#My machine I suspect would just eat it

[tophatandboots]

Working with flimsy materials and just going "you know what, for the sake of my sanity I'm going to sew this by hand"

[maxsimagination]

would you write more for kim little please? maybe her dating someone younger on the team and the rest of the girls find out? <3

𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 - 𝙠.𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚

summary: kim is dating a controversially younger teammate and the team finds out

-> kim is 34 and reader is 22

𖦹 masterlist

“𝗞𝗜𝗠, 𝗡𝗢 𝗜 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗔 sleep in. pleaseeee.”

i groaned as kim pulled the curtains to our shared apartment. i wanted to enjoy the last moments with her until we had to go to training and pretend we weren’t dating.

it wasn’t because we didn’t think they’d accept us, it was more because kim was 34 and i was only 22.

the team might not think that was bad, but if they knew then it was only a matter of time before the media knew, and it would blow up indefinitely once they knew. we just weren’t willing to risk it right now.

i ended up being dragged out of bed by kim, the scot managing to haul me to the bathroom. i was half asleep but went through my morning routine like clockwork.

we rocked up at the training fields within the next hour, but kim walked in first. we drove there in the same car but walked in separately so people didn’t suspect anything.

“yn!”

“leah!”

i greeted the blonde when i walked in, levelling her excitement with my own. she jumped onto me in a hug, before slipping back onto the floor.

we walked into the dining hall where the rest of the team and staff were, picking up our designated plates and electing to sit at katie’s table. which also happened to have kim at it.

i, obviously, chose to sit next to kim but thankfully no one picked up on that.

we were allocated an hour to eat breakfast before everyone had to actually start working for the day. all the players filed out to the changing rooms where we changed into our boots, and i slipped my hoodie off while i had the chance.

i caught kim’s gaze as i jogged out to meet leah, throwing a cheeky grin at her expression.

leah was up with katie and cait, talking about god knows what. i joined in, but then jonas cut everyone’s conversations short with his yell for attention.

“girls! let’s get started please. we’re doing a jogging warmup lap, then weights.

find a partner once you’ve finished the lap, use each other for spotting. we don’t need any injuries.”

there was collective murmurs of agreement, and we started jogging around the field. i naturally found myself jogging next to kim, as if a magnet pulled us together.

“gym partners?”

i questioned, she nodded.

we made our way to the weights section of the gym arsenal had.

“we are so doing legs first.”

i all but dragged kim over to the leg press to kickstart our session. kim did not want to do legs, she was into training arms, which was very visible from the bicep muscles that she sported.

one of the many things i drooled over.

i had shoved at least 250lbs onto the leg press machine and watched as kim’s eyes bulge at the amount of plates.

“you’re telling me you can safely lift that?”

“nope. but i’m gonna.”

i ended up doing two reps of fifteen, before upping the weight to 300lbs. kim may have had an aneurysm at the amount of weight i was pushing, and making it look like it was nothing. but she still stood behind me, watching, spotting, and dancing her fingertips over my shoulder blades.

it gave me tingles, and was slightly ticklish. what we didn’t know was that leah was looking from across the room, and she knew that something was up.

when the gym session was over and we started actual drills, leah was quick to pin me as her partner for anything. i thought it was weird but didn’t question it.

when we had a break leah took my hand and walked past kim, beckoning her to follow us. leah walked us away from the groups of girls, so we were out of earshot.

“there’s something going on between you two. spill.”

both of us were quick to sputter out some form of excuse.

“no, what do you mean.”

“don’t know what you’re talking about, lee.”

leah gave us both one of her stares.

“cut the crap. i see the way you look at each other, the little touches. not to mention you both come into practice within minutes of each other, every morning.”

i exchanged a look with kim, there was no point in hiding this from leah. she was like the fbi, she knew everything.

“okay. we’re dating. we have been for a year.”

something settled in leah’s expression, now she knew what was going on.

“i knew it.

kimmy, going for the young ones are we?”

leah poked at kim’s side, grinning at the skipper. there was an eleven year gap between us, hence why we had kept it secret for a while.

“shut it, lee. do we need to tell the whole team?”

“it would make things easier. for you that is. but only if you want.”

i look over at kim. she looks over at me. i shrug, i never had a problem with telling everyone, kim was the logic one who knew the ins and outs of the media.

