#what i wouldn't give to have been in that room

[pricegouge]

shovel talk

it's not even six in the morning and yet the shovel grates across the walkway, grit of pebbles beneath its steel edge scraping and catching. it balks in unsteady hands, tries again with another drawn out rasp before meeting the wall of the bank. trembling as it rises, it spills a portion its spare load back across the pavers before being tipped meticulously atop the mountain of snow that runs parallel the walk. she lets the shovel fall carelessly ahead of her and grits her teeth, rises an inch and scoots forward minutely, dragging the cheap lawn chair she's been perched on along by a hand shoved between her knees, gripping the seat. it scrapes just as much as the shovel, heavy with implication. she's not even wearing a proper jacket, just a flannel over a zip up hoodie, the wool weave of her button up already beaded with melted snow.

she looks ornery and mulish, but so are you and you can't just keep walking past.

clear blue eyes turn on you when you call to her, ask if you can help. her hands might shake but her gaze is level, taking you in from head to toe before scooting herself along another inch. "shouldn't be doin' that," she advises, voice croaky in her old age.

"neither should you," you counter, nodding at her makeshift mobility aid. it teeters when she turns to chuckle at you, though she hides it in a cough. stubborn old bat, you can already tell.

"anyway my son will be here soon."

pursing your lips, you look the walk over properly. the poor woman's already done over half of it - how late is the son exactly? but you don't comment on it, step closer when her shovel catches on a shelf of ice instead. "give it here, please," you offer rather diplomatically. she frowns apprehensively but does as told, shuffling her seat back a smidge to give you room to work. it takes a couple tries but you catch the bottom edge of the ice, ply it back and huck it over the bank easily enough. it thunks as it sinks through the snow, a real ice breaker.

"and here i'd pegged you for some soft, sweet thing," she laughs, sheepish.

"must've loosened it for me," you shrug, and turn to finish the walk while she's distracted, laughing herself into a minor coughing fit. "should you go inside?" you offer, unsure if it's a good suggestion seeing as that would leave some strange woman alone on her front lawn.

thankfully she just waves you off as she calms herself down, heavy breaths clouding around her like the smoke that's probably catching up to her. "can't. gotta take credit for your work when my son gets here."

"oh, i see how it is," you snark, and purposefully leave a good quarter inch on the paver, a base level that will freeze solid soon enough and create another sheet of ice for her to struggle with in the future.

she just eyes you, thin eyebrow pulled low on a once-heavy brow. she may be old and frail but it's a sort of sternness that doesn't dull with age and you can only smile to yourself as you fix it. no wonder her son still comes by to help. "he running late?" you ask conversationally, nod up the path where she's already done most of the work by way of explanation when she hmm's at you.

"oh, no. he'll be two hours early, probably. which is why i'm out here three hours early. a woman's got to have her pride, after all."

you nod along as if that's reasonable. "well what's he gonna do when he gets here, then?"

"fix my water heater," she gripes. "say, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

it earns an unladylike snort from you, but you don't think she's the type to mind. "'fraid not."

the stoop is easy enough, just a quick swipe to clean the steps. you note the name above the door with some interest, a misplaced desire to keep tags on her, come back and check maybe. "got any salt, mrs. price?"

she motions you toward the open garage behind her but sticks a hand out for help as you pass. her grip is surprisingly strong on your forearm, the fingers of her other hand digging into your tricep almost cruelly when she uses you to drag herself up. you snatch the lawn chair up before she can even try it, nod toward the garage questioningly.

"next to the overhead, please," she agrees, and you find the bucket of salt right beside it, an empty coffee can already filled and ready for dispensing. when you emerge from the garage, there's a truck parked out front.

"give me that," mrs. price hisses and you jump to find her so close, already snatching the can from your fingers. old bat can still move.

the driver's door creaks when it closes. you can only see the top of a blue beanie from over the roof of it but mrs. price doesn't wait to see him before hollering at her son. "i thought you wouldn't be here until nine!?"

tall and burly with his mother's same stern brow, price junior rounds the corner of his truck and frowns between the two of you."and i thought you didn't like when other people shoveled for you," he counters before tacking on a quick hi pet towards you.

"hi -."

"who's shoveled for me?" she demands, motioning up the walk with another spray of salt. "did this all on my own."

he hums as he comes closer, boots crunching over the thin dusting of snow that still coats the driveway. you sincerely hope mrs. price didn't shovel all that, but judging by the banks that line the drive you suspect a service was likely hired. why they couldn't take an extra two minutes to clear an old lady's walkway you'd never know. you think maybe the son is wondering the same, the way he's inspecting the short stretch critically, but when he opens his mouth it's not at all meant to insult the snow removal service. "you're losing your touch, woman."

you're unsure who's more offended, yourself or his mother. "what's wrong with it?" you blurt, unheeding of the way mrs. price elbows you again.

"i've done a fine job," she supplies, trying to save face.

he just tilts his head at her patronizingly, rocks up onto his toes to appear unnecessarily bigger. "you've forgotten we're expecting more snowfall soon. you'll want to widen the walk to push the banks back, make it easier to shovel out the next storm."

this ass. "well if you'd wanted it done right, you should have shown up on time," you huff, unreasonably defensive of the quick job you'd done.

he's still got that insufferable expression on when he turns to you, but you think you see an edge of something playful glimmering in his clear blue eyes, that same expression his mother had worn when she'd asked if you could perhaps also take his job fixing her water heater. "'on time' would be hours from now," he reminds you. "would you have had this all fixed by then?"

the worst part is, calling him out on the insult would mean admitting you'd done it, and you're suddenly very aligned with this man's mother re: his versus her pride. instead you turn his own words back on him, leaning close to your new friend to ask her if she's going to take that.

she chuckles. "oh, don't mind him. john here's just scared because he knows his job is at risk."

you watch john frown between the two of you, the furrow between his brows deepening in a way which brings you too much pleasure. part of you wants to stay, keep carving away at his pride, but you're now running late for work and you still have a few blocks to walk. "well, it was lovely to meet you, mrs. price," you say with an overly formal shake of her hand.

"pleasure doing business," she agrees with a wry smile. "see you again bright and early next snow storm."

john doesn't budge to let you pass, instead squints down at you in open assessment. you note his cheeks are rosy with the cold and you briefly hope he gets stuck outside fixing the damn walk, cold wind stinging the chapped apples of cheeks which his ridiculous beard doesn't quite cover. they scrunch up when he affects a smile, lend a sort of disarmingly childish quality to the patronizing tone he still can't quite drop. it just pisses you off even more. "didn't actually catch your name," he prompts, gloved hand extended, as if attempting to continue the ruse.

"that's because i didn't give it," you chirp in your best customer service voice. you brush past him when he can only blink in confusion, the contrast between your words and your tone evidently too much for him to process so early in the morning.

"she usually pays me with breakfast if you want to stick around!" he calls after you, far too late to start acting sweet.

you nearly slip in your haste to spin around and fix him with an overly saccharine smile. "oh, i already ate. got here at five," you lie, just to watch his face crumble into genuine concern.

behind him, his mother's thin mouth twists into a cheshire grin and you stumble away before she can solidify any real plans.

too bad she's just as stubborn and ornery as you.

too bad john's worse than both of you.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

now on a3 HERE

.

“Holy crapsticks, Derek! Some sort of warning of your imminent wolfy arrival wouldn't go amiss you know? You do own a cellphone—I've seen it with mine own two eyes!”

Derek goes to close Stiles's window, turning his head first to hide his almost-smirk.

“Hey, are you laughing at me?” Stiles asks, affronted.

Derek obviously hides it badly. Or maybe Stiles is just better at catching him out than most people.

Stiles whips off one of his socks, balls it up, and launches at Derek's head. Derek catches it easily before fully turning back around. He then sniffs at it, eagerly, just to gross Stiles out.

It smells—nice, honestly.

Stiles gags. “Oh my God, you are such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one,” Derek shrugs.

He kind of can't help himself. It's fun getting snarky with this shithead kid, and it's been a while since he's known what fun looks like.

Derek's an asshole. And he's selfish. Does selfishness makes you an asshole by association? Whatever. He figures he's allowed to be a selfish asshole after everything. He stopped caring about social niceties a while back. Stiles—even if undeserving of a selfish asshole like Derek messing up his life more than it's already messed up—doesn't seem to give two shits about that sort of thing anyway.

There is also something awfully delicious about watching Stiles get riled up. That little jackrabbit heart of his thumping even faster against his frail, human ribcage; those usually pale as the moon cheeks flushing hard as he blushes beautifully from a baby pink through to a deep, blood red.

Selfish Asshole is a pretty good position to be in from where Derek is currently standing, watching a satisfyingly scarlet-faced Stiles flail his skinny arms about like an inflatable tube man outside a cheap car sales room.

He asks Derek what he wants and Derek thinks, you.

It's not exactly a revelation. He's had thoughts. Thoughts he's acted on when he's horny and has a precious few minutes to himself. He'd thought it was just a physical thing, at first.

Until the pool.

He licks at his lips and tastes both Stiles's irritation and his desire.

It's the same for him. Stiles annoys the living crap out of him, but he makes his dick hard too. Plus his heart a little soft, dammit.

It's fucking annoying.

Even more irritating is how there are rules for this shit, ones he actually finds himself wanting to abide by for once. He doesn't really know why but maybe it's because everyone he's been with since the fire has thought he was human, and he doesn't have to pretend with Stiles. Maybe he just likes Stiles more than he thought he did.

He rolls his eyes (not just at Stiles) and shucks Laura's old record bag off his shoulder before opening it and carefully taking out its contents.

“Here, take this.”

Stiles eyes him suspiciously before reaching out and taking the small-ish bundle from Derek's grasp, looking at it as though it might be poisoned. It could be for all Stiles knows, he supposes. The kid sniffs at it with only a fraction of the enthusiasm Derek had for Stiles's sock.

“Dude, why in the name of all that is sacred have you brought me a nosegay? Like, what the fuck is this shit? Looks like a really old Dolmades and smells like, like, I dunno, like somebody shoved a bunch of dead flowers in my Dan-O's jar of Italian Herb seasoning, man. Dear lord,” Stiles complains, holding the homemade smudge stick in the air between a finger and thumb as if it's a dead rat.

…which Derek very much could have gone with instead of an apotropaic charm. To be fair, if he'd chosen an offering as a token of his affections, it probably would've been something a little larger like a rabbit.

Stiles should think himself lucky.

“It's a smudge stick, you idiot,” Derek informs the kid, rolling his eyes again for good measure, and reason. His sockets perpetually ache around this dumbass.

He tosses his bag onto Stiles's desk chair, and himself onto Stiles's bed. Hiding out here a while back left him fairly comfortable around the place.

“Oh! I've read about these a ton on like, magic sites and shit, just—I never actually saw one IRL before.”

Derek scoffs. “Nobody actually says IRL in real life, genius.”

“Well they clearly do, Douchey Mc Dickbag, because I just said it, right here, right now,” Stiles sasses and pulls his tongue out at Derek.

Derek wants to bite and suck on it.

“You don't count. You're not real; you're just one of my recurring nightmares,” he sasses right back because it's fun to.

Selfish asshole.

“Awww, Der-bear! So you not only bring me what is essentially a bunch of flowers on Valentine's Day, but you dream about me too? Honestly, I didn't know you cared, big guy!” Stiles moons, clutching the smudge stick to his chest like a fool.

There's a record scratch moment where Derek has to go back over what Stiles just said.

Valentine's Day?

Before giving himself a chance to panic at the extra pressure this brings, he hears himself saying, “What if I am? And what if I do?” because maybe, actually, thinking about it, this will make it easier for Stiles.

Stiles's heartbeat stutters as he sucks in a big, staccato breath that Derek doesn't think he necessarily meant to take, and he sounds a little incredulous when he whispers, “What?” on the exhale.

Derek gets up off the bed and lopes over to where Stiles is standing, planting himself directly in front of the kid, their noses practically touching. He watches, rapt, as Stiles' cheeks go from moon rocks to rose petals to pools of blood, in a matter of seconds.

“There's white sage and sweetgrass and cedar. And yarrow. Wild indigo. Marigolds, too. And, uh, chamomile and mugwort and rosemary and bay. It's for protection. For you. Because,” he pauses, then thinks fuck it, before barrelling on. “Because I want to protect you, dip-shit,” Derek tells him and hopes, and hopes, and hopes.

I don't know who's gonna protect you from me though, he thinks as Stiles swallows. It sounds like a rock in a lake.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes, batting those long, pretty lashes up at Derek as if he has no idea what effect it has on his predatory nature.

He's never known Stiles to speak in one word sentences before now, and he thinks he very much likes knocking the sass right out of the brat like this.

Stiles squirms a little. “Um, I feel kinda bad, now,” he lies, looking down at the singular sock he's still wearing. He doesn't feel bad at all. He smells of pride and excitement and arousal. “I don't have anything to give you.”

Derek says, “Yeah you do; you started leaving your window open again, ” because they both know that ever since the pool, Stiles wants to trust Derek.

This is not a good idea, he thinks. But Derek is a selfish asshole—remember?

He licks at a canine, and Stiles whimpers.

Fuck, Derek thinks as he says, “Also, you could let me do this,” and licks Stiles from jaw to hairline, before he's nestling his entire face into Stiles's neck with a satisfied growl.

“Oh my fucking fuck, Derek, I am so nosegay for you,” Stiles literally whines, and Derek grins as he nips at the kids throat. “It's Happy Valentine's to the both of us then, I guess,” Stiles practically hums, flinging the smudge stick onto his desk before pushing Derek backwards to fall gracelessly onto his bed.

And for the first time in his life Derek thinks, thank fuck for Saint Valentine's.

.

completely unedited so pls be kind, and a very HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 💕 — awoooooooo!

[juniperdugong]

How silly

Pairing: Salaryman!Nanami x reader Genre: Romance, Fluff, Angst (?) CW: Heavily Suggestive but no real smut !!!MINORS DNI!!! WC: 4,269

A/N: Note, a Nomikai is like an after-work drinking party. Also...I'm back, lemme know if this is absolute shi- or not.

Despite his austere demeanor, Nanami Kento's house was rather cozy. There was enough space for himself and then some - when he's rather cold and calculative on the battlefield or behind a desk, his house remains warm and bright, inviting even.

Although, right now - to you, it was anything but.

You were leaning against the living room wall, your heart stirring with every sound Kento made in the kitchen. There were perfectly good and comfy seats to be taken on the couch but your nerves willed you to stand. You fiddled with your fingers and scanned the room - It wouldn't have been too long ago that you might've felt comfortable in this space, maybe even felt at home. But now it just served as a bitter reminder, one that Kento just had to bring up again.

"Take a seat, it's not like you to not make yourself at home." Nanami came in teasing you, all smiles as he brought in two mugs of tea - just the way you liked it, just the way that he remembered you liked it.

"I feel fine on the wall, Nanami." Your tone conveyed your nerves in a way that Nanami definitely disliked judging by the way you see his eye twitch slightly. You would be the first to talk casually but right now being formal was the one thing keeping that lump in your throat from forming.

"I thought we'd gotten past the formalities, y/n…" Disappointment rides over his face, he should be expecting this after how he acted in the office but it only makes his mood more sour. Sensing your apprehension he lightens up, "Right, sorry-", adjusting himself on the couch, he picks up one of the mugs and starts sipping, "Saw you've got a new assistant." He doesn't elaborate or even meet your eyes as he changes the subject.

"Nana-" He throws you a stare that makes you clear your throat, "Kento… what does me having a new assistant have to do with anyth-"

"Can I not have a good and well-mannered conversation with my co-worker?" He cuts you off, knowing what you're prodding him for but not giving in just yet.

"Not if that co-worker is me and anyways, I think officially speaking I'm your boss. Even more inappropriate." You nip at your fingernails before pulling your skirt down, "But that isn't even why we're really here."

He sets down his mug and gets up, your breath hitches at his movements and his gaze darkens at your trepidation - he approaches you slowly, "Let's not be like this, y/n.", it sounds like he's fed up with your attitude. You couldn't understand why he would be the one fed up in this situation but suddenly you can't control your breathing, chest rising up and down more and more rapidly as he stalks forward, the way the lighting hits him makes his shadow grow from your perspective- You feel like an animal being hunted and you're not sure if you like it. His eyes narrow as his imposing frame towers - caging you in.

"Kento, stop." You're stern as the pit in your stomach grows. And he pauses, shaking his head and chuckling before backing away and composing himself.

"I'm sorry- Sit. Please. I have a feeling we might take a while…" Acting as though he didn't just try to intimidate you he sits back down. Turning on the TV he drags out this moment of tension until you feel coerced to sit or else you'd get nowhere and you'd have come here for nothing.

---

Of course, it wasn't always like this. There was a point in time when his stalking was desired, lusted after, and in turn, he was fond of your seductive fawning & controlling side. Yours and Nanami's relationship was almost like a TV-perfect office romance/forbidden love trope. Both competing to get promotions, bickering in meetings to gain advantage & prestige, nothing more than idle talk about client meetings during work hours, and both equally as cold & uncaring in the eyes of everyone in the office.

After hours…now that was a different story altogether. What started as coincidentally meeting at the convenience store - both of you hammered after a night out to relieve stress - turned into much more. What neither of you would admit to calling an office crush twisted itself into love motel stops & Nomikai's that became routine for you two. Always claiming that "just one more night" would quell your desire for each other. It was almost toxic the way you wanted one another - how the frustration of the office during the day could be taken out on each other during the night.

But that relationship changed once you got promoted. You both had been up for the position for some time - having several meetings & being observed constantly - near continuous stress. Being so fiercely competitive you went at each other's throats, desperate to prove your worth to the company. Your nights out became back-to-back sessions of rough love-making that would end with tired eyes remembering the hostile environment you've both cultivated at the office that you would now have to return to in the morning.

When it was announced that you had gotten the position things began to shift. Of course, there was the relief of securing something earned through hard work & loyalty but looking Nanami in the eye became harder, as if through this your loyalty to him was in question. Over the next month your nomikai's together were less frequent, you were moved to the office one floor up so talking was rare now too - it all fizzled right at the climax. "How boring." Nanami thought.

Months passed and eventually, you lost all contact except for the occasional meeting or report. In a surprising turn of events, you got promoted again when the department head got fired as the new year came. This effectively made you Nanami's boss and once more your paths crossed with increased frequency.

Everything was really good. No longer colleagues and rivals, your relationship got better. You still felt the occasional guilt of climbing the corporate ladder faster than him, but it wasn't anything either of you could or would change at this point. You were able to make light conversation, the spark of the corrupted crush you had so long ago reigniting, but this time, more purely—more right.

You'd blush as you came into your office and saw a note with a coffee or breakfast sandwich next to it. Inside poetic waxing of 1-3 sentences often harping on "having a good day" & "gaining energy" from these lovely efforts. And at the end always signed "Ken."

Even the smallest efforts made your heart swell, as would anyone's given the circumstances and the man. Without needing physical intimacy there was a subtle tension, never negative, instead an electricity in the air that made the office feel more alive… Well, at least that's what you two would experience. Maybe this time you get off on the right foot and build up something real - although still heavily taboo between boss & employee. At least it would be a relationship bound by more than tenuous midnight moans & morning walks of shame.

---

At your height within the company, it would be stupid to take on menial tasks like running to the printer, confirming meeting times, and scheduling on-site appointments. Not too soon after your promotion, a peer advised you to get a full-time secretary or personal assistant. You had more than enough salary to pay someone, so why not? Less on your plate meant more time spent thinking about your personal life, something you couldn't afford to do before.

It didn't take long for young university hopefuls to come crawling out of the woodwork once you posted the job offer. Colleagues began being overly nice during work hours in hopes of buttering you up enough to mention a name of an underclassmen or relative. During this period, noticing the buzz around you Nanami came around less frequently in fear of being a bother but his presence made itself known in the refilled snack drawer by your desk and the organized documents that you had complained to him about over lunch. Eventually, you settled on a very nice young man who had good enough experience to not be a hassle to train but not too experienced to where your seniority felt pointless.

Sure enough, it made things much easier over the next week. Meetings went by more smoothly and you could contain work more strictly to office hours.

In your newfound free time, you often drifted to thinking about Kento and what your relationship was. You started to consider the thought of "liking" someone, of liking Nanami Kento seriously. How nice it would feel to go to dinner with him after work with no expectations of the night, of stealing kisses in the break room, of waking up next to someone and this time not rushing to gather your clothes from off the floor.

So, after a few months of back & forth and more time than ever to attempt something like this, you decided to test your waters by setting up coincidental bump-ins with him but the results were odd. You were friendly with each other sure but in your gut you could feel him pulling away. Every interaction becoming shorter and less filled with niceties & casual talk leaving you confused. You were so sure that this was working, that weeks ago this would've led to a real connection; Maybe you weren't on the same exact page but close enough… you had thought that at least.

Were the signals too mixed? Did he want to return to the casual sex from before? Was that what he was after all along? Was he not on the same page and saw this simply as friendliness between higher-up and lower employee?

But then what did it mean when he'd brought you coffee in the mornings? Or when he'd stop by your office during lunch to ask what you were eating? Or the shy smiles you'd steal from each other when you were sure no one was looking? What does all that mean if not "I like you"?

You couldn't stand it. Waiting for the coy smile of the businessman sitting across the room during a meeting became almost torturous. You're not sure but it feels like a significant change had occurred without you knowing. Like over the past week a frost had entered and frozen over an innocent springtime.

