#they'd just look cluttered that way

[starcrossedjedis]

I see a lot of smack talk from the younglings about the "Sad Beige Millenial Aesthetic" - and while I agree that some Youtube Mums should get prison time for doing their kids' nurseries that way, I cannot stress enough the calming effect this aesthetic has on my "undiagnosed for 39yrs" ADHD brain.

Let me have my stark white Ikea furniture and my muddy coloured accessories, it helps me get the laundry folded before my kids outgrow it 🙈

[fandomwritingbit]

💀Hallowe'en Special💀

After Hours,

Springtrap x fem reader

Synop: Sneaking into a horror attraction after dark was really fucking stupid and you're about to find out just how much. 

A/n: I totally get that this probably isn't everyone's cup of tea, so please be warned, also bare in mind writing for Springtrap is completely new for me.

Warnings: Springtrap/william afton. Explicit non-con/rape. Violence. Threat. Themes of kidnapping.

Credit to image creator.

It was everything you expected and more.

The building reeked of lack of care, practically falling apart with all its paint peeling and the half illuminated sign. It looks creepy as fuck. That's why you came. 

You love to be scared. And this place has the potential to be truly terrifying. 

You spoke to a friend of yours who told you they'd done exactly this a week or so ago. And it was soooo much better after hours, when you can go where you want to and do what you want to; which in your case is dick around with the animatronics. They were supposed to come along as well but flaked out last minute, leaving you standing in front of the place on your lonesome. But you’re not one to be defeated by a shit friend not showing, so you’re still going to go in.

And so, with your phone torch lighting your way you go to the back of the building. And unsurprisingly you're greeted with a high fence with its gate chained closed. That isn't going to stop you though. Smirking, you throw your backpack over the fence and then slide your phone under it, torch up so you can sort of see what you're doing. 

One foot wedges in the metal, the toe of your shoe just able to fit through the diamond-shaped gap enough to give you purchase, letting you slot your other foot in the gap a little higher up. It was easy really, almost like they wanted you to hop over it, no anti-climb or spikes or anything. At the top of the fence you sit for a moment, wishing you kept hold of your phone for a photo here, illuminated by the solitary light of the building sign. Oh well, there's always the opportunity on the way out. 

You jump down, careful to land with bended knees, if you hurt yourself you wouldn’t exactly be able to call an ambulance. From there you dust yourself off for a minute and grab all your stuff, wincing when the harsh light of your phone catches your eye. 

"And now the fun begins." You whisper to yourself, as you slip around the building, quickly laying your eyes on the back door, which according to your mate was easy pickings, quite literally. Shoving your makeshift kit into the lock, it only takes a few moments of jiggling in before, hey presto, the bitch clicks open. It really was too easy. 

Inside, you flash your torch around this hallway, thinking to yourself that it looks like a 'back-stage' area with all the clutter and, god, the dust, which now flitted through the air disturbed by your movement. Honestly, with the amount of it caked on everything you wouldn’t think that this place was operational. Box after box lay on the chequered tile floor and you follow them down the corridor, checking door handles along your way. 

One opens to reveal a small cupboard filled with toilet roll and cleaning supplies. Another to one with stacks of papers, documents of some kind, probably accounts or some shit, but seriously who keeps paper copies nowadays? But the third one was the most interesting one. 

The metal door was a labour to open, scraping into the floor over a mark from others doing the same thing, the room was dark but you can tell instantly that it’s much bigger than the previous two. You use your phone torch to scan through the pitch black, revealing the jackpot. Animatronic heads are mounted on the wall like the room belongs to some kind of a  game hunter. Pointing the light down, you see the rest of the beasts, huge chest cases and clumpy-looking feet littered along the floor And in the corner the skeletons, light bouncing off them back at you, their eyes reflecting red. 

“Ho-ly shit…” You say into the darkness, grinning from ear to ear. This place was fucking insane, in the absloute best way. You waste no time inserting yourself in the room, placing huge metal heads over your shoulders and snapping a few pics looking like some demonic purple rabbit. Then some more with your arm draped over these endo-skeleton things, these took you a bit longer to build the courage to touch because fuck, their eyes were staring right into the depths of your soul. But once you did touch them and they didn’t pounce on you, you felt reassured enough to tackle anything else this creepy attraction would throw at you. 

After about ten minutes in your photoshoot, you leave the room wanting to see more than the behind the scenes stuff, you may as well see all the bits the normies get to see. Looking online earlier you knew all about the set up, creepy 80s looking corridors designed to mirror an old pizzeria chain, where apparently some kids had gone missing. Patrons could even sit inside the faux-security office taking shifts trying not to jump out of their skins as robotic creatures stalked them. Now that, you’re dying to see. 

It takes you no time to find the corridors leading to the security office, on the way discovering the dormant animatronics. One a seven foot fucking teddy bear, another a beat up looking rabbit. Golden- or maybe green, it’s hard to tell in the absence of light. This one is particularly nerve-wracking, something about its stance, it’s head tilted to the side but its eyes looking up. 

“Fuuuuck,” you giggle, angling your head to look into the creature’s mouth, open only slightly. “the designers did a good job on you, shit…” It’s only when your face gets very close to it, the robot shifts, its metallic body struggling loudly in the otherwise silent building. You flinch hard, body shoving itself away from it, thudding against the wall hard enough to wind yourself. It quickly halts, the movement dying when its head fully rears. 

You breathe out shakily, laughing at your own stupidity, clearly you triggered some kind of motion sensor and paid the price for it. You shake your head at the beast, moving away from it down the corridor and into the office, careful not to get too close to anything else that could try to scare the shit out of you. You finally manage it, and step into the office through a doorway without the actual door part, an excited smile spreading across your face. This is so fucking cool, you think, crouching down to look at a monitor on the desk, then deciding to sit in the grimy swivel chair in front of it. You then notice that the desk has drawers in it and move to look through them, an eagerly curious part of you taking over. The top one is full of a tonne of random shit sellotape, paperclips, a computer mouse and its ancient cord. The one underneath though, sticks, you rive it hard to try and open it, even more intrigued that it wouldn’t open. You jiggle it hard, the rattle echoing in the large room, but your efforts amount to fuck all and it doesnt move an inch. 

You sigh, calling the drawer a bastard under your breath and recline a little in the seat, closing your eyes for a moment. When you open them you nearly jump six feet in the air at the sight of that fucking animatronic from earlier, the yellow bunny, standing in the the doorway, it’s huge head peeking round the corner, staring directly at you. How in god’s name didn’t you hear the fucking thing move? It must weigh loads and it looks old, so there’s no way it can move silently.

“God, this place.” you say, to yourself, to the room, it doesn’t matter. You’ve had enough scares for tonight, it’s probably best if you bail before you trigger any other attractions. No longer smiling, you stand up hesitantly, moving slowly and consciously. Some kind of dread now hanging in the air because this fucking rabbit is really creepy.

You walk up to the door and carefully squeeze yourself through the gap, desperate to not touch the thing. Managing it, you outwardly sigh, that was a small mercy because some loud noise from the robot would probably give you a heart attack right now. You step away from it, ready to get yourself out of here. But the second your back is turned the most agonising sound makes you freeze. 

Breathing. Raspy, pained, human, fucking breathing. 

Your turning around is prevented by the cold grip on your throat, backing you up against its metal body, its lack of body heat making goosebumps spring over you instantly. Uselessly, you push against its hold, instinctively wanting to get away from it and the reality of what was happening. But your struggling just makes it grip you harder, thick plastic fingers tight on the base of your throat. 

A deeply coarse sound vibrates from the creature, a breathy sound that takes you a while to realise is laughter. Laughter cold and mean, making your heart hammer in your chest. “What stupid little girl snoops around in the dark on her own?” Each word sounds painful, it must take the thing sheer will to push past such agony just to taunt you.

You tremble, “What- what are you?” the words so quietly terrified you can’t believe they’re your own. There’s no way this is part of the attraction. Just no way anyone would program this to grab patrons so violently. This was something all too wrong and all too real. 

Without warning or hesitation the creature uses your throat as leverage to slam you against the wall, there’s no room for protest or struggling, it’s power is inhumanly strong. You cry out when your body hits the concrete, its unfeeling coolness stark contrast to the fretful heat coming from you. The robot’s head cranes down above yours, a subtle clicking alerting you to every slight movement. You’re winded, energy trickling down your face as tears when you’re dawned to the terrifying conclusion that you’re trapped.

It finally answers you, the raspy voice coiling your stomach in fear. “Your worst fucking nightmare.” The creature must hear you sob in response because again it- he laughs, it’s cold and mocking. Only stopping when he takes the time to parrot your desperate fearful noises back at you, making himself laugh again. It’s becoming clear to you that this must be a person, someone inside this awful thing, an employee gone rogue, trying to scare the living daylights out of people stupid enough to break in… maybe. But that voice…

“You’re hurting me.” You choke out, unsure of what you’re trying to accomplish. Internally reasoning that people have empathy and people can be talked down, you hope that he’ll let you go but it seems more and more unlikely by the second. The hand on the back of your head flexes, tangling in your hair and yanking your head upwards so you can glimpse him out of the corner of your eyes and the sight is just awful. 

The inexpressive face comes close as the man inside hisses through the rabbit mask, “You don’t know the meaning of hurt.”  

“Look,” you whimper, “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have come here.” The words are near incomprehensible through your tears. “God, I shouldn’t have come here…” You repeat, body convulsing under the monster’s grip. Your crying is loud in the corridor, echoing off the hard floors and mirroring the heartbreaking sound back at you. You're lost in it for a couple of seconds whilst this thing seems to just enjoy the sound, before the air is knocked from your lungs by the creature’s hand trailing down the arch of your back, all the way down to your behind where he grabs a hard handful of your flesh. It’s so unexpected that you just stare at what you can see of him over your shoulder, now silently shaking. The action turns your stomach, it doesn’t hurt but it’s rough and riddled with intent. 

His other hand moves, turning you around before again shoving you to the wall and caging you in with his massive frame, using that insane strength to push you down to your knees. “No,” He almost coos, “You shouldn’t have. But don’t worry… I won’t let you go to waste.” 

Whilst you're still making sense of the words, the monster grabs itself at the waist, huge fingers prying between the metal plates and rummaging until he frees his very human and very real penis. You don't want this and the disdain is evident in your eyes, but a dark part of you thinks that to please him will make him let you go. He holds himself before you, there's no illusion even with the suit that he's huge and the thought scares you.

The metallic hand in your hair pulls your head towards him and you obey, fear making you compliant. He smears himself against your lips, precum already leaking from his tip and laying warm on your face. He doesn't have to tell you to open your mouth, the rough tilting of your head is enough, and you hesitantly part your lips, flinching when he yanks you towards him. Your eyes involuntarily close when he shoves his cock in your mouth, he doesn't hold back, pushing himself as far in your throat as he can before you gag, your hands frenzied grabbing at the creature's hips. He pulls back for a moment before shoving back in repeatedly, forcing your jaw open to accept him each time. 

He grunts, burying himself inside your throat and holding you still. "You'll have to do better than that, if you're scared of me hurting you." The snarl in his voice makes your eyes wide with realisation of what he wants. You obey without question, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him as good as you can, his grip relenting enough to let you. Swirling your tongue on the underside of his shaft with only the goal of getting this over with as soon as possible. It’s like he knows and the huge hand in your hair slows your movement, forcing you to take him slow and deep, revelling in the feeling of your hot mouth and the frantic way your eyes dart around. 

The salty taste of his big cock stirs you, and each time he uses your mouth it makes your heat betray the pain of his brutal hold. It’s instinctual and even though your mind is against it your body is reacting. Trying to push the conflicting feelings from your mind you continue sucking, an eagerness spurring you on when he groans, he’s close, you can tell from the leniency in his grip. But just as you’re getting your hopes up that he’s going to finish, he pulls your lips from him, making you look up at the terrifying form above you. The sudden dread that sizzles through you is inexplicable, it’s almost as though you forgot how horrifying this costume was and the reminder shocks your core. 

You look so frightened kneeling there, your pupils tiny and your lips still parted, saliva dripping down your chin that underneath the mask he smirks cruelly, the action painful enough to make his cock twitch. With how warm and slick your mouth was, he can only imagine how tight your little cunt is going to be, fuck it’s been so long since he last broke a pretty thing like you. He’s going to savour it. 

“Stand up.” The monster commands, the raspy voice insanely harsh. You obey without question your legs trembling as all trace of hope leaves you, all chance of this ending any time soon trickled between your legs. As soon as you reach your feet his large hand grabs your shoulder shoving you forwards, back towards that old guard’s office you left only minutes ago, but it felt like years. Stumbling through the doorway, the brief idea of running flashes through your mind, but you’re too scared, you don’t want to make what this man was going to do worse. 

You don’t have the chance anyway, with crazy strength he catches your arm, forcing your body down onto the desk in front of you. A pathetic whimper leaves your lips at the rough action, your whole body still shaking. Once he has you where he wants you, the creature’s huge hands rake over your body, no gentleness or intimacy in his touch, just pure malicious lust. He gabs at your breasts, fingers digging harshly into the sensitive skin, then roughly pulling up the fabric of your shirt, so roughly the material tears. You’d be cold if not for the raging adrenaline in your veins. At the sight of your naked torso the mascot bears down on you, no emotion in its dead eyes, “Such a stupid girl, coming here, getting yourself in trouble. Is this what you wanted, huh?” To punctuate the question he takes hold of your face, squeezing your cheeks so that you let out a shaky gasp. 

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling against the hold that was making your teeth hurt, but he doesn’t move an inch. At your silence he grabs your left tit pinching your nipple so hard your body raises from the desk to try and escape it. “Huh?” He snarls again. And you try to shake your head, but with no way to move you’re forced to speak. 

“No-o.” Your voice cracks, your answer making the creature above you grind his cock against your thigh, the godforsaken suit preventing him from touching himself, his own unique fucking torture. His mocking spurs a sudden surge of fight  and sees your legs rise and kick hard at his chest, the dull thud of striking metal echoing in the dark room. It’s useless, and his laughing is only proof. He holds your legs against his chest with one hand, using the other to tug down your legging and the panties you were wearing underneath, taking them completely from your body and discarding them on the dirty floor. 