“fuck it why not. they’ll figure out eventually.”

“we don’t have to say anything, we can just walk out there and start acting like a couple. see how long it takes them.”

i throw out the idea with a grin. why not have a little fun with it.

we end up agreeing on my idea. training still had a couple of hours left and jonas gave us a few more drills to do, so me and kim forgot all about keeping the secret and just had fun training with each other for once.

surprisingly, none of the girls, not even the staff, said anything. not even kyra or alessia, of all people.

you’d think that the two most gossipy youngsters on the team would say something. but by the end of training, no one was any wiser. so leah told them all.

kyra let out a very loud, ‘oh my god!’ which caught the attention of alessia, who told lotte, so on and so on. soon the whole team knew and it was like a weight was lifted off our shoulders.

“kimmy, i didn’t know you were into the young ones.”

katie’s irish accent was unmistakable as she caught up with us to poke fun at the skipper. cait walked alongside me, she didn’t tease neither me nor kim, simply said she was happy for us.

you could tell she was true with her words, she was in a very similar situation, when her and katie first got together.

“a proper cougar then, our skipper.”

lotte and alessia laughed as they walked past.

it was funny, all the jokes they threw around, but most of all i was happy that they accepted us.

[emmyrosee]

Ushijima does nothing halfway. Especially when it comes to his daughter.

It’s very adorable to see, there’s nothing quite like her asking him for anything and everything, and him doing it.

For her third birthday, she wanted a pony. When he couldn’t find one, he and Romero dressed up in a pony costume.

When she asks for candy, he gets her two of whatever she likes- one when she eats all her dinner, and one because ‘mommy doesn’t need to know.’

When she comes barreling into your bedroom while you two snuggle, wailing and desperately trying to dry her eyes while you both scramble from the bed to calm her down. He’s quick to reach for the baseball bat next to his bed to ward off any “monsters.”

“What’s wrong, baby?” You soothe, opening your arms for her to leap into. She does, and you hoist her up and onto your hip, her face burying into your neck.

“Jock’s gone!” She sobs, and immediately, you and Wakatoshi tense up.

Jacques, the handmade giraffe Uncle Satori had sent all the way from Paris for Reina’s second birthday had immediately made its presence known in everyday life. Everywhere Reina went, Jacques was close behind or enclosed in her tiny hand: play dates, dinners out or at the table, sitting on the toilet at bath time…

In her arms every time she was going to sleep.

“Oh sweetheart,” you croon. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“I…I…” she lets out a sniffle and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “I forgot to…”

“We’ll find him,” Wakatoshi assures, and Reina’s eyes light up at her favorite hero.

You gnaw at your lip before looking at the time, “baby, don’t you think we should maybe just try tomorrow?”

“She needs it tonight,” he says simply, planting a kiss to your head before stalking out of the room. “He’s got to be in the house somewhere. Probably just playing hide and seek.”

What a damned game he was playing.

Surely enough, everywhere Jacques would be, or was suspected to be was exactly where he wasn’t; he wasn’t in the bathroom, or in the chair next to hers at the dinner table. He wasn’t in the playroom, nor under her bed, everywhere that Jacques could be, he certainly was not.

“Doya think he ran ‘way, daddy?” Reina wails, fingers clasping onto your pajama pants. A soothing hand cards through her locks, and despite Wakatoshi having the patience of a Saint, you could see it in his eyes it was slowly slipping away.

“It would make more sense than him just not being here,” he mumbles, and you offer him a sympathetic look for his efforts. “Okay, Reina,” he sighs, crouching down to be eye level with her; exhaustion paints his face and his hair sticks up wildly with his anxious carding, “when was the last time you had Jacques?”

She sniffles and wipes her nose on your sweat pants, “I told him to stay and watch the washin’ machine, ‘n come get mommy when it was done, and he never did!”

Wakatoshi blanches and his jaw slacks. You cover your mouth to hide the laughter that desperately wants to bubble out. Reina’s bottom lip wobbles as she unknowingly just took three years off of her fathers life.

“…the last time you had him was in the laundry room?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So… he’s in the laundry room?”

She nods again. Big brown eyes flick up to you, and he sinks his teeth into his lip to stop himself from laughing in a similar vain as you. “Okay,” he says, standing up and scrubbing his face with his large hands. “In hindsight, that should’ve been my first question.”