The next 2 weeks were spent analyzing this thing between you and in your analysis you confirmed one thing. That this was not a case of growing apart but rather an avoidance caused by an unknown subject- Unknown to you that is. A confusing loop of getting just close enough to observe the glimmer of want in his eyes when you were around but never close enough to actually talk about it. And that's when you knew that you had to do something or the spark would fizzle just as quickly as it did before.

---

"Nanami, can I talk to you in meeting room 3?" His eyebrow quirked at your sudden question.

"Oh sure, was something wrong with yesterday's reports? Or did the client from Y company say something?" As per usual he kept on the topic of business - He has no precedent to think this was anything but, after all.

"No, I actually just wanted to touch base about something else." His face was inscrutable as your words were taken in.

"I'll be there in 15. Just let me finish up these last couple of emails." Even his tone was monotonous, with no hint of deeper thought or meaning. For all you know, he could be cursing you out in his head.

15 minutes has never felt this long before. Circling the room you went over the conversation you've meticulously planned - All the responses he could make and all the actions he could take. You're not sure if in doing this you only made yourself more nervous or if it at all quelled your worry but you couldn't stop. Not until you heard those heavy footsteps and the door click.

"Nanam-"

"Y/n-" You almost giggled as your voices overlapped but seeing the forlorn look on Kento's face made that moment of joy subside.

"Sorry, you called me here for a reason. Please…" He gestured towards you to continue.

"Ah- I umm I just wanted to talk to you because recently it seems like you've been…avoiding me. I mean it's not like I expe-"

"Stop." He cuts you off abruptly. "Not during work hours, please."

"Then when? I can never find a moment with you alone these days. It's only in an official capacity like this can I even see you right now."

"Y/n-" He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples before continuing, "Look - I'm sorry. I have been avoiding you. But it's for a good reason."

"Good reason? What reason?" You don't mean to sound as mad as you do but you couldn't help it - You were hurt. What reason could he possibly have for distancing himself like this? The look on your face must've conveyed your emotions perfectly because he immediately softens raising a hand to your cheek to comfort you.

"Mrs. L/n are you in- I am so sorry." Your assistant walks just before Kento can reach you. "Mr. Lee is ready to see you in your office. Please excuse me." He leaves just as quickly as he arrives.

You turn your attention back to Kento as you see his gaze linger on the door as it swings closed. Whatever softness he was going to reach you with has hardened, his eyes narrowed with a look of displeasure. "Ken-"

"It looks like you have to go, Mrs. L/n." He straightens up and addresses you formally. You're about to speak up as he leans in close to your ear, "My house tomorrow after work if you have further business to discuss regarding this manner."

Fixing himself he doesn't even spare you a glance. He makes his annoyance far too obvious with the low grumble that echoes throughout the room. Completely frozen from the shock of his whispered proposal you couldn't comment on his attitude, not even as his boss.

You shudder at the thought of being alone with him again after those words. What consequences have you brought upon yourself this time? Going to his house either sounds like the worst hell or the most gracious heaven right now and your mind can't settle on which one sounds more probable. There was only one way to find out.

---

Well now you were certainly in his home but the pressure in the room was enough to make an elephant sweat. Coerced to sit you breathe out heavily, adjusting yourself to as comfortably as you could in your rigidness. Kento reaches for the TV remote and turns the volume down before turning to face you nonchalantly.

"This silence is scaring me a bit, Kento." You break the silence, your words have a joking tone but he takes it seriously even as you pose a fake smile.

"I'm scaring you? I'm…" He swallows his words, straightens out, and takes a breath, "I'm sorry about that y/n. What was it that you wanted to discuss?" It's almost sickening the way he puts on the formality of business with you after nearly pouncing.

"What? No, you're not- Wait. Can we just stop this?" You rush to clear up whatever spiraling thought he had from your few words before focusing your gaze down, embarrassed of bringing up the subject.

"Stop what?" And it sounds like he's genuinely asking. Raising your head back up to meet his eyes you see confusion but also want to resolve whatever this is. Some amount of confidence is restored as you realize that it isn't just you who wants to fix things.

"Well, like I said back in the meeting room, you've been avoiding me Kento. And don't try to deny it."

He pauses trying to collect his words, "I have. But like I said for good reas-"

"Then just tell me the reason Kento." You raise your voice out of frustration.

Nanami retreats, readjusting to calm his nerves. You've never seen him so timid except for when he has to ask if his favorite treats are in stock at the bakery. He can't bring himself to look at you anymore. Whatever confidence he had was blown away by your exclamation. He picks up his mug, takes a sip of his tea, and fiddles with the handle - head downturned.

A murmur comes from him, "What is this?"

"What?" You can barely grasp the words.

"This." And he gestures between the two of you. "What is it? Y/n."

"I'm not understanding, Ken." And you notice the nickname catches his attention as his head whips to look at you - only then do you realize that you haven't addressed him so casually since before your promotions. Not even when you were flirting through office exchanges. For a second you wonder when that hostile relationship became more casual & comfortable than what you had grown accustomed to now.

Nanami bites his bottom lip, "Are we something? Anything other than coworkers? Tell me upfront, please because I don't think I can handle any more of these blurry lines. It's hurting my heart too much." It's a shock to you to see him this way but even more of a shock to himself as he's sure he's never even been this shaken by a curse standing right in front of him but now you've gone and turned things upside down.

You're speechless. Isn't that what you meant to ask him? He was the one putting distance between you. He was the one avoiding you. And now he was asking you this as if you're the one to blame for his actions. For someone so incredibly smart man, oh man was he dumb when it came to emotions. For the first time above the sheets, you're seeing Nanami Kento crumble into your hands. The intimidation tactics from before you now realize were just a front for him to hide all these feelings.

"Do you want to be something other than "coworkers"? Nanami." You scoot closer to him.

"I don't know what to think right now." His eyes are glossy but not yet tear-filled however with the shaky tone you have a feeling that the flood was incoming.

"Just tell me everything that crosses your mind. Anything is better than nothing right now." You're begging him at this point to open up to you. Staying in this relationship purgatory hell for any longer would drive you up a wall.

"Maybe…I don't know." He sighs, " I just- I don't think I'm in my right mind when it comes to you." Placing the mug back down he puts his hands to his face trying to gain clarity.

"What do you mean? Ken." You reach out to him, placing a hand on his knee.

He turns his head to face you again, another heavy sigh escaping him before placing his head back in his hands speaking slightly muffled. "You've made me insane, y/n." He chuckles and you smile, it feels so good to hear him laugh genuinely for just a moment even in his presumed "insanity". "Every time I see you I just want to- I want to hold you. And every time you're near my heart feels at peace but never at ease. I don't know what to make of you."

"I'm afraid I'm still not understanding?" You can sense the inner turmoil he's going through but his word vomit, although pretty, isn't helping you piece it all together clear enough to respond; You're not sure what's holding him back but you know you want to help him through it. Standing up you place yourself in front of him, kneeling slightly to pry his hands away from his face.

He looks up at you as you stand tall before him. Tears now brimming. You never thought a day would come when you would see Nanami of all people on the brink of collapse, as sad as it was it was also extremely cute. But, Was whatever he had to admit something to get this emotional about? Or was it just the fact that it involved you? Even he couldn't be sure of the answer.

"I'm pathetic." He lets his hands flop onto his lap as his shoulders slump and his head hits your stomach in defeat.

You chuckle at the admission brushing the back of his head and letting your hand play with the strands at the nape of his neck. "How are you pathetic? Have I made you feel like that? Is that why…you won't talk to me anymore?"

"What?! No!" He exclaims before calming down once more, this time he places his chin on your navel to look up at you, "I'm pathetic because I get jealous over - what is probably - nothing…" He digs himself back into the softness of your belly, bringing his arms to wrap around your waist - securing you where he can breathe you in.

"Can you let me in on what this "nothing" is? Because I've been nothing but confused these past few weeks, Kento."

Breathing you in, he says something completely muffled that tickles you just enough to lightly chuckle.

"Hmm?" You brush at his gel-hardened hair to coerce him to face you and he follows your movements as if entranced by your touch. His eyes close as he brings his hand to meet yours now leading you to cup his face letting his thumb brush over the skin on your hand. How good it feels to smell you he thinks.

Oh how men fall, more specifically how Nanami Kento falls to your visage as slivers of city lights intertwine with the warm interior and you're illuminated like no goddess he could even imagine. If he could stretch this moment in time forever he would - but he cannot and thus he resigns to just taking you in as your face continues to screw up in confusion.

"Your assistant." and he lets his head hang once more, too embarrassed of his truth to let you meet his eyes.

"My assistant?" You're genuinely confused by the two words for a quick second before it clicks, "Oh…my assistant…He's why you don't want to take me out to lunch anymore?"

"I always want to take you out to lunch, y/n. But how can I- sigh When he's with you 24/7 & gets to be with you all day, how can I not feel so…angry."

"Ken…" You almost have no words, of course, emotions are fickle and he can't control the way he feels but it is kind've silly; While you've been worrying your butt off over him, he's been hiding his possessiveness when you never asked him to. Part of you (a really big part) finds it cute, the other part acknowledges just how stupid that sounds. All this running around each other for nothing - weight lifted but reassurance surely still needed.

"I told you. Nothing." Once again he digs himself so deep into your stomach you're sure he's bound to create some sort of mark.

"No no, not nothing. Well-"

"See!" And you both giggle at the immediate retort.

The entire time you're above him you can't help but think about how odd this position is physically and metaphorically. You're "above" him and he doesn't mind, not the way that you thought he would anyway. And the truth is that Kento would much prefer you above him (in more ways than one) and whatever doubt you had that he would despise you - that he should despise you - after everything that you've taken from him vanishes; you mean so much more to him than official positions and rankings. He loves you, the way his eyes have gained back their sparkle just by being in your presence proves it.

"Should I get rid of him?" You're half joking but in your truest heart of hearts if he asked you would try your best to accommodate his worries.

"Don't do that to the kid…"

"So you're aware that he is just a kid-"

"As I've told you multiple times now, I know it was baseless emotions. Not that I could help it but I know- I should've talked to you sooner."

"Yes. Much sooner." You return to your place beside him on the couch clutching his hand in yours and resting your head on his shoulder.

"Forgive me?"

"Never." He looks at you a bit confused. "Spend every day - starting now - making it up to me Nanami Kento."

A grin so big you couldn't ever imagine it on his face unless it was happening right in front of you - as it was right now - appears. He straightens himself, adjusting pants and all - as if he wasn't already extremely attractive - and faces you. "You've got a deal Mrs. L/n." He holds out a hand and with a firm shake tackles you into the sofa. Suddenly, once more you feel at home in his home. You feel just right where you need to be with Mr. Nanami Kento… or just Ken.

A/N: Holy hell...I'm back babies. Srsly though what did you think of this fic?? Idk how to feel. It's like between a masterpiece and a piece of garbage idk....

Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @iluvmattyb

[rising-starrr]

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐲ō𝐦𝐞𝐧 - 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜é !

warnings : Sukuna has never celebrated Valentine’s Day at all, he spoils you, you two end off the night with sex, jealousy - a servant tries giving you chocolate, killing, true-form! Sukuna, he has two cocks, and can spawn tongues anywhere, he overstimulates you, pet names - princess, ‘pet’, he calls you wife even though y’all aren’t even married yet. Mating press, breeding, DP, P in V, public sex, and more that will come up. afab!reader implied, female pronouns, poc!reader.

(a’s note ! - there’s porn links hidden in here, hope you find them ! y’all gonna be reading books at night so ima say this now, y’all got light, idk how but yall got light.)

𐙚 It was February 14th. Which meant it was Valentine's Day, so you decided to decorate one of the many rooms throughout the household that Sukuna said you could use whenever you were mad at him.

you knew he wouldn't really care for this type of stuff since he always said it was ‘foolish mortal stuff’ but then again he did celebrate everything with you if you asked nicely, or threatened him. Only he knows when he wants to be nice to you.

“wife. what are you doing?” you hear sukuna say from behind you, you don’t jump or anything you’ve gotten used to him appearing out of nowhere. “I’m decorating Ryõmen, what does it look like?” You question.

Ryōmen remembers when you two were being so affectionate, he love when you two are getting it on and that’s always what causes him to zone out when he’s looking at your sweet ass. “What? Don’t get smart with me brat.”

He simply rolls his eyes and walks over towards you. “we’re going out tonight. Be ready in an hour.” He says, not allowing you to respond before he leaves back out.

𐙚 You got ready in that hour he gave you, wearing a dress he had recently brought you. “Ryōmen. What do you think?” You question, spinning in a circle as you approach him. He just gave you a small nod, before fixing his tie and turning to you, he thought you looked beautiful.

He planned to take you to a restaurant, and afterwards he was going to take you to the beach, of course at a time when no one else was there that way he can be alone with you, though of course he would never act on it without you consenting.

He would hope you wouldn’t be a brat tonight, that way he doesn’t have to gag you like usual during your little acts. “Ryōmen! I’ve been calling your damn name for ten minutes, are we leaving or not?” You question, finally seeing him snap out of whatever daze he was in. He just nods, and grabs your hand, taking you outside to the car.

One of the driver’s opens the door for you and him, and allows you two to get in the car, before going back to the driver’s side and driving off to the restaurant. Once the car stops, Sukuna puts a blindfold over your eyes and leads you inside the restaurant. He sits you down before taking off the blindfold.

It was a neatly decorated Valentine’s Day themed booth, that he personally decorated just for you, he wanted everything to be perfect just for you. “Do you like it wife?” He questioned, sitting down as he puts the present he brought you on the table and pushed it towards you.

You nod and begin to open the present, pausing before you continue to ask for confirmation to open. He gives you a small nod, gesturing you to open it for him. you listen and begin to open the present. It was a camera, a promise ring, a new bathing suit, an anklet with his initials and yours, a necklace with his initials, and earrings.

“Oh! This is quite a lot, but thank you Ryōmen, I love you so much.” You murmured, storing it in the bag he brought with the two of you. He just grunts and orders the two of you food, allowing you to get whatever you want.

𐙚 After you two ate, he took you to a nearby beach. Now you see what he brought you a new bathing suit for. you take the bathing suit and go change, it wasn't as windy as it normally was tonight.

When you finally came out the bathroom, he had set up multiple towels so you two would be comfortable. He was currently sitting down on the towels, his head resting on his arm as he read the book he brought along.

He looks up, seeing you finally came out the bathroom, he moves the book, and pats the spot next to him, signaling for you to sit down. you sit down next to him and hum.

“took you long enough brat, now you wanna go get in the water with me or you wanna stay here?” he questioned, waiting for your answer before getting up, all you did was stay seated as a single you wanted to stay at the towels. “Let’s stay here.” You say, laying on your stomach as you began to read a book.

He felt horny just looking at your backside. He hums and grabs you and forces you onto your hands and needs. “Can I?” He questions, waiting for your nod of approval. And you give him the nod of approval.

He grins and pulls down your underwear, and pushes down his boxers and swim shorts. He does a few lazy strokes before positioning himself at your entrance.

You let out a moan, allowing him to push himself inside of you as you two fucked in a public space. Luckily no one was around. His hands gripped your hips, trying to angle himself deeper inside of you as just you just hoped your arms wouldn’t give out or your legs in this moment.

“Feeling good?” He questioned, as he bent down and covering your neck in kisses. You just let out a moan mixed with a shudder. Of course you felt good, he was fucking you so nicely on the beach, you didn’t have a care in the world if you two got caught.

He just kept thrusting until you came on his cocks, eventually cumming right after you did. He picks you up, wraps a towel around you and puts you in the car as he grabs the rest of you guys' stuff and goes to the car.

He mumbles an I love you to you, and allows you to fall asleep on his lap until you get home. Once you two get home, he washes you up and lays you in bed. “Happy Valentine's Day, my wife.”

He lovesssss when your small body is taking his big cock.

Sukuna might have to put a baby in you after all.

You were needy while in the car so he fucked you while you two were being driven back to the mansion.

EDIT: pretend this was posted on Valentine’s Day at 12am !!

Tagged: @babyblue0t7 - technically another part to the other things since I never did Sukuna 💗 Oops.. you already saw it😭😭

[ckret2]

due to stuff involving a goat, the only thing that can save the pines family is sticking bill cipher in a cute dress, doing weird 70's things to his hair, slapping makeup on him, and sending him to flirt with a government agent

and if that ain't a setup for a chapter i don't know what is

anyway here's chapter 86 of this thing.

####

"Something about this is just wrong," Stan said. "It isn't natural."

"Oh, I don't know," Ford said, grinning. "I think it's funny."

Without looking over, trying not to move his lips, Bill said, "I'd like to see you do better."

It was still a few minutes until the Mystery Shack opened for the day, and he and Mabel were sitting in the kitchen, with Bill miserably wearing a mis-buttoned Hawaiian shirt so he wouldn't mess up his makeup when he changed into his flirting uniform. The makeup supplies Pacifica had sent them home with yesterday were spread out on the kitchen table, and they were collaboratively trying to remember how to recreate the look Pacifica had given Bill yesterday. Thus far, they'd managed moisturizer and foundation and were debating the finer points of concealer color theory.

"I didn't say it's bad," said Ford, whose opinions on makeup only fell into three categories: obviously hideous; fine, I guess; and potentially magical sigils for ritual purposes. "It's just bizarre watching you care about it."

Bill mumbled, "I'm blending in with the Nacirema." Ford barked a laugh. (About time somebody got it.)

Stan elbowed Ford. "What's a Nacirema?"

"It's— There's this phenomenon in anthropology— I'll explain it later."

Stan grumbled to himself about the nerds enabling each other, then said, "Hey. When you do the lipstick, don't make it look too good. If it looks too good, he'll assume you're out of his league and get suspicious when you start hitting on him. I never trust attention from a lady whose lipstick isn't at least a little cakey."

Offended, Mabel said, "Grunkle Stan, I'm an artiste! I can't do a bad job on purpose!"

Bill said, "It doesn't matter! Once I get my seduction hat on, he won't even glance at my face." He poked the top hat sitting on the kitchen table.

"Oh, no you don't," Stan said. "Hat's gotta go, it's too tall. Guys hate it when their dates are taller than them."

"What?!" Bill stared at Stan, aghast. "You've gotta be insane! The hat's essential—"

"Hold still!" Mabel poked his neck with the butt of a makeup brush.

He reluctantly gave up and turned to face her again, but not without muttering to himself, "Can't wear a seduction hat, can't stick my hand in a goat's stomach acid, god forbid women do anything."

Last night's hunt for Gompers had been an abysmal failure—Dipper and Mabel had never even glimpsed him. This morning, beneath the banter, there was a somber air in the room; the household was trying not to think about the fact that their collective safety was resting on Bill's ability to seem appealing to a normal man in spite of the fact that they were having a conversation, and he wasn't even able to convincingly pretend he had a plan.

Dipper was trying to get breakfast around Bill and Mabel. Once Mabel had puffed on a layer of setting powder, Bill twisted around to give Dipper an unnecessarily wide smile. "Hey! How do I look?"

He glanced up from pouring a bowl of cereal and grimaced. "Somehow even less like a real human than usual."

Bill laughed. "Yep, it's the lack of pores." He turned away to check his mirror as he applied his mascara.

Mabel said, "He'll look better once we get the lipstick on."

Soos ducked in from the living room. "Hey, uh, guys?" It was clear he'd been as distracted that morning as the rest of them; he'd misbuttoned his suit jacket. "I just saw the government dudes' car again. Like, in the parking lot this time, not lurking down the street."

The energy in the air changed, like a subtle electric current shooting through the room. "Okay, enough gawking at the freak show," Stan said. "Ford?"

"Right!" He grabbed up his coffee mug, re-thought it, and poured the mug back in the coffee pot and picked up the pot instead, then bolted from the kitchen. He returned a moment later with his arms loaded with his journal, several books, and a couple of guns that would definitely be illegal on Earth if Earth had ever heard they existed. "Basement."

Bill turned toward the doorway so fast Mabel almost smeared lipstick across his cheek. Basement? He hoped Ford meant his study. If they went all the way to the basement, and noticed that somebody had been moving around the rubble of the portal...

"Bill!" Mabel said.

"I know, I know." He turned back to her again.

A final line, and Mabel sighed in relief. "Okay, you're good."

Stan rummaged through the fridge for the first thing he could find to sustain himself and Ford for the day. "Hey, demon. Remember everything I taught you."

"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. "Don't claim I have a job he can fact-check, don't pretend I make more money than him unless I want him to invite me to a fancy restaurant and pretend he forgot his wallet, if he asks my age I'm fifteen years younger than him, my human family lives across the country, I don't have any sisters that might be prettier, and there's nothing I wanna hear about more than World War 2 battle tactics or vintage car repair or whatever hobby he's picked up to make himself feel more masculine."

"And?" Mabel prompted.

"And my favorite animal is cats, my favorite color is pink, my favorite flavor is chocolate, my favorite film genre is not slapstick snuff, my favorite time to get married is next week, and my favorite body part on a partner is their eyes still inside their sockets, but if I specify the socket part it'll worry him."

"Right! Gold star!" She smacked a sticker onto his shirt.

Stan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Knock 'im dead," he said. "Not literally. Unless you're sure the other two won't catch you."

"I'll see what I can do," Bill said.

####

The three agents eyed the sign that had been set up outside the Mystery Shack's main door. It said, "Self-guided tour today! $15" and there was a cardboard box taped beneath with a slit cut in the lid.

Agent Dale said, "Do you think that's for us?"

"Probably not," Trigger said uncertainly. "We have a warrant."

