighter the better.” More shifting, eyes catching sneak peeks at him before skittering away. He made sure to smile encouragingly. It couldn’t keep eye-contact. “The sweaters you let me borrow were pretty rad too…”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled wide, something settled in him knowing he didn’t shove it into anything it didn’t want to be wearing. His eyes couldn’t help but drift to the collar at that, but he didn’t linger. Anytime it caught him staring it would clutch at the tag and press it close to itself— whatever meager comfort it brought to it, he would never understand. That was okay though, he wasn’t going to force the issue.

It nodded, shy, and didn’t say anything else, fully focusing its attention on breakfast. He didn’t press, letting it retreat out of the conversation.

Breakfast was done quickly and he was left feeling satisfied for more reasons than how good the eggs tasted. Progress was made today, which he was glad for.

Killer had already ambled out of the room, in the direction of the door most likely. Before Color left, he turned to Fresh.

“We’ll only be gone for a few hours, hope you don’t get too bored without us.” He laughed, “you have free reign of the house, just don’t go into either me or Killer’s rooms without a good reason, yeah?”

It nodded, giving him a thumbs up, “you got it. Same as always.”

He… did usually give the same spiral every time he left. “Sorry sorry, repeating myself here” He laughed, “I’ll get outta your hair. Bye Fresh.”

“Ah- see’ya.” It said, awkwardly.

He took that as his cue that he’d probably started to overwhelm it, and left to follow Killer out. 

He’d left it alone in the house a few times already— things were going to be fine, he reminded himself. 

Killer bumped shoulders with him as he got out, and he smiled, relaxing at the support. With his best friend at his side, things felt a lot more manageable. Maybe it really was going to be okay.

———pov: Fresh———

It woke to a kick to its side, and a sharp hiss from above ordering it to get up. It sounded like Killer.

The other must have been on pet duty. Usually he didn’t feel so energetic to it though. Maybe that was because it felt so awful today— it must’ve not woken up when he’d first tried to rouse it. Everything felt kind of hazy, a rare occurrence even though it just woke up; it was almost always quick to categorise its surroundings, it had to to survive.

His hand curled around its collar and dragged it up. Speaking back was usually useless, and it didn’t really want to deal with whatever power trip Killer was on, so it went limp. He wasn’t allowed to harm it too much, so it had some leeway to make his life difficult, at least until Nightmare got back from his trip and heard about its attitude.

This was doing nothing for the phantom of throat pain it was already dealing with, and it choked down any coughs. It needed to look unaffected— coughing and spluttering would be the opposite of that.

A pull, “get up.” The sharp words weren’t helping Fresh want to work with him anymore than the painful tugging.

Still, it noted something; a hint of genuine emotion colored his words. It hadn’t seen that with Killer often, the other usually a mask of empty cheer. “There’s even something innit for you.” He continued.

It regarded him with a half-lidded stare, asking, “What?” in a voice sounding a bit gravelly, and it forced itself not to cringe. Even after years away from its normal act, things that contradicted its image still got to it.

It tried to ignore the discomfort, focusing on the moment at hand, Killer’s offer. There wasn’t much that interested Fresh these days, except the possibility of escape; it highly doubted that was what Killer was suggesting.

“Got a special treat to go with your food today.”

Boring, bordering on insulting. Treating it like a mangy mutt excited for a bigger slice of meat, as if it wasn’t still going to be rotten.

“It’s going to be dog food either way.”

“Cat food.” Killer corrected.

It regarded him like he’d said something particularly stupid, but didn’t argue further. Whether it was dog food or cat food, neither made the idea of a treat alongside it any better. “Fine, fine. Lead the way, ‘boss’”

Killer didn’t take the bait like the other two would. Maybe he really didn’t care how similar to Nightmare he acted. He just pulled harder on its collar until it had no choice but to get its feet under it. At least it could be comforted by the fact Killer was going to be punished for leaving bruises on its neck.

Once up, Killer wasted no time in clipping its leash to the collar, before setting a brisk pace to the kitchen. A no-nonsense attitude. It was both better and worse than the others. They, at least, seemed uncomfortable interacting with it. Still, it meant there was less hesitance, that things would be over with quickly.

It wouldn’t have been able to keep pace if its legs weren’t almost double Killer’s in length. Normally it didn’t have trouble with that, but its joints ached and it felt a headache forming. It didn’t want to be doing this right now.

Its feelings on the matter didn’t matter though, not to anyone but Nightmare anyway [and he certainly cared about them in a way wholly unhelpful to it]. They found themselves at the entrance to the kitchen much quicker than Fresh would have liked.

Killer looped the leash around one of the many knots of stone and wood the castle seemed to  have in abundance [courtesy of being made by Nightmare, a plant adjacent… thing, Fresh thinks], and started prepping Fresh’s ‘meal.’

It hesitated to call it that. Meals were supposed to be alive, squirming, and, most importantly, containing magic. What Nightmare had scheduled it to eat whenever he was gone was not that, not in anyway at all. The cheapest dog or cat food one could buy, usually smushed up with a spoon and mixed with kibble. All served up to it in a little red dog bowl, only labeled ‘pet.’

Another way to demean it, Fresh was sure. When Nightmare was in, he’d only feed it new hosts or sweet treats Nightmare was enjoying himself. An association the guardian of negativity was trying to brute force into existence, that he meant it was getting fed real food. 

It stubbornly refused to wish Nightmare was here so it wouldn’t have to eat this horrid mixture while sick just to spite him, resolving to be extra awful to its ‘owner’ when he got back.

Of course, if Killer really was giving it a treat along with its dish, that could throw a wrench in things. It couldn’t see any reason Nightmare would want it to associate good things with anyone but him. 

It was shaken out of its thoughts by the sound of Killer setting the bowl down on the floor. It was the usual fare, though something about it seemed… off.

“And the treat?”

“It’s in there.” He pointed at the bowl of slop. So the treat was a lie. 

It huffed, but settled on the floor and picked up the bowl to start eating anyway. Killer, similarly, took a seat at the kitchen table.

It couldn’t really refuse to eat, even if the meal served no purpose further than making it suffer. Nightmare would be less than happy to hear it wasn’t following one of His orders. Egotistical prick.

It tipped the bowl and resolutely ignored as much sensory data as it could. It was the same as always, but it couldn’t help but think Nightmare got it the most putrid smelling wet food he could find because he knew its sense of smell was strong. Unfortunately it had no nose to pinch, so it just tried not to breathe until it was done. 

It could feel Killer’s eyes burning into it as it finished. The gaze didn’t wander as it coughed and gagged, nor when it pushed the now empty bowl back in his general direction. What a creep— not as bad as Nightmare, but that would be impossible.

There was a slight, almost imperceptible, sweet after-taste. It didn’t believe Killer would actually put a treat in, so maybe it was a placebo. It didn’t have time to linger though, because Killer was already wrapping the end of the leash back around his clawed hands. And well… tiny sweet aftertaste didn’t make up for the fact that the rest of it tasted rancid.

“What would you do if you got out?” 

It took it a moment to realize it hadn’t imagined Killer speaking, and another to understand he was talking to it. 

“What?” Fresh hissed, eyes narrowed. The words just screamed ‘trap.’ It would make the rest of the day make more sense too; Killer could definitely be trying to influence it into disobedience with the treat and the extra emotion in his voice could be from the stress of the plan. 

He didn’t respond, just looking at it with his awful empty eye-sockets. It glared back, spines raising as he didn’t elaborate or back down.

Eventually, seeming to realize he wasn’t going to get anywhere unless he gave in more, Killer said, “He knows we all want out. Saying something to me can’t make this any worse with him.” There was a gentle tug on the leash, a silent continuation it could practically hear in the air ‘and not answering could make things worse with Killer.’ 

“I don’t know,” it grumbled, annoyed, “run off? Hide in a ditch? Go back to eating people? What do you want me to say.”

Its voice got scratchier and more rough as it spoke, leaving it to end the sentence coughing.

He just hummed, and it felt like tearing something apart with its teeth. Would it kill someone for these people to say what they thought aloud? Did they get some sort of sick thrill in leaving it confused? 

“Okay.” He finally said. If it wasn’t so frustrated with the lack of information it had, it would find that fascinating. What was that supposed to mean, ‘okay.’? He believed it? Got what he wanted? Just felt like saying that?