Looking down at your wet cunt he near growls, such a slick little fucktoy that walked right into his grasp. Cold metallic fingers trace over your entrance, pulling your folds apart to see the trembling of your hole, your unwanted wetness coating his fingers. You hate yourself for being aroused but maybe it’s for the best, maybe it’ll make this more bearable. You quiver when his digit pokes inside you the costume fingers large enough to stretch you open when he sinks in, you groan the invasion pressing against a coil in your core. Seeing how your pussy swallowed his finger so well, tight around him when he fucked it in and out made him pull away, needing his hands to hold your thighs down as he rubbed the head of his dick against your entrance. Desperate to feel the grip of your walls on one of the only parts of him that remained intact. 

He shoves into you roughly, forcing your walls to accept him, all air in your lungs leaving in a suffered groan. He’s thick and long and pushing to the hilt you feel more than full, like he was taking you over, touching all of you at once. The stretch burned but the pain quickly dulled when he began rutting into you, a selfishly brutal pace that had you helplessly gasping. He fucks you as deep as the suit will allow him, the waist of the costume slamming into your hips so hard the desk thudded against the floor. 

It’s like you’re outside of your body looking at the scene, feeling his hands move to lift your body from the desk, holding you and manipulating the angle of his pounding to suit him. Shoving into the part of you that makes you scream and your juices spill around the base of his cock. It doesn't feel real, but at the same time is brutally so an unwilling pleasure seizing hold of you and making you clench around his length. He groans,not stopping his pace as you begin to flutter around him, what a filthy fucking thing you are to enjoy this, he thinks, the thought making him fuck you harder. Forceful thrusts that quickly beginning to stutter as the monster nears his end, bursting inside you like an animal and stuffing you full of him. You’re dirty, used and broken, letting the cum seep around him, dripping down onto the desk. 

He holds you still for what feels like hours before dropping you down onto the slick tabletop, leaving you to crumple on the floor. There’s no coherent thoughts in your mind, just a frightening emptiness as you get to your knees and crawl over to where he threw your clothes, hands shaking as you try to gather them up. He chuckles at your form, bruises already beginning to show on your hips and thighs, before slowly walking to you, a cold metal foot shoving you over, your body thudding into the floor. 

“Now, where do you think you’re going?”

A/n: Here it is. My second Hallowe'en event, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I know this is very different to the kind of thing I usually write, but heck, why not try something new. X

Stay tuned for my third fic!

[growthhyp]

Hey there, have you got any spare sneakers for sale? Mine are on their last legs... Actually, I dunno why I asked. I'm a size 8, there's no way you'd have shoes that small in your garage sale. Sorry for bothering you, sir.

The White Sneakers

You've always felt like a leaf blown by the wind of life's harsh realities. Small and insignificant, people often overlooked you, assuming you couldn't handle the weight of the world. Your slender frame and high-pitched voice didn't scream 'college student'. More like a lost high-schooler who'd stumbled into the adult world by accident. But beneath the surface, you're made of sterner stuff. The academic scholarship that kept you afloat was a testament to your iron-clad determination and the hours spent in solitude, burning the midnight oil in your dorm room.

This weekend, however, you faced a new challenge. Your one and only pair of sneakers, the trusty companions that had seen you through countless shifts at the local diner and numerous late-night study sessions, were on their last legs. Literally. The soles were peeling away, the laces frayed, and the once-white fabric stained with the grime of hard work. If they gave out on you now, it could mean the end of your scholarship. No shoes, no job. No job, no school.

You'd heard about a garage sale around the block from a classmate who'd whispered about a rumor of hidden gems at rock-bottom prices. Desperation had painted your cheeks with a flush of hope, so you found yourself meandering through the cluttered maze of discarded goods, eyes peeled for salvation in the form of size 8 sneakers. And that's when you saw him. A man whose muscles looked like they were sculpted, wearing a tight tank top that showcased his bulging biceps and black shorts that struggled to contain his powerful thighs. He was the antithesis of your frail physique.

As you approached the makeshift counter, you felt your voice quiver with a mix of nerves and doubt. "Sir, have you got any spare sneakers for sale?" you squeaked out, your eyes scanning the pile of shoes that looked like they could swallow your feet whole. "Mine are on their last legs…" You gestured down to your sad, worn-out sneakers, the tattered soles flapping like a white flag of surrender. "Actually, I dunno why I asked. I'm a size 8, there's no way you'd have shoes that small in your garage sale. Sorry for bothering you, sir." The words tumbled out of your mouth faster than you could think them, the stutter betraying your lack of confidence.

The muscular man looked at you, a smile stretching across his face, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. "Don't you worry, son," he said, his voice deep and reassuring. "I might just have what you need." He turned and disappeared into the depths of his garage, his broad shoulders and thick arms moving with surprising grace amidst the clutter. The anticipation grew as you heard the sound of boxes shifting and the occasional thud of something being tossed aside in his quest.

When he emerged, he held out a pair of sneakers like a trophy. They were a brilliant white, as if they'd never seen a speck of dust. "Here you go," he said, his biceps flexing as he offered them to you. "These should fit you just fine." You stared at them in awe. They were practically brand new. "How much, sir?" you managed to ask, your voice still quivering slightly.

The muscular man looked at you, his eyes twinkling with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. "For someone as eager and hardworking as you, just a dollar," he said with a wink. "And remember, it'll grow you." You nodded, not quite sure what he meant, but too relieved to question it. You handed over the crumpled bill and took the sneakers, feeling the smooth material against your palms. "Th-thank you so much, sir," you stuttered.

As you made your way back to your dorm, the sneakers felt like a treasure trove. You'd never owned something so new, so pristine. The muscular man's kindness was a warm balm to your soul, a stark contrast to the arrogance of the muscular jocks you'd encountered in the past, who looked down on you as if you were invisible or a pesky gnat. You couldn't help but wonder if he'd really just been that generous, or if there was something more to it. But you shrugged it off, deciding to just be grateful for the small miracles that life threw your way.

Once in the sanctum of your dorm room, you lovingly placed the old sneakers into the trash bin, whispering your goodbyes to them. "You've been with me through thick and thin," you murmured, "but it's time to make way for something new." The white sneakers, still in their oversized glory, were next. You slid your feet into them and laced them up, feeling the cool embrace of the fabric and the firm grip of the laces around your ankles. The fit was snug, but not uncomfortable, almost as if they were custom-made for you, despite being two sizes too large.

But something strange began to happen. A warmth, akin to a gentle summer sunbathing session, began to spread from your feet up through your legs, a sensation that was both foreign and oddly comforting. It grew, enveloping your entire body in a warm embrace, and with it came a surge of something primal, a feeling of power that you had never experienced before. Your jeans grew tight around your groin as your cock began to swell, straining against the fabric with a newfound vitality that made you gasp and grunt with surprise.

"What the…?" you murmured, your voice trailing off as you felt your cock growing longer, thicker. It was as if your body had been a canvas, and the muscular man's words had painted on it a new, more potent reality. The fabric of your pants protested with a groan of its own as it stretched to accommodate your burgeoning manhood. You couldn't resist the urge to reach down and touch it, the heat of your hand against your skin sending shivers of pleasure up your spine. It was like nothing you had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that grew more intense with every passing second.

As you began to stroke your cock, you felt your biceps flex, the muscles swelling beneath your skin. The biceps grew, the two heads of the muscle forming a peak that bulged against your shirt. The fabric strained, the seams popping as your newfound strength began to show. Your forearms, once spindly and weak, grew thicker, the veins popping as the muscles beneath grew more defined. Your triceps grew to match, the horseshoe shape becoming more pronounced as you flexed your arms in amazement.

The warmth grew stronger, moving from your chest to your back. As your chest grew, you felt your pectoral muscles swell. Your once concave chest was now a broad plateau of power, the muscles pushing outward, creating a formidable presence. Your lats began to expand, the muscles stretching and thickening. The 'V-taper' grew more pronounced, pulling your waist in and making your shoulders appear broader than ever before. The shirt you wore was now nothing but a tattered mess, torn to shreds by the unstoppable growth of your back muscles. You could feel the power in your back as it grew, the muscles rippling and shifting, the strength of the transformation coursing through your body.

Your traps followed suit, the diamond-shaped muscles stretching and swelling. The growth made your neck look thicker, more powerful, and your shoulders even more defined. The sensation was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, a mix of pain and exhilaration that left you panting and gasping for breath. You could feel your posture changing, straightening, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders.

Next, your abs began to tighten, the weak, soft layer of flesh that had once covered your stomach retreating to reveal the beginnings of a chiseled six-pack. The muscles grew more prominent with each flex, the lines becoming sharper, more defined. Your shirt was now in tatters around your waist, the fabric unable to contain your newfound physique. You could see your abs rippling with every breath you took, each contraction sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The warmth traveled down to your legs, reaching your quads. The muscles grew, bulging with power as if they had a life of their own. The fabric of your jeans protested, the seams straining to hold back the growing mass of muscle. The sight was mesmerizing, your legs swelling before your very eyes. You felt like a Greek statue come to life, your legs now thick, powerful pillars that could bear the weight of the world.

As the transformation continued, your hamstrings followed suit, growing in tandem with your quads. The backs of your legs began to take on the sculpted look of a marble statue, each muscle defined and powerful. Your jeans, once snug, were now in shreds, hanging loosely around your bulging calves. The fabric was no match for the newfound might of your legs, and it tore away like paper, leaving you in your black boxer shorts.

Your feet grew too, stretching and filling the space that had been so vast in the sneakers. The sensation was strange, almost as if your bones were being rearranged and lengthened. You watched, fascinated, as your toes spread out, and the muscles in your feet bulged and grew. The sneakers that had once looked so oversized now fit like a glove, the leather stretching to conform to your growing physique. Each movement was accompanied by a delicious ache, a testament to the change that was occurring.

As your orgasm washed over you, your body released a flood of endorphins, and with it, your anxiety and fear drained away, replaced by a surge of raw, primal confidence. The feeling was exhilarating, like you'd been reborn. Your hand still wrapped around your cock, now slick with cum, you felt a newfound sense of power. You looked around the room, the shredded clothing a testament to the transformation you had undergone.

Reality had indeed shifted. You had always been a fitness enthusiast, but now you were something more. The muscles that had once been hidden under layers of self-doubt now bulged and rippled, ready to conquer the world. And so, it was with this newfound confidence that you decided to help others find their strength. You'd become a fitness influencer, sharing your journey and advice with those who sought to improve themselves. It had been a profitable venture, allowing you to live comfortably and focus on your studies.

The business course you'd taken had been a boon for your burgeoning online empire. You'd learned the ins and outs of marketing, turning your channel into a well-oiled machine that churned out content that resonated with your audience. You were no longer just a college student with a passion for fitness; you were a brand, a symbol of determination and growth. And as you flexed for the live stream, the camera capturing every bulge and curve of your sculpted form, you knew that you had truly found your calling.

[sl-ut]

sweet dreams

ended up having a baby dream during my nap and thought it would be a v cute burb concept for my sweet cliches series

set in this universe!

abby noticed that something was wrong with her girlfriend almost immediately after she returned from her morning run. she had, of course, left quite early and had been very careful not to wake her cranky pants gf up, but started questioning what she might have done to piss her off already when they hadn't even truly spoken a word.

y/n was in the kitchen when she got back, mixing herself an iced coffee and barely even responding to abby as she came over to kiss her good morning. abby shrugged it off, thinking she was still too tired, but when she rejected her invite to join her in the shower????? that's when she knew something was up.

she spent fifteen minutes in the shower, taking the extra time under the piping hot water to think it over. she knew it wasn't about her leaving a mess before she left; abby was the neat freak in the relationship, so it was usually her getting annoyed by clutter, not the other way around. they'd been on good terms last night, they had even found time in both of their busy schedules that allowed them some spare time to get it on...was it not good? abby thought she'd seen the telltale signs- the whimpers, the heaving chest, the swelling nail marks on her back... she'd never seen y/n fake it before, so she wasn't sure what she wasn't picking up on. unless... what if she had only ever seen her fake it???

then abby goes into panic mode. she finishes her routine as quick as she can (under ten minutes, our low maintenance queen!) and rushes out to find her girl curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, not even glancing her at abby as she took up the space next to her.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours? and don't say nothing."

the girl frowned before she stubbornly responded, "nothing."

"did i do something wrong?"

"no."

"then what's the matter? i don't like to see you so down."

"it's stupid."

abby scooted closer, pulling her girl onto her lap, "i could never think that anything to do with you is stupid. please tell me."

"fine, but you have to promise you won't laugh."

abby rolled her pretty blue eyes, "on my own life, i promise i won't laugh."

the girl let out a deep sigh before she mumbled something under her breath.

"gonna need you to speak up for me there, baby."

"i had a dream that i was pregnant and then i had our baby, and we lived in a cute little house with a dog and we were so happy..." she sniffled, "and then i woke up and none of it was real."

abby was silent for a moment before a small smile and chuckle began to crack through her forced serious expression.

"abby!" y/n slapped her arm when she finally broke out in full laughter, "you promised!"

"i'm sorry baby," she held her tighter to her chest to keep her from moving away and began to rock her, "i'm sorry. that was just so cute, if i didn't laugh i was gonna cry."

"i miss our baby."

abby was in her last year of med school, and thanks to her big beautiful brain (and her trust fund), she was remotely debt free. the two had already discussed their plans to start looking for a house in a nice neighbourhood as soon as abby graduated and got a permanent placement somewhere, but the discussion of kids had sort of been sidelined up until now.

the blonde shook her head, "i can't wait to meet our baby. just give me a year, and then we'll start making that dream come true."

y/n beamed with happiness, curling into her girlfriend's beefy arms, "i can't wait to carry your baby."

"trust me," abby chuckled, "i can't wait to put a baby in you. i bet i'll get it to stick first try, but i'm all about consistency. i'm thinking five nights a week minimum."

both girls giggled at abby's joke, snuggling closer together in a peaceful silence before y/n finally spoke up once more.

"abs... you know you can't actually get me pregnant, right? i mean, you're in medical school for god's sake."

[unemployedhockeyfan]

Not All Breakups Are Equal

Summary: Lando and Eloise, two best friends. They'd been there for one another for as long as they could remember. But, just a few short weeks change everything.