"Huh." Dale reread the sign, then tentatively rummaged through his pocket for his wallet and pulled out three fives. Trigger pushed his hand back down.

Soos ran around the side of the shack, breathing heavily. "Oh, wow! What a... totally random coincidence... running into you guys again..." He put his hands on his knees, huffing. "Gimme a sec. I was... running pretty fast... for no reason."

"Mr. Ramirez," Powers said. He held out a search warrant. "We're here to search this building for missing government property."

"Oh, dude, that's crazy," Soos said. "Do you like, have evidence that this property is in the building? Like, I don't know, any kind of... signal that it's giving off, maybe? That confirms it's here?"

Powers turned to Dale. He pulled his tablet out to check. "Uhhh... negative, sir. We're nnnot detecting the signal we picked up yesterday."

Powers frowned. "Hmm."

Trigger said, "Maybe the signal's... on the fritz?"

"Good point," Powers said. "We'd better search anyway. Dale, you start in the museum; Trigger, come with me to the back. I'll interview Mr. Ramirez." He gave Soos a sharp look. "And I hope you'll have more to say today than that you don't know anything."

Soos swallowed hard.

####

From the living room couch, Soos called to Trigger, "Be careful with the stuff in here, okay? This old shack's full of priceless antiques and authentic exotic curios. I glued half of them together myself!"

"So." Powers took a seat in one of the armchairs, opened an unlabeled manila folder and propped it on his knee, and clicked out a retractable pen. "Jesús Ramirez, correct? You prefer 'Soos'?"

"Yep, that's right," Soos said. "When I started school, my cousin Reggie, he'd yell at me across the cafeteria to sit with him, like, 'Jesús!' But some of the kids in my grade thought he was saying, 'hey, Soos!' And it stuck."

Powers nodded slowly. "I... see. And, you're the head of the household."

"Yup! That's me!"

"Property records say that the house is owned by 'Stanford Pines'?"

"Uhhh, yeah," Soos said. "He kinda, stepped down as head of the house, unofficially, and I'm running the house now. Also the business."

"And where is Stanford Pines right now?"

"Oh, he's out." (They had agreed that under no circumstances could the agents talk to Stan, lest something from last summer come up; and they definitely couldn't talk to the real Stanford Pines, whom they already knew as a mysterious superior officer from Washington.)

"When will he be back?"

Soos hesitated. "Ooout of the country. World traveling. Yeah, haha, he's been doing that for the past year with his brother."

Powers flipped a couple pages forward in his file. "His brother Sherman? Who lives in New Jersey?"

"No no, his other brother."

His other brother who died thirty years ago?"

Soos paused. "Uhhh..."

Dale ducked into the living room. "Sirs—I've found something interesting. You have to come see this."

Powers got to his feet, closing his folder and tucking it under his arm. "Excuse me." He followed his agents.

Soos heaved a sigh of relief.

"Wow, Questiony,—you were this close to collapsing like a house of cards."

Bill sauntered down the stairs. He was in a dress covered in yellowy-orangey triangles that managed, for the first time all summer, to reveal that he did in fact have curves, and he'd grabbed a set of green triangular clip-on earrings from Mabel's jewelry. A gold star sticker had been stuck on one of the earrings. Soos thought it was kinda weird to look at him all dressed up, with hair and everything. Bill looked like if Bill had a sister.

"Man," Soos said, slumping back into the couch. "I don't know if I can take another round of that. They're using some kind of government interrogation mind tricks."

"Relax," Bill said. "I'll take it from here."

He shut one eye and shot Soos a pair of finger guns as he backed into the gift shop, and twirled around to go pursue his prey.

####

Dale jogged through the gift shop, nodding to a couple of tourists as he passed—"Morning, ladies"—and ducked through the "employees only" door. A moment later, all three agents jogged into the museum. An older woman asked, "Why are so many handsome men in suits running around?"

As Bill let himself into the gift shop, he said, "Secret government agents! They're here investigating a conspiracy."

"Oh my," the woman gushed. "Isn't that exciting!"

"They'll only be here today! See if you can get their autographs!" Bill leaned on the front counter. "Hey, nice to see you back. You were missed yesterday."

Melody gave him an irritated look from behind the register.

"Surprised you came in, after how you felt yesterday!" In part because Soos was attempting to get as many people away from the shack and out of the danger zone as possible. He'd told Wendy she could take the day off, he'd persuaded Abuelita to go visit Reggie and his wife, and he'd tried to talk the kids into hanging out somewhere else for the day and only relented when they argued that their plucky 13-year-old adventuring expertise could be useful if things took a turn for the worse. Surely, he'd asked his fiancée to stay home too; strange that she hadn't. "Word is you're having trouble sleeping. Bad dreams? If it is, I could help you out. I happen to be an expert on—"

"I don't want your help." Her voice was a lot more venomous than Bill had expected.

He blinked in surprise. He knew she wasn't his biggest fan, but that seemed unnecessarily hostile. "Whoa, just offering! Don't bite my head off. Those don't grow back."

Melody sighed. "Sorry," she said insincerely, looking away from him. "I just... This whole plan bothers me. Flirting with some poor guy just to distract him."

Don't lie to a liar, girl. Something else was bothering her. Still, Bill only said, "Do you have a better plan?"

"Yeah? Just don't do anything suspicious and make sure Gompers stays away from the shack until the agents get bored and leave."

Bill scoffed. "And if they don't get bored?"

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Why would they? This town's got gnomes, fairies, and a crashed spaceship."

"Well—yeah, but, that's not a reason to focus on the shack."

"Never underestimate what the government will chuck tax dollars at without a good reason!"

Melody huffed, "Okay, fine. I still don't like it."

Yeah, Bill bet she didn't. Especially with the Bureau of Covert Investigations here looking for someone dangerous.

Okay—he'd given the eagles enough of a head start for it to look natural when he casually bumped into them. He straightened up, stretched, and sauntered toward the museum's curtain. "I won't ask you to wish me luck—" he lifted one wrist toward Melody and shook the bracelet covered in evil eye beads that Mabel had given him, "—just don't wish me ill." And then he followed the agents into the museum.

####

"Here it is," Dale said, stopping. "What do you make of this?"

He was standing in front of the museum's taxidermy Sascrotch display.

Trigger covered his mouth, trying to hold back a snort of laughter.

Dale grinned. "It's pretty great, right?"

Powers looked the Sascrotch up and down. "I don't get it."

"Heeey, secret agent man!" Bill swept into the museum and leaned against the wall, head propped against his hand, other hand on his cocked hip. "Imagine meeting you three days in a row, what a coincidence! I'm starting to feel like you're following me around."

Powers looked at Bill—and then started a little. (Not used to seeing him with his eyes emphasized properly, no doubt.) His cheeks immediately turned pink. Flustered, he stammered awkwardly for a moment before getting out, "I—I—Pardon me, I can assure you, you're not under investigation—" Dale and Trigger exchanged a glance and tried not to grin.

"Hey, whoa! I didn't mean it in a bad way." He flashed Powers his best smile. (He'd practiced in the mirror. Mabel had given him tips on not making it too wide.) "Say, since I was lucky enough to see you again, I've got a question for you, secret agent man."

"Yes?"

Bill batted his long, gorgeous lashes at Powers. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or am I gonna have to arrange a fourth meeting?"

"Uhh." Powers's already stellar posture somehow found a way to straighten a little bit more. "The first three times were more than sufficient, ma'am."

"Haha, you charmer!" All right, maybe Mabel had had a point about not opening up with a line about eyeballs. Still, this would be a cinch. Bill had been manipulating humans for millennia, and flirting was no different. Slipping into this role felt natural. He was in his element. He was good at this. He'd have this guy eating out of his hand in an hour.

Dale and Trigger looked at each other again, and Dale said, "Sir, maybe Trigger and I should search the house. You can take the museum."

"Maybe you could interview the locals," Trigger threw in, before they beat a hasty retreat.

"Ho—hold on!" Powers said; but his agents had already abandoned him. What terrific wingmen. Not the best agents, maybe.

"Sooo," Bill said, "if you aren't here to see me, what brings you by this old dump of a tourist trap again? It can't be the displays." He tugged out the waistband of Sascrotch's briefs with a finger and let go, letting it snap back against its waist; a small cloud of dust puffed out of the fur. "Still looking for some dangerous character?"

"No, not at the moment. Nothing you need to worry about," Powers said. "We're here looking for some... sensitive objects?"

"Oh? What kind of sensitive objects?" Bill asked. "I've been to this little tourist trap a few times, maybe I can help find 'em?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say."

"What, you don't think you can trust me?" Bill batted his lashes. That had been working pretty well for him so far. (The mascara had to be helping. Man, was he glad to have mascara again.)

Powers avoided making eye contact. "I"m sure you're very trustworthy. But—it would be an embarrassment to the bureau, you understand."

"Sure! Sure." Billl's smile wilted slightly. "Well—I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I just watch, would you? I've never seen a real federal investigation in action—seems exciting."

Powers hesitated, his professionalism warring with his very obvious crush. "I... suppose I wouldn't mind." Sure, like he wasn't utterly flattered.

As Powers's inspection took him around the museum and back into the gift shop, he said, "You said your name was Goldie? I don't think I ever got your last name."

Oh he'd better not be planning on a background check. "It's Locke—and yes, I've already heard every comment about it you can imagine."

Powers gave him a quizzical look. "I believe you told us to inform Mr. Gleeful that a 'Mr. Locke' had recommended we purchase a car from him?"

He had said that, hadn't he. If he'd known two days ago he'd have to femme up for this guy... "Sure! I happen to be related to a lot of Mr. Lockes!" Before Powers could pry into this family Bill had just invented, he hurried on: "Say, I never got your name, did I!" Did he? Since he already knew it, he couldn't remember if he'd bothered to ask.

"Of course—I'm Agent Powers."

"Is 'Agent' your first name, handsome?"

Powers flushed a little more, and he mumbled, "Manny."

"Manny Powers?" Bill casually slid between Powers and the vending machine to keep him from looking too close at it. "Like, 'manpower'?"

"Precisely," Powers said. "Obviously, that's... not my real name, just my assigned codename for field assignments."

Bill laughed, "Hey, not bad! 'Manpower,' that's pretty funny."

"Is it?" Powers asked. "Hm. It isn't supposed to be. I'll have to speak with HQ about that."

Bill pressed his lips together. Tell him he's funny, Bill! Guys love it when you tell them how funny they are! Last time hetook advice from a human on anything. He shot an exasperated look toward Melody, who winced in what he hoped was sympathy.

Trigger ducked into the gift shop. "Sir? I think we've found something. Really, this time."

Powers's attention snapped to him. "Show me."

Bill maintained his position until the agents were gone; and then he let out a long, frustrated sigh. He glanced at Melody. "How are we doing?"

She grimaced. "I'd give it... three out of five stars?"

"You're generous, I appreciate that." He nearly rubbed his eyelids in irritation, and only the sight of his red fingernails reminded him of his makeup in time to stop.

In his heart of hearts, Bill felt like he should have already won by now—but then, he'd always hated waiting for things. Usually he could force patience on himself by finding a peephole that would let him see further into the future so he could tell exactly when his latest plan would succeed. In this body, he couldn't see any farther than a few minutes, and he didn't have any eyes he could look through but his own. Like this, he didn't even know whether he'd succeed.

Except of course he would. Of course. He always did. He didn't need to check. He had until the agents left to make some real progress, and that was plenty of time. He'd figure this out.

He almost backed into the living room, remembered at the last second that he didn't want Melody to know about his door ignoring trick, and said flatly, "Door." Melody reluctantly left her station to help open it.

In the living room, Dale was standing on top of the table, which he'd dragged over in front of the TV, and attempting to pry a board out of the ceiling with a crowbar. He asked Soos, "You're sure you don't have a stepladder somewhere?"

"Uh-uh," Soos said. He was hovering in the doorway, wringing his hands together. "It's against the house rules."

"We picked up a faint radio signal," Trigger explained to Powers. "Like from a walkie-talkie with a dying battery, or..."

"Ah-ha!" Dale pulled a gray blocky object out of a space over the ceiling. It appeared to be a radio: it had an antenna, a speaker, a couple of glowing lights flickering on the brink of going out... and a large Bureau of Covert Investigations seal stamped on the front. The eagle peering through the magnifying glass seemed as surprised to see them as they were to see it. "Is... is this one of our transmitters?"

Powers blinked at it in amazement. "What in the Sam Hill is one of our transmitters doing in this building!" He directed the question toward Soos.

Soos flinched. "How should I know, I didn't know this place was bugged! I would've unbugged it if I knew." He paused. "Unless that's a federal crime or something. In which case forget I said that."

"We're the guys that oughta know about it," Dale said, shrugging cluelessly. "Since it's one of ours. Weird."

Powers held his hand out for the transmitter, examined it, and turned it over. On the back a strip of black label-maker tape read, "GOVERNMENT PROPERTY! IF LOST, PLEASE RETURN TO AGENT TRIGGER."

Powers and Dale turned to Trigger.

He looked between them, baffled. "Wh— Well, I didn't put it there! I would've remembered putting it there." He frowned. "I mean... I should remember putting it there."

Powers's lips were pressed so flat together they were almost invisible beneath his mustache. "Well. Obviously, we ought to take it back."

Tentatively, Dale asked, "And... place a new one with a fresh battery, sir?"

Powers's brows drew together in anger. Between gritted teeth, he said, "Not with the civilians listening to you say so..."

Soos was still standing in the doorway, and Dipper and Mabel were peering around him from the staircase. Melody had peeked in nervously from the gift shop. At the callout, the kids and Melody had the grace to withdraw again. But Powers wasn't looking at them. He was glancing sideways toward Bill, standing right by his side—and Bill's wide-eyed gaze never wavered from Powers's face.

This wasn't good—they did not need the agents trying to figure out why they might have left a bug in the shack. Damage control time. "Hey," Bill said. "if you forgot about it completely, must not have picked up anything interesting, right? Otherwise you'da remembered it!"

All three agents' faces immediately darkened and they exchanged meaningful looks. Bill didn't like it when people exchanged meaningful looks he didn't know the meaning of. "Apparently so," Powers muttered.

"I'll just... take this to the car," Trigger said.

Soos backed out of the way to give him room to leave, then trailed after him: "So, are there any other bugs in here we should probably know about...?"

Bill waited until Trigger was already out of the house before he said to Dale, "Hey, does he have the car keys?"

"Oh!" Dale patted his pockets, then hurried out. "Trigger, wait!"

Once his agents were gone, Powers grumbled to himself, "'Place a new one.' What happened to professionalism." He rubbed his forehead. "Find one bug that you mysteriously don't know about, and everyone forgets how to act like government agents..."

He trailed off, giving Bill an uneasy sideways glance. Bill was still staring full force at him. He cleared his throat. "You... have an incredibly penetrating gaze, ma'am."

"Thanks! Keep talking like that and maybe it'll penetrate you," Bill really wanted to say, but didn't; "flirtatious euphemisms that could be about stabbing" and "comments that put the fear of the cruel ever-watching All-Seeing Eye of God in you" were both on Bill's list of banned topics. Instead, he tried, "Thanks! You're incredibly easy to look at!"

"O-oh." Powers adjusted his tie self-consciously. Getting a little hot under the collar, huh. "Am I?"

"You bet! In fact, I was just thinking you really look like dad material."

"That's... kind of you to say," Powers said. "However, I've never liked children."

"Oh." Bill shut his eyes until the urge to turn somebody's bones into thumbtacks subsided. "Sure, that's fine. I can take 'em or leave 'em."

"Sir?" Trigger called from the doorway. "What's our next move?"

"Excuse me." Powers left Bill, heading out to join his agents on the porch.

Bill drifted out to the entryway. Mabel and Dipper were huddled on the stairs. Bill shot Mabel a pained look and hissed, "How could you have steered me so wrong?"

"Sorryyy," she whispered back. "I thought the dad one was a winner!"

"I trusted you, star girl." He slid outside behind Powers just before the door swung shut.

And just before Soos came back in, looking stricken. Dipper asked, "What happened?"

"The agent with the movie star face asked what days the museum's closed," Soos said. "I think they're thinking about searching it more? And, he told me not to leave town? I can't take this, dude." A wild look had entered his eyes. "I'm not cut out for prison. I'm too gentle-hearted!"

"Shhh." Melody took his arm and gently led him away from the door, rubbing his back. "It's gonna be all right, Soos. It sounds like the agents are distracted. Why don't we close the museum early for lunch and try looking for Gompers again, okay? Maybe he's ready to come home. And we can get some fresh air, yeah?"

"Yeah." Soos took a deep breath. "Okay. You're right." He turned toward Dipper and Mabel. "Can you dudes handle the gift shop while we're out?"

"Sure thing, Soos, no problem," Dipper said. "You go ahead."

The twins waited until they heard the sound of the gift shop exit door closing, then Dipper said, "Not it."

"Me neither," Mabel said.

"The gift shop customers can take care of themselves for a few minutes." Dipper opened the back door a crack, and they both crowded against it. Bill—leaning on the wall next to the door with his arms crossed—glanced at the kids through the crack, raised a couple fingers in acknowledgement, and then all three listened to the agents on the porch:

"Well, obviously the flash drive signal wasn't a fluke. They must have hidden it since yesterday."

"We can't leave until we find it and figure out what's happening here." (Bill made a mental note to lord that over Melody later.) "What are our next steps?"

"Should we request more sensitive equipment to scan for electronics? There might be other transmitters in the building with completely dead batteries we're not picking up." (That seemed like a fast way to discover the door hidden behind the vending machine.)

"Maybe we ought to run some more background checks on the rest of the people here. How many of them have we checked out?"

A jolt of fear shot up Bill's spine. And that seemed like a fast way to discover that "Goldie Locke" didn't legally exist. "All right," he muttered through the crack. "I tried this the human way. Now I'm doing it my way."

"Wait," Dipper hissed, "Bill, no! What are you planning?!"

Bill ignored him as he sidled up to Powers. "Not heading out already, are you?"

Powers said, "As soon as Trigger finishes updating HQ." Trigger had walked off the porch and was now making a phone call. Dale surreptitiously scooted to the other end of the porch to give Powers and Bill room to talk.

"Aww, too bad. I was enjoying watching a real investigation at work!"

"Hm. I'm afraid you didn't see us at our most competent," Powers muttered.

"Hey, everyone has an off day or two." Bill leaned closer, just near enough for his bare arm to brush Powers's suit sleeve, and murmured, "And, anyway—not to bad-mouth these rookies, but even on a bad day it's already pretty clear you're the smartest guy in the room. I can only imagine how fascinating it'd be to watch you at work when you're bringing your A game."

Powers cleared his throat, obviously trying not to look flustered. "Well. Yes. We'll no doubt be around a few more days. Perhaps we'll... cross paths again...?"

Not good. Too passive. By now, this sucker was supposed to be falling all over himself to ask out the mysterious blonde. Bill could probably ask him out and it'd go fine—but he wasn't sure how attached this guy was to traditional gender roles, there was a chance it could turn him off.

(That was the excuse he told himself. In truth, part of him was getting mad. He wanted to be the one who was asked out. He should be asked out. He was more than good enough to be asked out, and this over-evolved eukaryote had no right to deny him that.)

He pressed, "Still, I hate to see you go. Three times I've run into you, and I hardly know any more about you than I did on the beach! I get that being mysterious comes with the whole secret agent territory—but I've been going crazy, wondering all night about this handsome stranger in town." He put just the slightest emphasis on all night—and threw in a wink for good measure.

"H... have you?" Powers turned to face Bill fully. "Well... some of my personal information is classified, given the nature of my work, but—what do you want to know?"

"For starters, I think I'm overdue to ask you whether you're single!"

"I—Yes, I am."

"Whaddaya know—something we have in common!" Bill pretended he had to think a moment before saying, "Hmm... Hey, here's another fun little get-to-know-you question: what conspiracy would you most hate to be true?"

(Through the ajar crack in the door, he could hear Mabel loudly whisper, "Bill nooo...")

"That's a fascinating question. I've often wondered it myself." Powers stared off into the distance, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose... I think I'd most hate to find out the government has tried to brainwash its own citizens. Not just propaganda, mind—that's fine—I mean actual brainwashing."

No way. Bill had to pin his lips between his teeth to keep from bursting out laughing. Somebody had forgotten to tell this guy about MKUltra. Wow. Wow. He worked for the Bureau of Covert Investigations. How did he miss MKUltra. Bill had to grope behind himself for the porch sofa and sit before he lost his balance from fighting not to laugh. When he was sure he could manage a few words without a giggle escaping, he squeaked, "Yeah, that—sounds... pretty bad."

"What about yours?" Powers turned toward Bill.

He had to quickly prop his elbow on the armrest and prop his chin in his hand to hide his mouth, pretending to think. He hoped his amusement wasn't showing elsewhere on his face—human faces had too many muscles to keep track of. "Mm! Hmm." While he was trying to get his laughter under control, Bill tried to pick out one of the countless conspiracies in his repertoire that was obscure enough to be impressive but not obscure enough to be suspicious. (Or "obscure" enough Powers didn't know about it—hello, MKUltra.) "Wow, there's—there's a lot that'd be terrible. But hey, as long as we're talking politics—" (Mabel hissed "Bill NO!") "—I've heard a rumor in the area that there's a secret crazy president that was kicked out and covered up in the history books, ever heard about that one?" That oughta grab his attention.

But to Bill's surprise, Powers frowned thoughtfully and slowly shook his head. "No, it's unfamiliar. It must be a local theory," he said. "If the government were to cover up an entire presidency, I'm sure they would have a pressing reason for it—but I do see how the concept would be alarming."