It stifled a growl and just followed him silently. 

——

It couldn’t stop thinking about the day before Killer took it here, to live with him and Color. Looking back, the signs that something strange was going on were so obvious. He was just digging for information on how it would act once he took it here— see if it would be a good gift for Color, it now knew.

The fact that he did, took that short and angry response and decided it was worth it to steal it away as a gift for his… for Color, it didn’t know how that made it feel.

Insulted, to be treated like a commodity to pass around, or… it shook its head, it couldn’t be thinking about this right now. Already it could hear the gentle knock at the door; Color, coming in for their morning routine and inviting it for breakfast. 

It did as it was bid, replying with polite little one-word answers to all his questions, ignoring how Killer was at Color’s heels. Not regarding them with suspicion like it wanted too. Clearly he was Color’s favorite— it couldn’t get on his bad side.

It kept trading glances with Killer as they made their way to the table, wondering why he decided to follow so closely to Color’s morning routine to even follow him to its room. They gave nothing away, of course, and it nearly stuck its tongue out in annoyance. Nearly, of course, because it still didn’t know these monsters’ preferences, no matter its best efforts. Nightmare would have found the brattiness cute [except the times he very much didn’t], but it couldn’t get a read if the same would hold true for Color— and Killer, but he wasn’t in charge, so it didn’t care for his response much.

The meal turned awkward when a question aimed at it, and that it thought it’d answered… not well, but good enough, was answered by Killer as well. Color hadn’t said he wanted Killer’s opinion.

It froze, carefully still as if that would make it turn invisible. It barely kept in the stressed squeak when Color berated Killer and they gave an absolutely lacklustre apology; Killer was valuable, liked, Color’s favourite, so of course he wouldn’t punish him, but what if Color decided to take out his anger on Fresh instead…?

There wasn’t any type of explosion though, and Color didn’t even seem particularly angry. Just a bit miffed at Killer’s actions. That was- that was just weird!

The emotion must have shown in its face, because Color was asking if it was confused. It felt stupid, but quickly hid anything negative before it could get too annoying.

A response was probably still expected though. It looked at Killer, who didn’t seem stressed at all, and it nervously asked, “You ain’t mad? That sorry was sooo off base.”

There was something so soft on its owner’s face, it felt a little sick looking. “No, no,” he cooed at it, like it was a skittish animal, “I love Killer, he’s my best friend- I just got a little annoyed is all. And even if I did get mad, we’d talk it out.”

That was… really weird. Best friend privileges maybe? It really couldn’t see a world so nice to it that that courtesy would extend to it as well. The information was still useful though, so it stashed it away.

It couldn’t focus on that right now though, remembering the actual focus of the conversation. He’d appreciate it keeping on topic, hopefully. “I do like colorful things- brighter the better,” It mumbled, eyes darting towards him nervously as it tried to gauge his reaction. Neutral still, so it flaked on some flattery, “The sweaters you let me borrow were pretty rad too…”

There it was, a wide satisfied smile. It relaxed as it heard his next words, “I’m glad to hear that,”

Thankfully, it didn’t have to navigate any mine-fields as breakfast was finished and Color told it all the rules for when he was out.

“You have free reign of the house, just don’t go into either me or Killer’s rooms without a good reason, yeah?” He reminded it. He always mentioned the free reign of the house everytime, and it could hear a hidden order when it was given one— it would be expected to not be in its room when he was out. An easy enough task.

After some painfully awkward farewells, it skittered off to the living room and to the couch in front of the TV. It knew it was probably allowed on the furniture, but didn’t really want to do so when Color wasn’t there to invite it on.

Instead, it carefully settled behind the couch, pressed in-between it and the wall. Small and comfortable, a perfect place to wait until Color got back. 

It smiled to itself, feeling proud of how well it had been doing recently. Maybe it could even get as much affection and leniency as Killer. Maybe it could even get more. A pipe-dream, but… it wanted Color to look at it like that too.

Only for its safety of course. Having his affection, his attention, his soft smiles, gentle laughs— it shook its head before settling more comfortably behind the couch. Now was not the time for those thoughts; it didn’t know how it was supposed to compete with Killer and… it already lived a life more pampered here than nearly all its time with Nightmare. 

It let itself relax and get ready for its long wait. It liked this. It didn’t need to sully it with even more wants.

[jmdbjk]

I have some fun news.

I am going to NYC to see Jimin's The Truth Untold Exhibition!!!! I'm so glad I bought tickets before it SOLD OUT! It is not sold out, only the early bird tickets are sold out. Regular price tickets are still available.

But see? That's how misinformation is spread, when one person on X screams it's sold out and random people (me, I'm random people) scroll through and see the post and run with it.... (rolls eyes).

ANYWAY...

I need to see Jimin's outfits in real life. I need to see the size and shape of that man up close and personal. I won't ever dream that I'd ever get to actually see Jimin in the flesh within touching distance but I will see his actual clothing within inches of myself and that's almost the next best thing.

I am going in June the week after the four are discharged, the tickets I bought are for June 21, the day Yoongi is released from his social service.

If there is a group live from the Hybe building lounge room couch while I'm in that exhibit I will scream with everyone else. My family will be traumatized but oh well, right?

It'll be a day to remember.

And... I discovered AFTER THE FACT that we booked our hotel right in the middle of Koreatown. I HAD NO IDEA until I started to look for restaurants and guess what? Antoya is 2 blocks from my hotel. I will take pictures. Not sure if we'll go eat there but who knows. We'll try.

[Yes, I used that potato quality, non-official pic.]

Of course I'll blog about the trip when I get back.

But WE HAVE SO MUCH TO ACCOMPLISH BEFORE THEN!!!

Jin's Echo album and subsequent tour!

FESTA!!! CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE SCHEDULE!!!!

AND THE FREEDOM OF OUR SEVEN!!!! HOW WILL IT UNFOLD??? WHO WILL MEET WHO AT THE GATES??? I CAN'T WAIT!! I'M GONNA CRY, LOSE SLEEP, CRY SOME MORE!!!

Hobi wrapping up HOS tour and the HOS Final in Seoul ON FESTA DAY! And ANOTHER new song at some point!

The timing of Hobi's HOS Final concerts has been known for a long time. Securing that stadium for those dates had to be planned well ahead. I will be watching the livestream of both nights.

There is no way we will not see the freshly discharged members in some way, they will be there, in the audience or on stage or at the very least in photos from backstage. They will be there. Why wouldn't they? The timing was timed as if the Universe said "let it be so."

As far as performing, I won't wish too hard for it but they might?! The timing of these shows is just giving so much potential for anything to happen!

In a blog post on July 2, 2024, I said they would hit the ground running. Look at Jin and Hobi since.

They aren't going to "rest" after discharge. If you think that, you clearly have not been paying attention to what they've been saying for the past 3 years.

They've looked forward to all of this for YEARS, "this" meaning "this time of post-military enlistment" where nothing is in the way of their artistic freedom and living their lives the way they wish. It was such an ordeal to get to this point in time, years of delays, they are not going to sit around and let more time pass before they get back on stage.

Successful people are DRIVEN. They are ready to hit the ground running.

I am overwhelmed knowing in less than five weeks 6 out of 7 will be free. I don't want to get my hopes up but I feel strongly that at the very very least, a 7-member group photo will be shared at some point during those few days of total chaos.

I will watch the livestream of Jin's concert, but as of this moment, I am not going to go see him. Never say never though,right? But after watching his concert livestream, I might change my mind. We'll see. I reserve the right to book a last minute trip (its the way I roll anyway). I am very excited for his album next week!

This is going to be an unpopular opinion with some: Anyone who knows me knows I support all of them, right? But I gotta be real here. The AMAs are the American Music Awards. Jimin's Who went furthest over here than any of the others this past year. The no-brainer to me is to vote for Jimin for this particular award. I have to weigh the circumstances and the numbers.

The context was not taken into consideration in this case and now the votes are going to be split.

We need to be smarter and stop being driven by emotions when there clearly were numbers to show how big Who was in the U.S. this past year.

The drama and fighting was unnecessary. RPWP and Come Back to Me have won so many critical awards – real, peer reviewed and film industry awards – that trying to "give" Namjoon this AMA award just seems very manipulative.