“Huh?” Reina asks, eyes flying up to you when you finally let a few cackles out, watching as your mammoth of a husband shuffles down the hallway to the laundry room. The light flicks on, then off, and when he emerges, there’s Jacques, dangling from his beefy hand.

“Found him,” he says blankly. Reina gasps and quickly runs over to her father, eagerly clutching the giraffe to her chest.

“You didn’t run ‘way!” She squeals, rocking the plush back and forth before planting a kiss to its head, chirping a sweet little “thank you, daddy!” before shuffling back off to bed, like the last three hours of struggle didn’t just happen.

Wakatoshi looks at you with exhausted eyes, but the minute they lock with yours, he’s unable to fight the wide smile that starts to spread over his face, causing the both of you to break out in loud laughter and snickers. You quickly make your way back into his arms, your head thunking against his chest while it rumbles with his laughter.

“I cannot believe that little snot just outplayed us so hard.”

“You’d think this is our first day,” you snort. Your head turns up to look at him, and you give him a kiss on the base of his jaw as a reward. “You’re so good to her.”

“I almost have to be,” he sighs sleepily. His olive eyes glaze over your face, “there is no way you’d be able to handle her antics on your own.”

“Hey. Just because she likes you more than me does not mean I can’t handle her on my own.”

He offers you a small snort and reaches up to gently stroke the corners of your smiling eyes, “I do suppose so; her ability to give me grey hairs certainly does come from you.”

“Exactly,” you chuckle. Lovingly, despite his slander, you nose at his jawline for him to lean down for a kiss which he happily complies in, his hands gentle on your cheek in the middle of the hallway. You giggle against his lips and nuzzle your nose against his, “I want another one…”

“A kiss?”

“No, a baby.”

Immediately he pulls back, face dropped in a deadpanned expression to contrast your excited one. “Clearly we need to get you to sleep, you’re talking nonsense.”

“Toshi!”

“Come on,” he grunts, hoisting you up and over his shoulder, ignoring your laughter and the banging of your fists against his back. “Bed time. Before the both of you give me an aneurysm.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Continuity Error 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you are the resident tech and fly on the wall, until you're not. (short!reader)

Characters: Thor, this reader is known as Stormie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Everything is neat and tidy and separate. Like everything in your life. The bento box divides rice from even slices of grilled chicken, another unit of edamame and some greens in a section of their own. Right on top of your desk with the pen cup of black pens only and the organizer with post-its sorted by colour and size, along with a tin of mint and a single notebook. Orderly.  

Unlike the rabble around you. The office is chaos. It’s noisy. It’s annoying. 

It’s not where you wanted to be in life but you never really figured out the alternative. You just try to get by. Wake up, go to work, do your job, go home, eat. Everything is precise and routine. You don’t miss a beat. Just keep going. 

That day is no different than the ones before. Fefe makes eyes at Mr. Odinson as he walks in with one of his clients. They’re all the same. Sometimes you suspect they aren’t there for business with the way they chat up the assistants. It’s not your concern; you only care when they open a spam link or forget to plug in their monitor. Work is simple. 

You mind business and people mind theirs. They don’t remember you’re there until they need help. They don’t make small talk. You don’t either. What good is that? Just wasting time when you can fix their problem in less than a minute. You learned your lesson when that guy in the glasses keep winking. 

You chew your chicken. You forgot lemon juice in your sauce. A rare oversight. 

You take small bites. A bite of chicken. Then rice. Then edamame. And finally greens. It’s a parade of flavours. You keep the order; chicken, rice, veg... 

When you finish, you get up with the lid and reusable cutlery, stacked on top of the container, and go to the break room to rinse it all out. You take your tip; washing each corner and crevice. You dry the pieces thoroughly and put it all back together. 

“That’s an interesting container,” a deep voice startles you from the doorway. 

You turn as you click the lid firmly into place. You put the container against your chest, hiding it. It’s him. The big burly blond that runs the floor. You wiggle your nose. A compulsion you have yet to unlearn. 

“Sir.” 

“May I see?” He asks. 

As he comes closer you tense up. You don’t like people touching your stuff. You’ll have to resanitize it all and your hands. 

“Unless you’d rather I not,” Mr. Odinson relents and stops a few feet from you, “I only came for a top up.” 