Bill stared at him. Did this guy not know anything the government was up to?! He should have been going out of his mind trying to figure out how Bill knew about Trembley. Powers wasn't the kind of agent who could tell decent lies. If he did know something, he wouldn't play dumb like that; he'd just tell Bill it was "classified." Did he really not know? But the eagles' search for Trembley's remains should have nothing to do with the memories Ford wiped from the agents' minds.

The Bureau of Covert Investigations was so covert, agents usually weren't even told about other bureau investigations they weren't personally part of. So...

Was the bureau running two investigations in Gravity Falls?

Had Powers not been looped into the Trembley case?

"Uh..." Bill scrambled to think of another conspiracy that might catch Powers's interest. (He and Trigger had mentioned Hangar 618; no wonder they had time to work on cases across the country if they were only handling half the active investigations in Gravity Falls—no, focus, focus.) "How about Big Fashion, have you heard of that one? The theory that the fashion industry's teaming up to take down ways for people to get clothes other than buying new. Thrift shops, fabric stores, sewing pattern companies..."

Powers nodded. "I'm familiar with the theory." (Oh good—Bill would've been embarrassed for him if he hadn't known that one.) "I'm afraid I haven't paid close attention to the evidence for it. I already buy all my clothes new—I don't like the thought of another man's skin cells lingering on the inside of my shirts, it feels unsanitary."

It was no wonder this guy had been assigned to Gravity Falls. Bill doubted he was weird enough to really fit in here—but he was just odd enough to feel the town's pull. "For starters, there's the assassination of the president of Valhalla Sewing Machines a few years ago. Sewing machines are one of Big Fashion's top targets."

"Something definitely happened there," Powers agreed, "but all evidence points to the hit being ordered by Crooner Company over their rival line of sewing machines. They did acquire Valhalla just a few months later."

"And Crooner's been battling the bad PR ever since," Bill said dismissively. "Neither company came out of that mess looking good. It was an obvious false flag operation!"

Powers frowned, and for a moment Bill worried that he'd said too much—that Powers either thought Bill sounded like a crackpot, or thought Bill knew too much for some small town civilian... but he said, approvingly, "You know your stuff."

Jackpot. Time to go in for the kill. "I try to! I'm interested in how the gears of the universe turn. Reality, society, politics, business—what greases those wheels? Who winds the clock? There's a lot going on underneath the surface. And I like to keep my eye on all of it." He lowered his voice. "Actually, I'm glad to see you in town. I've also felt like something's going on under the surface of this town, but..." He left the sentence dangling.

Slowly, Power said, "Something... paranormal, perhaps?"

"Ha! Between the Mystery Shack here and that 'child psychic' in town, that's the reputation Gravity Falls has now," Bill said. "I'm not the kind of gullible dope to get spooked by ghost stories without proof. But—whatever's going on here... it does feel spooky."

Powers nodded slowly. "Whenever I'm in this town, I have the exact same thoughts."

Bill fought to keep the triumph off his face.

####

Dipper whispered, "I can't believe this is working."

He and Mabel were crammed against the door, one on top of each other, listening to Bill say, "This has been a fascinating conversation. I'd love to hear more about your work... wink."

Dipper said, "I can't believe this is working even though he says 'wink' out loud."

Mabels shushed him. "Bill's doing great!"

Powers said, "Unfortunately, I do have to go submit my own report to headquarters. But, I'm free this evening. If you'd like to see a movie, or...?"

Mabel gasped. "Idea!" She tapped on the door's window to catch Bill's attention, and, when he glanced her way, she pointed out toward the clearing beyond the porch.

Bill looked at the clearing and twitched in surprise. Through the crack in the door, Dipper tried to see what Bill was looking at. He couldn't see anything in the clearing.

Bill turned to Powers. "Howsabout dinner? There's a diner in town called Greasy's. I've heard good things about it! For starters, that the food is better than the name."

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Wait, hold on—he's not allowed to go out, is he?" But Mabel didn't answer; she was sprinting full speed up the stairs.

From the far end of the porch, Dale said, "Oh, Greasy's is terrific, I went there yesterday for lunch. Makes a damn fine cup of coffee. And try the cherry pie."

"Very well," Power said. "When should I...?"

"I'll meet you at the diner. Let's say seven."

When the agents had left, Dipper yanked open the door. "What was that?! Nobody said you could actually leave to go on a date!"

Bill shrugged. "It wasn't my idea, it was your sister's."

"What?" Dipper frowned. "When did she say that?"

"She didn't. She's going to."

Mabel pounded down the stairs, counting the steps under her breath—"twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty eight"—carrying a neon yellow posterboard folded loosely in half. She ran out the door to the clearing behind the shack, held up the posterboard—she'd written "♡ INVITE HIM TO GREASY'S ♡" in thick black marker—and announced, "Ta-da!"

"You're too late," Dipper said. "Bill already asked Powers and he already left."

Bill said, "I asked him because I saw her telling me to."

Dipper looked between Bill and the poster. "Ohhh. Hang on. This is a future sight thing?"

"Bingo."

"How long should I hold it up?" Mabel called.

"Just give it another ten seconds," Bill said. "That thing's fluorescent, I could probably see it from an hour away."

She bounced on the balls of her feet for a few more seconds, then said, "Okay!" and jogged back to the porch, beaming from ear to ear. "That was so cool."

"Hey, smart girl!" Bill caught Mabel's sleeve before she could run past him. "You know, I've been talking to humans for thousands of years, and you're the first who's ever sent a message backwards in time to me?"

"Really?" Her face lit up. "Shut up! There's no way I'm the first-first!"

"Hand on heart, Shooting Star, no other human's ever tried it," Bill said. "You can't even see the fourth dimension, but you still understand it well enough to send messages through it. I'm genuinely impressed!"

Mabel's delight reached a boiling over point. She cackled in glee, gave Bill a quick hug, and bounded into the living room, crowing, "I'M THE GREATEST!"

Bill watched Mabel zoom into the gift shop, grinning proudly; and then his eyes slid sideways to meet Dipper's. "What's that look for."

Dipper was leveling his best suspicious glare at Bill. "Oh, nothing," he said. "Just thinking about how, the last time I heard you say you were impressed, you were just manipulating me into letting you puppet my body."

"Hmm! Yeah! I did do that!" Bill said. "Did I say I was genuinely impressed?"

Dipper's scowl deepened.

Bill's smirk widened. "C'mon, kid, don't be jealous just because you're not the alpha twin. It'd make your sister feel terrible."

####

"You actually got a date?" Ford asked.

"Sure! As if it's hard!"

Stan smugly held out a hand, palm up. Ford shot him an exasperated look, but sighed, fished around in his pocket, pulled out five large one-dollar coins, and dropped them in Stan's hand.

Bill stared at Ford, brows raised. "I don't know what's more insulting: that you bet against me, or that you've stopped using paper currency." Ford didn't deign to respond.

When they had been absolutely sure the agents were gone—for now—Soos had gone downstairs to let the Stans know the coast was clear; and now the adults were gathered in the living room again to discuss their next moves. Or, rather, Bill's.

Stan said, "So there's still been no sign of Gompers?"

"Nope," Soos said. "He's really run off. Plus, me and Melo—" (at Ford's look, he corrected himself) "—Melody and I drove around earlier looking for him? You know, in case he came out of the woods somewhere? But one of the government guys started following me in a black car? Sooo we had to stop looking, and I guess we're still being watched."

"Which'll make it harder to sneak me out for my date without them noticing I live here," Bill said. Maybe they could sneak him out with the crystal flashlight trick he and Mabel had pulled before, but he'd rather not tell the other Pines how they'd pulled that off in case they ever had to do it again. "We might be able to split 'em up while we outnumber them, but if this goes on for long, they'll bring in reinforcements."

"Ford and I can't help distract them," Stan pointed out. "We've gotta stay inside. And Soos is the only one that can drive Bill to this date. With the kids' help, we've only just got enough people to split the agents up."

Ford muttered, "Meaning there's no one to keep a watch over Bill." He crossed his arms. "Letting Bill flirt with a government agent under our roof is one thing—but I don't like a plan that involves letting Bill out in public and trusting him not to throw us under the bus." (Bill had considered it, but decided it would just cause the government to seize his portal and Mabel to never speak to him again.)

"He wouldn't do that," Soos said hotly—to Bill's surprise. "He already had a chance to run away and he didn't! And if he wanted us to get in trouble, he could have just not helped at all!"

"I..." Ford looked for a moment like he wanted to protest—Bill expected him to protest—but then he grimaced, shut his mouth, and said nothing. There was an even bigger surprise. Bill wasn't actually making progress with Ford, was he? Bill stared at the side of his face, willing him to explain himself; but Ford avoided his gaze.

Stan said, "Listen, I don't like letting him out either, but I don't think we have a choice."

"All right, all right," Ford sighed. "Fine. I don't like it—but unless Gompers shows up in the next few hours, you're still our best hope of getting out of this mess." (Bill decided to pretend that was praise and spent a second basking in it.) "Which means you have to find out everything the agents currently know and suspect, keep them away from anything that could restore their memories, convince them to turn their attention away from our household without the flash drive, andmake sure no one gets arrested. And you've got one date to do it all in."

It was a tall order—but the way Ford said it like a challenge, like he thought maybe Bill couldn't do it, made Bill's blood boil. "Piece of cake! Don't forget it's taken me less time than that to convince you to do a lllot more than that." At Ford's scowl, Bill grinned viciously. "One date's all I need. By the end of the night, I'll have this whole thing figured out." If he said it like he believed it, it was basically true.

####

(The only bits of this that were changed in the wake of TBOB were adding in the discussion about the Seduction Hat; and adding a short section establishing that Powers's team is not involved with the Trembley investigation and briefly mentioning Hangar 618. In the original draft of this chapter, I'd said that a different government department was handling the Trembley case, until TBOB established otherwise. Establishing that Powers's team wasn't on the Trembley case is something that'll be important in future chapters.

From here on out the plot arc speeds up and turns increasingly into some kinda fusion between a spy drama and a reverse heist movie. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts so far and your thoughts on where it's gonna go!)

[bothoutsiders]

"Don't move a muscle," the voice over the comms said. Red Robin stopped what he was doing, staying still in a very quiet, and dark room. His brain repeating the words, paying full attention to the seriousness of the tone, and how deep the voice sounded.

He quickly tried to focus on the case again, trying to listen to anyone who might be near. This was an important case, and he was following instructions from Jason to get in, look for clues and steal vital information before getting out of the building without being seen.

Yes, he could've done this without his help, but both of them had the same case, and it was better to help each other, than screw it up and let the target know they were after him.

"Don't jump, even if you can reach the floor." The voice wasn't in a rush. It was clear, and. . . Nice. "Do it carefully."

Maybe if this was another person (or another voice), Tim would've rolled his eyes at the instructions. He wasn't new, he knew how to do things, but his brain was paying full attention to each word, the pronunciation, the tone, and then it would repeat it as an echo over and over.

"He went back to sleep," for a moment, it crossed Tim's mind that Jason was skilled with his voice. He wasn't sure if this is a result of practice, or he was just naturally gifted. Maybe he would do great if he had some RP voice videos, or an ASMR channel. "You can walk now. The door is on your left, twist the knob to your left, too."

"You have to twist them to the right to open," Red Robin whispered.

"I know, but I've been studying them, baby bird. They fucked up that door, the guy who installed it did it wrong, and the guy sleeping in that office has complained about it many times." Jason's voice felt like it was going deep in Tim's head.

It was gravelly, always with the right pauses, and when Jason smiled, it made his voice had a special tone that made Tim want more.

Did Jason always had this . . . voice? It could be the case that only now Tim was paying attention, because his other senses were kind of limited, but it could also be that he only did that while in this kind of moments. Where he is giving clear instructions, and it's important to have full communication with each other.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Jason's tone shifted to something like annoyed and Tim's brain was quick to look for the reason why, until he noticed his hand still on the knob. He had twisted it in the wrong direction, because he had been too distracted with Jason's voice.

"My bad."

And even annoyed, the voice sounded. . . attractive.

Maybe next time it wouldn't require a smaller body like his to break in the building, and he could be the one giving the instructions to Jason, because right now, his brain wanted more.

[darkbluekies]

Valentines dates with the ocs♡

warnings: none<3

A/N: i found some times on my breaks to write something small, I hope you'll like it! I hope you're going to have a sweet Valentines, I'm going to study with a course friend and then go fika with my best friend from high school ♡

Silas:

This man is is sucker for dates and would have them every night if he could. Valentines day is his favorite, though, because it gives him a reason to go all out. He'd book an expensive restaurant and let you pick whatever you want from the menu. His men would be guarding every corner of the building.

"Why there are no prices in your menu? Why do you want to know the prices? Are you paying? Who am I kidding, of course you aren't. Silly thing, aren't you cute? I'm taking you out on a date, not the other way around. Pick something."

Dr Kry:

Spending valentines in a hospital is bad enough, but not being able to spend it with anyone is even worse. Dr Kry would act like your boyfriend. He'd come into the room with roses and a box of expensive chocolates and a small gift of some sort that he'd know you would appreciate.

"It's just me, unfortunately, but I hope i can make your day good enough, despite the circumstances. These chocolates, I've been told, are quite the deal. They're exclusive ones from Belgium. Cost me a bit but if they're tasty that's all that matters. And I hope you'll like the sketchbook and the pens i got you, I know how boring it can be in here sometimes. Draw me something, why don't you?"

King Edmund:

This man does not kid around when it comes to valentines day. He will gift you pearls, jewels, clothes, flowers, pets. He will shower you in all his suffocating love and if you dare to show the slightest bit of overwhelm he'll throw a tantrum. A perfect date for him would be something away from people's eyes, maybe take a trip on the royal yacht.

"It's nice to be away for a while, isn't it? Away from everyone lusting over you. Here, I can have you all to myself. I can't imagine a more perfect valentine's day. Do you like how I've decorated? Every flower in the kingdom has been cut and put in here, all for you."

Jerry:

Unlike the others, she detests Valentine's day. She doesn't believe in showing love once a year through capitalistic marketing tactics. Why should a teddy bear with an 'i love you' heart matter more than a normal teddy bear any other day of the year? Instead, she'd make Valentine's day into "your day" where you could choose a date and Jerry is not allowed to complain. This year, you've chosen a museum.

"What? No, I'm not making faces. I'm not complaining, baby, I'm just not understanding why a blob on a canvas is more popular than actual pieces of art. But if you like them, I do too."

Hedwig:

Hedwig's almost as bad as Edmund. She'll spend a fortune on gifts for you and cling onto you all day. She'll want you to match and will treat the entire day as a date. You'll go to amusement parks, cafés, restaurants, shops and eventually ending the day at her home where the two of you will have a cosy home date.

"I'm so happy, i love you so much. Valentine's day is my favorite day, did you know that? I love when people express love. And I love expressing my love for you. I'm so glad I can spend my Valentine's with you, I wouldn't want to spend it any other way."

[alwaysobsessed777]

Anything Juju Watkins, she’s seriously underrated 🙏🏻

FOREVER YOURS - J.W.

First juju fic....kinda scared....but let me know if I should keep writing for her

"Juju...i already told you," I could feel my frustration bubbling up. Catching her in the act of kissing another girl was not on my bingo card of the year. "It's a no. I don't care what you have to say, we're done."

"baby....please...its not what it looked like," following like a lost puppy, Juju begged. I couldn't care less in the moment.

Her hand wraps around my wrist, trying to stop me from walking further away. I stopped, looking down at the contact. The calmness of her tone, it further the irritation that was brewing.

I ripped my arm from her grip, "I said I don't want to hear what you have to say. Leave me the f-"

"Y/n....calm down...okay."

"No! If you weren't sucking someone's else face...i wouldn't be acting like this!" I spun around, our eyes meeting. The hurt in her eyes made me want to calm down, but nothing was stopping the hurt that I felt. "I really thought I could trust you...and you walked all over me. My trust...my ego...my love for you. I just need some space...please."

Tears swelled in my eyes. Juju's seemed to mirror. "Okay. I can give you space," she looked down, wiping her eyes before looking back at me, "I love you."

I nod. I had nothing else to say. My legs turned me around, walking me out of the packed party. The party, that if I stayed would have burned something within me, was for the women's team defeating the undefeated UCLA. Maybe she got too cocky. But that cockiness just ruined our whole relationship.

2 weeks later....

It's been hard. I missed her more than I would like to admit. Her sarcasm used to fill the awkward moments with friends. Her jokes flowing in conversation resulting in fits of laughter. Then, her presence. It was grounding, calming, and I needed all of that in my life. But Juju was that....and she wasn't here.

I struggled to pull myself out of bed, groaning with the motion. Hating myself and the world had become a more common thing for me these days. I hated myself for not listening to the girl cause what if she really hadn't done anything. Maybe I jumped to conclusions, maybe I was a jerk, maybe I was the one who didn't deserve her. Not the other way around.

Throwing on whatever was near, I made my way out of the sloppy dorm room. Opening the door, to my surprise, I was welcomed with many holding flowers.

"uh...excuse me," he looked down at the small paper attached to the bouquet of roses, "Y/n? These are for you."

"I think you might have the wrong y/n. Nobody is gonna send me anything," I closed my door, locking before turning back around to face the guy.

"Y/n l/n....from Juju Watkins? Does that sound right?"

Shock washed over me. Why would Juju send me flowers? "Um...yeah...yeah that sounds right."

"well," he held them out, "here you go. Have a nice day, ma'am."

"than-thank you." I stood there, flowers in hand, dumbfounded. I couldn't piece together why, the woman I yelled at and refused to say 'i love you' back too, would send flowers to me.

Quickly, I read the small note attached to the stem. Hoping that it would tell me why she would.

'I know your probably not happy with me...but I wanted to send you flowers (even tho Valentine's day was a little while ago...) for V' day. I would never not get you something....but I figured it would have been stupid to send something right after everything went down. Just know, I'm sorry that what happened happened. I'm always ready to talk whenever you are. I love you too much to not wait. Love, Juju'

"it's not too much is it?" Her voice rang through my ears, my head snapping up to meet the girl I've been missing tremendously.

Juju.

Sniffling, I pulled her into a tight embrace, "I've missed you so much." The words mumbled into my shoulder. Her arms tighten their hold on around me, pulling me impossibly closer.

"I've missed you too," a broken chuckle fell from my lips, "even if I don't necessarily like you right now."

Juju's body tensed, "can we talk about...what happened, please?"

I nodded, escaping her hold to unlock the door. Opening it, I step in allowing Juju to follow.

"I'm so sorry you saw me kiss another girl....but I didn't kiss her. She kissed me. I was drunk...she was drunk....she thought I was into her....so she took her shot. I pushed her off of me, but she latched back on as you walked in. I wish I could've been able to stop you from seeing it. I would have told you what happened....i just wish everything would have went down another way. I'm sorry baby." Juju was almost begging for forgiveness. Her words sinking in, my brain deciding whether to trust her or not. Something in the way she let everything just crash through whatever dam was holding it in convinced me, convinced me that she was telling the truth.

"okay."

"okay?"

"I accept your apology and now I want kisses to make up for it," I held my arms out, hoping the girl would just go with it. To my liking, she did.

"God I've wanted to kiss you for weeks," a smirk settled on her lips, well, before her lips crashed onto mine.

My arms snaked around her neck as her hands fell to my waist. Her grip tight and dominant, almost like she would never let me go. Our lips moved against each other like they were made to be kissed by the other. A feeling of familiarity settled within me. Thoughts seemed to not form properly, other than one thought. We were meant to be, and nothing was going to get in the way of that again.

Once we were both on the verge of not breathing, we broke apart. Smiles stretched across both of our faces as the realization set in.

"I love you more than anything," I whispered, resting my head on her shoulder. Juju's arms pulling me into a hug, the warmth of her embrace calming me. The grounding feeling I had been missing not even an hour ago.

"I love you too, Y/n. More than my own life," the words seemed to effect me more than they had ever before. I felt like she truly meant it.

Nothing would ever break my trust in her again.

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

A/n : ha...ha....if this is trash, let me know and I won't ever write for juju again.

But if y'all like....let me know and I'll definitely write for her again.

(I'm truly in love with this woman....shes another one of my wives.)

[cutiefulism]

toji (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡ jjk

wc: 1.5k

synopsis: u n toji work together, but ur broke n fucking toji for cash. uhh that's it.

tags: porn w minimal plot, semi-public?, black&fem!reader, a little banter (if u can even call it that)

your break is only thirty minutes long.

any time over, and that greedy fucker you're forced to call your manager docks your pay.

you need that money. life, even when you live alone, is expensive enough, but with your cat needing urgent surgery and some bank-breaking medicine, that base expense doubles.

one grand a month just isn't enough.

you know it, your boss knows it, and toji knows it, too.

that's why he's splitting you open on his cock, after all.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip, worrying at the raw and kiss-swollen flesh to suppress a whine. the weeping tip of his dick is loving your gooey insides — kissing against your cervix with every thrust.

the staff-only restroom is almost unbearably hot, the musky scent of sex and the consistent sound of damp skin slapping against skin filling the tiny room. the mirror, luckily, is perfectly clear, allowing toji to see your debauched expression.

it's, for lack of a better word, lewd, and yet the knot of need in your stomach loosens a bit more, your legs spreading a little wider.