Warnings: angst I guess

Notes: Hi! This is a first for me, so please share your feedback!! Let me know if you want a part 2!!

[1.4k]

This was not how it was supposed to end. 

We were supposed to be friends until our dying breaths. If I let my true imagination wander, it wouldn’t have ended just like that either. If I was honest with myself early on, he would have been the man I saw as I walked down the aisle. 

But here we are in his way-too expensive Monaco apartment. 

“Eloise, I don’t understand why you are so pressed about this,” Lando shouted in my direction. 

The issue was nearly nonexistent three weeks ago. Lando, my best friend, had been seeing a new girl. I had tried my best to try and get to know her — it is what I always did when a new woman entered his life. 

The key is that I tried. She didn’t want any part in being my friend. Only a few days after I had met the new fling, I found out what she had to say about me. 

None of it was good. Honestly, most of it was vile. She’s so fake. She’s just jealous because he will never look at her like that. He just pities her. I’ll make him forget her name. 

As my mind continues to be clouded by what my best friend’s new girlfriend thinks of me, I’m thrust back into reality. Lando and I are shouting at each other — something we never used to do. Really, this may be the first time it’s ever happened. 

Max, a mutual friend to both of us, is sitting awkwardly on the couch. He clearly wishes he was anywhere but this apartment. I can only imagine what Lando’s neighbors are thinking at this moment. 

“How could I not care, Lando?” I yelled back.

“She was joking,” Lando responded. 

This wasn’t a joke. A joke is between friends. A joke isn't supposed to leave you crying on the bathroom floor. 

A joke isn’t supposed to end a friendship. 

“She was not joking, Lando. She was serious. If you cannot support me, if you cannot tell her that it’s not OK to talk about me like that, I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.” 

I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth, and by the look on Lando’s face, I don’t think he can either. 

“Eloise,” Lando said before he paused to take in my emotions. 

I felt the tears rolling down my face. I hadn’t even realized the tears had started to come. But how could they not? A 15-year friendship was only a few words away from ending. As I had made the proclamation, I glanced to my side and saw Max’s mouth agape. 

The three of us — the three musketeers — had been side-by-side-by-side for as long as I could remember. My twin brother had grown up karting with them, and while Lando and Max were friends with Rory, there was something about the three of us that clicked more. 

I watched from the sides as they grew up and chased their dreams and I watched as Lando made his Formula 1 debut. 

Along the way, I had apparently caught feelings for the British driver, too, but I’d never openly admit that. 

Max suspected it, though. 

“You can’t seriously be thinking about ending our friendship over this?”

“I don’t know, Lando. I think we’ll always be friends, but I can’t be an active participant in your life if she is too. I need to protect my own mental health.” 

Lando’s eyes were beginning to be rimmed with tears. 

I cannot believe I’m the person who’s making him cry. When he and Louisa went through their breakup and I saw how sad he was, I vowed that I would never be the reason for his tears. 

But, here we are and I’m making him cry. 

The longer I stand here in his kitchen, though, the more I start to think about it not actually being my fault. He’s the one who invited his new girlfriend into his life. She’s the one who said negative things about me. I’m just protecting myself. 

“No, Eloise, you can’t just walk out the door.”

My mind was so cluttered that I didn’t even realize I had taken steps toward his front door — that I had one hand on the doorknob. Here I was, though, a simple hand movement and step away from walking out of Lando Norris’ life. 

“I’m sorry.”

I twisted the handle, opened the door and walked out. 

I was three steps down the hallway when I heard the door slam closed. I paused, part of me hoping I’d hear his voice call out. All I wanted was for him to follow me out into the hallway and fight for me to stay. 

As I stood three feet away from his front door, it was silent. He hadn’t followed me, Lando was still in his apartment — likely gazing down at his kitchen counter with Max equally shocked sitting on the couch. 

It was silent. 

I glanced back at his apartment, willing the front door to open. It never did, so I turned back around and walked toward the elevator. 

This was it. Our friendship was over. No, our friendship was paused. I wouldn’t let it be over, at least not in my head. 

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much sleep I lost over it, I was going to always tell myself that Lando was going to come back. I didn’t care if it was him coming back to me as a single man or if he entered my life again with the same girlfriend as long as she agreed to be kind to me. 

As I stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of Lando’s apartment building, I braced myself for the evening chill. Before tucking my arms into my body, I wiped away the tears that seemed neverending at this point. 

Only seconds after stepping outside, I heard my name being called. 

“Eloise! Eloise! Stop, please, Eloise!” 

It wasn’t Lando, though. It was Max being the friend he always is. 

“Where are you going?”

It was a valid question, I don’t live in Monaco. Well, not officially. 

My job allows me to work remotely, so I truthfully live wherever Lando happens to be that week. That’s over now. 

“Um, I’m not really sure. I may just show up at the airport and see where I can get a flight. I just can’t be here.” 

The look on Max’s face is one I hope to never see again. I knew at that moment that Max had always known. He knew about the crush I started harboring when we were only 13 years old. 

“Eloise, I’m not going to stop you from leaving. I cannot imagine how much you’re hurting right now, but please know he does love you.”

“No, Max, don’t say that! Please, my heart can’t entertain that idea — not anymore.” 

“But he does, Eloise. He just doesn’t reali…”

“Max, stop,” I shouted to interrupt him. “Please. I need you to not say what you’re thinking. If he loved me, even if he didn’t realize it, he would never let me feel like this. Even if he wanted to still see her, he’d tell her to be kinder to me.” 

Max just stood there. He didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I didn’t really know either, but he knew enough to at least pull me into a hug. 

That’s when I lost it. The tears started flowing and it seemed like nothing would stop them. Max laid a kiss on the top of my head, he’s always been another brother to me. He gave me an extra squeeze before placing his hands on my shoulders and pushing me away slightly. 

“Just let me know where that plane ticket gets you, OK?”

“Always.” 

With that, I turned away from one of my two best friends, with the other several floors away, and began to walk. I didn’t even have my suitcase. I guess I’d have to text Max about that one because I couldn’t turn back now. 

It was just after midnight by the time I arrived at the airport — I had thankfully found an empty taxi despite the late hour. 

As I approached the counter in the airport, the employee gave me a quick glance before her eyes returned to the screen in front of her.

“May I help you?”

“I’d like to buy a ticket.”

“To where?” 

I froze, I still hadn’t thought this far. I could go home, but that would be the first place Lando looked. For as much as I wanted him to chase after me, I still didn’t want to be easy to find. 

On a whim, one place came to mind. 

“New York. New York City.” 

[lokiandbuckysdoll]

Early Christmas Gift

Paring: Stucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky and Steve surprise you for Christmas.

Word Count: 820

Warnings: None just some Christmas fluff.

A/N: Happy Holidays to all💗

It was a crisp December morning morenotably, it was Christmas Eve when Steve and Bucky decided to surprise you early for Christmas. The plan had been simple. They'd show up unannounced to your apartment, sneak in, and catch you off guard before you could finish whatever holiday preparations you had in store. They’d expected to see you wrapped up in holiday cheer, maybe a little frantic, but still festive.

But when they arrived at the door and slipped inside quietly, they found something entirely different.

The apartment was warm and smelled of cinnamon, gingerbread, and butter, the scent of holiday baking filling the air. The kitchen, however, was another story. Flour was scattered across the counters like a soft dusting of snow, and pots and pans cluttered every available surface. You stood at the stove, hair tied up in a messy bun, flour streaked across your cheeks, and a little bit of icing smeared on your cheek as you worked over a batch of cookies, humming softly to yourself.

The sight made Steve’s heart swell with affection. Bucky, for his part, couldn't stop smiling as he leaned against the doorframe, taking in the chaos that somehow felt like home.

You didn’t notice them right away, lost in the rhythm of cooking and baking. You were wearing an oversized red sweater with a reindeer on it, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and a pair of old leggings that had seen better days. A pair of mismatched Christmas socks peeked out from beneath the leggings, and your feet shuffled back and forth as you worked, clearly oblivious to the world outside the kitchen.

It was the perfect kind of mess. The kind of mess that told them you were relaxing, wrapped in the joy of the holiday spirit and the comfort of your own home.

Bucky cleared his throat, and You jumped, nearly knocking over the bowl of cookie dough in your hands. You spun around, wide-eyed, a little flustered, and immediately blurted out, “You two are home now! I’m in the middle of baking, I look like a disaster, and—”

But Steve was already stepping forward, grinning as he gently cut you off. “You look perfect, Doll. We didn’t mean to surprise you this way, but we couldn’t wait for Christmas.”

Bucky snorted, stepping into the kitchen. “Yeah, Steve’s right. We love seeing you like this—chaos and all.”

You blinked, then looked back at the kitchen. You hadn’t expected your boyfriends to see you like this, especially not before Christmas. There were flour smudges on the floor, sticky sugar dribbled down the front of your sweater, and you felt like a mess. But as you met their eyes, both men looked at you like you were the most beautiful, glowing person in the world.

A little self-conscious, you wiped at your cheek. “Well, I guess if you two can handle the kitchen disaster, I’ll just have to finish baking,” you said, with a teasing tone in your voice.

Bucky chuckled and pulled up a chair at the kitchen table. “Don’t mind us. We’re happy to watch and eat whatever you throw at us. This smells amazing!.”

Steve leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze soft and affectionate as he watched you. “Yeah, we came early to help, but looks like you're handling everything just fine.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “You want to help?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, and Bucky immediately jumped up.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, his enthusiasm making Steve laugh.

You handed him a bowl of pre-made dough. “You can start by rolling out these cookies. Try not to eat too many of them, alright?”

Bucky saluted you, then began rolling the dough with a level of focus that was almost comical. Steve found himself a spot on the counter, watching you both work in a comfortable silence, the sound of flour dusting the air and the soft hum of the oven filling the room.

At that moment, you caught Steve’s gaze again, your smile soft and genuine. There was something about this chaos, about sharing it with them, that made the holiday season feel even more special. They weren’t just coming home for the cookies or the presents or the decorations—they were here because they wanted to be with you, mess and all.

Steve smiled back, his heart full. “We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, than with you” he leaned over and kissed your forehead. You hummed before going back to helping Bucky.

Sook the kitchen was filled with laughter, the clinking of baking utensils, and the warmth of love, it was clear that this Christmas would be one they'd all remember. No perfectly decorated tree, no perfect holiday meal could ever be more meaningful than moments like these. Just the three of you, together, enjoying each other’s company in the mess of the holiday season.

Tags 🏷️

@caothicshit @missvelvetsstuff @hallecarey1 @just-another-blog34411 @foxherder @springdandelixn @hannibals-favourite-meal @imyourbratzdoll @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @sarahrogersevans @tomandcakes @lyds247 @raajali3 @supraveng @kingkamk @loopsisloops @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @nana1000night @ladyofthestayingpower

[darth-kote]

Fox Headcanons Pt. 1

Despises 79s. Not because of the noise and countless bodies, but because there's always so much going on that he finds it difficult to properly relax. He's hard-wired to keep Coruscant safe from threats, and it only heightens in a dark, loud place full of plastoid and spirits. Of course, if Wolffe happens to be on shore leave and invites him for a rare night out, he'll accept. But don't expect him to have more than two drinks the entire night - or for that rigid posture to loosen up while he's there. He saves that for later when he can finally, finally take his armor off and slip into his bunk. If he could have it his way, he'd have Wolffe over for a long nap and a few hushed laughs before one or both of them has to return to duty.

He's a certified overthinker. Like almost to the point it could be labeled obsessive-compulsive if he ever talked to Nala Se about it. He knows it would probably qualify him for "retirement." He understands it's not the norm for most of his brothers, and he's actually very grateful they don't have to experience the nagging intrusive thoughts he seems to battle with often. He checks on his brothers when the sudden creeping feeling that one of them might be hurt arises, he routinely asks about the condition of The Chancellor's wellbeing if he happens to be further from him than usual, and he craves symmetry and order almost to a haunting degree. He once spent an hour staring at his own bucket to make sure the red strokes of paint were just right.

It's safe to say this man cannot stand a lack of control. This piggybacks off the prev point; it drives him up the wall not knowing what is going on at all times. He asks for check-ins from his men every quarter hour, works longer hours than even a Kaminoan would recommend, and has no idea what to do when he's given time off. He doesn't know what it means to unwind. His muscles are constantly wound tight like a snake prepared to strike, and he often grinds his teeth without thinking. The headaches he gets would be unbearable if it weren't for his medics dutifully looking out for the commander.

He secretly feels anxious when he hears whispers from Senators, Jedi, or his brothers about the work some politicians are doing to set up a plan for the Clones after the war. He doesn't know what else he is other than a soldier. He's too high-strung to go off and be a gardener or a tattoo artist like he's heard some brothers talk about. One day Stone makes a quip that he'd be a good zoologist, and he admittedly finds himself daydreaming about working with nonjudgmental animals instead of people who did nothing other than cast judgment. Coruscant certainly wouldn't work for that, which drives another unpleasant nail of fear into his heart. He'll have to work through plenty of knots surrounding his attachments if he is to ever let himself leave. For now, he's satisfied to dream about it when he gets a quiet moment in his bunk.

For all the Clones, their bunk is practically the only private space they have. Fox's quarters, though some might expect them to be ship-shape and spotless, is decorated in a way that can only be described as his. Weapon leaflets are kept on a board near the door, just above a small desk cluttered with a mixture of endless paperwork and small seedlings given to him by Senator Chuchi after he'd escorted her on a particularly daring mission. She claimed they'd grow into vitamin-rich leafy greens he could ingest. His armor is always kept neatly if it isn't on him, prepared to be worn at a moment's notice. His bed, of course, is the safest, most private spot in his quarters. Some would describe it as a mess, and if he ever heard whispers of a routine check for contraband, he'd straighten out the sheets and ensure no wrinkles could be seen; he had no desire to be perceived as a slob. Most of the time, he prefers to have the blankets fluffed up around him; there's something so gratifying about being surrounded by softness and the comforting smells of himself and the people he treasures most. He has a favorite cloth he nuzzles close to when particularly stressed, which had been given to him by Alpha before he'd left for Coruscant. The scent is faded and weak, but what's left of it combined with the texture is enough to help him drift into unconsciousness.