He doffs his mug. The stains of his early brew still around the brim. He goes to the sink and rinses it out. He doesn’t scrub or soap it before he wipes it dry quickly and puts it on the tray of the single-serve machine. That’s exactly why you don’t touch the coffee station. You bring a thermos with cinnamon tea; it keeps warm all day long. 

You nod and head for the door.  

“Are you the replacement?” He asks. “I recall you looking much different.” 

You stop and shake your head, “tech, sir.” 

“Ah, yes, I remember now. The one in the corner,” he says as he clucks and squints at the selection of boxes. “Would you a recommendation?” 

You waver. You just want to go to your desk. Your nose twitches again. 

“I don’t drink coffee.” 

“Tea? My brother is preferential to it as well.” 

You’ve dealt with his brother. Down a few floors. Not very pleasant but asks a lot less questions. 

You nod. He looks at you and brushes his fingertips along his golden beard. He’s a very large man but you suppose next to you, anyone is. 

“I should go back to my desk.” 

“And who says so? I am the boss, so far as I know,” he muses. 

You pause before you can flee. Your nose wiggles. His blue eyes catch on the movement. You stare back, unsure what to do. 

“Hm, this Colombian roast looks interesting,” he plucks out a pod. You stand there blankly. You don’t like this. He’s making you feel dumb. He’s getting in the way of your routine. “Are you available to have a look at my computer? It seems I’m having some error with the secure connection. That is, if you can make time for me?” 

As the machine grinds loudly to push your shoulders back. “It is my job, yes.” 

“Perfect, go ahead and wait for me in my office,” he says coolly, his focus on the spout. 

You retreat through the door and flit over to your desk. You open your drawer and shove the container in your bag. You turn and look over at his office door. You slowly make your way between the desks toward it.  

You pause across from the name placque on the door and glance over as Sierra watches you. You cross and push the handle down. You enter warily. You leave the door open and near his large desk. You go around and roll his chair aside. You hate touching other peoples’ things; you prefer to remote in. 

You stand as you wake up the computer. You step back and wait. It’s locked. That’s good. You shouldn’t leave your device accessible. 

Odinson enters with a waft of coffee. He smiles at you and your nose scrunches. “You will need to sign in and you can show me the problem.” You step back. 

He comes around the desk and sets the cup down carelessly. A splash overflows the brim and leaks onto the desk, the coaster forgotten by his mousepad. He pulls his chair closer and sits in it heavily, the wheels squeaking. 

It takes him several tries to login as his thick fingers are almost too big for the keys. When he’s in, he clicks around. You watch him bring up the server portal. He types again. 

“Sir,” you say. “The two-factor authentication requires you to confirm on a secondary device. You need to type in sms and it will send a passcode to your phone or whatever else you’ve set up with the system.” 

“Ah!” He snaps his fingers. “I knew it would be obvious. Clever rabbit.” He pops his index up. 

“Problem solved,” you say and check your watch. Lunch is over. 

“Thank you,” he beams. 

You leave him without another word. You find it hard to believe he was locked out when the security protocol has been in place for well over a year. He needs it every day so why is it suddenly an issue? You shrug. 

Like you said, problem solved. You can go back to your corner. 

[pablitogavii]

Panic

Summary: You help one of your friends who suspect she is different, but when Pablo finds the positive test in your shared bathroom, he starts to panic.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader

Warnings: none :)

"Oh my God! I'm pregnant! Like actually pregnant!" Amelia said as tears fell down her cheeks and you held her hand reassuring her that she was not alone.

She was in an abusive relationship for a whole year and when she finally was determined to leave, this happens...it was valid that she was sad and helpless.

"I don't want it! He will never change! And he won't let me do an abortion...he will kill me if I even mention it.." she sobbed and you took the test leaving it on the washing machine before helping her up and taking her to the living room to calm down and drink some water.

A few days pass...

Pablo was packing for his next big match in Madrid, when he noticed the test rested on the washing machine thinking he was crazy but those two solid lines made his stomach flip.

He googled "how many lines means she is pregnant?" (ofc he did :) and seeing that it was two his jaw kept clenching as he stared at it in disbelief.

His girl was pregnant...and she didn't tell him. Why?? Is she scared of his reaction?

He heard you come home from Uni and he hid the test inside his bathroom purse before walking to the living room to meet.