“ungh, t-toji, hurry up—” while you'd hate to bring such good times to an end, it must have been at least twenty minutes by now, and both the literal and metaphorical clock are ticking.

losing your job over some dick would seriously be a major low point in your life.

he only hums, and one hand from your hip slides up to the delicious dip in your back. toji’s thumb lightly traces along the ink there, sending a shiver up your spine and making your walls clench around him, as if you can suck him in any deeper.

he wouldn't have expected a cute waitress like you to have a tattoo there. ya learn something new every day.

“why? ain't know we was in a rush.”

god, doesn't his snarkiness ever turn off?

you lift and turn your head to look over your shoulder, hazy eyes narrowing into a shitty imitation of your usual glare. “y-yes, you did.”

he might play dumb, but he's far from it.

he shrugs, and that flame of irritation only burns brighter. obviously he doesn't give a fuck — he has nothing to lose.

you open your mouth to chastise him again, the words resting on your tongue, only for a sharp snap of his hips to scramble any coherent thoughts and shut you right up.

toji likes you better when the only thing coming from your lips is his name.

your head turns right back around and lolls forward, and his entire hand comes to rest on the small of your back, pressing down and pinning you to the cold restroom counter. the stark contrast between the scorching hot skin of your stomach and the smooth coolness of the marble makes you whimper, and he has to swallow down a moan.

“we'd already be done if i didn't hafta prep that prissy pussy of yers. tight like a… mmm, shiit — l-like a virgin.”

not that toji minds, of course. he loves prepping you, loves getting a taste of that pretty, needy cunt while stretching you with three thick fingers.

but, you don't need to know that, so it somehow comes back on you.

you shake your head, curls spilling free and clinging to the sides of your sweat-soaked face. this isn't your fault. it's his.

no man needs his dick to be eight and a half inches long.

carrying something like that in your pants should be a crime is what you would like to think, but judging by the way your moans fill up the cramped restroom and your gummy walls grip his shaft, you really aren't complaining.

and to be fair, how could you?

he's fucking you so nice-nasty, something that would put even the most experienced pornstars to shame.

long, deep strokes that hit that spongey spot every single time. toji has to actively remember to swallow down the saliva that floods his mouth every time you groan his name or your hips squirm back to try and meet his thrusts almost in spite of the fact he's holding you down.

his half-lidded emerald eyes leave your reflection in the mirror and track the bounce of your ass when he rams his hips into yours. maybe next time he'll get to try that hole instead, on one of your longer breaks.

if he threatens that bastard manager enough, surely he'd be willing to let you have an hour long break. paid, too — none of that clocking out and then clocking back in once it's over bullshit.

god, you really need a better job.

the calloused hand on your hip slides down between your quivering thighs and to your puffy clit, and the scar in the corner of toji’s lips stretches with his grin when you mewl.

you're so soaked, drenched in your own arousal and cum. it's running all down your brown thighs, dripping onto the tiled floor. a mess one of you will be forced to clean up later, lest your coworkers finally use their brain and actually figure out what happened here.

he swirls small, quick circles against that bundle of nerves, and your eyes roll all the way back, fingers scrambling for the edge of the sink. the pressure in your gut builds and builds, that knot only getting looser.

“oh, ohhh! toji, ‘m gonna cum—”

of course you are.

toji grunts, adam’s apple bobbing as he picks up his pace. what was once quick but measured thrusts now become something more like a fucking jackhammer, sloppy and painful.

is he trying to put you through the sink?

but you can't blame him, can you? not when you sound so sweet, look so gorgeous, feel so perfect around his cock.

it's like you were made for him. or maybe his dick was made for you.

tomato, tomatoe, right?

“be the fuck quiet,” he huffs out, head dropping forward and dark fringe obscuring his eyes. “don't… fuuuck, that's it… want the whole restaurant knowing yer getting f-fucked, now do ya?”

these sounds — the squelch of your pussy every time he shoves back in, your melodious whines and moans and grunts, the sweet, needy sighs and desperate gasps — all are reserved for him.

no one else can make you feel like this.

not that bitchass loverboy in your dms. not your creepy landlord.

just him.

“n-no!” you cry, and he can't help but coo. how cute. “t-toji, oh my god, please, p-please, fuck—”

you don't even know what you're begging for.

  to cum? he won't stop you.

for him not to tell your manager? he'd never ruin y'all's secret meetings like that.

hell, toji doesn't really know what you're begging for either, but the hand in the small of your back returns to your bruised hips, and he lifts you up and back, ass flush against his abdomen.

if he were to flip you over, you'd see an outline of how deep he's gone, right up to your empty womb.

that mental image is enough, and your jaw is going slack in a silent scream, pussy gushing and legs trembling for the second time in half an hour. the pads of your fingers press so hard into the marble that you're sure they'll break.

toji holds you right there, down to the now creamy base, thumb still rubbing at your poor clit to draw out your orgasm. your ragged gasps are all that he can hear, and he has to close his eyes and bite the everloving fuck out of his lip to not cum inside.

you wouldn't be very happy about that, and a lot of things would get complicated very fast.

once you slump forward, face the pinnacle of bliss, toji moves his hand and pulls out with a squelch of protest from your cunt. with a few quick, easy pumps of his fist, using your essence as lube, he's cumming, long, stringy ropes of creamy white spurting from that angry-red tip and painting your back.

a long groan of your name leaves his swollen lips, dick twitching a few more times in his hand before growing soft.

“ah, fuck,” he whispers, and, shit, he might be getting old, because he has to catch his breath.

after a few moments just filled with shared ragged, uneven breathing, toji begins to dress, tucking that monster back into his boxers and fastening his pants.

you start to follow suit with trembling fingers and unsteady legs. honestly, you could lay there for a couple minutes longer, but by now, your break is definitely up.

and here comes the awkward part — leaving without any of your coworkers noticing either of you, acting like you don't have his cum on your back or that toji can still taste you on his tongue.

his eyes roam over you — just a cursory glance to make sure you're okay, presentable enough for work. if you lose your job because of indecency, how will he spend his breaks?

jacking off won't cut it. trust, he's tried.

you're perceptive as always, however, and scoff. “don't do that. ‘m fine, and make sure to wire me my money.”

and with that, you're leaving the restroom, the heavy door swinging shut behind you.

toji feels his lips curl up into a grin again.

he can't wait for y'all's next shift.

smut is hard to write, i admire all of u that does so consistently and for over 500 words ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ also to my lovely 40 followers how do we feel about this layout, pls give criticism!! </3

[woozinhos]

wonwoo eating out their s/o while they're gaming?

Notes: hope you enjoy thank you for requesting as always <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

You were sitting on the couch, completely engrossed in your game. You were so focused that you didn't notice Wonwoo entering the room until he was right behind you. He leaned over the back of the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen. "What are you playing?" he asked, his breath tickling your ear. You jumped slightly, not expecting him to be so close. "Oh, just a new RPG," you replied, trying to focus on the game.

Wonwoo hummed in response, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. He began to massage them, his fingers digging into the tense muscles. "You've been playing for a while," he commented. "Don't you think you need a break?" Wonwoo chuckled, noticing your determination to keep playing. "You're so stubborn," he said, his hands moving down to your arms. "I think I know a way to get you to take a break."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your neck. "Why don't you let me take care of you for a bit?" he whispered, his voice low and sultry. You shivered at his words, your grip on the controller tightening. "I'm in the middle of a boss fight," you protested weakly. Wonwoo laughed at your stubbornness. "You have turned into me," he teased. "Always too focused on gaming to pay attention to me."

He nipped at your earlobe, his hands sliding down to your hips. "But I'm not going to let you ignore me this time," he said, his tone taking on a hint of dominance. Wonwoo's hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back against him. You could feel his growing arousal pressing against you, and you knew that he wasn't going to let you get back to your game anytime soon.

"Put the controller down," he ordered, his voice firm. "I want your full attention on me." Wonwoo growled in frustration as you continued to ignore him, too focused on your game to give him what he wanted. He started to trail kisses up your thighs, his lips leaving a burning path in their wake.

"You're being a brat," he murmured against your skin. "You know I don't like being ignored." Wonwoo couldn't take it anymore. He pushed your legs apart and buried his face between them, his tongue swiping over your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation, your body jolting in surprise. You were still trying to play your game, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with Wonwoo's skilled mouth working on you.

Wonwoo smirked against your skin, enjoying the way you were struggling to focus. He started to suck on your clit, his tongue flicking over it in quick, firm strokes. Your grip on the controller tightened even more as you fought to keep your composure. Your character was taking damage on screen, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All you could think about was the pleasure Wonwoo was giving you.

Wonwoo chuckled as he watched you struggle to multitask. He could see the way your character was getting pummeled by the enemies, and he knew that he was distracting you. He pushed a finger inside you, curling it up to hit your g-spot. He wanted to make you lose control completely, to forget about the game and give in to him. You moaned loudly, your eyes fluttering shut as Wonwoo added another finger and continued to eat you out. Your character fell to the ground, defeated, but you couldn't care less. All that mattered was the pleasure building inside you.

"Wonwoo... I can't..." you panted, your voice shaky. "I'm going to come." Wonwoo pulled away from you for a moment, his chin slick with your juices. "Then come for me," he commanded. "Come while you're still trying to play your game."

He resumed his assault on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you knew you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.You finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You cried out Wonwoo's name, the controller slipping from your hands as you rode out your high.

Wonwoo watched you with satisfaction, his eyes dark with lust. He licked his lips, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. "I win," he said smugly. You panted heavily, trying to catch your breath. Your legs were trembling and your body felt weak from the intense orgasm. You looked up at Wonwoo, a mix of annoyance and desire in your eyes.

"You cheated," you accused, still a bit breathless. Wonwoo chuckled and leaned in to kiss you, his lips claiming yours in a possessive kiss. "I didn't cheat," he said against your mouth. "I just played to win." He pushed you back against the couch, hovering over you. "And now, I'm going to collect my prize."

[fizzing-imagines]

You're the Only | Eddie Munson x Reader

Notes:

Words: 985

Warnings: Drunk Eddie

As much as you loves your husband, you never minded some hours to yourself in the apartment. You could watch any movie you wanted, do a face mask and paint your toenails in complete silence. No metal music from the kitchen, or horror movies. You really loved your husband Eddie, but everyone needs time to themselves occasionally.

Eddie was at Gareth's bachelor party. Since he was the last one to get married from the band, it was a given that they were gonna drink a lot and come home late. You didn't mind, you knew he'd always come home to you. Eddie's love for you could be compared to that of a puppy, although he'd never admit to that.

You two had your ups and downs. The relationship started wobbly, but you two managed as a team and he came to not imagine a life without you.

It really showed today. Just as you were putting away the wineglass you had used for your self-care night, the door opened. Or at least you heard several tries and frustrated groans until a big Flopp sound made you look out the kitchen door.

Eddie was face-down on the floor, with his feet still in the door. He'd never been this drunk, not that you can remember, but it looked a bit funny. Especially when he started crawling foward to close the door with his foot. Once it shut with a loud Thump sound, he kept laying flat on the ground and groaned to himself.

"Hey baby, you need help getting up?", you asked while putting your hand on his arm.

"Please don't touch me Ma'am, I'm married.", he mumbled with his eyes closed while holding his hand up. With a small wiggle of his fingers, he showed off his wedding ring. Eddie may have been drunk enough to still think he was out with his friends.

"I think you still need help getting up.", you continued and tried to get your arms hooked under his armpit for support. "I have a wife!", he grumbled, a bit louder this time. "Right, sorry sir.", you told him while letting go carefully. "Just yell for help if you need any." He waved you off with his hand, weakly so, and kept laying on your carpet floor. At this stage, it was a miracle that he hasn't thrown up yet.

So you went on with what you were doing. Cleaning in the living room, putting the dishes away, rearranging the pillow you laid on for hours while watching The Nanny. Occasionally, you'd check on your husband in the hallway, but he kept laying there without moving. As long as he was still breathing, he'd be fine.

You changed into your pyjamas in the bathroom and walked towards Eddie for one last attempt to get him to bed. "Let me help you up, come on Eds."

"I'm a married man, lady.", he grumbled. "Stop harassing me, my beautiful wife can help me." Eddie put his hand up and wiggled with his fingers again, showing you his ring that way. It was just as adorable as it was stupid. "You're married?", you asked him. How could you not ask him that while he was in this state?

"Yes Ma'am, I love my wife very much and she's beautiful.", he mumbled.

"Do you have kids?", you continued. This time, he was a bit quieter than before. "Not yet. I'll give her a whole litter if she wants." It was too bad that he wouldn't let you touch him right now. More than anything, you wanted to kiss him at this very second.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?", you asked one last time.

"No.", he bluntly said.

"Okay sir, call if you need anything."

"I need my wife, leave me alone." That made you chuckle, although you tried your best to stiffle it with your hand.

"Okay, good night."

The only thing you didn't like was not falling asleep next to Eddie. After a lifelong friendship, 7 year relationship and 4 years of marriage, you just got used to that. But since he's sleeping in the hallway, it's bearable while hugging the teddy bear Eddie gave you for your first Valentines Day together.

You were already drowsy and slowly falling asleep when the bedroom door opened. Once you turned, you saw your husband stumbling in. "Darlin'.", he slurred before plopping on the bed like he did earlier on your carpet floor. "I'm back home, I missed you." Now he recognised you again? You sat up in bed and saw him still wearing his clothes from going out.

"Eddie, take your shoes off.", you mumbled. Two small thud sounds could be heard from the other side of the bed. It took him a while, but eventually he was next to you and had you in his arms. It wasn't until then that you smelled the booze coming off of him. "Some weird lady touched me.", he mumbled. It made you giggle a bit. "Did she now?" He nodded almost theatrically. "I told her I have a wife, don't worry, baby." You giggled and leaned against his chest, where you heard Eddies beating heart thumping like he just finished a marathon.

"You're my only one.", he continued. "Can I have a kiss?"

"You smell like beer, maybe tomorrow.", you replied. He huffed at that and pouted a bit. "Please?" How could you resist that face? "A quick one.", you agreed. A quick peck turned into a more heated kiss, but you broke it off before anything more could happen. From drunken nights out together, you knew he didn't perform well in this state. Plus, you didn't wanna do that while one of you was sober.

While he still grumbled, Eddie cuddled a bit closer before drifting to sleep and snorring like a bear.

It really was a miracle that you fell asleep like that.

[aspenmissing]

Hi! If you're up for angst, can I pls request Arcane characters (including Jayvik) with their s/o *nearly* dying from childbirth? Maybe the whole pregnancy was fine, but during the birth their s/o started bleeding out, or an embolism? (Anything complications you think will add to the emotions is fine ^^)

I feel like this would def be an unplanned pregnancy considering the characters, but it wouldn't be an unwelcome one as they love their s/o so much. Also, childbirth causing possible death yet needed to bring life into the world, is such an interesting contrast that the characters would feel so deeply. Esp as their s/o nearly dies during the ordeal.

I love your writing and the way you craft scenarios so throughly for each character ❤️✨ Thank you!!

ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ-ɪꜱʜ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 8428 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ, ᴄʜɪʟᴅʙɪʀᴛʜ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴠᴇʟᴠᴇᴛ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ꜰɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴀꜱ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴅɪᴄᴋ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ). ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ/ɴɪɢʜᴛ! <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains as Jayce sat next to Y/N's bed, watching her sleep. Her pregnancy had been nothing short of perfect. Every doctor’s visit had been smooth, her health had been impeccable, and the baby growing inside her was a constant reminder of the life they were about to bring into the world. They hadn’t planned on having a child so soon, but as the months passed, the excitement and joy they felt grew beyond anything they could have imagined. They spent months preparing, laughing together, and even arguing over names for the baby, but the closer they got to the due date, the more Jayce found himself watching Y/N with a nervous tenderness he couldn’t shake.

He had always been a man of science, of logic, but nothing in his life had ever felt more fragile than this moment. Y/N, the woman he loved, carrying their child, and the realization that the fragile beauty of life could slip away in an instant.

=

The day arrived with the usual excitement. The contractions started slowly, and Y/N smiled, grabbing his hand with a calmness that only made his heart race more. Everything felt normal. Jayce held her hand through every wave, his eyes full of love and admiration, telling her how proud he was of her.

Hours passed. The hospital room was quiet except for the sound of medical staff moving around, checking Y/N, and adjusting monitors. Jayce stood beside her, his heart full of hope, his mind trying to remain calm.

But something changed. The monitors beeped, and suddenly there was urgency in the air. Y/N’s face contorted with pain, and Jayce’s eyes widened as he looked at the doctors.

“What's happening?” he asked, his voice breaking.

The doctor didn’t answer immediately, instead giving instructions to the staff. Y/N reached for his hand again, her grip tight but shaky.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jayce said softly, trying to reassure her even though he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself.

“Jayce,” Y/N whispered, her voice weak and strained. “I love you.”

He kissed her forehead gently. “I love you more.”

But the minutes stretched into hours. Complications set in, and the room was flooded with doctors and nurses. Jayce felt helpless, staring at Y/N, his mind whirling with every possible outcome. The birth of their child—the miracle of life—had suddenly turned into a battle for survival.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the crisis began. His hands were shaking as he squeezed Y/N’s, trying to steady himself. He watched as the medical staff worked frantically, but all he could see was Y/N's pale face, her breathing shallow, her energy fading.

"Come on, Y/N... stay with me," Jayce whispered, brushing a lock of her hair from her forehead. "I can't do this without you."

The world felt like it was crashing down around him, but still, he clung to the thought of their child—of the family they had dreamed of. They had made it through the first hurdle, but something was terribly wrong.

A soft cry broke through the tension. Their baby had arrived.

The doctor handed the newborn to a nurse, who rushed the baby away to be cleaned and examined. Jayce barely even noticed, his eyes fixed on Y/N, who had started to slip in and out of consciousness. He could see the blood seeping onto the sheets, and his heart stopped.

"Jayce," Y/N breathed, her voice barely audible.

"Hey, you’re going to be okay," Jayce said, his voice raw, his chest tightening. But his gaze was fixed on the staff working quickly around her.

The doctor immediately began to assess the situation. "She’s losing too much blood. We need to stabilize her now!"

His pulse quickened. He had heard the term “postpartum haemorrhage” before, but hearing it in real-time made the ground beneath him feel like it was crumbling. He could feel the heat rising in his body as panic surged through him.

The nurses began moving quickly, one applying pressure to Y/N’s abdomen while another attempted to administer fluids, but Jayce felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot, unable to move from her side.

“Y/N…My life” Jayce whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to catch her fading gaze. “Don’t leave me. Please, stay with me.”

Her hand, once so strong, slipped from his, her fingers slack. The room around them became a blur of movement. The life-saving attempts, the quiet, urgent orders being barked by the doctors—everything felt distant as he fixated on her pale face.

"Stay with me," he pleaded, his voice trembling.

His mind raced, his thoughts swirling into chaos. How could this be happening? Their baby had been born healthy, perfect. How could they be faced with losing Y/N now?

Another cry echoed through the room—the sound of their son. Jayce caught sight of the tiny infant in the nurse’s arms, but his attention was divided, his heart torn between the two most important things in his life.

And then, everything stopped.

A nurse came close to him. "We’re doing everything we can. You need to trust us."

Jayce couldn’t bring himself to speak, his voice a tight knot in his throat. All he could do was stare at Y/N, trying to will her to stay awake, to hang on. It felt like time had stretched to an unbearable length.

He reached for her hand again, desperate.

"Y/N…" he whispered, tears streaking down his face. "You have to wake up. Please. I need you."

=

A full day passed before she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, weak but aware. Jayce let out a shaky breath of relief, his body trembling as he held her hand tightly, his son cradled in his arms. He had spent every minute of the past twenty-four hours at her side, torn between the desperate hope that she would wake up and the overwhelming fear that he could lose her.

"Jayce," she murmured, her voice a whisper, but it was enough. "Our baby... is he okay?"

His heart soared with the sound of her voice. He kissed her forehead, his lips brushing against her skin, gentle and filled with emotion. "Yes, love. He’s perfect. You’re perfect."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at their son, sleeping peacefully in his arms, his tiny hands curled into fists. He couldn’t help but marvel at how fragile and yet how resilient this little life was. He looked at Y/N again, his heart swelling with love for both her and their child.

Y/N’s eyes shifted to the baby in his arms, and her expression softened. Her hand, still weak, reached out slowly, as if it took all her strength just to touch him. Jayce carefully placed their son into her arms, guiding her to cradle him. Her fingers trembled as she held him, but there was a profound tenderness in her touch, and Jayce could see the love already radiating between them.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the sheets, the faint sound of the baby’s breath, and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors that had kept them on edge for so long. Jayce settled beside her again, his gaze never leaving her face, his heart full of gratitude and relief.

“I was so scared,” Jayce confessed softly, his voice raw. “When you were so still... I didn’t know if I could do this without you.”

Y/N managed a weak smile, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but full of warmth. “You never had to do it without me. We’re in this together.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried all the strength he had come to love.

Jayce brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers trembling slightly. "I don’t know how I would have gotten through it without you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been my rock. And now we have him...”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears as she looked at their son. “Our son,” she whispered, the words filled with awe. “He’s perfect. Just like you said.”

Jayce’s heart clenched at the sight of her, so fragile but so full of love. The worst had passed. The crisis had been a terrifying storm, but it was over now, and they had made it through—together. But even though Y/N was stable, the road to full recovery would still take time. Jayce wasn’t naïve enough to think everything was behind them. There would be moments of doubt, moments of struggle, but they had already proven how strong they were together.

Finally, he pulled away just enough to kiss her softly on the lips, the pressure of the kiss tender and full of meaning. “You did it,” he whispered against her lips. “You’re going to be okay, Y/N. We’re going to be okay.”