[steddieas-shegoes]

read my lips

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is staring at his lips when he talks'

rated m | 1,799 words | cw: suggestive language, implied sexual content | tags: mutual pining, getting together, first kiss, platonic stobin

👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄

"Steve? Earth to Steve." Robin waved her hand in front of his face, successfully pulling him out of the daydream he'd been in for who knows how long. "He walked away nearly two minutes ago. You gotta get your shit together, man."

Steve looked around, trying to find where Eddie went. He'd been talking to them both about a show his band was invited to perform in a few towns over in a couple weeks. Steve was listening to him go on about trying to buy a set of special edition picks at the record shop they'd be performing in when he got distracted by the way Eddie's lips kept smirking around his words.

The scarring along his cheek made his smile more crooked than it was before the bats, and Steve couldn't stop staring.

Not for the reasons strangers on the street would, not even in the way that Dustin or Wayne sometimes looked at him, like they were still upset at the way the world turned against Eddie.

No, this was entirely because every time Steve started to watch Eddie talk, he got distracted thinking about those lips on his. This time it was way less work appropriate.

He turned to Robin and groaned.

"God, this is bad."

"You don't say." Robin set a stack of tapes on the counter next to Steve. "All these still need to be checked in. Then you can go get distracted by thoughts of Eddie's lips on your neck or whatever."

"If only it had been my neck," Steve mumbled as Robin started humming loud enough to drown him out.

"Stevie, you work too hard," Eddie's voice said from right behind him only a minute later. "You should take a break."

"I just had my lunch 30 minutes ago. I can't take another break," Steve refused to make eye contact, refused to get captured by that sinful smile.

Eddie's hand landed on his shoulder. "Aren't you the one in charge right now?"

"You think I'm over Robin?"

"I think you think you're over Robin. And that should be enough. Just sneak away. She won't even notice. Look, she's yelling at a kid in the corner," Eddie poked him to get him to turn around and look. "Poor kid probably didn't think anyone who worked here cared if he snuck into the R section."

Steve finally turned around and let out a snort. "That's the third time that kid's tried to get back there in a week. He's just an idiot."

"Well...she's distracted. There's no other customers. Take a break!" Eddie was grinning at him and Steve was already under his spell.

"Fine, but only a few minutes. She'll be pissed if I leave her to do all the rewinding and shelving," Steve agreed because he had to.

Because Eddie was looking at him like he was up to something and he wanted Steve to be up to something with him. Because he'd do anything that made Eddie's crooked smile bigger, anything to hear him let out that giggle he tried to hide when he was being mischievous.

Eddie tugged on his arm and pulled him out from behind the counter, holding a finger to his lips to shush him when he started to tell him to stop.

He led him to the back office, which was usually locked if Keith wasn't in, but had been left unlocked the last two shifts because Robin was in charge of closing out the registers.

"I know for a fact you shouldn't be in here. I'm barely even allowed in here," Steve whispered.

"No one will know," Eddie said as he sat on the edge of the cluttered desk. "It's not like Family Video is stashing away government secrets."

"I said the same thing about Scoops Ahoy and then got tortured by Russians, so I'd watch what you say."

Eddie's smile dropped for a moment.

Steve had never gone into details and Robin had just shrugged it off when Eddie asked her about it. She said she was grateful she had Steve through it all and that was that.

"Do you suspect Russians might be hiding under Family Video?" Eddie eventually asked. "If so, I think we should head out. I'll get our coats."

Steve shook his head. "Nah. Think the Russians got the hell out of Hawkins after Starcourt."

"Good. Wouldn't wanna have to deal with Russian torture trauma on top of all the bats and being stuck in the Upside Down for days trauma," Eddie snorted. "So, what're you doin' after work today?"

"Uh." Steve admittedly didn't hear most of what Eddie said. He was too busy watching his lips form around words. "Hm?"

Eddie's smile fell. "I asked what you're doing after work. Are you okay? You seem kinda out of it today."

"Yep, I'm fine. Might just be getting a migraine or something." Steve looked down at the floor to try to concentrate. "I'm probably just gonna heat up some leftovers from movie night last night and shower and go to bed."

"You want company?" Eddie asked.

Steve felt his heart stop. "In the shower?"

He looked up at Eddie, that perfect smile growing on his face.

"I meant for dinner or just to hang out, but if you need help in the shower, I could probably arrange that," Eddie was teasing. He was kidding. He had to be. Right?

“I’m…I don’t-“

“Don’t hurt yourself, Stevie,” Eddie laughed. “Offer’s there if you want it.”

Steve was too busy staring at Eddie’s tongue licking his bottom lip, imagining that tongue licking along his bottom lip.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie whispered.

“Hm?”

“You know, I started wearing chapstick and waited for you to finally give in.” Eddie’s lip quirked up. “But you haven’t done anything except stare. You gonna do something?”

“Do what?” Steve was clueless as to what he was talking about.

“You gonna see if they taste as good as they look?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Kiss me, Harrington. You gonna do it or not?” Eddie sighed.

“I-“

“It’s alright. Been waiting for weeks now. You wanna?” Eddie didn’t move from the desk. “Not sure they’re gonna be as great as you seem to be picturing every time I talk, but hopefully they aren’t a complete disappointment.”

Steve kinda figured he should go ahead and kiss him before he started to get lost in his own world again.

He stepped up to Eddie, watching as his face shifted from amused to anticipatory. Steve’s hand rested on Eddie’s knee, mostly to help keep his balance.

He was feeling a little lightheaded with the recent development.

“You really want me to kiss you?” Steve asked as he leaned in, resting his forehead against Eddie’s.

“Yeah, I really do.”

Steve watched his lips the entire time, enamored with the way every part of his mouth enunciated every word. Everything felt important when Eddie said it.

He tasted and felt better than he looked, especially when his hands came up to cup the sides of Steve’s neck, fingers scratching at the roots of his long hair.

Steve whined into his mouth, sinking against him as Eddie took control and deepened the kiss.

“You’re both lucky I’m willing to pretend that I’m not seeing what I’m seeing and that I’m willing to close this door and leave you alone for ten minutes. Mostly because I was so tired of Steve losing every remaining brain cell anytime Eddie talked.” Robin’s voice filtered through the small office, causing Steve and Eddie to pull apart quickly, both wiping at their mouths. “Ten minutes. Not a second more. Pants stay on. Got it?”

“Got it,” Eddie agreed.

“And hands stay out of pants!” Robin said as she closed the door.

“Dammit,” Eddie sighed.

“Ten minutes is long enough to make out,” Steve tried to suggest, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Ten minutes is long enough for a lot of things. Tell me where you want my lips.”

It would be rude teasing from anyone else, but from Eddie, it just made Steve feel seen.

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Wherever you want them,” Steve gasped out, still feeling like he might be dreaming.

“So you’d be okay with them…here?” Eddie whispered against his neck, soft presses of his lips against his skin. “Or here?” Steve’s shirt was pulled to the side for Eddie to suck a bruise into the crook of his neck. “Or maybe here?” Eddie’s hand pressed against his half-hard cock on his jeans. “Oh, sweetheart. Had no idea you’d be so ready for me.”

“Yes, you did,” Steve argued.

“You’re right. But it’s still nice to see and feel. Maybe I could taste?” Eddie asked as his hand wandered along his waist line.

“N-now?” Steve stuttered out.

“I have-“ Eddie checked his watch. “About eight minutes. I could get you off.”

“With your mouth?”

“Well, yeah. We can’t make a mess, can we? This is your place of employment, Stevie. And it’s a bitch getting cum out of a carpet like this.”

“You know from experience?”

Eddie dropped to his knees. "I made an educated guess. So. Mouth. Yes or no?"

"Yes," Steve replied, unbuttoning his own pants. "Jesus, yes."

Eddie's mouth was even better than Steve's imagination gave him credit for. They only need three of the minutes they had for Steve to finish, and another two minutes of Steve's hand working Eddie over for him to finish, too.

"You could've said something sooner," Eddie said as he tried to fix his hair. "Or just kissed me one of those times you were trying to stare through my lips."

"I didn't think I was being that obvious before today," Steve said as he tucked his shirt back into his pants and slid his vest back on.

"Sweetheart, you've been obvious since day one. I've just been waiting for you to realize that you needed to make a move," Eddie crowded him against the desk, hands on his hips and a playful smile on his face.

Steve watched his lips the entire time.

"Like that," Eddie continued, raising a finger to trace along Steve's lips. "You watch them when you don't even realize you are."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Stevie. Love it," Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth before stepping back. "You better get back before Robin comes in here and glares at us until we catch on fire or something."

"You comin' over after I get off?"

"You just got off," Eddie joked. "But yes. As long as I can actually help you in the shower."

"Help me? Or distract me?"

"It can be both!" Eddie opened the door and held it for Steve to go through. "I'll take care of you."

Steve smiled to himself as he walked away. "I'm sure you will."

[mandobatemans]

glasses (Steven Grant x fem!reader)

A/N: just a little blurb inspired by steven's glasses bc they make me feral

word count: 844

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

also posted to ao3

Whatever volume of his Steven was poring over was probably very important, something for work or his personal interest. What was very important to you at the moment was the way his glasses fell on the bridge of his nose, the way he would every so often bite his lip, getting lost in his thoughts, or the way his tongue danced over his lips to wet them. If it were Marc or Jake, they'd know exactly what their actions were doing to you. But this was Steven. Your sweet, sweet Steven who had no concept of just how sexy every single thing he did was. He could roll up his sleeves a certain way and you'd be crawling out of your skin ready to jump him and be totally unaware. You loved that about him, but right now, all you wanted was for him to put the book down and study you on his desk instead.

He would follow the words on the page with his finger, your eyes trailing the movement from across the room. You had planned to walk to the park together and work on your separate activities while sharing a bench, like you often did, but the rain had other ideas. Your activity was long forgotten, thrown to the side in favor of watching Steven, but he was still engulfed in his, eyes devouring every word on the page except for every so often when he would stop to make a note.

He touched his finger to his tongue, wetting the digit to help him in turning the page. This by itself would have set you off, but coupled with the fact that he had looked up and smiled at you while doing so, totally unaware of the thoughts racing through your head, had you rushing across the room to him.

“Y’alright, love?” Steven asked, looking up at you over his glasses.

You nodded, eagerly, maybe too eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine.” You shifted your weight back and forth, unsure how to bring up the fact that you wanted him to pin you down and fuck you within an inch of your life.

Steven had closed his book and taken his glasses off, setting them down on the desk so he could better focus on you. “Are you sure? You look a bit jumpy.”

“Mhm, I just–” You paused when you saw Steven pause. He had the expression on his face that came when Marc or Jake were speaking to him.

When he returned to you, there was a faint blush on his cheeks. His eyes darted between you and where he had set his glasses.

You smiled inwardly, knowing one of the other boys had filled him in on what exactly had you so jumpy.

Steven stood, picking up his glasses and placing them on the bookshelf behind him.

“What are you doing?”

“One moment, darling,” he said, picking up the stacks of books cluttering his desk and moving them to the couch you had been sitting on earlier. Once he had moved them all, he lifted you up onto the desk where the books had been, slotted his body between your legs, and crashed his lips into yours.

You welcomed the feeling of him on you, the familiar heat of his tongue pressing into your mouth, and the weight of his body against your own. You grasped a hand in his hair and welcomed the moan he let out that was lost in between kisses.

- - - -

He had you on your back, both legs thrown over his shoulders, taking you apart with his tongue. Steven was gentle, and that's what was so tantalizing about it. No matter the pace he went, he always coaxed an orgasm out of you, if not multiple. And they were always mind-blowing.

As he licked inside of you, tongue curling the way his fingers would, his nose rubbed against your clit, still wet from the attention he had given it moments before. Steven liked to watch you come undone, partly because he loved looking at you, and partly so he could memorize every single expression you made as a result of his actions. He held your hand when you came, something he liked to do no matter what position you were in. It was sweet and intimate, a ritual during sex that you became accustomed, and even looked forward to, with Steven.

He rose from between your legs, hovering his body over yours so he could press kisses to your neck and shoulders. “You did so good, sweet girl.” Steven helped you sit up and readjust so your hips were almost hanging off the desk. He pressed his forehead to yours, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “Can you take some more?” He asked, hand coming up to caress your cheek.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his palm, but interrupted him while his other hand went to undo his belt. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong, love?”

You pointed to the bookshelf, and his eyes followed your finger. “Put the glasses back on.”

[munsonthings86]

hello, can I request a Steve Harrington fic where r working too hard for school and has been pulling all nighters frequently to keep track. R ends up being too tired and falling a little sick and not leaving the house except for when she has to go to school and her friends notice, Steve notices. Steve comes over, tries to help her and something along those lines. You can write it however you want, you can change it up if you want. Thank you :)

thank you for the request! tweaked it just a tiny bit, hope you enjoy :)

contains: cursing, fluff, overworked reader, soft!steve harrington, forgotten date, 1.0k words

School. Study. "Sleep". It was an endless, mind-numbing cycle that you were convinced was spiraling you into borderline madness. The condition of your bedroom was identical to how your brain had been feeling for the past week: cluttered and chaotic. With empty coffee cups littering your small floral desk, and your blush duvet covering more of the carpeted floor than your actual bed, you could hardly even recognize the room anymore.

The dirty laundry strewn across your floor would often trip you when you walked, but the assignments that you were practically drowning in made it impossible to shift your focus onto tidying the place.

You'd become a hermit; only leaving the comfort of your home to go to school and occasionally, the library, on the days that your room felt like more of a prison than a place of rest. Robin and Nancy, along with your boyfriend Steve, were certain you were avoiding them like the plague. They'd beg you to hangout with them, even bribing you by offering to treat you to lunch at the local diner, but the only thing you could say in return was a dry, "maybe later".

You didn't mean to be cold to them, but you were laser-focused on your agenda, determined to work first and play later. It's what led you to where you were now: head buried in your third textbook of the night, butt aching from being sat on your wooden chair for far too long.

On a Friday night of all.

From your window, you heard people, around your age you assumed, parading the streets and laughing loudly– enjoying their simple, young lives. Something you wished you could be doing too. But your work wasn't going to do itself.