"Ugh..my feet hurt so much" you say falling onto the couch before smiling wide when you noticed him at the door of your shared bedroom.

"How are you amor?" Pablo carefully asked thinking that maybe she was going to tell him now but when she just smiled saying she was alright he knew she was planning on keeping it a secret...but for how long does she think that would work?

"You sure? No sickness?" he poked and she gave him a questioning look wondering what's gotten into him all of the sudden.

"Not really...I mean yesterday morning I was s little sick " she said not really seeing the significance of this but all Pablo registered was "morning sickness" his stomach clenching.

Pablo sat down and she moved to rest her head on his shoulder and he pulled her closer gently kissing the top of her head. He was scared and no doubt shocked but even though it wasn't planned, he would never be angry with her..and would never stop loving her.

"Are you packed for tomorrow?" she said sadly and he nodded reassuring her that he will be back home before she even notices he was gone.

"Impossible Pablito...I'm gonna miss you every hour you are gone..both of us" she said and his face turned serious while she chuckled.

"Me and Pablo 2.0" she said pointing at the big bear Pablo got her for Valentine's Day to cuddle with whenever he had to travel.

"I still give better cuddles than him!" Pablo said proudly and she giggled straddling his lap and kissing his lips a few times before they hugged.

You watched a show for a few hours before it was time for bed since Pablo had to wake up early to meet his teammates and you were really tired from a long day at the Uni.

"Amor? Is there no more pickles?" you ask from the kitchen and Pablo got up walking up to you. Were you just having cravings??

"Um..yeah there are some spears in the fridge. Why?" he asked and she chuckled opening the fridge and taking the jar out.

"So I can eat some duh?"she said biting one and he felt more nervous with every passing moment...maybe if he shows that he know, she won't be scared to tell him the truth.

"You craving them?" he suggested and she just shrugged nodding her head wondering what got him so curious about her eating habits.

"Let's go to bed, mi campeon" she said putting the jar away and they left. She was sleeping peacefully while Pablo could barely stay motionless...he was going to become a dad...like it was scary but also some part of him only wanted that with you.

Barcelona won the game in Madrid and Pablo was coming back tomorrow. He couldn't really contribute much on the pitch considering that his mind was elsewhere but he was glad that didn't cost his team.

"Hola, bonita. How are you feeling? Have you been sick again?" Pablo asked on a FaceTime and you reassure him that everything was fine apart form how much you hated sleeping alone.

"Congrats on a win, my cariño. You looked a little distracted during the game, everything okay?" you ask since Pedri did tell you that Pablo was acting strange the whole trip being quiet and searching some private information online.

"Everything is fine, don't worry about me amor. I've just been a little tired lately. Can't have all games be perfect.." he said and she nodded deciding to let it go for now knowing that if something was seriously going on, Pablo would tell her about it.

On the day that he was coming back, you promised Amelia to go to the abortion center with her. She needed someone there and being her best friend you promised to be her support.

She was still having bruises barely healed form the last time baby's father 'got angry' so it was understandable why she didn't want this to be her life but it was still a difficult choice.

Pablo arrived to the Camp trying to call you numerous times but your ringer was off since you wanted to be fully present for your friend who was getting checked by the doctor.

"Dónde estás querida!?" he said to himself after leaving another voice mail and Pedri reminded him that he can use Snap Maps to pinpoint your location.

He never really does so, but you also never dodge his calls for hours..he was worried and checked to see that you were at the nearby Abortion Center.

Abortion Center..

Pablo started to panic grabbing Pedri's hand and pulling him to the parking lot before telling him to drive as fast as he could. He needed to get there on time..he needed to be there for you..to tell you that you don't have to do this because of him.

"Santa Mierda Pablito! Is she.." Pedri asked after reading the sign and Pablo just rushed out of the car without a reply yelling your name on top of his lungs.

"Ai chico, you can't be yelling! This is a hospital!" one of the older nurses said and he apologized begging her to tell him if she saw you while showing her your picture rested on his arm from his phone.

"Yeah, she went to the second floor" woman said

"Muchas gracias!" Pablo quickly said before rushing up the stairs again yelling your name and you heard him from one of the rooms when Amelia was already done.

"Go, I'm okay.." she smiled and you nodded walking outside seeing Gavi's tearful face meet yours.