Don't get me wrong, if Namjoon wins this I WILL BE ECSTATIC that Army actually pulled it off. But I will also be surprised if he wins because I know the votes are split between he and Jimin. I'm afraid it will be a sad situation of self-sabotage and the BP girl is going to win because of that.

In other instances, if I am faced with choosing between Jimin and any of the others... Jimin is my man y'all. It is what it is.

Regarding fans who also went on hiatus: Let the fans who took a break come back without criticizing them. Let the casual fans be casual. Just because they weren't obsessed with social media these past few years does not make them "less" of a fan or unimportant. There will always be someone doing something "more" than you in some aspect so just shut up and let them come back and get off your high horse of self-importance.

I do not sustain a constant social media presence but I'm here with my face in the BTS business every single day. I know what is going on to obsessive levels.

I also have a life, a job, family, etc that I must pay attention to as well. But in my down time, everything BTS is what I'm obsessed with. You just don't see me needlessly posting about myself doing it 24/7.

Let. Them. Be. The world needs BTS, let the world come as they are, casual, hardcore, baby Army, OG Army, everyone come to the BTS table and feast! No one has a right to gate keep the 7.

Every day that comes keeps getting brighter and brighter knowing our 7 will be back together NEXT MONTH! 30 days left for Jimin and Jungkook, 40 for Yoongi, 29 for Namjoon and Tae.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Van!! I hope ur doing well!! Sending u my love and good vibes!

Anyways…I came here to talk about something very important. Pervy Logan.

I am obsessed with Logan just being a total perv and proud of it. Obviously just with you like when ur dating. He’s shameless though. Slipping his hands up ur shirt or down your pants or skirt.

Saying super dirty things randomly just to fuck with you. Him wanting a quickie at every moment of the damn day bc hes so insatiable

I need it

ROSE!! All the hugs and kisses for you babes!!! 😘😘😘😘

I LOVE PERVY LOGAN!!! I made a pervy logan headcanon post awhile back, but i honestly think im gonna need to make another one (i wish i could rn but im fried and its not going to get better until im home tomorrow night)

Some thots, for now 😉

I just love the thought of him just being perverted about everything you do. He thinks everytjing you do is an invitation

Eating a popsicle? "You wanna lick something else princess?"

Doing yoga stretches? "Wanna try those poses with me?"

Bend over in front of him, just trying to pick up something "tryna tell me something babe?"

Existing? "I wanna fuck you so damn bad."

He likes watching the wind blow up your skirt. Hes probably stuck his phone between your legs while walking to get some photos. Hell take your panties from you whenever you wear a skirt or dress. Wants to know youre bare underneath (he'll NEVER let anyone see tho)

And youre spot on- WILL just slide his hand up your shirt to grope you, coming uo behind you and pressing kisses to your neck as he plays with your tit and youre telling him to stop (but really dont) and within seconds hes dragging you into a closet for that quickie. Only to want another one an hour later.

Loves to watch your tits jiggle, watching the skin ripple as he smacks them around and gives them a shake. Same with your ass. Big or small, hes obssessed with your body. Definitely stares at your ass and tits if you jog around him

Dont get me started on when youre actually having sex too. That man is SICK when hes fingering you, or fucking you. Will literally drown himself in the puss juice. Sputtering and gasping for breathe as he finally breaks himself from burying his nose and mouth against your cunt before just going back at it again.

Will figure out a way to fuck every part of you. Has fantasized aabout covering you head to toe with his spunk. He wants every type of job from you, footjobs, thigh jobs, hand jobs, tit jobs.

I might write a fic too.....

[kenzdolls]

RECOVERING TOGETHER . 5.6k

𖤐 synopsis: you’ve been dealing with an eating disorder since middle school, which has arisen while at UA so why not get some comfort from your ‘friends’?

𖤐 pairing: katsuki bakugou + eijiro kirishima x fem! reader

𖤐 sent by: anonymous

𖤐 trigger warnings: eating disorders, anxiety, mentions of past bullying, emotional disorders. you have been warned.

𖤐 side note: my layout has been changing a lot omfg i’m so sorry

you stared at the breakfast in front of you, your stomach twisting with anxiety. the cafeteria bustled with energy around you, but you felt isolated in your internal struggle. your chopsticks hovered above the rice, but you couldn't bring yourself to take a bite.

"not hungry again?" mina asked, concern evident in her voice.

"i ate earlier," you lied with practiced ease, the words slipping out automatically.

it had been this way since middle school—the constant calculations, the excuses, the rituals that had become so deeply ingrained that they felt like a part of you. coming to ua hadn't changed that, even if everything else in your life had transformed.

"you've been saying that all week," kirishima noted from across the table, his usually bright eyes clouded with worry.

you smiled weakly. "just been busy with training. i'll grab something later."

before anyone could question you further, you gathered your untouched food and stood. "i should get to class early to review for present mic's quiz."

as you walked away, you didn't notice the meaningful glance exchanged between kirishima and bakugou.

---

the training grounds echoed with explosions as bakugou demolished another target. you watched from the sidelines, admiring his raw power and control. your own quirk training had finished early—you'd pushed yourself too hard again, ignoring the dizziness that had plagued you all day.

"you're staring," bakugou called out, not even turning to look at you as he adjusted his gauntlets.

heat rushed to your cheeks. "just observing technique," you countered, trying to sound casual.

he scoffed but didn't argue. instead, he walked over to where you sat, grabbing his water bottle. you noticed how his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, assessing.

"you look like shit," he finally said, his tone blunt.

"thanks, bakugou. always the charmer," you replied, rolling your eyes.

he dropped down beside you, closer than you expected. "when was the last time you actually ate something?"

the directness of his question caught you off guard. "i eat," you defended automatically.

"bullshit," he said, but there was no real bite to his words. just certainty. "shitty hair's worried about you. won't shut up about it."

you stared at your hands. "kirishima worries about everyone."

"yeah, well, this time he's right to worry." bakugou took a long drink from his water bottle, then offered it to you. when you hesitated, he added, "it's just water, y/n. you need to stay hydrated at least."

reluctantly, you accepted the bottle, your fingers brushing against his. the water felt heavenly against your parched throat.

"thanks," you murmured, handing it back.

"whatever," he replied, but his eyes remained on you, watchful.

before either of you could say more, a familiar voice called out, "there you are!"

kirishima jogged toward you, his crimson hair bouncing with each step. his face lit up at the sight of you and bakugou sitting together.

"thought i'd find you two here," he said, dropping down on your other side. "how was training?"

"fine," you and bakugou answered in unison.

kirishima grinned. "great! so, a bunch of us are heading into town for ramen tonight. you guys in?"

the mere thought of sitting in a restaurant, being expected to eat a full bowl of ramen while everyone watched, made your anxiety spike. "i've got a lot of studying to do," you said quickly.

"come on, y/n!" kirishima nudged your shoulder gently. "all work and no play makes for a dull hero, you know?"

"let it go, shitty hair," bakugou interrupted, surprising you both. "if y/n doesn't want to go, they don't have to."

kirishima's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "right, of course! no pressure. maybe next time?"

you nodded, grateful for bakugou's unexpected intervention. "maybe next time."

as the three of you walked back toward the dorms, you couldn't help but notice how they positioned themselves on either side of you, like bookends. it should have felt suffocating, being flanked by their protective presence, but instead, it felt strangely comforting.

---

later that evening, you were sitting in your dorm room when a sharp knock startled you.

"oi, open up," came bakugou's gruff voice.

confused, you opened the door to find both bakugou and kirishima standing there, kirishima holding a small container.

"can we come in?" kirishima asked, his usual bright smile replaced with something more subdued.

stepping aside, you let them enter, puzzled by their unexpected visit. "is everything okay?"

"we should be asking you that," bakugou said, leaning against your desk with his arms crossed.

kirishima set the container down. "we brought you some food. it's just onigiri—bakugou made them."

your heart rate quickened. "that's really nice, but i'm not—"

"cut the crap," bakugou interrupted, his voice sharp but not unkind. "we're not idiots. you haven't been eating."

your defenses rose immediately. "i eat."

"when?" kirishima asked gently. "because we've been watching, y/n. and we're worried."

the directness of their confrontation made your eyes sting with unexpected tears. years of hiding, of deflecting concern, of managing this part of yourself in the shadows—and somehow, they had seen through it all.