A faint smile crossed her face as her eyes softened, her gaze lingering on him. “We did it,” she whispered back, and Jayce’s world was whole again.

The cries of their son filled the room, a sound so pure and full of promise. Jayce glanced at the new-born—his son—and then back to Y/N, the love in his eyes unmistakable. He had never felt more grateful, more connected to her, more determined to protect their family.

And as he held Y/N's hand in his, feeling the warmth return to her skin, he knew, despite everything, their family had made it through the storm. They had survived. Together. And there was nothing they couldn’t face from here on out.

VIKTOR

The room was eerily silent, save for the quiet hum of the machines and the muffled sounds of the bustling hospital outside the door. Viktor sat in the chair beside the bed, his cane resting against his leg, his hands gripping the soft fabric of the baby blanket as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

The pregnancy had been perfect. No complications, no scares—just quiet anticipation and soft whispers in the middle of the night. Viktor had spent months preparing, ensuring that Y/N had everything she needed, that their daughter would come into the world without a single worry. He had held Y/N close at night, murmuring reassurances against her hair when she fretted over the future. He had traced circles over the swell of her belly, felt the gentle kicks beneath his fingertips, and imagined the tiny life they had created together. It had been perfect.

But now Y/N was gone—wheeled away in a frantic rush, her blood staining the pristine white sheets.

His hands trembled as he stared at the blanket, the one Y/N had crocheted herself. It was small, meant to swaddle their daughter, but now it felt heavy in his grasp. The weight of everything crashed down on him as the sterile smell of the hospital seeped into his senses.

He hadn’t even gotten to hold her.

Their daughter had been pulled into the world too soon, her first cries cut short as the doctors fought to keep both mother and child alive. There had been too much blood, too many rushed voices speaking words Viktor couldn't process. He had heard the urgency in their voices, the panic, the pleas for more hands, more supplies, more time.

Y/N was dying. The baby was barely clinging on.

And he was powerless.

His grip tightened on the blanket as his chest ached with a pain he couldn't describe. He had fought against fate for so long—against his own body, against time itself—but this? This was a cruelty he hadn't been prepared for.

How could he do this without her? How could he raise a child alone, without Y/N by his side to share in the triumphs and the sleepless nights? The thought of his daughter growing up without her mother, of him being forced to tell her about the woman she would never meet, made his stomach churn with despair.

The door creaked open, and Jayce stepped inside, his usual confidence stripped away, leaving only quiet concern in his expression. He didn’t say anything at first, just took a hesitant step forward before settling in the chair beside Viktor. He looked out of place in the stark hospital room, his broad shoulders tense, his hands clasped together like he was steeling himself for the worst.

“They’re doing everything they can,” Jayce said, his voice softer than Viktor had ever heard it.

Viktor let out a breath, sharp and uneven. “And if it is not enough?”

Jayce didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The uncertainty hung between them, thick and suffocating.

Viktor pressed a shaking hand to his forehead, willing himself to keep his composure, but it was slipping. He wasn’t a praying man—never had been—but in that moment, he would have begged any force in the universe to spare them. To let Y/N come back to him, to let their daughter breathe without struggling, to let them have the future they had planned together.

Just let them live.

The silence stretched, broken only when the distant sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Viktor looked up, his breath catching in his throat as he clutched the blanket even tighter.

Then the door opened again, and a nurse stepped inside. Her scrubs were wrinkled, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but her expression was gentle when she looked at Viktor.

“She made it through surgery,” the nurse said quietly. “It was touch and go for a while, but she’s stable now. She’ll need time to recover, but she’s alive.”

Viktor felt the breath he had been holding finally escape his lungs, though his chest still ached. His heart pounded in his ears, his body flooded with exhaustion and relief all at once.

“And… the baby?” His voice was barely above a whisper, afraid that if he asked, the answer might break him.

The nurse gave him a small, reassuring smile. “She’s fighting. She’s in the neonatal unit, but she’s strong.”

Strong. Just like her mother.

A choked sound escaped Viktor as he pressed the baby blanket to his face, his fingers curling around the soft yarn. His daughter was alive. Y/N was alive.

Jayce exhaled heavily beside him, clapping a firm hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “See? They’re fighters. Just like you.”

Viktor let out a watery chuckle, shaking his head. He didn’t feel like a fighter. Right now, he felt fragile, like one wrong move would shatter him entirely. But he would push forward, just as he always had, just as Y/N and their daughter had.

His eyes burned as he whispered, “I want to see them.”

The nurse nodded. “We’ll take you to see your daughter first. Y/N will be moved to recovery soon, and you can see her after.”

Viktor gripped his cane, using it to push himself up from the chair. His legs felt weak, but he forced himself to move, to follow the nurse down the cold hospital corridors. Jayce walked beside him, offering silent support should he need it.

=

The neonatal unit was quiet, bathed in a soft, sterile glow. The rhythmic beeping of monitors filled the air, a constant reminder of the fragile lives housed within the incubators. Viktor's steps were slow as he approached, his breath catching when he caught sight of her—his daughter.

She was so small, impossibly so, wrapped in a cocoon of wires and tubes. Her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath, her delicate fingers curled into fists as if she were already preparing to fight against the world. The nurse beside him spoke, explaining her condition, the treatments they were giving her, but Viktor barely heard any of it.

His fingers brushed against the glass of the incubator, a lump forming in his throat. "She is beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "So small… but beautiful."

Jayce stood back, watching but not intruding. This was Viktor’s moment.

Viktor felt a tear slip down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away. He simply stood there, gazing at his daughter—the proof that, despite all the odds, she had survived. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe that they would make it through this. Together.

JAYVIK

Y/N had never expected to be a mother, let alone so soon. When she had first told Viktor and Jayce about the pregnancy, she had been terrified. It wasn’t planned, but the fear had melted the moment she saw the way their eyes softened, the way Viktor’s fingers traced over her stomach with a rare, tender reverence, the way Jayce immediately pulled her into a secure, warm embrace.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jayce had promised, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. “Together.”

And together they had. The pregnancy had been as smooth as it could be. No unexpected pains, no complications—just blissful, uninterrupted anticipation as they prepared to meet their children. Jayce had taken on the role of the overprotective guardian, keeping Y/N from straining herself, ensuring she never lifted anything remotely heavy, doting on her in ways that both amused and frustrated her. Viktor, ever the analytical mind, ensured she had everything she needed, meticulously researching prenatal care, adjusting their home to be more comfortable, and making sure she followed a balanced diet.

They painted the nursery together, a soft shade of blue accented by golden stars that Viktor carefully detailed by hand. Jayce had built the crib himself, laughing when Viktor chided him about ensuring the structure was sturdy. They spent late nights together, curled up in bed, whispering about the kind of future their children would have. Would they be scientists? Inventors? Dreamers?

Then, the moment finally arrived.

=

The first cry of their newborn filled the room, a beautiful, piercing sound that had Jayce gasping in relief and Viktor squeezing Y/N’s hand with a soft, breathless, “Má lásko, you did it.” (My love)

A baby boy. Their son.

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes as a nurse swiftly took the newborn, cleaning him gently and wrapping him securely in a soft blanket. Once the baby was swaddled, the nurse turned to Jayce, placing the small, warm bundle into his arms. He hesitated for just a moment, staring in awe at the tiny life he now held, before cradling his son protectively against his chest. The baby squirmed slightly, his small face scrunching up as if displeased by the sudden shift in environment. Jayce let out an unsteady laugh, brushing his fingers over their son’s tiny hand, while Viktor sat beside them, his usually composed features completely undone by awe.

But then, something was wrong.

Y/N had barely been able to hold him before a wave of exhaustion crashed over her. Her vision blurred, her body felt too heavy, too cold. The warmth of their son in her arms became distant, almost unreal.

“Something’s not right,” she murmured weakly, her fingers trembling as they clutched Viktor’s sleeve. Panic flickered across his face as he turned to the doctors.

Then, chaos.

The second baby—their second child—was struggling. The doctors moved quickly, a sudden urgency gripping the room. Y/N gasped, her breathing uneven, her fingers slipping from Viktor’s grasp as her body grew limp.

“Her pulse is dropping!” a doctor called out.

“Get her to surgery! Now!” Someone shouted, and before either Jayce or Viktor could react, she was being rushed out of the room. Viktor nearly tripped trying to follow, but a nurse stopped him, a firm hand pressing against his chest.

“Wait—no, I need to—” Viktor tried to argue, his grip tightening on his cane, but the nurse shook her head.

“She’s in critical condition. We need to move now.” And then she was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening. The warmth of the moment, the joy of their firstborn, had been ripped away in an instant, replaced by uncertainty and fear.

Jayce sat heavily onto a chair, his hands buried in his hair as he struggled to breathe past the lump in his throat. Viktor stood frozen, eyes fixed on the door she had disappeared through. The hand that still trembled around his cane was the only sign of his distress, but Jayce could see it—could feel the way the weight of helplessness bore down on both of them.

Then, a small sound. A whimper, a tiny hiccup.

The baby.

Jayce forced himself to move, to look down at the small bundle in his arms. Their son squirmed slightly, his little hands curling into fists, his nose scrunching in protest. He was warm, alive, here.

Jayce looked at Viktor, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s strong, Vik. She’s going to make it.”

Viktor swallowed hard, stepping closer to look at their child—at the life Y/N had brought into the world despite the odds. He reached out, brushing the baby’s cheek with a featherlight touch, and for the first time since Y/N was taken away, his eyes closed, his forehead resting against Jayce’s shoulder.

“What if she doesn’t?” Viktor’s voice was barely above a whisper, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “What if—”

“She will.” Jayce’s grip on the baby tightened slightly, as if grounding himself in that reality. “She has to.”

They sat there in silence, watching their son, both desperately clinging to the hope that Y/N would return to them. That their family would be whole.

And all they could do was wait.

=

Time crawled by, each passing moment stretching unbearably. Every time the door opened, both of them would jolt, hoping for news, only to be met with more silence. Jayce paced the room with their son nestled in his arms, rocking him gently, while Viktor sat still, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios he couldn’t afford to acknowledge.

Then, at long last, the door opened again, and a nurse stepped in.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said softly. “She’s awake, and she’s been asking for you both.”

Jayce exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and lingering anxiety washing over him. Viktor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, gripping his cane tightly as they both moved quickly to follow the nurse.

When they entered the room, Y/N was there, pale and exhausted, but alive. She was propped up against the pillows, her expression weary yet serene as she cradled a tiny bundle in her arms—a daughter. Their daughter.

A weak, but warm smile tugged at her lips as she looked at them. “You took your time,” she murmured, her voice hoarse but teasing.

Jayce let out a shaky laugh, stepping forward and carefully settling on one side of the bed while still holding their son. Viktor took the other side, his fingers brushing gently over her arm, as if to reassure himself that she was truly there.

Jayce wrapped an arm around them all, pulling them into a protective embrace. He pressed a lingering kiss to Y/N’s temple, his voice thick with emotion. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Viktor, ever the quieter one, leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “Never do that again,” he murmured, his voice strained but filled with nothing but love.

Y/N chuckled softly, shifting slightly so their daughter was nestled more securely in her arms. “I’ll try,” she whispered, exhaustion tugging at her again.

For the first time since this had all begun, they were together. Whole.

And despite everything, it was perfect.

VANDER

The air in the room was heavy with fear, thick and suffocating, mingled with the distinct scent of sweat and iron. The rickety cot creaked under Y/N’s weight as she clutched at the frayed sheets, her body slick with sweat, her breathing ragged and strained. Every moment felt like an eternity as the baby pushed its way into the world—too fast, too violently. There was no time to prepare. There was no time for anything but the agonizing pain that tore through her.

Vander knelt beside her, his strong hand wrapped tightly around hers, his knuckles white from holding on with all the strength he could muster. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his brow furrowed with worry. "You’re doing so well, love," he murmured, though his voice cracked, betraying the fear gnawing at his insides. Every time she screamed, it felt like a blade to his heart. He had fought countless men in the pits, taken hits that left his body battered and bruised, but nothing could have prepared him for this. Nothing could have prepared him for watching the woman he loved suffer.

Y/N’s eyes were glazed with pain, and tears streaked down her face. She gripped his hand tightly, her nails digging into his skin as another wave of contractions hit.

“I can’t... Vander, it hurts... It hurts so much,” she cried, her voice raw and hoarse from hours of screaming.

Felicia, who had been tending to Y/N, moved with practiced hands, trying to keep everything calm as she prepared for the birth. Her face was tight with concern, but she was the only one they had who could help. Zaun had no doctors, no advanced medical tools—only a few trusted hands.

"You need to keep going, Y/N," Felicia urged, her voice firm despite the panic underlying it. "Stay with me now."

But all Vander could do was focus on Y/N. He leaned close, his voice low and steady, though it shook. "Please, love. Just a little longer. We’re almost there."

Her body shuddered beneath his touch, the pain flaring up with every contraction. She screamed again, and Vander closed his eyes for a moment, the sound nearly unbearable. It wasn’t just physical pain; it was the terror in her eyes, the helplessness. For a moment, he wondered if this would be the moment he lost her—if this moment would be their last together. His heart raced, and his hands trembled, but he never let go.

Then, finally, Felicia's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "The baby's coming, Vander!"

A shuddering cry filled the room, and Felicia quickly wrapped the baby in cloth. "It’s a girl," she said, forcing a smile, trying to keep the mood light despite the heavy atmosphere. "She’s strong. She’s breathing."

Vander blinked, the words taking a moment to register. His eyes welled with tears as he looked down at the tiny, wriggling thing in Felicia’s arms. He kissed Y/N’s forehead again, his lips trembling. "You hear that, love? We have a little girl."

But as his voice shook with hope, Y/N’s breath hitched. She didn’t respond.

Vander’s heart stopped, his eyes locked onto Y/N’s face. Her body had gone still—too still. Her breath was shallow, ragged, and the blood… there was too much of it. He felt a rush of panic that threatened to consume him.

Felicia’s face drained of colour as she assessed the situation. "She’s losing too much," she muttered, voice tense. "I need more cloth, more pressure. She’s slipping."

Vander’s hands moved to Y/N’s face, his voice breaking. "Y/N? Y/N, stay with me, love." He didn’t know what else to say. He was desperate, willing to beg, to do anything to keep her here with him.

Her eyes fluttered open, just barely, her lips moving in a whisper. "Vander… keep her safe."

He squeezed her hand tighter, trying to hold back the tears. "No," he growled, voice raw. "You tell her yourself, Y/N. You hear me?" He felt the grip of fear close around his throat. "Stay with me."

She gave him a weak smile, her body sagging under the weight of exhaustion and blood loss. Her eyes closed again, and this time, there was no response.

Silence.

For a heart-stopping moment, Vander thought the worst. He thought he had lost her. His breath stopped as a chill ran through him.

Felicia cursed under her breath as she pressed both hands firmly to Y/N’s stomach, working frantically. "She’s still alive," Felicia said, though her voice was strained. "Barely… Vander, we need to stop the bleeding, now!"

Vander’s hands were on autopilot, grabbing whatever fabric he could find, pressing it firmly against Y/N’s body, trying to apply pressure just as Felicia had instructed. His hands were shaking, but he didn’t care. He could feel the panic rising in his chest like an animal clawing at him, but he couldn’t let go. Not now. Not ever.

Minutes felt like hours. Every breath Y/N took seemed to be a battle, a fight against the dark abyss threatening to claim her. But then—finally—a breath. A weak, shuddering breath.

Vander’s eyes widened, his heart pounding with relief. His forehead pressed against Y/N’s, his shoulders shaking as he let out a broken laugh, full of disbelief. "You’re not leaving me that easy, love," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Not now. Not ever."

Felicia sat back on her heels, exhausted but relieved. She wiped her brow, her face still pale but with a faint trace of relief. "She’s not out of the woods, but… she’s here."

Vander’s tears fell freely as he held Y/N close, brushing her damp hair back from her face, his hands trembling as he placed the tiny bundle in her arms. Their daughter. The little girl who had almost cost them everything. He looked down at her, her tiny fingers curling weakly around his thumb. He traced a finger gently over the soft curve of her cheek, his throat tight.

"She’s got your nose," he murmured to Y/N, pressing another kiss to her sweat-damp hair. "She’s perfect."

And then, impossibly, Y/N’s fingers twitched—barely, but enough.

Vander’s breath caught, his heart swelling with the overwhelming rush of relief. He wrapped his arms around both of them—his love and their child. He kissed her temple once more, pressing a promise into her skin.

"I won’t ever let you go," he whispered, his voice steady now, filled with the depth of his unshakable devotion. "I’ll always protect you. Both of you."

And as the sun began to set outside their little home in Zaun, Vander held onto his family—his heart full, his love steadfast, and their future uncertain, but theirs nonetheless.

SILCO

The low, constant hum of Zaun echoed in the walls of Silco’s private quarters, the tension in the air thick enough to choke anyone within. Y/N lay propped up in the bed, sweat clinging to her skin, her breaths shallow and strained. The dim light from a single lamp flickered weakly against the haze of smoke that filtered in through the slats in the windows. She had always known the risks of childbirth in Zaun—knew that the medical care was nothing compared to Piltover's polished facilities—but nothing could prepare her for the panic that surged through her now. The pain, the fear, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness that pressed in on her from all sides made her chest tighten.

Her hand gripped the sheets beneath her, fingers trembling as another contraction hit. She let out a sharp breath, trying to steady herself, but it was no use. The pain was unbearable, coming in waves that ripped through her body with an intensity she hadn’t anticipated.

Beside her, Silco stood, his cold and calculating demeanor stripped away, leaving only a man who was, for the first time in his life, genuinely frightened. His eyes locked on her face, his hand moving to brush her damp hair away from her forehead. His gloved fingers, usually so steady and controlled, were trembling slightly, betraying his inner turmoil.

"Y/N," Silco murmured, his voice hoarse and low. "Look at me."

Y/N’s vision was blurry, her mind clouded by the pain, but she managed to meet his eyes. The intensity of his gaze steadied her, grounding her in the chaos.

"Stay with me, darling," he continued, his voice firm, but underneath the commanding tone, there was a softness that she rarely heard from him. "You’re stronger than this. You can do this."

"I’m... so scared," she whispered, her voice weak and vulnerable in a way Silco had never heard before. "What if something happens to the baby? To me?"

His heart clenched at her words, and though he longed to tell her that everything would be fine, he knew better than to offer empty promises. But his presence was all she had in this moment, and if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her or their child. He would tear down the world before he let that happen.

The door to the room creaked open, and the doctor from Piltover, a middle-aged woman with stern features and sharp eyes, entered. She was dressed in a sterile white coat, and her hands moved with precision as she approached the bed. Silco barely spared her a glance, his gaze fixed on Y/N as her body trembled beneath the waves of pain.

The doctor moved to assess the situation, but Silco’s attention remained unwavering. His eyes flickered to the doctor once more, but there was a coldness there that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You better do your job, doctor," Silco’s voice was quiet, dangerous, like a serpent coiled and ready to strike. "If anything happens to her, or to my child, I will make sure you regret it."

The doctor didn’t flinch, but Silco’s words were a reminder of the gravity of the situation. He was a man who wielded power not just with wealth and influence, but with fear—and this woman had to know that failure was not an option.

Y/N gasped as another contraction hit, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. Silco’s focus snapped back to her, his gloved hand finding hers and holding it tightly.

"Just breathe," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Breathe for me, Y/N."

The doctor examined Y/N carefully, making quick, efficient movements. Her brow furrowed as she murmured something about the baby being in a difficult position. The words made Y/N's heart race faster, panic gripping her chest.

“No,” Y/N gasped, her voice tight with fear. “Please, I can’t—”

“Y/N,” Silco interjected, his voice sharp but steady. “Focus on me. Focus on my voice. You’re going to be fine.”

But the doctor’s actions were swift and clinical, each movement calculated. Y/N squeezed Silco’s hand harder, the pain becoming unbearable as another wave of contraction hit her. Her breath was coming in short bursts, her chest heaving with the effort to stay calm. But with every moment that passed, she could feel the weight of the situation pressing down harder and harder.

"Is everything okay?" Silco’s voice was a low growl, his eyes flicking between the doctor and Y/N, demanding answers.

The doctor didn’t respond immediately, her eyes focused entirely on Y/N’s condition. She instructed a nurse to adjust the positioning of Y/N’s legs, her voice firm and professional. But Silco’s presence in the room was impossible to ignore, and the tension radiated from him like an aura. His hand clenched around Y/N’s, his breath coming faster now.

"Doctor," Silco growled, his patience thinning. "I said, is everything okay?"

The doctor looked up at him, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "The baby is in a difficult position," she said, her voice calm but strained. "We need to turn her, but it’s risky."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her mind spinning with terror. “What do you mean, risky? What happens if—”

"Shh," Silco whispered to her, his fingers brushing over her forehead, trying to soothe her. “We’ll be fine. You’ve been through worse. You can do this.”

The doctor moved quickly, making the necessary adjustments. Silco stood by Y/N’s side, his hand still in hers, his presence grounding her in a sea of fear. He didn’t let go, his gaze locked onto hers, trying to offer any comfort he could.

Another hour passed in agonizing silence, the doctor working swiftly to help Y/N through each wave of pain. Silco never left her side, his words soft and reassuring, though beneath the calm surface of his voice, the fear was palpable.

=

Finally, the moment came. With a final, desperate scream, Y/N gave birth to their baby girl. The room was filled with the sound of her first cries—loud, sharp, and full of life. Silco’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at their daughter, a tiny, fragile thing, her small fists clenched in the air as she wailed in protest of the world she had just entered.