"Pablo? Que pasa? What are you doing here?" you ask drying his tears afraid that something terrible happened form the way he looked like.

"Amor, I know..it's okay. I'm not angry...I know we are young, but we love each other and we will figure it all out together...I don't have to travel as much..I won't leave you hanging, I promise...just please don't let them kill our baby!" he held her waist pulling her in and she felt her heard melting despite the fact that this was all absurd.

"Pablo.." you tried to speak but he kissed to shut you up.

"I'm not pregnant Pablo!" you push him back a little having to say that since he was definitely acting crazy.

"What?? But...but your test in the bathroom..and why are you here then?" he said and you smiled shaking your head realizing that you forgot to toss away Amelia's test in all the craziness.

"I'm here with a friend..it was her test...plus you bought be tampons a few days ago because I am on my period, idiot!" you chuckled and Pablo relaxed running his hand through his hair before cheering loudly being sushed again by nurses.

"You are on your period! That's right! Oh Díos mio!" Pablo said and you laughed pulling him into a hug before raising you off your feet and twirling you around.

Amelia's mom came to pick her up and she thanked you for being there with her before you and Pablo went to Pedri's car to get home.

"Okay seriously guys! Are you pregnant or not!? Is that why you were googling baby bottles and best pacifiers online?" Pedri said the moment we came in and you burst out in laughter while Pablo blushed in embarrassment.

"I'm not pregnant. Pablito got some things mixed up Pepi..please drive us home" you say and the boy sighed turning the engine on and dropping you off in front of your apartment building.

"So you were googling baby things??" you ask while you were cuddled up in the living room by the fire drinking some chocolate milk Pablo loved so much.

"Stooop! I thought you were pregnant so I saved some ideas.." he said and you smiled kissing his cheek really feeling better that you have a man who would not leave you alone no matter the situation.

"Can I see it?" you ask and he groans pulling out his phone showing you some pictures he saved on his camera roll.

"All these are for boys? Were you expecting a son, Gavi??" you tease and he tossed the phone to the side ticking your sides before laying you down and hovering above you.

"Don't test me or I might get my son after all.." he smirked kissing your neck before both of you giggled at the whole situation.

Hope you liked it! :))

[venus-haze]

Rip 'Em to Shreds (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: Mickey’s your boyfriend, and he’s not cheating on you. At least, you don't think so, until your roommate plants the seeds of doubt in your head. While sneakily trying to find out the truth for yourself, being in the wrong place at the wrong time lands you as suspect number one in the Ghostface killings at Windsor College.

Note: Gender neutral (mildly fem-coded) reader, but no other descriptions are used. I think Mickey was a fun Ghostface, and I’m a sucker for Timothy Olyphant, so this is the result. I rewatched Scream 2 recently but obviously took creative liberties with some things. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, paranoia, and emotional manipulation. Do not interact if you're under 18.

You stared at the blinking cursor on the library computer screen, silently cursing yourself for letting procrastination get the better of you. As much as you loved going to Windsor College, you were beginning to suspect that declaring a Literature major would be your downfall, especially the paper you were supposed to be working on. You already knew what you were going to write about, having notes and a weird-looking outline ready to go. It had just been a matter of sitting down and actually writing the paper that was due the following week.

It didn’t help that Mickey and his friends were exceptionally good at dragging you into more ways to procrastinate a paper that could easily segue into a grad school application. Perhaps the importance of the paper impacted your attitude toward it, not wanting to face the behemoth that would determine your academic future. 

Just as you were halfway through a sentence on the second page of your paper, everything went dark.

“Mickey, c’mon,” you whined.

“Give me some credit, you’ve been hard to track down,” he said, moving his hands from over your eyes.

He pulled up a seat next to you, leaning on the stack of books piled next to the computer. 

“What’re you writing about?”

“Sexuality in 19th century gothic literature—dark corridors, bodice ripping, ghosts, rape, incest, vampires, mad women, all that fun stuff.”

He grinned, tugging on the hem of your shirt. “You had me at bodice ripping.”

“Later, lover boy,” you smiled. “I have to finish this draft before the library closes.”

He tapped on the computer screen. “Dining hall closes in about an hour. Don’t skip dinner for this paper.”

“I hate not having a kitchen,” you lamented. “It makes no sense the dining hall closes at eight when night classes go until nine and the library’s open until ten.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Next year we’ll get an apartment, then you can cook at two in the morning all you want.”