You were color-coding the notes on your flashcard when three knocks sounded at your door, to which you mumbled a soft, "Come in," that even you barely heard. Your mother walked in, a mess of flour and an assortment of seasonings splotched on her apron from cooking dinner. "Honey, Steve's here," she smiled softly, though it was evident on her face that she was biting back the urge to tell you to clean your room, bless her.

The yellow highlighter you had was soon forgotten as your eyebrows furrowed, wondering what Steve was doing here. He usually called first.

Steve gave her a sweet grin when he passed her, leaving the door slightly cracked open, per your mothers request. In his hands he held a large box of pizza and a bouquet of pink roses; looking as dashing as ever with a crewneck and blue jeans adorning his body, with his hair being the perfect kind of messy.

You can't help but smile when you see him.

"Well, this is a rare sighting," he laughed, referring to you, "Should probably get this on camera." He kicked his white sneakers off where your own shoes were piled at, setting the pizza box down on your dresser.

"Very funny," you deadpanned, arms crossed on top of your chest. "What're you doing here?"

Steve approached you, something like a frown weighing on his lips. He taps the bouquet against his chest a couple times when he gently reminds you, "It's Friday."

You almost want to reach into your own body to catch your heart when you feel it completely sink. Friday's were you and Steve's designated date nights, never missing one since the two of you began dating a couple months ago. With the way you'd been so stressed and busy lately, it had completely slipped your mind. Suddenly, you felt incredibly guilty.

"Fuck," your head fell into your hands as you rubbed at your tired eyes, harshly. Your words were muffled when you continued, "I'm sorry, I'm the worst."

Steve shook his head almost instantly, gently resting the flowers down on the desk next to you. "Hey, c'mon," he started, moving your hands from your face, standing you up in front of him. "It's okay, I know you've been busy lately."

He rubbed at your shoulders tenderly and the warm touch melted you. It was the first time you truly relaxed that whole week. "You're not mad?" You asked the question in a hushed tone, looking up at him with glittering eyes that were a bit red, your nose a similar hue. You must've been getting sick. His poor baby.

"Not even a little," he gazed at you with heated, sincere brown eyes and you couldn't will yourself to look at anything else. He kissed your forehead, and it's a bit salty with sweat, but he doesn't mind. "Just worried, is all," he murmured, adjusting the pendant on your necklace that had somehow found its way onto your back.

"Can I help at all?" He nodded at the books on your table.

"Steve, no offense but it's AP Calc," you smiled, lightly scratching at his scalp when your arms found their way around his neck. You laughed when his eyebrows raised as if he was startled, slightly shaking his head. "Christ," he says through clenched teeth, though he doubles down on his offer, "well, then I guess I'm learning AP Calc today. No biggie," he shrugs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"You don't have to do that, Stevie," you spoke against his lips, admiring how unbelievably sweet your boyfriend was. You knew how much he hated school, especially math, so you were more than grateful that he was willing to put himself through quite literal torture, just to make your night a bit easier. "But I want to," he kissed your nose. "Dinner first though, 'cause I know you skipped out on lunch."

Squinting your eyes, you released your hold on him. Sometimes it scared you how well he knew you. "How-?"

"I have eyes everywhere, love," he answered your question before you could even get it out. You rolled your eyes, a smile playing at your lips, already knowing that his "eyes" in question were just Robin and Nancy looking out for you.

💌 1 new message from jojo: writing this while procrastinating on like ten assignments was so funny lol. comments and reblogs are always appreciated! inbox is open!

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Sergeant Riley can't settle so he goes for a walk. He follows the warm sound of a guitar right to Price's room. Inspired by that one loading screen and how it might have come to be.

CW: Simon Riley's life., Scousier Price than usual (because I fancied it, headcanon that he trained himself out of his accent as he got promoted, and, as a friend hypothesised, Price wouldn't codeswitch when it's just him and Simon).

Simon wasn't sure where he was going when he left his bunk and started walking. There were only so many times he could type out and delete the same fucking message, blue light illuminating his face in the darkness - are you using again? is he still out the house? are you eating? is she out of hospital yet? are you alive? - before he chewed his way out of his own fucking skin.

He didn't press send because he knew being left on read was worse than not sending the message at all. And yet, he still couldn't stop typing out those words.

As he prowled through the dark corridors, Simon remembered the words of some English teacher way back when; the definition of madness was doing the same shit over and over and expecting the same outcome. She'd said it in a clipped southern accent (and used a different word to 'shit') while handing him a referral note for internal exclusion, but her words had stuck more than the five hours staring at the wall.

Maybe he was mad. Any trooper or officer that found him lingering in the hallways, a hulking shadow with even darker circles beneath his eyes, would definitely fucking think so.

He wondered what that pretty young English teacher would say if she knew he punched people for queen and country rather than because they'd slagged off his mum now. She'd probably give him that same look they all had at the time. Pity.

Simon tapped each of his fingers to his thumb as he rounded the corner and stormed down the next corridor. It was 0300. A strange halfway point in the night when no one was awake, not the late workers who still had reports to finish or the early risers that liked to get a few fasted sets in at the gym before breakfast. It was just Simon, alone with the clutter banging around his skull and the itch beneath his skin.

By the time he reached the officer's corridor, he was worrying away at the already sore cuticles of his left hand, if only to stop grinding his teeth into a dull ache. Simon stopped at the far end and slumped against the wall, grey slab concrete cool through his sweat-soaked shirt. Then he heard it through the thrum of blood in his ears and the clutching tightness of his own shaking breaths: Johnny Cash.

At least he thought it was. Pretty certain. He followed the sound like a wrecking ship followed the beam of a lighthouse. Something to latch onto so he didn't drown in the winter sea of his own fucking head. He stopped outside the door, his shoulder against it, and closed his eyes.

It reminded him of peace and home. In the few moments of stability, his da always played Johnny Cash. Tommy was clean, no arguments, no alcohol, no violence. Just the summer sun beaming through the net curtains and the smell of cheap sausages on the BBQ in the garden as Simon thrashed Tommy on the PS1. As that husky voice played through their battered living room stereo, the Rileys could almost pass as normal.

"Are y'gonna stand out there all night, la?"

The music had stopped and Simon's eyes snapped open. He hesitated in the darkness, weighing up whether he could get away with sneaking off, but Price was the kind of man to follow up on weird shit. He was thorough like that. So Simon squared his shoulders and nudged the door open. "Lieutenant," he murmured, dipping his chin.

Price was sitting by his open window, the guitar slung across his lap. He examined Simon for a beat, his head tilted, shrewd blue eyes squinting. Once he'd seen what he was looking for, he looked away and moved the capo up the fretboard. "Struggling to get ya head down?"

"Yeah." Simon glanced around the room. If you looked closely, there were a few indications of character visible in the cracks in military perfection: the Liverpool FC scarf across the back of the desk chair, the football shoved under the bed, the fishing magazines sticking out the bin, and the ash tray on the windowsill. The bed was unmade, suggesting Price had made an effort to sleep and given up. "Could say the same for you, that."

Price hummed noncommittally. "Tomorrow's chocka, so I sacked it off for some time to meself." He glanced up and then followed Simon's eyeline down to the guitar again. "You play?"

"Naw," Simon shook his head. "Just recognised Johnny Cash. Me old man likes 'im." He glanced at the bed and the desk.

Price snorted and jutted his chin towards the bed. "Sit down, ya muppet."

Simon's arse hit the mattress like it was magnetised. Price had that effect on him. The moment Simon had learned Price was the best by every metric the SAS had, he'd got it in his head that he wanted to impress, to emulate. Every order and every shred of praise was eagerly consumed because it got Simon one step closer to filling the void of purpose in his chest.

"Yours too, huh?" Price strummed his fingertips over the strings, the note barely registering. "Strange, that."

"He teach ya?" The most his own da had taught him was to roll a decent spliff.

"Not a bloody chance," Price said, "Learned while I was at camp as a kid, like. It got me outta washin' my own dishes. Bit of Wonderwall... y'know."

"Not a lot's changed then."

"Watch it. Still got to approve the details for next week."

There was no heat to the threat. Price was shifting his fingers through the motions of what Simon assumed were chords without strumming. Something had flashed across Price's face at the mention of his da and the camp. Simon has got good at reading faces; if something was gonna turn violent, it was your first warning sign. He'd seen the flicker at the corner of Price's mouth, the flinch at the corner of his eye, and...

"Sommat on my face?"

"Just that bum fluff you're tryin' to grow inta beard, sir."

"Ahh, ya fuckin' git, s'not that bad." Price ran a hand over his jaw with a smirk. "Like to see you get close ta all this."

Despite himself, Simon grinned back. It was a small one; no flashing of teeth, more a flicker compared to a normal person. But it was there. Something dark, heavy and cold slithered out of his chest and he breathed a deep sigh.

"So, not a Cash fan, what're'ya inta? Moody bastard like you, mid-twenties, sommat like--" Simon recognised the tune after the first few chords from the playlists of one of Tommy's girlfriends. She'd been into that emo scene shit, with the side fringe and the mouth full of metal. "With bloodshot eyes, I watch you sleeping, the warmth I feel beside me is slowly fadi-- ah, nah?" Price grinned at the perplexed look on Simon's face.

"Dunno, never really had favourite music." He'd never really considered it. In the house, they listened to whatever his da wanted, and it wasn't like he could ever afford to own an iPod. "What did ya play at the camps?"

Price snorted. "Kumbaya."

"Bullshit."

"Nah. Camp coordinator were an arlarse. Nothin' too risque."

"But Wonderwall were fine."

"Eh, don't look at me, fella. They're one've yours."

Simon grimaced. Not one of Manchester's finest exports, but he wasn't gonna let that fly. "Hot shit comin' from a Scouser who ain't had a hit band since the Beatles."

"Oer, I'll give ya tha'." Price leaned back and strummed out a few chords of 'Hey Jude', and then changed. They sat in companionable silence as Price strummed through a mash up of familiar tunes. Simon watched his hands, the agile twitch of his fingers over the strings, and grew so focused he stopped covering the damage of his own.

"Ya know, if that gets infected on ops, could become a problem," Price said, indicating Simon's hands with a jut of his chin.

Simon clamped his fingers into his palms. "I'll get it looked at."

Price sat back, one arm folded across the top of the guitar, a finger tapping lightly against the wood. Simon would have given anything to know what he was thinking, if only to banish the Maelstrom of condemnation his own mind was conjuring to fill the gap. "Here, take this."

"What?" Before Simon could protest, the guitar had been thrust into his lap.

"It'll keep ya hands occupied, stop yet pickin' 'em to pieces."

"But I can't fuckin' play."

"Yet." Price shuffled his chair forward and took Simon's hand. "Loosen ya wrist, ya meff. There'yar. Right, gotta press a bit harder. Gonna teach you Smoke on Water. Be playin' Oasis' back catalogue before ya know."

So Simon sat there as Price patiently positioned his fingers and helped him strum through his first song. Every time he nailed a transition or struck a clear chord, he got praise and it made the itch beneath his skin turn into a buzz. He wasn't stupid. He knew this warm reaction wasn't love, or even a crush; it was the reaction of a kicked shelter dog being shown the tiniest morsel of kindness. It should make him feel sick, but he was too enraptured by the fact his hands were making fucking music. Not violence, not pain or death. Music.

They must have been sat there for over an hour, because there was light peaking over the windowsill when Price leaned back to grab his baccy and roll ups from under the desk. As he prepped his ciggy, Simon's eyes rolled up to the ceiling to the smoke detector, and he smirked when he noted the wires hanging out.

"Sommat ta say, sergeant?" Price asked as he set the roll up between his teeth and struck his lighter.

"Naw, sir. Just thinkin' how I wanna be like you when I grow up."

Price snorted. "You wanna be better than me, Simon." He chucked his lighter onto the desk. "And you will be. Just gotta get your head straight."

Simon placed the guitar on Price's bed. "How'd you do it? Get your head straight..."

"Practice," Price nodded towards the guitar as he tapped ash out his window, "and distractions."

Some things would always be there. Some things... never healed. That flicker in Price's face when he'd spoke about home didn't come from nought; it was like looking in a fucking mirror. "I can do that."

"I know ya can."

They watched the smoke of Price's cigarette curl out the window together, and Simon felt the cold, icy talons of last night recede, and then...

"Price, if Riley's done sucking your dick, get to the mess! And if you're fucking smoking, I'm gonna rip your balls off."

"Yessir, right away, sir." Price pinched the end of his ciggy and lobbed it out the window, flapping a hand to dispense the last of the smoke. The other dismissed Simon out the door with a jabbing thumb, removing him from the scene should their good captain decide to perform a snap inspection.

The guitar thing... yeah, Simon took that and ran. It wasn't long before he bought his own out of a Cancer Research charity shop and downloaded sheet music over the base WiFi. Every time shit became too loud, his head too full of clutter, he sat somewhere quiet and strummed until his fingers were sore.

Years later, after Roba, after Price wrenched Simon from a hurricane of self destruction, held him under the torrent of a cold shower as Simon had wailed into his chest, only to find Ghost glaring back when the dust had settled, Simon would return to the guitar again.

This time the songs were a little different, a little softer, because his motivation - the thing that drove him crazy, that filled his head - had a shitty fucking mohawk and blue eyes that bore right through him. Johnny loved it when he played. And if Johnny asked, Simon would play til the gates of hell opened up.

[fioredeciliego]

Prologue

New York, United States of America

The rain was relentless, falling in rhythmic sheets over the city, splashing on the sidewalks, and filling the night with a quiet hum. Y/N clutched her coffee tighter, her other hand buried in her pocket as she walked beside Jimin through the chilly streets of New York. For the past six months, they'd been here together, lying low. Jimin had suggested it after they'd parted ways from their old lives. For Y/N, it had felt like a needed retreat. For Jimin, Y/N could sense, New York held more shadows than memories. But still, she'd stayed.

The night was quiet until Y/N's phone buzzed. She didn't think much of it, figuring it was a random message. But when she glanced down, her pulse spiked.

"One last job. Meet me at the spot. - Irene"

The name stared up at her like a ghost from the past. She froze in place, the rain slipping down her face as she looked over at Jimin, whose unreadable expression betrayed nothing but the slight tightening of her jaw. It was clear she'd received the same message.

"What do you think?" Y/N asked softly, a strange mix of anticipation and trepidation in her voice.