"it's complicated," you whispered, sinking onto your bed.

"no shit," bakugou said, but there was no bite to his words. he sat down beside you, close enough that you could feel his warmth. "but whatever it is, you don't have to deal with it alone."

kirishima pulled your desk chair closer, sitting so that his knees nearly touched yours. "we care about you, you know? and we've noticed for a while now."

"it started in middle school," you found yourself saying, the words spilling out after being contained for so long. "after some kids made comments about my body. it was just skipping lunch at first, but then..."

you explained how the occasional restriction had evolved into rigid rules and rituals, how the eating disorder had become both your tormentor and your closest companion. how coming to ua had only increased the pressure you felt to be perfect, to be strong, to be worthy of your place there.

"i know it's not healthy," you admitted. "but it's like it's part of me now. i don't know how to stop."

"you don't have to know how," kirishima said, reaching for your hand. "that's what help is for. and that's why you have us."

"recovery isn't weakness," bakugou added gruffly. "it takes more fucking courage than most people have."

"we're not asking you to be fixed overnight," kirishima continued. "we just want you to try. maybe talk to recovery girl? she has resources."

"and in the meantime," bakugou said, nudging the container toward you, "one bite. just start with one."

you looked at the container, then back at their faces—kirishima's open concern, bakugou's determined support masked by his usual scowl. for the first time in years, the thought of eating something didn't fill you with overwhelming dread. because this time, you weren't facing it alone.

with trembling fingers, you opened the container and took out one of the onigiri. it was small, perfectly formed, with a light dusting of sesame seeds.

"bakugou actually makes the best onigiri in class," kirishima said, his smile returning. "even if he'd never admit it."

"shut up, hair-for-brains," bakugou muttered, but you caught the slight flush on his cheeks.

taking a deep breath, you took a small bite. the simplicity of the flavor—rice, a hint of salt, the nuttiness of sesame—brought an unexpected comfort. it was just food. just nourishment. and these two boys sitting with you, their presence steady and unwavering, were offering something beyond that—a different kind of nourishment that your soul had been craving.

"thank you," you whispered, after swallowing that first bite. it felt like a monumental achievement.

"this is just the beginning," kirishima said, his smile gentle but determined. "we're with you all the way."

bakugou nodded, his crimson eyes intense. "every step. got it?"

you took another small bite, feeling something shift within you—not healing, not yet, but perhaps the first acknowledgment that healing was possible. "got it."

---

morning arrived with its usual cacophony of alarm clocks and excited voices echoing through the dorm hallways. you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, noting the dark circles under your eyes. sleep had been elusive, your mind replaying yesterday's conversation with kirishima and bakugou over and over.

a knock on the bathroom door startled you. "y/n? you okay in there?" it was uraraka, her voice tinged with concern.

"be right out," you called, splashing cold water on your face one more time before opening the door.

uraraka smiled brightly. "morning! a bunch of us are heading down to breakfast together. want to join?"

your stomach clenched at the thought, but you remembered the promise you'd made last night. one step at a time. "sure," you managed, your voice steadier than you felt.

when you arrived at the cafeteria, your eyes automatically sought out familiar spiky red and ash-blonde heads. they were sitting at their usual table, kirishima animatedly telling a story while bakugou pretended not to listen. as if sensing your presence, both looked up simultaneously as you approached.

kirishima's face broke into a wide grin. "y/n! good morning!"

bakugou merely nodded, but his eyes didn't leave your face as you sat down across from them.

"i saved you a seat," kirishima said, patting the bench beside him.

you slid in next to him, acutely aware of the empty tray in front of you. "thanks."

"not hungry?" kirishima asked carefully, his tone neutral.

before you could form an excuse, bakugou stood abruptly. "i'm getting more food," he announced, then fixed his gaze on you. "come with me."

it wasn't a request, and somehow that made it easier. you nodded and followed him to the food line.

"you don't have to babysit me," you murmured as you stood beside him.

bakugou snorted. "i'm not babysitting you. i'm helping you build a routine, idiot. there's a difference."

"since when are you the expert on healthy routines?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

he handed you a tray. "since i decided to be a pro hero. can't fight villains if you're passing out from malnutrition."

his bluntness was oddly refreshing. no pity, no walking on eggshells—just bakugou being bakugou.

"fair point," you conceded, looking at the array of food options with trepidation.

bakugou seemed to sense your unease. "start small," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "rice and miso soup. nothing complicated."

you nodded gratefully, serving yourself a modest portion of rice and a small bowl of soup. it was less than what others were eating, but it was more than you would have chosen on your own.

when you returned to the table, kirishima beamed at you, though he made no comment about your food. instead, he launched into a story about yesterday's hero training, drawing you into the conversation so naturally that you found yourself relaxing.

halfway through breakfast, you realized you'd been eating small bites of rice without thinking about it, your attention captured by the animated discussion around you. bakugou, sitting across from you, caught your eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod of approval.

something warm unfurled in your chest—something that felt suspiciously like pride.

---

"this is stupid," you muttered, staring at the door to recovery girl's office later that day.

"no, it's not," kirishima countered, standing beside you. "it's brave."

"whatever it is, standing in the hallway isn't accomplishing anything," bakugou added from your other side. "either go in or don't."

you'd been surprised when both of them had offered to walk you to your appointment. even more surprised when you'd actually accepted.

"you don't have to wait for me," you said, fidgeting with the hem of your uniform jacket.

"we know," kirishima replied simply.

"but we will," bakugou finished, crossing his arms. "so hurry up and go in already."

taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

recovery girl welcomed you warmly, not seeming surprised when you explained why you were there. she listened as you stumbled through your story, occasionally asking gentle questions but never pushing too hard.

"recovery from an eating disorder is a journey," she told you, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners. "it won't happen overnight, but acknowledging the problem is an important first step."

she provided resources—the contact information for a specialist who worked with hero students, pamphlets about nutrition and recovery, and a recommendation for a support group.

"and young lady," she added as you were leaving, "i'm glad to see you have friends supporting you. that makes a world of difference."

when you emerged from the office, kirishima and bakugou were still there, just as they'd promised. kirishima was showing bakugou something on his phone, and bakugou was pretending not to be interested even as he leaned in closer to see.

the sight of them waiting—just being there—made your eyes sting with unexpected tears.

"hey, whoa," kirishima said, noticing first. "you okay?"

you nodded, wiping at your eyes. "yeah. it's just... thank you. for waiting."

"told you we would," bakugou said gruffly, but he awkwardly patted your shoulder—a gesture so uncharacteristically gentle that it nearly made you cry harder.

"recovery girl says i should see a specialist," you told them as you walked back to the dorms together. "and maybe join a support group."

"that sounds like a good plan," kirishima said encouragingly.

"it'll be a pain in the ass," bakugou added, "but worth it."

you couldn't help but laugh at his assessment. "that's one way to put it."

as you walked between them, you realized that for the first time in a long time, the constant voice in your head criticizing your body, counting calories, and demanding perfection had quieted to a whisper. it wasn't gone—you knew better than to expect that—but it was subdued, drowned out by the presence of the two boys flanking you like guardians.

---

the next few weeks fell into a pattern. breakfast with kirishima and bakugou became a ritual—bakugou helping you choose manageable portions while kirishima kept the conversation flowing, distracting you from the anxiety of eating in public.

you started meeting with the specialist recovery girl had recommended, a former pro hero who understood the unique pressures of hero training. the sessions were difficult, forcing you to confront years of disordered thoughts and behaviors, but gradually, you began to develop new coping mechanisms.

some days were harder than others. there were mornings when you couldn't face the cafeteria, when the thought of food made your chest tighten with panic. on those days, kirishima would appear at your door with a protein bar or a small fruit smoothie.

"no pressure," he'd say, his smile understanding. "just an option."

there were afternoon training sessions when you pushed yourself too hard, trying to prove that you were still strong, still worthy of your place at ua. on those days, bakugou would pull you aside, his crimson eyes blazing with intensity.

"you think running yourself into the ground makes you a better hero?" he'd demand. "real strength comes from knowing your limits, dumbass."

and then there were the nights when the voices in your head grew too loud to ignore, when old habits beckoned with their false promises of control. on those nights, somehow, they always seemed to know. a text from kirishima inviting you to study together. a gruff message from bakugou complaining about homework and demanding your help.

never pushing, never forcing—just present, in their own ways.