"She’s beautiful," Silco murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he looked at Y/N.

But just as he turned to give Y/N the smile of relief she deserved, a terrible realization struck him.

Her eyes were closed. Her chest wasn’t moving. The room seemed to go deathly silent as Silco’s eyes locked on her pale, lifeless face.

“No...” he whispered, his voice breaking.

The doctor’s face turned pale as well, her hands moving quickly to assess the situation. “She’s in shock,” the doctor said, her tone suddenly frantic. “We need to stabilize her. Get her breathing again, now.”

Y/N’s body was limp in Silco’s arms, her skin cold and lifeless. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All he could do was hold her, his arms trembling as he pulled her closer.

“Y/N…darling?” Silco’s voice cracked, barely audible as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. His heart pounded in his chest, and every second felt like an eternity. “Please. Don’t do this. Please.”

His voice was desperate now, raw with fear as he rocked her gently in his arms. His hand moved to her chest, feeling for any sign of life, but it was like the world had come to a halt.

And then, like a flicker of hope in the darkness, a faint breath shuddered through Y/N’s body. Her chest rose, just barely, and Silco’s eyes locked on hers as she gasped for air.

A sob broke from him, relief flooding his veins as Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, though they were weak and unfocused.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he whispered hoarsely, tears threatening to spill. “I’m not letting you go.”

She reached up weakly, her hand brushing against his cheek, and Silco’s heart shattered at the sight.

"I’m here, Silco," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “I’m not leaving you.”

As he looked down at their daughter—her tiny hands grasping at the air, her cries slowly turning into soft whimpers—Silco knew this moment, this fragile, imperfect moment, would define him forever. He would protect them both with every ounce of his being, and nothing in this world would ever tear them apart.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” Silco whispered, his voice full of awe and love. His fingers gently traced Y/N’s face as he held her close, his heart finally steady, for now. "Together, we will make this world our own."

JINX/POWDER (PLATONIC)

It was an unusually warm afternoon in Piltover when Y/N sat by the window, her hand gently resting on her swollen belly, feeling the subtle movements of the child growing inside her. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. She smiled faintly, a small flicker of excitement still there, despite everything that had happened.

She had never planned to be in this situation. Pregnancy was supposed to be a shared experience, full of joy, a journey that a couple would embark on together. But instead, she was navigating it alone. The moment she told the father of the child, he vanished. Not a word, not even a glance back. Y/N had been left to face the whirlwind of emotions and responsibility all on her own.

The first few months had been rough. She was overwhelmed by the constant rush of thoughts about how she was going to handle it all, but then Jinx came into the picture. It was unexpected, but somehow, it felt right. Jinx had always been chaotic, unpredictable, but there was a kindness buried deep beneath her wild exterior. She showed up at Y/N’s door one day, a basket full of mismatched baby clothes and snacks in hand, grinning like she’d won some great prize.

“Surprise!” Jinx exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. “I’m here to help with your little monster.”

And help she did. Jinx became an unspoken part of Y/N’s life. She never hesitated, always the first to check on Y/N, bringing over food, running errands, and even talking to the baby as though they were already best friends. The moments they shared together were the bright spots in what could have been an incredibly lonely time.

But despite Jinx’s enthusiasm, Y/N knew the truth. She wasn’t sure if she would have survived the emotional toll of her situation without Jinx’s chaotic, but much-needed support.

As the months went by, Y/N’s belly grew, and so did her bond with Jinx. The little one, who they had started calling “Buddy” for lack of a better name, was about to enter the world. The excitement in the air was palpable.

But the birth... that’s when things took a turn.

=

The pain hit suddenly, and Jinx was at Y/N’s side in an instant, her usual wildness replaced with determination. She didn’t know how to handle a birth, but she didn’t let that stop her. She had always been resourceful.

Y/N gripped her hand tightly, her face contorted in pain. The room was buzzing with tension, the medical staff moving quickly around her, and yet Jinx was a rock. Her usual high-pitched voice was quiet, soothing, as she whispered words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this, Y/N. Come on, just one more push. I’m right here. Just like we said... You can do this.”

Y/N nodded, trying to stay calm despite the growing panic inside. Something didn’t feel right. Her vision blurred, and her body felt heavy, as though she was being pulled into the deep end of a storm she couldn’t control.

The complications started to escalate quickly. Y/N’s heart began to race erratically, and her breathing became shallow. The doctor’s faces shifted, from calm to concerned, then quickly to urgent. In that moment, Y/N wasn’t sure if she would make it through. The thought of her unborn child, of everything that had happened, flooded her mind.

And then, there was Jinx. Jinx who had seen so much destruction in her life, but still, in this moment, she was fighting to keep her calm for Y/N. She was holding Y/N’s hand, whispering to her, telling her she wasn’t alone.

“Hey... Y/N,” Jinx said, her voice shaky but determined. “Don’t go anywhere. You’ve got a little one to take care of, right? Buddy’s gonna need you. I’ll be here... Just hang on. You’re not gonna leave me. Okay?”

Y/N barely had the strength to nod, but Jinx’s words, despite the chaos around them, were a lifeline. She squeezed her hand once, as though telling Jinx she was going to fight to stay.

The seconds felt like hours, and the minutes stretched on, but slowly, the tension in the room started to ease. Y/N’s heart rate stabilized, the doctors’ movements slowed, and Jinx let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t believe it. Y/N was still there, still holding on, still fighting. The baby was coming. Buddy was coming.

But just as the baby was finally born, Y/N’s heart took another turn. The doctors’ voices became more frantic. Y/N’s body went limp, and the room seemed to spin. She was losing blood fast, and the doctors couldn’t stop it. One of the nurses began shouting for a stretcher.

“Get her stabilized! Now!”

Y/N was carefully wheeled away, leaving Jinx standing at the edge of the room, her mind spiraling into chaos. She hadn’t even realized she was trembling until she found herself staring down at the small bundle in her arms—Buddy. The tiny, squirming baby, who was crying softly, oblivious to the storm that was still raging in the room.

Jinx stared at Buddy, her hands trembling. Her lip quivered as she held the baby closer. Her mind was in turmoil, the weight of the situation crashing down on her.

“Why?!” Jinx suddenly snapped, her voice laced with desperation. “Why is this happening?! Why is it always the babies—why do they make everything worse?!”

Her voice cracked, the harshness of her words cutting through the stillness in the room. She stared down at the baby, her breath shaky and uneven. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Y/N... she’s... she can’t—she can’t be gone, not like this…”

Buddy’s cries grew louder, more frantic in the tense air, and Jinx’s heart twisted painfully. She trembled, feeling smaller with each passing second. Her grip on Buddy tightened, and the frantic thoughts that swirled in her mind spilled out in a torrent of guilt and anger.

“If you were never born... if none of this had ever happened... Y/N would be fine! She wouldn’t be lying there, fighting for her life because of me. Because of you…” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she choked back a sob, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay.

Buddy’s cries only grew more intense, a sharp contrast to Jinx’s frenzied breathing. The weight of her words hit her like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, she felt a sickening emptiness, like she was drowning in the guilt that had become too heavy to bear. She squeezed her eyes shut, as though trying to block out the overwhelming reality of the situation.

Jinx’s arms trembled as she held Buddy close, but her harsh words soon faltered. She felt the soft warmth of the tiny body in her arms and the tender, unrelenting pull of something deep inside her—a connection, fragile yet fierce.

Her hands, shaking, slowly calmed, and she held the baby against her chest, her voice breaking.

“I didn’t mean it... I’m so sorry, little one... I didn’t mean it. You didn’t ask for this... None of this is your fault.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, barely audible over the baby’s cries.

Jinx took a shuddering breath, her body wracked with sobs as she rocked Buddy gently, murmuring apologies. “I don’t know what to do... I don’t know what to do without her...”

As the baby’s cries softened into soft whimpers, Jinx pressed her cheek against Buddy’s head, feeling the weight of her own fear and guilt melt away bit by bit. Slowly, almost instinctively, she whispered promises.

“I’ll take care of you, little one. Just like I’ll take care of Y/N. I won’t leave you. I won’t leave either of you.”

The words felt like a lifeline, one Jinx was grasping with every ounce of her being. She closed her eyes, clinging to the fragile life in her arms and the hope that somehow, she would find a way to hold on to both Y/N and Buddy, no matter what it took.

=

Hours passed in a blur of soft cries, gentle rocking, and quiet murmurs as Jinx held Buddy close. The tiny baby had eventually calmed, his whimpers softening into quiet breaths as he nestled against Jinx’s chest. Her mind was still a storm, turbulent and chaotic, but the feel of the warm, fragile little body in her arms brought a small sense of grounding amidst it all.

She hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep herself until she was jolted awake by the soft creak of the door opening. A nurse stood there, her gaze gentle but firm, catching Jinx's attention. Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“Ms… If you’re ready, we have a room prepared for you to see Y/N.”

Jinx’s heart stopped for a moment. Y/N... alive?

Her breath caught in her throat, and her wide, shocked eyes flickered down to the baby in her arms. Buddy had fallen asleep too, his tiny hand curled in a loose fist against her chest. Slowly, cautiously, Jinx stood up, her legs stiff from the hours of sitting in the same spot. She held Buddy against her, and the nurse gently guided her down the hall, leading her to a quieter, dimly lit room.

When they entered, the first thing Jinx noticed was the steady beeping of a monitor and the soft rise and fall of Y/N’s chest. She was asleep, pale but alive, the deep lines of exhaustion and pain softened by the gentle relief of rest.

Jinx’s breath hitched in her throat, a fresh wave of emotion crashing through her. She didn’t even realize her legs were moving until she was beside the bed, her gaze fixed on Y/N’s sleeping form.

She carefully sat down beside Y/N, setting Buddy gently between them. The baby shifted in his sleep but didn’t wake, his tiny fingers twitching against the blanket. Jinx’s fingers lightly brushed through Y/N’s hair, a tender touch as she took in the reality of what had happened. Her mind was still reeling, her heart still raw with guilt, but seeing Y/N here, still breathing, still alive, it was almost too much to handle.

A sob bubbled up in Jinx’s chest, but she forced it back, not wanting to disturb the calm around them. She pulled the blanket closer to Y/N, making sure Buddy was tucked safely in between them.

“I... I thought I lost you,” Jinx whispered, her voice barely audible, her throat tight with emotion. She didn’t know if Y/N could hear her, but the words were out, and they felt like a confession she couldn’t keep in any longer.

Jinx leaned forward slowly, her head resting lightly against Y/N’s arm, her eyes closing in exhaustion. “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You promised, remember?” She whispered the words like a prayer, the echo of their shared promises still vivid in her mind.

She closed her eyes, feeling the soft weight of Buddy’s tiny body next to her and the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jinx allowed herself to breathe. The world was still heavy, and the future uncertain, but for now, the three of them were together.

Jinx curled into Y/N’s side, her arm draping protectively around the baby, her tears quiet and unspoken as she drifted into a light sleep, knowing that no matter what happened, she would stay with both of them, keeping her promises.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

family time. l Frankie "Catfish" Morales

Summary: you came back from your parents in a really bad mental state

Warnings: angst, toxic parents, crying, emotional crisis, mentioning therapy, guilt

A/N: this is something i've been wanting to write for a while now. remember that what you feel is important and don't be afraid to ask for help, even professional help.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Frankie Morales masterlist]

He knew something was wrong even before the first words left your lips. Even the grating of the key in the lock was different. You took off your shoes differently, and the bag you had in your hand fell to the floor with a dull thud.

"Hi, honey." Frankie's large hands cupped your face, and familiar lips brushed yours. "I missed you."

You didn't answer. The only thing you did was snuggle into his broad chest and cling to him so tightly that for a moment he wondered if you had decided to crush his ribs. The smile disappeared from his face, and soon he was stroking your back, trying to understand what had happened.

"Long trip?" he asked. 

You had spent almost the entire last week at your parents' house, but if Frankie could be honest, he could see that you didn't feel like going there at all. Your mother had once again reproached you for not visiting them and not caring about your parents at all. With the look of a scolded child, you packed your bag and went to do your unpleasant duty.

"That was horrible." You mumbled quietly, your shoulders relaxing slightly. "Next time, please remind me to break my leg so I don't have to go there."

"Hey, hermosa." Frankie sighed and with no small effort, he pulled away to arms' length, his sweet brown eyes staring at you intently. "What happened?"

A quiet sigh escaped your lips. There was everything in it.

"What could have happened?" You asked rhetorically, freeing yourself from his arms and dragging yourself towards the living room where you collapsed on the couch. You grabbed one of the pillows and held it tightly to your chest like a shield. "It was like usual. I went there, from the moment I stepped inside I felt like a child who came home with a bad grade. First there was dinner, because I definitely can't cook and only my mom knows how to prepare meals." Frankie sat down next to you, rested his arm on the headrest and listened to you carefully with a small wrinkle between his eyebrows. "Dad noticed a scratch on the bumper of the car so he said that I can't drive and I shouldn't..."

"But I was the one who had the meeting with the shopping cart." Frankie interrupted you, surprised.

"Oh! I didn't tell them that." You snorted, shaking your head. "I didn't want to give them a gun before the evening news. But don't worry, they remembered you."

Frankie gulped. Your parents were...specific. He would be lying if he said he liked them, but he never spoke ill of them. Even when you were spilling your grievances and tears, Frankie just listened and patted you on the back. He didn't want to tell you that, but he had felt from the beginning that this trip wouldn't bring you anything good.

"I shouldn't have gone there at all." You said quietly as if you were reading his mind, your gaze fixed somewhere on the wall opposite "I always hope that it will be different, but I always come back broken into a thousand pieces..."

"Baby..." Frankie carefully brushed the hair away from your face and noticed how you bit your lip trying to stop yourself from falling apart "Maybe next time I'll go with you?"

You chuckled "Better not. As much as I would appreciate it, they... I don't want to talk about it, Frankie. I'm sorry."

"Hey," he moved closer, a warm hand resting on your knee and squeezing it lightly "You have nothing to apologize for, you didn't do anything wrong. We can talk about it when you feel up to it."

You nodded. He kissed your temple, inhaling your pleasant scents

He knew you so well that he knew that what you held inside was eating you alive. Despite everything, he didn't ask or push. Frankie knew that when you were ready, you would finally tell him everything, and he would be ready to listen and give you everything he could.

So for the next two days you pretended that everything was fine, even though you were clearly devastated. It wasn't until the third day passed and Frankie brought freshly washed and folded clothes to the bedroom that he heard a quiet sob from behind the bathroom door.

"Sweetie?" he knocked on the door "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine..." you replied trying to hide your sobs, it squeezed his heart.

"You don't sound like it." he replied "Will you open the door, please?"

The lock creaked softly and Frankie pushed the door open slightly. Although he expected you to eventually crack, he wasn't prepared for the sight. Something sank inside him the moment his eyes landed on your face. 

You had only just managed to take off your clothes, which were now lying on the tiles. You stood before him in your underwear, make-up turning into black spots under your eyes, your lips swollen and eyes red, your hair a mess.

"What's wrong with me?" you groaned and more tears rolled down your cheeks. "No matter what I do and what I don't do, I'll never be good enough for them... And I try so hard and..."

"Hermosa, please..." he tried to touch you, to show you that he was with you, but you pulled away and Frankie respected that immediately.

You gasped for breath between sobs, the heat rolling through your body, and the bathroom was becoming more and more claustrophobic. Only him standing before you seemed as real as ever, his soft brown eyes staring at you with a mixture of fear, sadness and concern. 

"I'm trying, Frankie..." you finally said in a shaking voice "Every day. I keep trying to meet their expectations, but I can't do anything to reach the bar they set for me. Why? Why can't they see that?" you sucked in a breath, he knew you were trying to hold back a sob to finally get it all out of you. He'll accept it, bear it, he'll do anything for you. "Ever since I was a kid I've always been not enough for them. Not smart enough, not talented enough, not pretty enough... They kept repeating it, and their words have seeped into my brain, that I'm no longer able to think about myself differently. And I read all these smart books, listen to these podcasts that tell me it's bullshit. I know the fucking theory, but I can't... Fuck!" 

You pressed your hands to your eyes and sat on the edge of the tub. You didn't see, but you heard and felt Frankie move closer, then crouched down in front of you, his arms wrapping around your legs. Warm lips brushed your thighs.

"I thought time would make it easier. But I'm still on some invisible leash. I feel guilty... I feel inadequate and..." your voice broke.

"Say it, hermosa." he said quietly.

He knew you had to get it out, only then could you feel better. No matter what the words were, once you said them you'd get them out and then he could do something about it.

"I feel unworthy of love..."

Something sank even deeper in his chest.

"I was driving here to you, wondering why you were even with me when I was like this. You deserve someone who isn't as fucked up as I am and... I'm sorry."

Your hands rested where Frankie had kissed you just a moment ago, your nervous fingers twisting, and you tried to calm your breathing. Only after a few seconds did his warm voice break the silence.

"Can I say something, honey?" you nodded and greedily grabbed his fingers when his hands touched yours. "I won't lie, your parents are fucked up. No, listen." you opened and closed your mouth immediately. "When I met you, I thought nothing good would ever happen to me in life. And here I am, living with the most wonderful woman I've ever met in my life. You're beautiful, smart, quick-witted, funny and sassy. I love every single thing about you, even the things that piss me off sometimes. And you know why? Because it's you."

The grimace that appeared on your face was probably supposed to be a smile, but new tears rolled down behind it.

"I'm angry that these people make you feel this way. Parents shouldn't do this, I don't know why they can't see how amazing you are, but it's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"They want what's best for me. Maybe if I..."

"If you had a daughter, if you saw her the way I see you now, would you tell her it was for her own good? I don't think so. That's not love, honey. That's some sick ambition, and you shouldn't care about it."

"They're my parents, Frankie. I can't help but care."

"You'd be surprised to know how many people in the world feel the way you do, and how many have cut themselves off from people like that in order to heal."

You knew he was right. Deep inside you knew that Frankie was telling the truth and you would say those words to anyone who was in a similar situation. But when it comes to you...

"I told you once that I went to therapy, remember?" he said after a moment of silence, you nodded "Maybe... Maybe you should think about meeting with someone to talk, to sort things out in your head. You know, honey, that I will always listen to you, but a professional can teach you, give you the tools to deal with it."

You looked at him with resignation. "Won't you think I'm crazy then?"

"Oh, please!" he smiled and placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb stroking your damp skin. "It takes a lot of courage, that's what you told me, remember? I want you to feel better, and if it can help you, then I totally support you in this."

"Thank you."

Now you managed to smile, weakly but it was a success. Frankie stood up and brushed his lips against yours. You stood up too and snuggled into him, the strong beating of his heart calming you down, grounding you. A sense of security and peace slowly began to fill you. You already knew that even if you didn't get rid of these thoughts as quickly as you wanted, this guy would be with you despite everything. He didn't judge you, he didn't criticize you, he didn't say you were overreacting. What you felt was real and important to him, he wanted the best for you.

"I love you, Frankie." You whispered, hugging him even tighter.

He smiled, kissed the top of your head, "I love you more, hermosa."

"I think... I think I smeared my mascara on your shirt."

"Never mind." Frankie chuckled, "But I can draw you a hot bath, bring you a glass of wine and..."

"Will you join me?"

You pulled away and looked at him. God only knew how much he loved you, and in moments like these he felt it in every cell of his body. 

"Always." he replied, pecking your lips, "Always."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie got a few hours of sleep in before the loud creak of their shitty door ruined it. He squinted into the dark, groaning quietly when he saw the time. It was late. Late enough to be early. Almost 4:30 am.

He stretched, patient enough to not try to go back to sleep yet. He was hoping Steve would come in here soon, something that happened more often than not when he worked late. He only avoided him when he was too tired to shower, a habit that Eddie was trying to subtly talk him out of. 

But instead of the lone sound of Steve’s footsteps coming down the hall, he heard his voice, “No, no. He’s asleep.”

Eddie paused his stretching, curious.

“I think it’ll be fine if I keep quiet,” Steve said followed by the creak of their couch, “I’m in the living room anyway.”

Eddie sighed, too understanding to be annoyed. It wasn’t Steve’s fault he thought he could get away with it. Eddie had been sleeping better since whatever this was started between them. Good enough for the shower to not even be enough to wake him anymore.

Who would have thought that regularly scheduled orgasms could be the cure for insomnia? It just so happened that the effect was lessened when Steve wasn't in the bed with him. 

“Shut up!” Steve laughed, loud and clear despite the walls between them.

Eddie got out of bed, deciding to fake a bathroom trip so Steve knew that he had an audience. Even if he was slightly tempted to listen in, his natural inclination to be a nosey bitch poking its head out. 

“He’s adorable,” Steve sighed, his voice dropping. Barely audible through his door, “I’m obsessed.”

Eddie’s hand paused on the doorknob. He could hear Steve getting comfortable on the couch, the leather creaking under him. He saw him in his mind's eye, laid back, his legs hanging over one of the arms. 

“It’s perfect,” Steve said happily, “His mouth is insane, dude. It’s so pretty.”

It was time to give up the act of proprietary. Eddie pressed his ear against the door, officially eavesdropping. 

“Obviously, I did,” Steve laughed, “It was the first thing we did and it looked obscene. I don’t even think he gets how hot he is?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. He couldn’t- was he actually saying what it sounded like?

“Oh yeah,” Steve said easily, “That too. But I don't think he's lying about it. He's too shy. He just has a perfect dick and is a perfect sweetheart. All at the same time. Of course, it's good! Amazing actually.”