Jimin's gaze was steely as she looked out at the neon-lit cityscape, her thoughts unreadable. "If Irene's calling us... it means she needs us. She doesn't do 'one last job' lightly."

Y/N nodded, her own memories stirring of laughter, adrenaline, and the camaraderie they'd shared. Then, just as suddenly, everything fell apart. It had been years, but it all came back to her in vivid colors.

"Are you in?" Y/N's voice held a hint of hope, a tentative excitement she hadn't felt in years.

Jimin's eyes softened, her cool demeanor slipping just slightly as she met Y/N's gaze. "Only if you are."

Nara, Japan

Aeri Uchinaga—Giselle to her old team—lounged in her dimly lit apartment, nursing a glass of wine. The years had softened nothing about her, not her teasing charm nor her knack for making weapons out of just about anything. Her hand automatically reached for the pistol lying on her coffee table, her fingers running along its familiar edges.

When Irene's text popped up, Aeri felt a flicker of something she couldn't quite name. She leaned back, the hint of a smile ghosting over her face as she pictured the others. Aeri's fingers brushed along the edge of a pistol on her table as she considered what lay ahead, already weighing the risk against the pull of the past.

"It seems some things just don't stay buried," she murmured, heading to the back of her closet to retrieve her old gear.

Heilongjiang, China

Yizhuo Ning—Ningning—sat in a cramped room surrounded by computers, code flashing across the monitors as she hacked through yet another complex system. She loved the work, but a part of her always missed the old thrill of live-action heists, the rush of getting caught, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. When Irene's message appeared on her phone, Ningning blinked, feeling her pulse quicken.

She took a breath, her fingers tapping absently against her desk as she thought of her former teammates, faces she hadn't seen in years but could picture vividly. A smile tugged at her lip, she could already imagine the look on everyone's faces at seeing each other again.

"Well," she whispered, shutting down her systems, "guess it's time to get the band back together."

Nampo-dong, South Korea

Minjeong Kim—Winter—stood in her small, cluttered workshop, meticulously examining a custom-built sniper rifle. She handled it with care, testing the weight, adjusting the scope. She had spent years perfecting her skill with weapons, a gift she discovered she had at an early age. But her craft wasn't enough to fill the strange emptiness that had lingered since the team broke up.

When Irene's text flashed on her screen, she stilled. She hadn't seen any of them in years, yet every detail of their last mission was still sharp in her mind. She missed the quiet laughs shared with Ningning, the silent camaraderie, and the adrenaline of working as a unit. And Y/N, who'd had an unspoken pull on her for years, someone she couldn't shake from her thoughts.

The rain pattered against the window as Minjeong packed her weapons carefully, her face expressionless yet her mind racing with the chance to see them all again.

Seoul, South Korea

Y/N and Jimin arrived at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, an old haunt where they used to plan every major heist. The place hadn't changed, save for a layer of dust and the faint echo of their shared laughter, hanging in the empty air. Irene was there, waiting for them, her stance exuding the calm authority that had always commanded their trust.

Irene's eyes softened as she took in their familiar faces, yet her smile was barely a flicker, her gaze sharp. "It's good to see you two together," she said, almost teasingly. "Come in and sit."

Jimin and Y/N exchanged a glance before settling on a crate opposite her.

"So," Y/N ventured, a touch of nervousness in her voice. "What's this job?"

Before Irene could answer, footsteps echoed in the cavernous space. The first to appear was Aeri, her confident strut accompanied by a playful grin. "Looks like I'm fashionably early," she teased, directing a wink at Y/N, who tried and failed to suppress a smile.

Jimin's expression didn't shift, but her posture straightened, a subtle hint of the authority she always carried when they were together. Aeri just grinned, knowing exactly how to get under her skin without saying a word.

A few moments later, Ningning entered, her face lighting up the moment she spotted the familiar faces. She rushed over, enveloping Y/N in a warm hug. "Y/N! You have no idea how much I've missed you!" she exclaimed, her tone overflowing with affection.

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around Ningning. "Same here, Ningning. It's been too long."

Standing nearby, Minjeong slipped in quietly, observing the group with a reserved smile as she leaned against one of the old beams, watching the scene unfold. She exchanged a quick nod with Jimin and a brief smile with Y/N before her gaze shifted back to Irene, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Irene, noting their attention, gestured for them to settle down. "Now that everyone's here," she began, "let's talk business."

She scanned their faces, the intensity of her gaze somehow softening as it lingered on each of them. "This is a job that requires the unique skills each of you brings. It's a high-stakes heist involving a prized piece of art, heavily guarded, that only you five could manage. It will be dangerous, and it will demand everything we once had together."

Ningning's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "So, a classic reunion heist? Sign me up."

Minjeong's face was calm, but Y/N caught the slightest glint of something darker there—determination, perhaps, or something she couldn't place. She didn't dwell on it long, as Irene's voice filled the silence.

"You've all come a long way since we last worked together," Irene said, folding her arms as she watched their expressions. "This isn't a job one of you could pull off alone. And it's likely to bring up... things you might not have settled."

The weight of her words settled over them, quieting even Ningning. They exchanged glances, silent agreements passing between them. Even as unresolved feelings and buried memories lingered just below the surface, each of them understood—this was a call they couldn't ignore.

"Alright then," Irene said, a small, approving smile curving her lips. "One last job. Let's make it count."

[kairiscorner]

hihiii pookie :DD!!

tw// mentions of depression

i'm wondering if you could maybe write a comfort fic about miles 42 with a reader who hates asking for help even when theyre clearly suffering in silence because they were taught to just 'suck it up' and deal with it alone as a kid?

you dont have to write this if you dont feel comfortable with it <33

Thank you pooks :33!!

hi pooks @jrrantss <:DD oh man, okay so i was kind of that kid back then too (though i was a big crybaby) it's like the adults around me didn't fully comprehend why i was feeling the way i was, so in response to that, they basically condemned crying at home or in front of them. i'm sorry if you went through something similar or, hopefully not, something worse ;-; i hope this provides you some comfort, and in a way, might also let you know you aren't the only one going through stuff like this. i'm here for you pookie, all the time <:)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

you can be honest with me. – miles 42 x reader (angst + comfort)

nothing went your way this week, hell, you couldn't even remember a week in your life when anything felt right, when you didn't feel that you were holding yourself back from letting go of everything that felt wrong, awful, and just... painful. you were too good at keeping secrets, too good at lying about how you really felt; and that was something you hated about yourself, how you found lying as your first nature, not your second. you lied to people when they'd ask you if you were doing okay, if your day was going alright–you always gave them the answers they want to hear, that you were fine, that nothing was wrong.

but when everything just comes crumbling down, and the cracks in your facade begin to show and become more obvious... you get more and more defensive, more and more angry, more and more... scared and worried about these feelings that are hurling themselves at you so quickly that you can't even begin to understand why they're affecting you so badly–why people can see the bare you now if you just turn your face to look at them or open your mouth to speak; and your boyfriend was the first person to see you this way, vulnerable, yet trying all you can to avoid that vulnerability while you're crumbling down.

"hey," miles calls out to you in a soft voice as he sees your back turned to him as you kept working on your assignments, hunched over at your desk with your brows furrowed together and your lips curved into a scowl. you had been avoiding him for a few days now–at least he thinks you might be avoiding him–and have acted very distant, very... out of it recently. you didn't turn your head around to face him, which prompted him to continue talking, hopefully so you could find a reason to face him and his worried eyes. "you've, um... you've been busy lately." "uh-huh." you hummed as you tapped the end of your pencil against your desk impatiently, racking your brain for the answer to the questions written down that all seemed to blur together as the shittiness of the previous days just irritated you even more, and the worst part was... you couldn't hide the fact you can't mask ot anymore.

miles' face contorted as he got more and more worried about you, not knowing why you were acting starkly different than the usual you, or the only you he was familiar with. he extended his hand out to you as he walked over, looking at your cluttered up papers on your desk and the smudged up marks on the paper from your erasures. "...is something wr–" "everything's fine, i'm fine, i'm just peachy!" "you don't sound very convincing." he said, his voice returning to his nonchalant, cool tone as he took a small glimpse at your face before you turned away from his field of vision.

he sat in the chair next to you and wrapped his arm around you in an effort to comfort you. "cielo, sonething's up with you. are you... are you sure you don't wanna let me help?" he asked you with a soft voice, hoping he didn't overstep any boundaries as you slowly turned your head to show him a bit of your face. there were tears in your eyes, though you didn't dare let miles see them fall down your face; there was a sob stuck in your throat, but you didn't dare let miles hear it escape your lips. you had been there before, being severely troubled for more things than just homework–but never had you been advised to do anything than the age old phrases you've heard all your life as a kid: 'get over it.'

you took in a deep breath and tried to tell him what those words you've exhausted yourself from saying all the damn time–that you don't need any help, that you've got this, that you're okay... but your body's betraying you right now. it's betraying you for turning your back on your own feelings, but that... was never your fault, never. as you let out the breath you've been holding in, the hot tears came streaking down the ends of your eyes, your scowl morphing into a sad frown as you felt yourself slowly come undone and all the raging thoughts in your mind boiled down into one thought right then and there: 'fuck no, i am far from okay'.

you had one tear come down, then two, then... a whole waterfall of tears came pouring down your eyes as you finally released that sob you had been desperately keeping in. you had released it out into the air as it mingled with miles' shushing and gentle whispers as he held you while you leaned against him, wailing as you tried telling him how nothing had been right lately. you choked out in broken cries how you desperately wanted a way out of everything horrible that's been happening but you didn't want anyone else to be bothered by your 'stupid, insignificant problems'.

"i just... want to be okay... but i can't even pretend to be okay for at least one damn day." "please, stop pretending, mi vida. it's hurting me how you... how you think it's strength to rake up everything by yourself... when you clearly need help." miles said with a cracked voice as he felt himself choke up at your melancholic state. you cried even more out of guilt that you saddened miles, but he kissed your forehead, cheek–your whole face as he murmured words of reassurance, of love, to you to calm you down and comfort you. "you're not alone, not anymore... i don't care if some idiots in your life want you to deal with alone, never to bother them–you're never a bother to me, got that?" he mutters to you as he holds you close, letting you sob into his shoulder, your sobs getting louder and louder all the while. he shushes you and rubs your back gently, kissing your wet cheeks as he keeps reminding you that no matter what you're going through, what problems you're having, he's always going to be there for you–be the help you'll need, one way or another.

"please, don't be scared, mi vida... you can be honest with me. i promised to love you with all my heart, protect you, and... always be the help you'll need."

he whispered to you as he looked into your eyes and gently wiped your tears away and leaned his forehead against yours, hoping you would be more lenient, more understanding towards yourself and your own needs; and that you wouldn't hesitate to ask him for help. because even if you don't ask him to, he'll be there to help you, be there to guide you, be there to comfort you the best he can. because he loves you, and knows you deserve more than what you think you deserve, that you deserve... the best of the best, and nothing less.

tags !! @ii01vq @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @k4tsu3 @solecitoszn @toneystank-3000 @fiannee @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @onginlove @meowmoraless @q2ie @zalayni @anikaluv @conitagray

[kairismess]

⤹˚˖♬୭ karaoke night.

🍰 genre: fluff ~ ! ✒️ word count: 969 💭 summary: sakusa has a hidden talent, which he's only willing to show off while the other three are drunk, and you're here to listen. 🍥 author's note: if y'all get my reference as to which idol that is, i will love you forever frfr

sakusa has always avoided group gatherings as much as he could, there was simply nothing enjoyable about being clumped together with a group of people he hardly called friends–associates were the correct term–and sharing the same space with then when they could potentially carry life-threatening pathogens, with or without them knowing.

what a cruel reality it was for him that only he seemed to care about proper sanitation and hygiene, seeing as how bokuto, atsumu, and hinata all just shared the same sake bottle over a round of drinking in this disgustingly compact karaoke room that had zero ventilation whatsoever.

his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes set in a permanent glare, wherever he gazed, he always had something to criticize about its cleanliness, of course, he wouldn't even comment on the sticky table between the four of them.

unbelievable, sakusa thought to himself, as atsumu–in his slurred, drunken stupor–clutched the microphone as he chuckled, with hinata and bokuto cheering him on like his number one fans. the opening beat to the song 'baby' by justin bieber blared through the loudspeakers, and sakusa felt like he could pass away right here, right now to end the suffering; but that would be awful, because then he'd decompose with their clutter around him.

sakusa was curled up into a ball, waiting for you to come back from getting some water for the two of you (he didn't trust the water from the bar), but while you were gone, the rest of the msby jackals were just howling out the lyrics of some ear-piercing song that sakusa didn't even want to hear the end of.

when you got back, sakusa had never been more relieved in his life. he thanked you for the water and, after inspecting its contents and its container, he drank from it. you sat down next to sakusa, making the rest of the team that was terribly drunk tease you two through that dreaded microphone.

"omiomi and manager, sitting in a tree..." "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

bokuto just spoke gibberish for the latter part of that, because he felt like vomiting due to all that alcohol. "...can we please leave?" sakusa asks you in a low voice, leaning in close to your ear. you shiver a little and turn to look at him, your nose touching his that was covered by a mask. he moved away immediately, watching as your eyes widened and your face got a little flustered. "well... we can't just leave them here, i-i mean, look at them, omi..."

sakusa took one look at this sorry bunch that was spurring up all kinds of chaos, he was honestly surprised that they hadn't started a fire yet. turning back to you with a deadpanned look, sakusa spoke in a levelled tone. "they look like shit," "see, omi? so we can't–" "all the more reason why we should leave," sakusa insisted.

"aww, c'mon, omiomi! y'fuckin' killjoy..." atsumu muttered under his breath, taking another swig from the sake bottle. "y-yeah! you haven't... sung a single song... since we got here ya... ya..." bokuto couldn't even finish his sentence, he vomited in the corner, with hinata patting his back, hiccuping, as he tried to help him through it.

"okay, i think—hic!—w-we might—hic!—need to... go home—hic!—soon..." hinata mused, which atsumu and bokuto couldn't even protest against, they were going to be so badly hungover the next morning that they'd forget their names.