---

"i hate this," you grumbled, staring at the journal your specialist had asked you to keep. "writing down my feelings about food makes me feel ridiculous."

you were sprawled across kirishima's floor, textbooks and notes scattered around you. bakugou occupied the desk chair, while kirishima sat on his bed, legs crossed.

"why?" bakugou asked, not looking up from his own homework.

"because it's embarrassing," you admitted. "being afraid of food isn't exactly heroic."

"being honest about your struggles is pretty manly, though," kirishima countered, his trademark grin softening the words.

you rolled your eyes at his use of "manly" but couldn't help returning his smile. "i guess. it's just... i've been doing this for so long. being afraid, making excuses, avoiding meals. it became part of my identity somehow."

"well, that's bullshit," bakugou said bluntly, finally looking up from his work. "your eating disorder isn't your identity. it's just something that happened to you."

his words hit with unexpected force. you blinked, absorbing them.

"bakugou's right," kirishima added gently. "you're so much more than this one struggle, y/n. you're smart, and determined, and kind, and a kickass hero-in-training."

"and stubborn as hell," bakugou added, a hint of approval in his tone.

you ducked your head, emotion welling in your throat. "sometimes i forget who i am without it," you confessed quietly. "it's been part of me for so long."

kirishima slid off the bed to sit beside you on the floor, his shoulder pressing against yours. "then we'll help you remember," he said simply.

"or figure out who you want to be now," bakugou added, unexpectedly insightful.

you looked between them—kirishima with his earnest smile, bakugou with his unwavering certainty—and felt something shift within you. a sense of possibility that had nothing to do with restrictions or control or the number on a scale.

"i'd like that," you whispered.

---

the training camp was meant to push students to their limits, and it was certainly living up to that promise. three days in, and everyone was exhausted, covered in bruises, and growing increasingly irritable.

you collapsed beside a tree during a short break, gulping water from your bottle. your muscles screamed with every movement, but there was a satisfaction in the ache—evidence of honest effort rather than self-punishment.

"you're improving," aizawa commented as he passed by. "your stamina is better."

the simple observation filled you with a pride that had nothing to do with appearance and everything to do with capability. your body wasn't just something to be controlled and diminished; it was the vessel through which you would achieve your dreams of heroism.

"thanks," you replied, surprised at how much the acknowledgment meant.

as aizawa moved on to critique other students, bakugou dropped down beside you, his own water bottle in hand.

"he's right," he said, nodding toward your retreating teacher. "you're not winded after ten minutes anymore."

coming from bakugou, this qualified as high praise. "amazing what happens when you actually fuel your body properly," you replied wryly.

he snorted. "told you so."

you bumped his shoulder with yours. "yes, you're very smart. happy now?"

"ecstatic," he deadpanned, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

before you could respond, kirishima bounded over, somehow still energetic despite the grueling training.

"there you two are!" he exclaimed, dropping down on your other side. "did you see my new move? super manly, right?"

"if by 'manly' you mean 'nearly broke your arm being reckless,' then sure," bakugou retorted.

"aw, were you worried about me, bakugou?" kirishima teased, his sharp-toothed grin widening.

you couldn't help but laugh at bakugou's sputtering denials, warmth spreading through your chest at their familiar bickering. these moments had become precious to you—moments when you weren't defined by your struggles, when you were just another student, another friend.

"oh, almost forgot!" kirishima dug into his pocket and pulled out an energy bar, offering it to you. "we've got another two hours before dinner, and aizawa-sensei said to keep our energy up."

you accepted it without hesitation, a simple action that would have been unthinkable months ago. "thanks."

as you unwrapped it and took a bite, you caught bakugou watching you, something like pride flickering in his crimson eyes before he looked away.

"don't get comfortable," he warned, standing up as aizawa called for students to resume training. "break's almost over."

he offered you his hand, and you took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. kirishima bounced up beside you, throwing an arm around each of your shoulders.

"ready to show these extras how it's done?" he asked, mimicking bakugou's typical bravado.

"don't steal my lines, shitty hair," bakugou growled, but he didn't shrug off kirishima's arm.

you smiled, finishing the last bite of your energy bar before falling into step between them. "i'm ready."

and you were—ready to train, ready to grow stronger, ready to continue this journey of recovery with these two unlikely pillars of support at your side.

---

the night air was cool against your skin as you sat on the dorm rooftop, legs dangling over the edge. the stars stretched endlessly above you, a reminder of how small your problems were in the grand scheme of things.

"thought we might find you up here," kirishima's voice came from behind you.

you turned to see him and bakugou approaching, kirishima with his usual bright smile and bakugou with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"just needed some air," you explained as they settled on either side of you.

"everything okay?" kirishima asked, concern evident in his voice.

you nodded. "yeah, actually. i had my check-in with the specialist today. she says i'm making good progress."

"that's great!" kirishima exclaimed, bumping his shoulder against yours playfully.

"told you you could do it," bakugou added, his voice gruff but warm.

you smiled, looking out at the ua campus sprawled below. "i couldn't have done it without you two, you know. showing up at my door with onigiri that day... it changed everything."

"nah," kirishima said, shaking his head. "we just gave you a nudge. you're the one doing all the hard work."

"don't sell yourself short," bakugou added. "you're stronger than you think."

coming from him, the words carried extra weight. bakugou katsuki didn't offer praise lightly.

you drew your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. "i've been thinking a lot about what you said, bakugou. about my eating disorder not being my identity."

he nodded, waiting for you to continue.

"for so long, i defined myself by it. by the control, by the rules i set for myself. but these past few months, working with the specialist, with both of you supporting me... i'm starting to remember who i was before. and maybe even discover who i want to be now."

"and who is that?" kirishima asked softly.

you smiled, the answer coming more easily than you expected. "someone who's learning to be kind to themselves. someone who wants to be strong not to prove something to others, but because it feels good. someone who's not perfect, but who's trying. every day."

"sounds like a pretty amazing person to me," kirishima said, his eyes shining with something that made your heart race.

"not bad," bakugou agreed, his shoulder pressed against yours, a solid presence in the cool night air.

you looked between them, these two boys who had somehow seen past your carefully constructed defenses and decided you were worth fighting for. who had shown up, day after day, offering different kinds of strength when yours faltered.

"there's something else the specialist pointed out today," you said, your voice softer now. "about how people with eating disorders often have trouble recognizing other feelings. like how sometimes when i thought i was feeling fat, i was actually feeling sad or angry or...something else entirely."

"something else?" kirishima echoed, his eyes fixed on your face.

you took a deep breath. "yeah. like how sometimes, when i'm with you two, my heart races and my stomach feels fluttery, and i used to think it was anxiety about food or weight, but it's not. it's... it's because i care about you. both of you. a lot."

the confession hung in the air between you, vulnerable and raw.

kirishima was the first to respond, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining. "i care about you too, y/n. have for a long time."

you turned to bakugou, heart hammering in your chest. his expression was unreadable for a moment, and then he sighed, a sound of resignation rather than displeasure.

"you're both idiots," he muttered, but then his hand was covering your free one, his touch surprisingly gentle. "especially you, shitty hair. but yeah. me too."

something light and buoyant filled your chest—a feeling so different from the constant weight of your eating disorder that you almost didn't recognize it as happiness.

"so what now?" you asked, looking between them.

"now," kirishima said, his sharp-toothed grin wider than ever, "we keep doing what we've been doing. taking it one day at a time. together."