You couldn’t help the adoring smile that spread across your lips. “You wanna move in together?” 

“Yeah, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good,” he said, his smile matching yours. “Come over whenever you finish that. The roomie went home for the weekend so–”

“So I should plan to be there all weekend?”

“It’s like you can read my mind.”

You laughed. “Shut up before I change mine, jerk.”

“Look, I’ll be late getting in, I have to work on that short film for class, but I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

“Okay, see you later. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he said, giving you a kiss before getting up from the chair. “Don’t skip dinner.”

It wasn’t until you were six pages into your paper and your stomach rumbled that you remembered to glance at the clock in the corner of the computer. A quarter to nine. Damn. You took a chance on one of the vending machines in the library, getting a chocolate bar and a bag of chips to tide you over until you could eat a real meal. 

You made incredible progress on your paper, though. The promise of spending the weekend with your boyfriend was a good motivator to at least bullshit your way through the first draft. It was only a draft, after all, it didn’t need to be perfect. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you reached the end of page seven and had typed up your bibliography, you felt like your vision was blurring as you tried to proofread what you’d written. Rubbing your eyes, you hoped to shake off some of the screen exhaustion to at least catch any glaring typos. Finally, at about half past nine, you’d printed your paper and had packed up, heading back to your dorm to get what you needed for the weekend.

Usually when you walked around campus at night, there weren’t many people out and about. Windsor College was a sleepy liberal arts school for the most part, which you appreciated. The groups of people ambling around finally clicked when you noticed Greek letters on various t-shirts. You hadn’t been all that interested in getting involved in Greek life, turning down an offer from some of Mickey’s friends to join them at the Delta Lambda Zeta party that night. 

You weren’t surprised, however, to return to your dorm and find your roommate Kim lounging on a beanbag chair, her eyes glued to the small TV on top of her dresser.

“Hey,” she said, barely glancing at you as you walked in.

“Did you go to class today?” you asked as you set your backpack down, unzipping it so you could shove your pajamas and a change of clothes inside.

Kim finally answered when you walked past the TV to get to something in your dresser. “What? Yeah, I went to one this afternoon. I slept through the morning one.”

“Seriously? I woke you up for that before I left.”

“I fell back asleep,” she shrugged. “You going to Mickey’s?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back Sunday night, or Monday morning,” you said.

“Are you seriously bringing your books with you while you’re sucking and fucking at your boyfriend’s for the weekend?”

“First of all, gross. Second, he’s filming tonight. Might as well be productive while I wait.”

“Isn’t this like the fifth time in the past two weeks he’s been ‘filming’? Interesting how that’s happening while all the sororities are having their bullshit pledge mixers.”

“I know the air quotes around filming. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Kim, he just asked me to move in together next year. I don’t think he’s cheating.”

“Maybe he’s just deflecting to keep you off the scent.”

“Of what? He’s been working on a short film that has a lot of night scenes. He even asked me to be in it, and I said no. You watch way too much daytime TV instead of actually going to class.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t come crying to me when you catch him six inches deep in an Omega Beta Zeta or whatever.”

You shook your head while shoving the last of your toiletries into your backpack. “Whatever. Bye.”

One more reason to live with Mickey the following school year, no more dealing with ridiculous roommates. Kim wasn’t that bad in comparison to the horror stories you’d heard about other people’s roommates, but she always had a knack for making an ass of herself. 

As you walked across campus to Mickey’s dorm, you tried to shake Kim’s implications from your mind. Mickey wasn’t cheating on you. You trusted him, and the two of you had so many mutual friends all over campus that if he were, someone would have told you by now. Despite your attempts to reassure yourself, you found your mind racing, and you became the type of partner you swore you’d never become.

If you happened to divert your walk to his dorm to go past where he was supposedly filming, he couldn’t blame you for the coincidence. The clear, beautiful night was perfect for frat parties and leisurely walks in the moonlight. You passed by a few of your friends from your major, stopping to talk with them for a little bit before continuing on your way.

It seemed like in the fifteen minutes or so you’d spent walking around, you saw less and less people. Mickey said he’d been filming near the sorority houses, but you didn’t see him around. Your heart sank to your stomach. Could Kim have been right? No. You wouldn’t jump to that conclusion so quickly. Instead, you kept walking, hoping to find him a little farther up.