"h-hey, omiomi... we'll go home..." atsumu mumbled, handing him the microphone. "...if ya sing a tune," the blonde uttered slyly. sakusa furrowed his eyebrows in disdain at his ultimatum, but he knew that this would be the most peaceful way to resolve things; he couldn't walk out that filthy door without you, you were the only one keeping him sane and put together at this point.

sakusa sighed and with a tissue paper, scrolled through the song list until he found one by an idol his cousin komori introduced him to when they were younger. it had an oddly jolly vibe to it, one you wouldn't expect sakusa to enjoy or even be familiar with in the first place.

atsumu groaned, but you and hinata were getting into the song. for the first time that evening, sakusa took off his mask to sing clearer; you had never seen sakusa that serious about something that would force him to take his mask off that wasn't volleyball.

the way sakusa sang, it was so... alluring. it was like everyone, regardless if they enjoyed the song or even knew it, would be inclined to listen to him sing. nearly everyone in the room shut their mouths and held their breaths as they listened to him sing; a siren, that's what you likened sakusa to. his voice was so captivating, he didn't sound professional, he didn't sound fake nor seasoned in terms of singing, he sounded very graceful, very emotional, in a way, when he sung.

it was just right, every note was hit perfectly with the right amount of emotion, and it felt like every word he sung, he meant it; as if those were the words that came from his own heart and out through his melodic voice.

afterwards, sakusa sighed, put on his mask, and handed the microphone back to atsumu, while you, hinata, and bokuto clapped for him. "can we please leave now?" the dark haired boy asked, turning to you. you blinked a little and stammered out a response, not realizing he was asking you. "a-ah, right, i'll start the car," you said with a slight smile, still gushing internally at how amazing sakusa's singing voice was.

you just hoped the drunken trio wouldn't harass sakusa over it, they'd be here all night now after learning their dear omiomi has a lovely singing voice.

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch25 As Days Go By In January

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml

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@the-unknown-fandom

@lavenderdropp @mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

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Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

(This chapter night be a little cluttered but that's because it's a big filler chapter for the next chapter when things really take off. For better or for worse?...Well what fun would it be if I spoiled anything?)

The new year was an odd feeling to the body. 

It felt like everything was new but the same as always all the time. And thus you decided to make yourself a new year revolution bucket list. Spend more time doing the things you loved with the people you loved! You had so many more friends than you ever did at any point in your life, and you were going to start spending more time with them. Starting with your oldest and most dearest friend!

The clinking of a plate and teacup being sat upon the table as the spices from the noodles and broth they say in. The smell accompanied by the scent of Earl grey tea placed right next to the bowl by a smiling face.

"Here you go. One of these days I'm going to learn how to make my own noodles then it'll truly be made from scratch."

Murata breathed in the delicious fragrance before sighing and picking up the chopsticks you leant him. His stomach growling. "Thanks, Y/n. Can't remember the last time I had a home cooked meal."

"It's ok. If you want I'll pack you up what I had to make for baking class. It's just taking up space in my fridge and we both know that I don't really enjoy spicy foods all too much anyways."

He looked at you. "Hey. You really don't have to do that. Sabito an' I get by fine on our own-"

"It's not a trouble. At this point it's just taking up space in my fridge and I'd hate to waste food." Your only other option was to give it to Giyuu and Shinobu..or call up Mitsuri as a quick food disposal but everyone was very busy with classes as the finals for the year were approaching and every chance to study counted. Plus Murata needed it more. "All I ask is for my containers back when you're finished."

"Alright. I'll get it. You'll be making me take them home anyways." The smile on his face was a rare one for him and how stressed he usually was. "Thanks."

You smiled brightly at him already on your way to go empty out your fridge. Honestly most of the dishes stuck in there was just foods you had to bake for health class to pass and then just got stuck left in your fridge as most of it was spicy foods you didn't like all too much. But Murata and his boyfriend liked these so they'd go to them.

So into the tupperware containers they went as you dug them out from cabinets and sorted out the fridge situation. Busing yourself by speaking to the happy man slurping down the udon like he hadn't had a good tasting meal in the last year. He'd stopped by just an hour ago for old times sake and you were happy to catch up with your old friend.

"How's college been?"

"Mood," he answered muffled by his full mouth giving a sigh as the delicious taste waved down his throat. "If I pass this year then maybe I can graduate early! That way I don't have to work that stressful pizza job anymore."

"Oh. Well don't strain yourself studying. Get some sleep before you start staying up all night."

"Right. Right." He paused a moment to watch as you poured spicy miso soup into a small container for him, eyeing your form before taking a sigh to brace himself. "So .um. How's your boyfriend been treating you?"

"Gyomei?" You took a second to look back over your shoulder at him. "He's been nothing but the perfect gentleman. I'm very happy with him."

Murata slowly nodded looking concerned. "I see. And he.. hasn't done anything that's bothered you or hurt you in anyway?" He rolled his wrist. "Especially with the whole I'm seeing nearly half the college thing. Sounds like cheating to me."

"Murata!!" You scowled hard at him making him hold up his hands. "Why on earth would you say that?!"

"I'm sorry! It just sounds really suspicious to me! And you can't blame me with your dating streak...N-No offense."

"Gyomei is not dating around with every person he sees!," you growled pointing a spoon at him threateningly, "He's polyamorous. NOT a cheater! I know exactly every one of his partners and all of them are lovely people who see no one but each other! There's a big misidentification between being poly and being a cheater!"

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry!," he repeated trying to calm you down. "I just wanted to be sure you were ok."

"I'm perfectly secure in my relationship with Gyomei. He's been completely upfront with everything and doesn't seem anyone outside me or his partners which I have stated before that I'm perfectly fine with him doing." You jabbed the spoon towards him firmly. "And I'm not seeing them, he is. So you can not make such rude accusations towards my BOYFRIEND, Murata."

"Ok, ok! I apologize!" You huffed still scowling at him before turning back to the task at hand. "I just wanted to be sure you were ok. You're like a sister to me and seeing you go through do much well..."

You sighed. "I appreciate your concern but you know me. If Mei was just like the other guys I dated, then I wouldn't even have gone on a second date with him let alone be his girlfriend. Look. I promise you IF anything bad happens, which it won't, then I'll be outta there faster than a cheetah. Ok?"

He sighed again too. "Alright. But if you ever need any help-"

"You and my aunt are the first ones I'll call. Now hush up and eat your udon before it goes cold."

He deflated but busied himself by eating the food and trying to lessen the tension in the air caused by his sudden disturbance. About ten minutes passed between him emptying his bowl and sipping his tea in silence before he spoke up again. 

"So..where is he now?"

"He's helping a friend study for a history exam he has next week. He won't be around today if that's what you're worried about."

"No, no. Just curious is all."

"You'd like him if you ever got to meet him. Even my aunt likes him."

"Your aunt is crazy no offense."

"Auntie is crazy in a 'lets go to a restaurant with my pet tarantula' kinda way. She's not crazy in a 'seeing things that aren't there' kinda way."

"Hm. Touche."

He took another sip of his drink as you sighed before there was a loud knock at the door causing both of you to turn to said door as loud knocking cascaded from the other side. 

"Oh! That's probably Auntie! I told her to come visit me this week!" Excited by the thought of your aunt coming by to visit you too, you placed down what you had been packing up, sped walked to the door, threw it open, blinked at wbo was on the other side, and then smiled. "Hi, Guys. I wasn't expecting you three to show up."

"HI, Y/N!!," Mitsuri instantly shouted with a full arm wave at you. Behind you keeping away from her furiously waving arm was Sanemi and Obanai whom looked more bored. 

"What are you guys doing here? I thought you were studying for final exams?"

"Those aren't until May which is months away," Sanemi grunted softly pushing Mitsuri's arm away from him before she accidentally sent him flying into the snow. "We're going to a concert tonight and wanted to know if you wanted to come along."

"Oh..Well I've never been to a concert before so I wouldn't know what to do there."

"It's not like a famous singer or anything, it's just a show party thrown together by a bunch of locals."

"Oh. Sure then! Sounds fun! Just let me finish up in the kitchen first. You guys wanna come in?" Stepping aside to allow them in immediately of course Mitsuri's attention turned to the kitchen.

"Do I smell udon?!"

"Yep! Do you want some?" She nodded eagerly making you smile and gestured to three of them to follow you. "Come on into the kitchen then. I'll fix you guys some."

Murata had been confused holding his cup as you returned only to be followed by a woman and two men he didn't know. Mitsuri didn't seem to have any problems with there being a literal stranger in your kitchen however both Sanemi and Obanai stopped in their tracks to stare at the confused man sipping away at his teacup. And equally as confused look graced Sanemi's face however Obanai's eyes widened... Before they narrowed suspiciously looking him up and down before pointing an accusing hand to him.

"WHO is HE?," He spat out rudely.

The tone made you look up from putting a lid on a container before blinking. "Oh, right. Guys, that's Murata. He's my best friend from highschool."

"Um.."Murata glanced the three individuals with confusion. "Sup?"

"HI!! OH MY GOSH!! I DIDN'T KNOW THAT Y/N HAD OTHER FRIENDS!! THAT'S SO SWEET!!," Mitsuri gushed in enthusiasm as usual.

He winced at her loud tone but nodded. "Uh..Yeah. Hey. You're the girl who was in the play right? My cousin was the Nutcracker." Obanai glared harder at him. 

"No way! I never would've guessed!!"

"So who are you guys?"

"That's Mitsuri." You continued to finish packaging his food since you were almost done anyways. "And Sanemi and Obanai."

"PFT?!" Instantly Murata nearly spat out his tea but he didn't. Instead it puffed up in his cheeks making him comically look like a chipmunk in horror before he eventually managed to swallow it down and proceeded to get into a minor coughing fit making you look at him. "*COUGH COUGH HACK!!* S-Sanemi Shina- *cough* -gawa?!"

"Yeah." Much like Obanai he gave a suspicious look crossing his arms. "What if it?"

"N-Nothing! Nothing!" Murata squeaked out looking a million shades suddenly paled now with a gulp. "I-It's just...Y/n spoke about you a lot is all."

"Yeah. These are the friends I told you about!" You turned with three tupperware containers stacked up in your hands before you proceeded to plant the three in front of your terrified friend. "They're all studying to become teachers! Isn't that neat?"

"Great!," he squeaked out high pitched, "We can always use more teachers!"

"What are you studying?," Obanai bluntly asked almost challenging him with his gaze.

"...Murata's studying computer science and programming! He wants to be a game developer. Isn't that great?", you answered for him when it was obvious that your terrified friend couldn't.

"Huh...I suppose." You have Obanai a frown making him sigh. "Snake On A Train is a good game though."

"Hey, Murata. Maybe you should get these home to Sabito before it goes cold."

"OKYEAH!!"

Helping your terrified friend find an excuse out, you politely showed him out the door sighing before returning to the kitchen finding Mitsuri helping herself to the entire large pot of udon and Sanemi still staring at everyone completely confused.

"What the hell was his problem?"

"Sorry. He's just-..Shy around some people."

"Uh huh."

He didn't seem to believe you but didn't push the issue figuring his reputation had just been what scared off your friend not taking offense to it. Thank goodness. Obanai however was suspiciously still eyeing where Murata was sitting like he personally offended him.

"Who was he?"

"My friend from highschool? I told you that." You eyed Mitsuri still slurping down broth, noodles, and veggies like it was nothing. Well...at least you wouldn't have any leftovers cluttering your fridge between Murata needing food and her appetite. "He just stopped by to visit me since we hadn't seen each other since Christmas."

"He wasn't trying to put the moves on you?" ...You, Mitsuri, and Sanemi both turned to give him looks. Yours confused and surprised and Sanemi a 'what the hell are you doing ' meanwhile Mitsuri's looked shocked before changing to beaming in happiness at her Boyfriend as if just confirming something. "Uh.." He quickly took notice of the situation before backtracking. "He..told me about the pub incident." He explained pointing a quick finger at Sanemi.

Did he assume Murata was hitting on you because he was eating in your kitchen? That was weird. "No. Nothing like that. Besides Murata already has a boyfriend so I don't think he's interested in me like that at all."

Obanai's eyes widened. "So...he wouldn't like-.."

"Not unless I suddenly turn into a man and changed my personality to be his type overnight. Which he's already in a long term relationship anyways so there's like zero chance there, Obi. You shouldn't jump to conclusions like that."

His eyes looked so cartoony widd as he stared at you before he looked away. "Right...Sorry."

"It's ok, but next time just ask me nicely before jumping the gun." You explained to him reminding you of the kids in the daycare.

"Anyways," Sanemi started looking at you, "-are we going or not?"

Well that was very awkward and confusing but luckily nothing bad had happened like Sanemi getting angry with Murata over a misunderstanding and it was only the second week into January. At least the 'concert' was fun even if you could call it that. It was just a small gathering of about thirty or so people and some mediocre bands played off tune or too loudly. But you had fun spending time with the three of them for a couple hours.

More days passed by and it was the same thing as usual mostly. Get up. Go to work. Do classes. Get the notes you couldn't get from Shinobu or Giyuu. Shopping. Bills. Chores. And the like. The third Monday of January you spent some time with the Kocho sisters and Giyuu. He'd asked you to come play shogi with him like you had promised him on Christmas and you agreed because a promise was a promise after all. The sisters were there. Shinobu was helping Kanae study for an upcoming exam using flashcards and a fake test to which Shinobu would 'grade' her on after to help. But they took time out to come over and talk to you about their current obsession.

"Have you read this book?"

You took a moment to glance at the book Shinobu held up to you. Of Butterflies and Devils. Before shaking your head no and turning back to the board game at hand. The entire game was confusing to you and the last two games you'd already lost quickly to the blue eyed man sitting across from you.

"Can't say that I have. What is it about?" You glanced around the pieces trying to calculate the best move. Didn't help that Giyuu had most of your pieces while you only had one of his.. eventually you settled og moving your third to last one to the left.

"It's about two sisters fighting against this unfeeling evil presence of their world." She spoke almost as if it was a personal journey she had gone through. "The entire story is their journey leading up to their first climax against the devil. Unfortunately the older sister passed away-"

"Shinobu, don't spoil the entire story for her." You glanced at Kanae on your other side as she held up a second much thicker book than the one Shinobu held. Poisoned Stained Glass was displayed on the cover. "That one is just a prequel story to the actual novel here. I think it's quite a lovely story even though her journey is quite tragic. You should read them sometime. Then you can join our book club."