"just with more of this," bakugou added, squeezing your hand lightly.

you laughed, the sound carrying into the night air, free and unburdened. "i like the sound of that."

the three of you stayed on the rooftop for hours, talking, laughing, occasionally falling into comfortable silence. and for the first time in years, the voice in your head criticizing your body, your worth, your right to take up space was completely silent, drowned out by something much louder and infinitely more powerful.

hope. connection. love.

recovery wasn't linear. there would still be hard days ahead, moments when old patterns called to you with their siren song of false control. but now you had new voices to listen to—kirishima's unwavering encouragement, bakugou's blunt but genuine support, and most importantly, your own voice, growing stronger every day, reminding you that you were more than your struggles.

you were worthy of nourishment—for your body, for your mind, for your heart.

and with kirishima's hand warm in yours and bakugou's steady presence at your side, you finally believed it.

taglist: [open]

mutuals: @https-bakugo @haikyuubby @va-3 @lotusstarr @tulippanes @gh0st-g1rll @luvseraphh

© property of kenzdolls

[cosmica-galaxy]

ok but your PV and witch child! Reader is so adorable and I need to put my two cents in. When little witch reader gets sick, I bet all hell breaks loose for multiple reasons. I’ve babysat before, So it always breaks my heart when they get sick and stuff, especially when it’s that first scare for young children who haven’t been sick before. they’re just so pure and miserable but you can’t do anything :( PV would be so torn apart by their sad faces and being in pain. He probably wouldn’t heal the sickness immediately because he wants his kid to build immunity so he lets it run its course but it’s still like willingly touching hot metal for him :( and anyone else who’s there

number 2: the weather and stuff gets wonky from the little witch magic. Sunny days switch to flash floods or heavy thunderstorms turn into heatwaves. Even all in one day if it’s a you-should-check-with-a-hospital level kind of sickness. We all have that one hospital visit sickness as a kid(or maybe you’re lucky idk)

number 3: PV and the others are on edge because this is a human illness. Cookies getting sick versus a little witch is an entirely new experience. So they can only really use their knowledge of when they have gotten sick to help. Everyone is jumpy because they don’t know what could happen. Especially PV who is watching his kid with emotions that can be summed up as: :’( my baby…

Oh DEFINITELY! I think that the child would slowly get sick after playing a lot in the snow drifts with Caramel Arrow Cookie while PV visits the Dark Cacao kingdom for a bit to settle some business between the two kingdoms. But once they get home, the toddler looses their appetite and struggles to stay awake. PV, naturally thinking that they are tired after such a long trip, puts them down for a nice nap. However, citizens start coming into the kingdom's castle to tell PV about the sudden weather changes. PV literally stands in the doorway of the castle and watches the weather flick over from sunny, to drought-like conditions, to sudden rainfall, and to a small hail storm. He immediately knows that he needs to check on his little one and he finds them whimpering and tossing about in their bed with a look of extreme discomfort. The next few days would be a rough trial for Pure Vanilla, as he tries his best to keep them comfortable enough to lighten up the weather outside, but it still affects the way that the environment balances itself. He keeps them cool, comforted, and filled with yummy jam soup while they endure the sickness. But only when the little one feels like they could eat, as he doesn't force them otherwise. He may loose precious sleep while tending to them, but he tries his best to get them through such a rough patch. Then one day, the sun rises and all the weather phenomenon is normal and completely typical. He checks on his little one and is relieved that their fever finally broke and that their own immune system was able to fight off whatever was ailing them. When they wake up, they happily embrace their father and beg for a good meal after nothing but jam soup for the last few days. To which their relieved tired father is more than happy to oblige. Human illnesses are hard for cookies to deal with, especially ones that can only be fought off by the human's own immune system. But with a few trial and error methods, they eventually find some good remedies to help the tiny human cope with sicknesses while they grow up into a stronger adult. Pure Vanilla would definitely be sleeping like a rock after such an intense scare and exhausting acts of caring for the human while they recovered from their intense fever. He also thinks about getting them inoculated...but he doubts that anything that cookies made for vaccines would work for humans. Maybe he needs to reach out and see if there is an expert or a cookie with the perfect background for developing preventives? Who knows. He's just glad that it's over and that the weather finally has it's own will back.

[loveandmurders]

Red string and crimson hands (Poly!Sinclair brothers x afab!reader) - Part V

Hi everyone, this is the second part of this new soulmate AU requested by @mrstargayen09 .

You can find part 1 here, part 2 here and part 3 here, part 4 here.

This part is basically smut without plot. Reader has sex with Vincent and Lester (separately). Sorry Bo.

Hope you'll enjoy <3

Warnings: no proof reading, NSFW, horny!reader, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), penetration, breast play,

The twins got quite relieved when Lester and you came back home. You busied yourself by putting away the snacks you got in the kitchen. You were certain Lester had engraved everything in his brain to make sure to get them again next time you would ask for them. Bo was more than happy to make room in the kitchen for your stuff too. It felt right to have your belongings around the house once again, especially now they didn’t have to deal with their parents.

The brothers were hopeful you were going to stay. For the moment, you seemed to enjoy your time with them all. Of course, it had only been a day, but they did good. And you truly woke up all the feelings they had for you. If you had needed the red strings to know they were your soulmates, you had always been an evidence to them.

Being in Ambrose, and even more in this house, woke up something in your brain.

You dreamt about your past. 

You dreamt about Bo kissing your knuckles whenever he got the chance, and the way he intertwined his fingers with you. He enjoyed making out with you when you were on his lap, and you could almost feel his hands roaming your body and leading to something more than just kisses. 

You dreamt about Vincent hugging you from behind and removing enough of his mask to kiss your neck. It always made you shiver in desire as he tightened his hold on you. What was making him completely melt against you was when you were softly stroking his face and kissing his lips with tenderness.

You dreamt about Lester playfully kissing the tip of your nose before kissing your forehead and whispering to you how much he adored you and would always look after you. Lester also loved to fall asleep on top of your naked body as you were gently scratching his scalp and reading to him; he would nuzzle into your neck.

You also dreamt about the way they would pleasure you out of your mind, fingering you, eating you up and fucking you silly. You remembered how competitive they were between the three of them; they all wanted to be the best to you in bed. 

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you were a drenched mess and you groaned to yourself. From what you could recall, you had never wanted anyone that badly, and more importantly you had never felt that at ease with anyone else. It was obvious that in your dreams, you weren’t self conscious about your body, you weren’t feeling shy about your desires or your moans of pleasure, and you were also very much enjoying the power you had over the three men. You loved to receive, but you also loved to give them, and to watch them combust in pleasure for you. 

You thought you were quite lucky to not get only one, but three smoking hot soulmates. Fate had been kind to you in a way, as you easily forgot about the killings. A little voice in your head told you that you could go find any of them so they could satisfy you now, but you didn’t dare.

You still decided to get up and to get some fresh water, hoping it would calm you down. You quietly walked downstairs, and went into the kitchen. You were sipping at your water, looking around yourself, when you heard the basement door being cracked open. Soon enough, you were joined by Jonesy. You knelt down to pet her; she happily greeted your caresses. 

You felt eyes on you so you looked up and saw Vincent observing you from the entrance. You had forgotten you were only wearing a crop top and shorts as pyjamas, but you quickly remembered it with the way the man watched you. You smirked.

“Enjoying the view?” you teased as you stood up in your whole glory. 

Vincent cursed himself for not wearing his mask so he could have concealed his emotions behind it. He looked away, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. He had just wanted to come upstairs to check on you - as he had heard in his light sleep that you were going into the kitchen.

You didn’t know what happened to you but you walked to him and placed your hands on his shoulders. It startled him, but he didn’t push you away. He watched you with curiosity. His hands were itching from finding your waist, but he didn’t want to push his luck. He thought Bo would have done so, but he wasn’t Bo.

“You’re tall” you commented and as your hands moved down his arms, you smiled even more “And strong”. 

You found his hands and placed them on your hips without even thinking about it. It felt right. Vincent leaned closer to you, half thinking it had to be a pleasant dream. Your fingers were about to reach for his face but you stopped, not wanting to overstep.

“Can I?” you asked and Vincent instantly nodded. 

You had no idea how tight and painful his skin had felt without your touch for that long. You smiled again and started to gently stroke his cheeks. He closed his eye in happiness and nuzzled into your palms, before kissing it.

“You’re very hot, you know” you whispered and it surprised you how straightforward you were with him.

Once again, it felt right and it felt normal. He was your soulmate and you recalled how familiar and comforting his presence was. Vincent shot you a shocked glance at such words though, because no, he didn’t know he was “hot”. He was a little bit desperate that he couldn't easily reciprocate your flirting comments, but you could read his body language. 

“Yes… I really don’t know how I’ve been able to leave the three of you behind when you are so hot and I’m sure you’re so nice to me too, aren’t you?” you mused and Vincent nodded, his hold on you tightening as he pressed your body against his.

Of course they were good to their goddess. 

You tiptoed and your lips found his. He was more than happy to hungrily reply to your kiss. He gently reached for behind your thighs and easily sat you down on the kitchen table. He settled in between your legs as he continued to kiss you. The make out session was getting very heated and you both needed more.