His face was burning, a mix of flattered and incredibly embarrassed. Steve had warned him that he told Robin everything but God. He went pretty damn far with it. He hadn't expected him to be so graphic. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Steve said suddenly, his tone shifting, “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Wouldn't I know more than you?”

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat.

“He’s not seeing anyone else,” Steve huffed, “Yes, I know it for a fact! You don't even know him.”

Eddie wasn’t. Couldn’t even dream of it. He let himself sink to the floor, grinning ear to ear. The stretch of it almost uncomfortable. He probably looked as creepy as he was acting. Sitting in the dark, smiling like a mental patient with his face pressed against the thin wood of the door. He couldn’t even care, not when it felt like he just won the lottery. 

“I’m telling you it’s not a ploy! Attractive people can be virgins,” Steve groaned, “Why are you being so judgmental? Wha-I am not shitting where I eat, you ass! Why are you being such a pill about this?”

Steve didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Nothing outside of a few huffs and some mumbling under his breath. Eddie could only guess that he was on the receiving end of a long lecture. 

“Yeah, he’s going to be around for you to meet!” Steve eventually hissed, “I’m telling you, this is different. Oh yeah? Like your judgement’s so great? Fuck off.”

Eddie could feel the tension from behind the door. Then more wired quiet, Steve’s sounds of indignation softening by the second. 

“No. I think I’m…” Steve trailed off quietly. Tapering off into a sigh, “I don’t think either of us are playing around anymore.”

Eddie was suddenly starting to feel guilty for what he was doing. But not enough to stop. 

Steve’s voice got quieter, just above an audible whisper. Rightfully paranoid of being overheard. Eddie was straining to hear, “Yeah. I do. I know it’s soon but… I want him to know. I think I’m going to tell him.”

Eddie was praying those blank spaces were filled with what he thought. But part of him couldn’t believe that his life was this. It couldn’t be possible. He couldn’t be lucky enough to have the love of his life just drop into his lap. With mutual feelings?

But then again, what else could it possibly mean?

The smile was back in Steve’s voice, playfully huffing, “Yes. I will always love you more, you freak. You should be sorry. Plus, if you don’t trust my word then I’ll prove it to you. Oh no! Too late to back out now.”

Eddie could hear the couch squeak under Steve’s weight as he got to his feet, “You’ll see what I mean.”

an excerpt from this fic

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

Jin slides a dish of vanilla ice cream to you. You smile when you see he remembers the extra sprinkles on top. Yoongi has taken a play out of your book and has been actively avoiding you since your conversation at his house two weeks ago. Every day, you watched out your window from your living room, hoping that he would come over when he returned home from work. He never did. Why was he so upset? Why was he so offended that you didn't want to sell the recipes to the farm? It's not like you were hurting the farm financially. They were doing perfectly well before you came along. They didn't need your bread or jam to be successful. It really shouldn't have mattered that you said no. You regret even agreeing to bake for them in the first place.

“Was I stupid for not selling the recipes?” You ask Jin, who is leaning on the counter in front of you with his own dish of ice cream.

“No, they mean something to you, and you shouldn't feel bad, ” he assures you. “Anyone of us could have talked to you about it. We are all at fault for this whole mess. I don't know why he is taking it so hard.”

“I feel like I've fucked everything up,” you say shoving the sweet cold ice cream in your mouth. As you chew on the colorful sprinkles the bell above the door jingles catching your attention. Hobi walks into the cafe and sits on the stool next to you as he steals a spoonful of your dessert. Your friendship with him went back to normal in a blink of an eye. It wasn't long after you both apologized that Jin and Namjoon sent you their own apologies. They didn't try to come up with excuses for Yoongi or try to make you feel bad. They were simple heartfelt apologies that you accepted right away. “Jimin and Tae even texted me asking why I was making a big deal out of it. They made a whole group chat with the three of us so they could gang up on me together.”

“Really?” Hobi asked, surprised, and you nodded.

“I'll have a talk with them later,” Jin comments, shaking his head.

“I…I just feel like I was back on track with my life, settling in nicely, and now everyone hates me,” you cry. Tears fall down your face that you quickly wipe away with your sleeve. “With the way everything has been going, I wouldn't be surprised if Kook doesn't evict me.”

“He would never do that to you. No one hates you,” Jin said, patting your head as if you're a child.

“It's all going to blow over,” Hobi said, hugging you.

“It's too late. Yoongi is clearly talking shit about me, and now everyone is going to choose sides. Jimin warned me not to let this get messy and look at us. I was so stupid to get involved with him,” you say, shaking your head disagreeing with them. “I've talked to my one and only friend from my old school district. They have a third grade teacher leaving next year. I think I'm going to take the position.”

“No, you're not,” Joon said, coming into the cafe with that damn bell jingling behind him. “We are not going to let you run away. I'll reject your resignation, and I won't give you any recommendations.”

“You would really do that to me?” You ask as he sits on your free side.

“Absolutely,” Namjoon said. “You belong here with us….you're family. Yoongi is stubborn, and so are you. Let things settle down, talk it out, and we will all move on.”

“What if we can't agree on things?” You ask, stirring the ice cream around in your bowl. “He doesn't seem to be in a rush to talk to me. He's had two weeks to talk to me. It's not like he doesn't know where I live. What if there is no fixing this?”

“What if?” Jin asks as he stares off into space as if he’s deep in thought. “What if…”

“What if what?” Hobi asks, smacking the counter, knocking Jin out of his daze.

“What if you sell the recipes to Tannie Farms, but make everything yourself?” Jin asks, looking at you curiously before breaking out in a wide smile.

“I'm not following,” you say, and your other two friends seem just as confused. The three of you in front of the counter look at each other as if Jin has gone insane. “His whole point was that I couldn't make everything myself. I can't supply you with the amount you would need.”

“I don't want to run the cafe anymore. I want to make the food I want to make,” he explains, turning serious. “Think about it, Y/N. A restaurant and bakery. Yours and mine….mine and yours. Ours. People from all over would flock to us.”

“That's….not a bad idea,” Joon said, looking at you with a surprised look on his face. Now, you are looking at him like he is the crazy one. “You would have multiple ovens big enough to make the quantities we need for deliveries, and the recipes would be safe with you. You wouldn't be selling them to strangers.”

“Okay, what about my job? Do I just give up on teaching and throw away my degree that I worked hard for? I am still paying off my student loan. I don't have the money to help you start a restaurant and bakery,” you tell them, pushing your dish of melting ice cream away. “I don't even know if I can make anything else. We can't run a bakery on one cake, bread, and a couple of jams.”

“Yoongi says he's willing to talk about it,” Hobi says, holding up his phone. You glare at him, that traitor. You knew he loved Yoongi more. “You wouldn't have to put up any money because Tannie Farms would own it. Financially, you wouldn't be on the hook for anything.”

“So, I would work for Yoongi,” you say, sounding very unamused as you take in their faces, looking excited at the possible new venture. Shaking your head, you wave your hands in front of you, showing that you were not interested. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Please, please. Don't crush my dreams,” Jin begs, hands pressed together underneath his chin. “We could be successful. You would work for all of us, not just Yoongi. I don't want to work for my parents forever.”

“You'll have plenty of time to find more recipes and experiment,” Hobi assures you. “The whole process will take time. Months, if not years. You can do it.”

“You wouldn't even have to talk to Yoongi. Jin will handle everything, and all of us are available if you need anything. I think that you definitely can do it,” Joon says, agreeing with Hobi.

Can you? Can you do it? In theory, yes, you probably could. Your grandmother has so many different recipes that you haven't even explored yet. It's the whole working for your friends and Yoongi that is causing you to question this new business opportunity. Could you handle working for Yoongi after everything happened? You're not sure if you can or even want to. To actually work for them puts your entire livelihood at risk. If you get involved, fully involved, there is no way you could walk away at the drop of a hat if things get rough. It was a major commitment.

“Please?” Jin said, giving you puppy dog eyes. “Please, I'll love you forever. I wouldn't even dream of doing this with anyone else. We would work so well together.”

“Okay,” you give in and smack the counter with your hands, causing them to smile at you. “I guess I will be willing to listen to a full-on business plan when you have one. A complete business plan and not just an idea. However, that's all for right now ….I'll listen and consider.”

“Great! We are going to be great together,” Jin exclaims. “I need to get a menu around. Jolly Jin’s Cafe and Bakery. I can see the sign now.”

You sigh as you watch him run back into the kitchen. You think you're getting a headache.

Pulling back into your driveway, you notice Yoongi's house is dark like it has been recently. You barely even see the lights on for an extended period of time in his home at night anymore. You wonder if he kept the same routine he had when you would stay over. Dinner in the kitchen preceded by sitting in the living room curled up on the couch, reading a book. You would have been tucked into his side watching tv or scrolling through your phone as his eyes flew over the pages of his book. Sometimes, the nights would end with him pinning your against the couch cushions or scurrying upstairs quickly and into the bed. Now, those nights are over and gone with one stupid fight.

Sniffling, you blink away the unshed tears. It was then that you noticed the car parked along the side of your driveway. Looking over to your house, you stare at Changkyun from your driver's seat as you throw your car into park as he stands on your porch waiting for you. There was no reason for him to be here. He made it very loud and clear that the two of you were over. Getting out of your car, you stand rooted in your spot just looking at him. You are not willing to walk up to him. He seemed to take the hint and walked off your porch in your direction. Closing your door, you cross your arms and wait with baited breath as he nears.

“You look good,” he says, once reaching you.

He still looked good, too. Handsome as ever with that damn sharp jawline that you had fallen for in the beginning. It pissed you off. You want him to look guilty. You want him to look sad and tired. You want him to apologize for all the shit he put you through. For making you feel like you had to push your friends away. For making you feel like you were not good enough for him. However, he doesn't. He looks like he doesn't have a care in the world.

“How did you find me?” You ask, taking a step back away from him. A part of you wonders if you can jump back in your car and drive away quickly.

“I went to your parents' house, and your mom told me where you were living. I really need to talk to you,” he says.

“I think you said plenty when you said, and I quote ‘I don't love you anymore’,” you tell him. “I don't think that there is anything left to say. You wasted your time coming here.”

You push past him, but he reaches out and grabs your arm, stopping you from leaving. You pull out of his grasp and glare at him. You don't want him to touch you. You don't even want to look at him. Crossing your arms, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m really trying to be civil about this, Y/N,” he said. “I just want my engagement ring back.”

“Why now?” You ask with a laugh. “What, are you getting married sometime soon?” He looks away, not able to look you in the eye. Your jaw drops in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? I've only been gone for a few months and you're engaged. Who?”

“It doesn't matter who. Just give me the ring, and I'll be gone out of your life forever,” he says harshly.

“Tell me who,” you demand. You notice Yoongi pull into his driveway with perfect timing. Great, just great. This day just couldn't get any better. “You owe me that much.”

“Hanna,” he said quietly, looking down at his shoes as you hear Yoongi's car door open and close in the background.

Hanna, the one who you caught him in bed with. The one who you thought was one of your friends. You see Yoongi linger by his kitchen door in your peripheral vision after he slowly made his way up the steps to his house. You turn your head to look at him. Unfortunately, it triggered Changkyun to do the same. Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed.

“Baby, I wish I could change things,” he said in a sickeningly sweet, smooth voice. “I know we were so good together at one point, but that ended. I’ve moved on, and you need to accept that. It's time for you to move on as well.”

“Don't call me that. You need to leave. I'm not giving you anything,” you hiss at him and turn to leave.

“That ring is mine,” he growled at you, grabbing onto you again and pulling you to him. You stumble over your feet as he pulls. “Just give it to me.”

Before you can even comprehend what was happening, Yoongi was in between the two of you. He gives Changkyun a forceful shove, making him stumble backward away from you. Yoongi reaches behind his back and pulls you behind him more, shielding your body. Protecting you. Keeping you safe.

“Just go,” Yoongi growls at him, and Changkyun just laughs at him. “It's clear she doesn't want you here. Get in your car and get the fuck out of here!”

“You think I'm afraid of you?” he asks, looking at him with a distasteful look before looking over Yoongi's shoulder at you. Changkyun laughs at the two of you, shaking his head in amusement. “Min Yoongi? Really, that’s the best you can do? Fuck, are you that desprate?”

“Well he's a million times better than a selfish jackass I know. I don't have the ring anymore, so just leave,” you yell at him from behind Yoongi.

“Where is it?” he snaps at you.

“Watch how you fucking talk to her,” Yoongi snaps back at him, still holding you behind him.

“I pawned it,” you laugh from behind the blonde man, making Changkyun narrow his eyes at you. “It bought me a lovely tv hanging on my wall right now. It's much more pleasant to look at than that ugly ass ring.”

You watch as Changkyun clenches his jaw and stomps away back to his fancy SUV. He stops halfway to his destination before turning back to look at both you and Yoongi. Changing his mind, he walks back toward you. Yoongi reaches back again, making sure that you're still tucked away safely behind him.

“You know,” he says, approaching you. “I never wanted to marry you. I only asked becasue you wouldn’t fucking stop nagging me about it. You were never good enough to be my wife, you stupid…”

That was enough for Yoongi as something inside him snapped. You watch in horror as he throws himself at Changkyun, taking them both onto the hard ground below their feet. It probably would have been comical watching two grown men roll around on the ground had they been strangers, but they weren't, and they were both pissed. This wasn't funny at all. You watch on, with your hands in front of your mouth in shock as Yoongi, who comes out on top lands a punch to Changkyuns stomach from above making him double over and turn slightly away from him. Changkyun, although laid out underneath the pissed off blonde, he wasn't deterred for too long. Using all his power, he spun his torso around quickly, elbowing Yoongi in the face and successfully knocking Yoongi off of him.

“STOP IT!” You yell out into the evening air as Yoongi lands on the ground next to your ex-boyfriend. They didn't listen to you. Changkyun stands, quickly grabbing Yoongi by the back of his jacket, bringing up on his own feet and bending him down low enough to knee him in the side, making him drop again. Yoongi's knees hit the ground hard before catching himself with his hands so he didn’t fall flat on his face. “CHANGKYUN STOP IT! STOP IT! LEAVE HIM ALONE!” You scream at him as he goes to grab Yoongi again.

You push forward, latching onto Changkyun’s arm, trying to shake him off Yoongi. Unfortunately, he wasn't discouraged and managed to get Yoongi back up. Grabbing his wrist, you pull as hard as you could, but he was much stronger than you. Instead, you sink your nails into his skin, dragging them across his flesh, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Changkyun growls. With his free hand, he pushes you away, causing you to stumble back and fall on your ass.

“Keep your hands off her,” Yoongi barks sharply.

Gaining some strength, Yoongi sweeps Changkyun's leg, causing them both to fall once more upon the ground. They roll around a couple of times, trying to each gain the upper hand. You scooch back on your butt trying to stay out of the way.

“She deserved it,” Changkyun growls, pinning Yoongi underneath him. They are both panting, but Changkyun smirks in victory as he looks down at Yoongi. “You think you're so tough. Fucking Min Yoongi, you ain't shit!”

You're too focused on watching your ex pull his arm back for a punch, you hardly register the footsteps quickly running up the driveway until an extra body jumps on Changkyun’s back pulling him off of Yoongi. Jungkook wraps his arms fully around him, dragging him back and away from the hurt man on the ground. Changkyun struggles with your friend, trying to get out of his hold. Tae jumps in quickly, getting in front of them just in case he breaks away and helps Jungkook push Changkyun back until they get him to his car.

“Yoongi,” you cry out, throwing yourself next to him as he struggles to get himself onto his knees.

You grab on to him gently and bring him close to you. He rests his head on your chest as he tries to catch his breath after getting the wind knocked out of him. You stroke his hair with your hand, hoping desperately that he was okay. You see him close his eyes, taking in your touch. You wish you knew what else to do. You wish you could take everything back. You wish for a lot of things.

“You're both pathetic and deserve each other,” Changkyun yells out before finally getting into his vehicle, slamming his door shut in anger.

“Go, before we call the police,” Kook said, pointing to the end of the driveway.

Changkyun backs out of your driveway and squeals his tires before racing away, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt behind in the air. You watch him drive away until his tail lights disappear in the rapidly darkening horizon. Tae comes over and helps Yoongi stand on his own feet. You slowly get off the ground and stand beside them, waiting for someone to say something. Carefully, you place your hand on Yoongi's shoulder, but he instantly shrugs it off. That hurt. You can feel your heart drop down to your stomach. It's really over.

Yoongi and Taehyung take off, walking to his place while holding his side and slightly hunched over. Jungkook approaches you, and the two of you stare at each other. He looks sad. It's been weeks since you last talked to him. He's probably been actively avoiding this whole mess. You know he would never want to choose between you and Yoongi like Jimin and Tae apparently did.

“I should go with them,” he says, jerking his thumbs to the house next door. He's choosing Yoongi, and your heart breaks a little. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a nod. You don't blame him for wanting to leave. They were his brothers. You, you were the bitch he was renting his house to. The bitch who they can't make money off of. “Yeah.”

You turn and go to your house before he can even walk away or say anything more. Unlocking the door, you enter your house and slam the door shut, making the blinds on the kitchen windows shake and rattle. It wasn't going to work. The business plan wouldn't work. Your friendships weren't going to work. This small ass town wasn't going to work. You grab your phone from your bag. Pulling up Joons contact, you open a new message.

I’m taking the third grade job. I'm sorry I can't do this.

You can't. You won't.

Tagged Readers:

@mar-lo-pap , @bontensbabygirl , @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld , @wobblewobble822 , @busanbby-jjk , @pitchblack0309 , @bluesiebirdie

[crowliphale]

ALRIGHT.... after roughly three days and one complete re-work, i think i can now proudly show off my silly sims creation...

Madrick Roslof's House

(disclaimer: i know it's shown to be a cutesie little cottage in the module but hush i have an overactive imagination)

I took some HEAVY, HEAVY inspiration from @sweet-reaper's fic What Lies Between Us (as in, it was supposed to be a recreation but i'm more than 100% sure i messed some things up) so go give it tons of love!!!

Tour below the cut!

The Outside (front & back)

I'll admit I'm not the greatest exterior decorator, but I'm still happy with how it came out! I was going for a building that wasn't constructed professionally, but rather by the people living in it. Personalized, asymmetrical, kinda like my grandparents house...

The Foyer/Livingroom

You'll notice right away that Roslof has an absolutely chaotic variety of furniture, and that's completely intentional! I wanted it to feel like this house has been lived in for decades, becoming more of a place to store all of Roslof's trinkets rather than an organized space. For sims reasons I gave him a TV, but if it were purely dnd-based that wouldn't be there lol. The dollhouse is there for Hootsie, who's a toddler in my game!

The Kitchen

Kremy's baby. He practically lives in this room. Despite it being Roslof's house and kitchen, I REALLY leaned into the fact that this is Kremy's space. It's a lot cleaner than some other parts of the house, and feels slightly more updated while keeping that awesome vintage vibe. Not a ton to say, it's probably the 2nd most accurate to my initial vision while reading reaper's fic.

The Dining Room

Not a ton to say here! I honestly didn't even intend on adding a dining room at first, but realized i had an empty room that served no purpose, so why not make it a dining room? I'm really happy with the eclectic collection of chairs, and I felt like a genius for putting one to the side after I replaced it with Hootsie's high chair

~ UPSTAIRS ~

The Guest Room (currently Kremy & Gideon's room)

The MOST accurate to my vision while reading reaper's fic, I think the only part I wish I could change is that the table in the back is meant to be a vanity table. I also would've added more clutter and the shrine to the Baron, but I kinda just don't have the space/CC for that </3 otherwise I love this room!!

Roslof's Room (formerly, now deceased)

This one's the most lackluster in my opinion, I really didn't have a clear picture of what his room looks like. It's also likely getting changed in the future as Hootsie grows up--Maybe I'll move Gideon and Kremy into here at some point... either way it isn't awful, I wouldn't mind spending my final days in here.

Guest Room 2 (Frost & Gricko & Hootsie's room)

I think this is where I strayed the most from reaper's story. Not totally sure how the arrangement is in the fic, i haven't reread it in a minute, but I know I typically make the three other guys all bunk together... but as you can see, this room is WAY too small for that. So instead it's just Frost & Gricko & Hootsie. Didn't put a ton of effort in, but that's mainly because I don't think Frost or Gricko have very many worldly possessions to their names.

~ BASEMENT ~

The Workshop (Gideon's baby)

I literally just DON'T have the CC to make this work that great, but I tried to still arrange things the same way they looked in my mind! Again not much to say, without the proper CC it kinda just became a filler room.

The Storage Closet (Torbek's room)

Poor Torbek... FJDSKFS I'm actually so sorry I put him down here partially as a joke and partially because I couldn't remember where he sleeps in the fic. and because I was pretty much entirely out of space anywhere else. Sorry big guy, I gave you a night light as consolation

~ THE GREENHOUSE ~

The Greenhouse (the greenhouse)

THE GREENHOUSE!! It's my absolute favorite part of the build it's just downright gorgeous, I tried so so hard to make it work despite not having the correct CC/DLC, and I'm super happy with how it came out!! Literally all I would add is some hanging planters from the banisters this thing is great.

and... that's the house! Hooray! Not sure how else to end a post like this, so here's the worst photo ever of how the guys look (+ toddler Hootsie)

I'll probably make another post like this but for the family's closeups/outfits/traits if I notice enough interest for it.. anyway tho hope you liked my silly sims build!! go read reaper's stuff its actually peak i'm so serious!!