"Oh. Sure! But I don't have them." You blinked as Giyuu held up your piece in his hand having made a move while you weren't looking. 

"I win again," he said simply.

You sighed at the fact he managed to beat you again. You really weren't very good at shogi. "Sorry, Giyuu. I'm not really much of a player."

"Why are you apologizing?," he asked simply placing down your piece again. "I find playing against you enjoyable. The entire purpose of the game is to find enjoyment not win isn't it?"

Huh. Spoken like a true team player or a really good coach. He was definitely going to make a great gym teacher. The entire statement had you smiling and nodding your head. "Yeah. I guess you're right. Practice makes perfect as they say so do you want to go another round?"

"Yes. Very much. This time I'll help teach you how to play." Already he was moving to reset the little wooden pieces. "That way you can make better moves."

Sounds good to you. You blinked as Kanae sat her book in front of you with a smile on her face. "Here. You can borrow my copy to read then we'll show you the third installment in the series about their youngest sister."

You opened your mouth to answer her but before you could say anything Shinobu suddenly put her book on top of her sister's making even Giyuu blink. "Read this one first! It's the prequel so it'll help make the second one make more sense."

"Oh. Ok. I'll be sure to give them a read when I can."

Seemed interesting enough anyways. You'd be nice and give them both a read in-between work and other obligations as you went along. You didn't see why you couldn't indulge in some of your friends' interests too especially when they've been nothing but kind to you after all. Speaking of friends you also ran into another friend of yours while going on an outing with Gyomei. 

Nothing fancy. Just a dinner together and a little walk around a new party of town you hadn't been to but Gyomei had, so you allowed him to lead you around the still snow covered ground and looking at a few new establishments you'd never seen. A mechanic shop, a book store, what looked like an antique store- 

You blinked as Gyomei slowly stopped also stopping you as your arms were linked before he gestured to the antique looking store. "Kyojuro works there as the assistant manager. Should we stop by and say Hello?"

Kyo? You smiled. "Sure. I haven't seen him in like three weeks. It'll be a nice surprise."

Gyomei agreed and lead you across the cold street and towards the small shop. It wasn't anything fancy. Just your average small shop that looked like it sold antiques and donated items like clothes, toys, and other random things. Yep. Just your average hand me down store. Though you did spy a few foreign cook books you were interested in. The one from France made you completely stop and skip from Gyomei's arm to go rummaging through the shelf of books and magazines. Picking up some cheap cookbooks you were very eager to look through.

"Did you folks find anything you like?"

Both of you turned and you lit up at the sight of a brightly smiling flame haired man holding up a decently sized cardboard box in his arms. "Kyo! There you are! Mei said you worked here!"

"INDEED!!" He shouted loudly with a bright smile on his face. "Welcome to Greatwill!! A percentage of every purchase goes to the local woman's shelter! How can I help you today?"

He must've still been acting professional cuz he was still on the clock. No matter. You were still happy to see him so you held up the old pre owned books. "Can I buy these really quick?"

"Of course! Just let me finish putting up this china set and I'll get right to you!," he said holding up the box.

Definitely caught him in the middle of working. Only watching as returned to a shelf to finish unloading the breakable china onto the shelves before making his way over to the counter and smiling brightly at you holding your books. 

"Did you find everything ok?"

You nodded. "Definitely. I can't wait to look through these recipes. Aren't you working a bit late though?"

"I was about to close up the shop actually. You both caught me right when closing."

"Oh. Hey. Do you wanna come have dinner with us?"

Kyojuro and Gyomei blinked at you surprised by your offer. "You're...inviting me to dinner?"

You nodded. "Only if you'd want to though it's been a while since I last saw you and I'd like to spend time with you too. As long as Mei doesn't mind." You turned to him in question.

Gyomei hummed raising a brow as he stared in your direction. "I..do not see why not as long as he is comfortable with it."

"But of course!" The flame haired man beamed at you both in happiness. "I'd love nothing more than to join you both for dinner! But first thing's first. That'll be ten forty five for the books."

The night was pretty casual. You three had a few burgers at some small hole in the hall restaurant just catching up with him asking his his exam went and how his dad was doing at his new job. You were happy to hear Mr. Rengoku was doing a lot better now than you last saw him. And you were happy to see Kyojuro also doing so well seemingly much happier now that he didn't have to worry about his father struggling with a job. Speaking of which you've learnt through the grapevine that the Shinazugawas were doing much better as well. Most of Sanemi's friends had helped to chip in with helping Mrs. Shinazugawa pay off the massive debt her deceased husband left behind. So now Sanemi's siblings wouldn't be forced to take on part time jobs after all which was a relief. That poor woman didn't need to go through that. Before parting on good terms for the evening and heading on home.

You supposed the Uzui's heard of you hanging out with practically everyone else so not to be outdone, Makio sent you a text inviting you to come over next week and see where they put up the painting of you. You agreed and the last Wednesday of that month drove over to the Uzuis' home. Greeted at the door by Makio whom invited you in and found the other two ladies preparing lunch in the kitchen but made sure to greet and talk to you for a little bit before Tengan danced his way down the stairs to greet you.

"Well if it ain't my lovely muse!~," he greeted you brightly upon seeing you there.

"Hey, Tengen. How's your next painting coming along?"

You noticed that he was wearing that paint stained apron and he had his hair tied up in the same messy bun he always wore when you posed for him, so you assumed that meant he must've been painting again.

He lit up giving a wink and finger guns. "Sharp eye. My neighbor commissioned me to paint her this cherry blossom landscape but that's not what you're here for." You blinked when he all of sudden threw an arm around your shoulders and squished you against his side. "How about I show you where I put that portrait at?"

"Sure!"

With a smile he brought you upstairs and over down the hall a bit before he showed you the wall right next to the guest room proudly. On it was the absolutely beautiful painting Tengen had painted you last month. It's a surreal feeling seeing yourself somehow so beautiful and painted. Made you happy seeing Tengen's face so proudly smiling at it.

"I think you picked a nice spot for it," you complimented making him smile. "I'd love to see your other painting when you're finished."

"Will do! You'll love it! Cherry blossoms are one of my favorite things to paint!" He motioned with his hands lighting up like a kid in a candy shop. "After all, they're absolutely beautifully breath taking and the romantic undertones are perfect for that special someone."

"I didn't take you for a romantic, but then again you work at a host club so that checks out."

That actually had him blinking before looking amused and loudly laughing. "Hahaha! I'd like to think I'm quite romantic with all my partners, but I was actually referring to the painting itself as romantic considering the guy whom commissioned me plans to gift it to his crush next month."

You rose a brow a bit confused. "Next month?"

Now Tengen's brow rose. "Did you forget?" He motioned at nothing with his hand when you didn't catch on. "Valentine's Day!"

"Oh." Realization dawned on you. "I must've forgotten with how busy I've been this month." Although you did notice the fliers advertising for the upcoming Sweethearts Dance the university was hosting but soon after forgotten about them. 

"Yeah. Y'know it's tradition to confess under cherry blossoms? Well it's still going to be too cold for them to bloom next month so the guy figured that he'd confess by giving his own cherry blossoms. Courtesy of yours truly of course!~"

"Aw! That's honestly kinda sweet."

"Yeah! I'm treating all three of my wives to an expensive dinner and treating them like the queens they are!~ And of course Kyojuro's not going to escape my flamboyant love either! What about you guys?" He looked interested tilting his head at you. "What are you and the big guy doing for V Day? Wait! Don't tell me. The big lug's taking you to that cute dance right?"

"Oh...um." You looked away suddenly shuffling embarrassed. "I uh-...Never celebrated Valentine's Day romantically."

Slowly magenta eyes blinked at you. "Huh?"

You shrugged. "Well...I do celebrate it just not like everyone else."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I just-..Well Valentine's Day is about celebrating all kinds of love not just romantic. So I just sorta celebrated self love. Every year."

"Uh huh." He hummed looking you up and down. "Haven't you ever been to a dance before?"

"Once. At prom...But it didn't go so well."

"What happened?" 

You frowned deadpanned. "Well my 'date' ghosted me and didn't pick me up, and when I decided to just go myself I found out he just decided to dump me and go with one of the cheerleaders instead. I spent the entire time just drinking punch standing around like an idiot because no one asked me to dance." That and you only got home because Murata was there and like a good friend had offered to drive you back home.

His eyes widened at that. "Wow. That's despicable."

"I know. Before Mei I've had really bad luck with dates."

"I see.." It was then that his eyes lit up with a bright idea that made him. "Well I'm sure you'll have a good dance one of these days."

"I doubt that but thank you, Tengen. I appreciate it."

"But of course.~ Now why don't you join us for lunch? Hinatsuru makes some delicious gyudon."

You hadn't really expected anything to happen after that encounter with the Uzuis. You simply had lunch and then left soon after not giving Tengen a second thought to anything he had said as he saw you off digging a phone from his pocket. Just choosing to focus on work and school through the rest of the month and into the first few days of February. 

When it happened.

You were in the nursery when it happened. You had just changed the diaper of one of the babies and put them down for their nap when your coworker poked her head in with a mixture of shock and 'i just saw a ghost' on her face. 

"Hey, Lacey. Are you ok?" You looked concerned by the thousand yard stars she was giving you. "You look like you saw a ghost."

She just stiffly looked at you before pointing behind her towards the front lobby. "Th-Th-There's-..For you?"

You were further confused furrowing your brows. "For me?..Is there someone in the lobby?"

She stiffly nodded making you him. Who could be in the lobby at this hour? Classes weren't over yet so nobody could've been here to pick up anyone yet. By the look on her face, it could've been Sanemi scaring the living daylights out of her again but that wouldn't make sense if he was still in class. Curiosity got the better of you as you bypassed the frozen, pale woman and left the infant wing towards the lobby. Up the hallway you noticed something up ahead. A much taller figure was already standing there and you recognized him immediately.

"Gyomei?" The man in the apron turned to you with a blink as your footsteps approached from up the hallway. "What's going on?"

"That is what I was just trying to figure out." He turned back forward across the lobby and you did too.

What you saw had you stopping in your tracks. 

"Guys?" 

"HI, Y/N!!," Mitsuri was the first one to answer giving you a full armed wave and smile.

Everyone was there. Hinatsuru, Giyuu, Obanai- 

"What are you all doing here?," Gyomei asked confused as if reading your mind too. His brows rising. Did that mean Lacey told him to come to the lobby too? "Shouldn't you be at work or have classes?" His head tilted as his brows furrowed. "And how come I smell so much floral?"

"Why are you guys holding flowers?"

Each and every one of them held some kind of flowers. A full on bouquet for most even if Sanemi and Obanai looked entirely flustered and red faced about it refusing to make eye contact.

"Kanae donated them from the florist shop but enough of that?" Tengen smiled brightly at you as if proud of his little mischief plan. "We came all the way here to ask you both something!"

Ask you both something? You glanced at Gyomei but he just seemed as lost and confused as you were continuing to just stare ahead in sheer dumbfoundedness at the group of people in front of you both until you looked back up when Tengen got down on one knee.

"Gyomei. Y/n." With the most mischievous grin on his face he dared to hold up the roses to you both. "Will you do us the honor of going to the dance with us?~"

[da-rulah]

Hello :)

I would love to request the Papas with a s/o who is basically a Disney Princess with animals and is constantly bringing home something new and unusual. Like ducklings in the bathtub or baby opossums in the dresser drawers. They think they get used to it until they bring something new and unusual, forever keeping them on their toes.

This is such a cute idea. 🥹 I've given it some thought, and I hope you enjoy!

Primo

It started when he found you hiding a stray puppy in one of his sheds. There was no way he could ever be mad at you; he wonders why you'd hidden it from him to begin with.

He'd given you the space to nurse the puppy and watched on with a softness in his eyes. This was one of those things he loved about you; your soft gentility.

One morning, he found you in the same shed with a box full of newborn fox cubs. They'd been abandoned, and you couldn't leave them out in the cold...

Primo relented easily, smiling to himself and offering to help.

This continued - filling the shed with animals you kept finding in need. They seemed magnetised to you. It astounded Primo...

He surprises you one day, having emptied the old shed of any of his gardening supplies and instead, asking the Ghouls to build you your own little animal sanctuary.

He figured you needed a less cluttered, cleaner and friendlier space for all your little rescues.

Secondo

He tries to argue with every new animal you bring home, but you've already overrun your shared quarters with three rabbits, two ferrets, a wounded crow and a raccoon

That raccoon was the last damn straw; they were supposed to be vicious! You couldn't keep that here?

But the thing just sat around blinking at him, eating scraps most of the time.

He grumbled and groaned about it like an unexpected new father would.

But you come home from your duties one evening and find him knelt at the edge of the bathtub, shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows, cigarette between his lips as he coos and whispers to the ferrets who are playing in the water beneath him.

The rest of your furry friends are surrounding him, avoiding the water but calmly enjoying his company too.

He looks so soft, fussing over all of them as if he hadn't been grumbling over their very existence.

"See, you do love them," you smirked, leaning against the door frame.

"Amore, I would kill or be killed for them. But no more..." he told you sternly.

He was not going to like what was waiting for him in the living room.

Terzo

Total enabler.

He becomes aware of your little obsession very early in the relationship and his favourite little trick, is to tell you "you only got one? But it'll be lonely" and give you puppy dog eyes.

Obviously, you cave every time, finding friends for your rescues.

Your apartment is like Noah's fucking Ark - two by two of everything.

He loves it though, and insists that you name the first, he name the second, every time.

He must say, the weirder the animals get, the more difficult life in your quarters becomes but hey, he likes the challenge.

He figures that soon enough he'd be able to open up "Papa's Petting Zoo" for the Ministry children.

He does indeed make a joke to you about Papa's "Heavy Petting Zoo" that was saved for you and you alone. He couldn't resist.

Copia

He started it.

He had two rats when you first started dating, but he just kept bringing them home with him.

And so then, every time you came across a rat that needed shelter, you would bring that little guy home to an ever-growing adoptive family.

Copia's face would light up every time, and together you'd spend the entire evening brainstorming names.

Eventually the enclosures you had for them had to keep getting bigger and bigger, until eventually, your apartment was overrun and their enclosure was the entire living room space.

Neither one of you minded of course, happy to give them the freedom they desired.