“Please, Vince, need you so much” you whined

His lips found your neck, and then your collarbone. He knelt in front of you and waited for you to help him remove your shorts and panties. He would have wanted to tease you a little longer by kissing your legs, but he was a starved man who had missed touching his soulmate very much. 

Very soon you were biting down your lips so you wouldn’t wake up the whole household with your sounds of pleasure. The man definitely knew how to efficiently eat you out, just like in your dreams. The way he played with you clit and then the way his rough fingers reached your spot inside of you had you cumming all over his face a lot quicker than you had anticipated. 

You couldn’t think as you got him standing up again and helping him with his own erection. You guided him inside of you, like you did countless times before, and wrapped your legs around his waist to keep him deep inside of you. He started to kiss you again so he would keep his own sounds of pleasure quiet.

You both forgot about anything else but the two of you being one once again. He was careful to match your pace and his hand found your clit. You whined his name and it almost made him orgasm right away. He couldn’t believe he was the first one of his brothers to get to touch you again. It was true that in the past, he had always been your confidant and the one you trusted the most with your thoughts. He was also the one able to appease you, when Bo was the one making you feel hot and amazing and Lester the one making you feel happy.

Orgasms ripped through the two of you and you panted against his chest for a little while. Vincent hugged you for a moment, catching his breath as well. He finally gently removed himself from you and put his pants back on. He cupped your face and silently asked you if you were alright by looking for your eyes with a slight frown on his face. He was quite reassured by the bright smile you gave him.

“Hot and good to me, yeah” you nodded and you saw the man blushing “But we made a mess” you hummed as you hopped off the table. “We really don’t want Bo to see that” you commented and you noticed a proud and amused glitter in Vincent’s eye “And I need a shower” you added as you put your clothes back on.

Vincent gestured to you to go upstairs for you to shower while he was going to clean the mess up. You thanked him and reached for his face to steal another kiss. You left the room under Vincent’s stare. He was the happiest man on Earth at that moment. He was certain things were going to be okay from now on.

You quickly found new pyjamas and panties before leaving your room.

You almost collided into Lester. 

The man woke up and because of the thoughts of you swirling in his mind, he wasn’t able to get back to sleep anymore. He was up for a walk. He was surprised to see you getting ready for a shower.

“Ya alright?” he whispered

“Wanna grab a shower with me?” you offer, because it wouldn’t be fair to only take care of one of your soulmates

“I… what?” Lester wasn’t sure he heard you right

“Vincent took care of me and I need a shower. But I’d be happy to shower with you. Except if you were going somewhere” you winked

“Vince took care of… Oh.” Lester realised what you meant and he looked at you up and down.

Of course his brother took care of you.

“Yes, let’s clean you up” Lester nodded as his hands found your hips.

He shivered at being allowed to touch you like that once again. He bit down on his lips before leaning toward you. You happily kissed him back, your arms going behind his neck.

“Come” you ordered as you broke the kiss to guide him toward the bathroom

You locked the door behind the two of you and you started to undress in front of the man, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You just had sex with his brother and you were pretty certain Lester saw you naked very often in the past. You weren’t feeling shy or uneasy. You just wanted him. Like you knew you would want Bo later on. But for the moment, your attention was completely on Lester. You helped him undress because he seemed completely in trance in front of your body.

“Ya’re a goddess” he whispered to you with such sincerity in the voice that you stopped for a moment to kiss him again

“You really love me, don’t you?” you smiled against his lips

“More than anythin'” he admitted

You turned the hot water on, then tugged Lester under it. He loved how you didn’t hesitate. He quickly grabbed the bar of soap and started to clean you up. He had you sitting down on the bench so he could worship you, like you deserved to be. He knelt in front of you to start with your legs. He was as hungry as Vincent as been with you before, but he was more patient. He wanted to make you feel good about yourself first. He wanted to show you that he was yours and eager to look after you. He massaged you as you leaned against the shower wall, closing your eyes in well being. Your mind quietened down completely.

Lester continued to wash your body while working on any knots he could find. He didn’t dare touch your private parts; but he still enjoyed the intimacy of the moment and the trust you had in him. He finished with your shoulders and arms.

You looked back at him and cupped his face for kisses. You were grateful for the soulmates Fate sent you. You guided his hands on your breasts and he happily started to play with them. His mouth left yours, to find its way toward your nipples that he started to nibble and suck on. You moaned his name and bucked against him. After the two orgasms Vincent already gave you, you were pretty sensitive, but you enjoyed it way too much for your own good. You were getting soaked again, for Lester this time. Your fingers found his hair and you tugged on it, earning a growl of pleasure from the man.

His hand slowly moved to your clit and he teasingly played with you. You were tingling so bad, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You got up without a warning, and Lester worried he did something wrong before you quickly guided him on the bench. You sat him down.

“Need to ride you so bad” you admitted and Lester blushed while looking at you with heart eyes

“I want ya so much too” he nodded as his hands went on your hips and on his member so he could help you settle around him.

You moaned his name as you took him in so well. You were so full and your walls tightened around him, as if to not let him go. He panted against the shower well, completely overwhelmed with a pleasure he didn’t even remember existed. You started to slowly go up and down as Lester murmured sweet nothings to you, in between moans of pleasure. You brought his head back to your chest as his fingers flickered with your clit.

You both climaxed and you swore you could have fallen asleep on top of the man. Lester helped you standing up, finished to wash you up and himself before getting you out of the shower. He dried you and dressed you.

“So good to me” you whispered and he smiled at you

“Always” he promised

Lester carried you to bed and because you refused to let him go, he settled by your side, and you both slept like happy babies.

--

Part 6

--

Taglist: @staley83 - @joyfulllittlething - @qardasngan

[splitfictionthings]

Zoe and Mio Living Together Headcanons

- First, just for context for the rest of these headcanons, I will say they definitely did not get together immediately after the machine

- Girliepops speedran 6 months of emotional bonding they need some time to BREATHE

- That being said both of them are immediate fixtures in each others lives after that because neither of them really have anyone else

- Mio has her dad but he's in hospital and Zoe's family are in England so they naturally just gravitate to each other

- I headcanon Zoe moved to America not long before the whole Rader shebang to hope for better opportunities. I imagine that at the time of the Rader debacle she is living in a small apartment with 3 roommates who she doesn't know very well, and spends most of her time in her room alone. Mio, obviously having lived there for a while, has her own shitty 1 bed apartment, but it's hers and hers alone

- Anyway both of these girls are lonely and Zoe really wants to get out of the whole room share situation and Mio's like well I've not got a lot of space but you've been in my brain so we've definitely been closer

- So Mio manages to cram her desk into the living room and change the small office into a make shift bedroom and the girls are living together before the month is out

- Zoe sleeps on an air mattress for about two months and Mio feels bad about it and insists they swap beds every other day to avoid fucking up her back

- Zoe screams at the state of Mio's cupboards (girl is living on instant noodles and frozen pizza) and immediately goes to buy a bunch of stuff. They may be broke but Zoe can still make things like pasta and stir fries now they have two incomes. Mio will be eating a vegetable so help her god

- Neither of them can stick to a colour scheme. They keep finding cute decor and just buying it without thinking about the rest of the flat. When they get a house many years down the line the rooms have a loose theme but it's still mostly just chaos

- Mio has a nice squishy couch but prefers to lay on the floor. Similarly Zoe perches on the back of the couch like a heathen. The only time they sit normally on the couch is when their (limited unfortunately) friends come over

- Some of Rader's other victims asked to come over once to talk about what happened and both girls got so stressed that Mio locked herself in the bathroom for an hour panicking and Zoe stress-cleaned every room. Pretty on par for any visitors.

- Both had nightmares quite frequently after the Rader situation (duh). While they weren't quite bold enough to go crawling into each others beds they would still seek help. Every time Zoe insisted on having a 'sleepover' so they could be near each other.

- Speaking of sleepovers, Zoe once tried to have a proper 'girls night' with Mio. Unfortunately the face mask dropped on her lips and she licked it and proceeded to throw up. Kinda ruined the vibe.

- They still have 'girls night's though. Only Zoe's allowed to have a face mask though.

- Mio tries to get Zoe to watch horror films, then feels bad about Zoe hiding behind pillows for 30 mins and tries to change it. Zoe argues that she wants to see it through to the end. Both are too stubborn and then neither feel good at the end of it.

- They write on the same desk, whether it's their shared stories or separate stories. God forbid someone accidentally elbow the other because it'll end up in a pushing and shoving match with someone eventually getting wrestled under the other and bullied into submission.

- Zoe likes to tease Mio about being short by putting things up high. Mio is only a couple of centimetres shorter than Zoe but has shorter arms and consequently finds this extremely irritating. Zoe got her a step stool and Mio hid all her left socks for revenge.

- They have a wall calendar because neither of them can remember what they're meant to be doing. They then have alarms to remind them to put the stuff they need to do on the calendar because they forgot to do that as well.

- So. Many. Notebooks. Zoe refuses to do anything on a laptop and Mio's laptop is twenty years old and hanging on by spite alone. Entire bookshelves dedicated to notebooks.

[le-panda-chocovore]

TojiShiu Headcanon

Sometimes, when Shiu knows the client is going to be difficult or that the job will be a huge pain, he doesn't ask Toji to come. He tells him that he'll handle without him. And sometimes, Toji feels like he's unwanted and unneeded, or that Shiu thinks he's too weak to handle this kind of things, and it stings. Shiu immediately notices that shift on Toji's face when he starts spiralling and digging his heels in.

"Toji," Shiu starts with a soft voice. He takes the man's chin between his fingers and makes their eyes meet. "I like having you around, but I know you won't enjoy being there. I don't want you to feel like you're back at home. I want you to have fun, so step aside for this one. Go to a casino and play some games, watch a race, eat good food. I'm not the Zenin, I won't have you stand in silence to please a bunch of douchebags. I told you before, I'll make this world a fun place for you, I'll give you something interesting to fight for. And this isn't it. This isn't worthy of your efforts. It's alright, I'll find someone else. You should enjoy your day."

And Toji has to breath deeply to stop himself from sobbing, because he never felt that much seen and understood. Because he knows Shiu cares for him. Because this man will make his own life harder if it gets to make Toji's easier.

"I'll find you a great job later, one with good money and nice killing." Shiu continues, stroking the Sorcerer Killer's cheek. "But this one ain't for you. You'll hate it."

Toji hums and has to fight the urge to nuzzle against Shiu's neck. He doesn't say anything for a while, then he gets up, gathers his stuff, and says let's go. He'll do the job, it's fine. He can't help it when Shiu is considerate like this, it makes him want to show his best behavior, even if he hates acting nice for others. He doesn't mind anymore, because Shiu does everything for him to feel good, so this is nothing. He can smiles and be silent when assholes trashtalk an him and his reputation. He can endure it when he knows Shiu cares about him more than anyone ever did. He wants to do it because Shiu cares for him that much. And Shiu loves him even more for that.

They walk out of the job and Shiu pulls Toji close to run a hand through his hair and he says, "You did great today, I'm proud of you. You didn't have to come, yet you were so good and nice the whole time. Thank you Toji." And who can blame Toji for completely melting into the middleman's arms after these words ? For shyly asking for a kiss and sighing dreamily when his request was granted ? He was only human after all.

[that-sudsy]

🍅SUDSY NOTES: Hello, everyone! This story is dedicated to @goatgoesmbe , who could use a little cheering up right now. I hope Gaz (I didn't know who your favourite character was so I tried to guess) can bring a smile to your face during this gloomy moment. And to anyone else feeling under the weather, may our favourite Kyle "Gaz" Garrick lift your spirits!

If you have any requests or know someone else who needs a bit of cheering up from their favourite characters from cod or other Fandom, feel free to leave me a message in my ask box.

🍅MASTERLIST

Dosage of Care

You and Kyle "Gaz" Garrick had been best mates for as long as you could remember. It all started with a simple competition: who could get back to base first. But as missions grew tougher, you both found yourselves spending more time in the medic bay than on the battlefield, getting patched up after each escapade. The awkwardness of undressing in front of each other faded away, especially since Kyle seemed to have a knack for getting himself into scrapes.

You nearly had a heart attack when you heard he fell off a helicopter. When he finally returned, you hugged him tightly, then playfully slapped his arm.

"Don’t you ever do that again, Kyle! I was worried sick!"

You were always there, waiting for him to return to base, and today was no different.

~**Present Day**~

Kyle stepped off the helicopter as Nikolai switched off the engine. Instead of their usual cool poses, they emerged with groans and aching muscles. Kyle sighed heavily as Soap slid the door open and hopped out.

They all went their separate ways—Simon needed to clean his uniform after a rather unfortunate encounter with a sewer, Soap needed a patch-up after getting shot, and Price had a mission report to file. Kyle, however, headed straight for the medic bay, not because he was injured (a rare occurrence), but to find you.

He peeked inside, only to find you absent. Your partner was on duty.

“She isn’t here, Garrick. She’s off duty,” the medic said.

“What do you mean, off duty?” Kyle replied, his thick English accent laced with concern. “It’s a Saturday! She works weekends!”

The medic nodded. “Aye, but she wasn’t feeling well. She’s in her quarters.”

Kyle thanked her and made his way to your quarters. Before he could knock, he heard you cough and sniffle. He knocked gently and opened the door. “Love?” he called, only to find you curled up under the covers with a small pout.

“Oh dear, you look absolutely dreadful,” he said, approaching you as he removed his gloves and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I feel terrible, Kyle... How was—ACHOO!—your mission?” you asked, despite your weak and tired state.

“It was alright, nothing special, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is you getting well. Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice softening.

“No, you’ll get sick too,” you protested weakly.

“I don’t mind, as long as I get to look after you. You always take care of me,” he whispered sweetly. “Now, let’s get you some soup and meds.” He placed a gentle kiss on top of your head. “Stay put, alright?”

Kyle stood up and left your quarters. A few moments later, he returned with an impressive stack of goodies that nearly obscured his view: comforters, pillows, meds, food, snacks, plushies, and a small portable DVD player.

“Where on earth did you get all this?” you asked, astonished.

Kyle grinned as he dumped the items onto the bed. “With a little help from Simon and Johnny, of course!” He placed the food on your study table. “I got you your favourite: soup from the Mess Hall, chips just in case, and your favourite action and rom-com films,” he said, patting the containers.

“I’m not really hungry, Kyle,” you said.

“But you’ve got to eat something, love,” he insisted, sitting beside you and lifting your chin with a finger. “It’ll help you heal faster. The soup has baby corn in it!”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, just a little bowl.”

Kyle nodded enthusiastically and prepared a small bowl for you, all while playing your favourite movie on the mini DVD player. Little did you know, he kept refilling the bowl until you’d polished off the entire serving.

He stayed close, ready to fetch anything you needed, even insisting on guiding you to the bathroom whenever you had to go. Kyle didn’t mind one bit.

When the movie ended and it was time for bed, he tucked you in snugly. You looked up at him and asked, “Why are you doing all this, Kyle?”

He met your gaze, his expression softening. “Because you take care of me when I need someone most. Right now, you’re the one who needs caring, so I’m here for you,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

Your stomach fluttered at his words. “I wish I could kiss you, but I don’t want to pass the bug to you,” you sniffled.

Kyle chuckled. “It’s alright, maybe after,” he said, planting a kiss on your forehead, then on the tip of your nose, and to your surprise, on your lips. You went wide-eyed and exclaimed, “Hey! No!”

“I thought you wanted it,” he grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“What if you get sick?” you protested.

“Nah, I can handle it. I’ve survived falling off a helicopter; a flu won’t take me down,” he said confidently, flashing that charming smile of his.

*After a week, you were fully recovered.*

But then, just as you were settling back into your routine, you heard a dramatic groan from the other room.

“ACHOO! I’M DYING!” Kyle exclaimed, throwing himself onto the couch with exaggerated flair.

You rushed in, a smirk on your face. “Oh, come on, Kyle! You’re not dying; you just have a cold!”

He looked up at you with puppy-dog eyes. “But I need my nurse, What if I can’t make it through the night?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “Alright, alright, I’ll take care of you, but you owe me a kiss for every bowl of soup I make you.”

“Deal” he said, grinning from ear to ear, his spirits lifting at the thought of your care.

Borders by @saradika-graphics

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