In the distance, you could see a girl standing on the front porch of one of the sorority houses, phone in her hand as she looked around frantically. Weird. She retreated inside, and against your better judgment, you decided to get a closer look of what was going on.

You noticed a gleam of silver out of the corner of your eye and stopped in your tracks upon seeing a black-robed figure with a stark white ghost mask that stood out in the darkness, stalking up the brick pathway across the grassy quad. Whoever was beneath the costume didn’t notice you, and you wanted to keep it that way, hiding behind a nearby tree as you watched him approach the Omega Beta Zeta house. 

Clamping your clammy hand over your mouth, you tried to make as little noise as possible so as to not catch Ghostface’s attention. A cold chill raced across your skin. Someone was about to die. There wasn’t enough time to run to a phone and call the police or campus security. It’d take at least ten minutes for either to arrive, and then, it’d be too late. For a moment, you considered running after him, but quickly realized that without a weapon, it wouldn’t do any good. 

You watched helplessly as the masked killer slipped into the open door of the sorority house. Just a few moments later, the door shut as a girl left for you assumed one of the parties that night, but it wasn't the same girl you'd just seen outside. Unsure of what to do, you waited, but it didn't take long for a faint yell to tear through the silence of the night.

Fear froze your limbs, keeping you in place as you heard the terrified screams coming from inside the house. Your heart racing, you swore you were going to pass out until you saw the balcony doors swing open, a girl tumbling onto it, followed closely behind by Ghostface. As soon as the knife pierced her, your body finally went into panic mode, and you started running. 

More screaming and a loud crash came from behind you. Looking back, you saw the splintered balcony and a body splayed on the ground below. Ghostface slipped out from the front door, and seemed to be heading in the same direction you were sprinting off too. Oh shit, had he seen you? Was he following you? 

Tears clouded your vision as you ran, and your shoe caught on a loose brick in the walkway, sending you to the ground. The contents of your backpack crashed and rattled against each other on the impact, and you groaned at your skinned wrists. Still, you pushed yourself off the ground with determination, not bothering to look behind you and see if Ghostface had noticed your fall or was now tailing you.

Slamming the door to Mickey’s room shut, you threw your backpack aside and immediately climbed into his bed, pulling the covers over your head, as if that would shield you from Ghostface. What the fuck was taking Mickey so long? Your breath caught in your throat. He probably had no idea Ghostface was running wild across campus. Burying your face in his pillow, you screamed into it, releasing the pent up anxiety and frustration over not being able to do anything about the situation.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but the sun had already risen when you were woken up by the phone. Shoving the covers off of you, you hastily picked up, almost expecting to hear Ghostface’s unsettling voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

Relief swept over you when you heard Mickey’s voice instead of the one you were dreading. “Hey baby, it’s me—“

“Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m at the police station. Everything’s—well, everything’s not fine. I am, though. I’ll explain later. Have you been in my room all night?”

You hesitated before answering with a weak, “Yeah.”

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. “Alright, I’m leaving now. I should be there in like, 15 minutes.”

“Okay, see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The other end of the line went dead. You looked at your discarded backpack on the floor, and decided to at least freshen up and change out of yesterday’s clothes before Mickey returned. Each article of clothing that fell to the floor felt like evidence piling up. You hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but the previous night's events, your complacency, made your limbs feel abnormally heavy as you changed into fresh clothes. Before you knew it, you were face to face with your boyfriend, who looked almost shocked when he saw you.

“What happened to you? Your wrists–” He gently tilted your head up, inspecting your chin. “You’re all scraped up.”

“I tripped and fell,” you said.

“You’re sure that’s all that happened?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You know Cici Cooper, from my film studies class?”

You nodded. You knew Cici. You also knew she was an Omega Beta Zeta. 

“Some Ghostface wannabe stabbed her and pushed her off the balcony of the Omega Beta Zeta house, and then showed up at the Delta Lambda Zeta party.”

“Cici’s dead?”

You sat on the edge of his bed, your head in your hands as you let out a pained whine.

“Baby, what’s going on?” he asked, putting his arm around you as he sat by your side.

“I saw him.”

“Saw who?”

“I saw Ghostface. I saw him run into the Omega Beta Zeta house, but when I heard screaming I–I got so scared I just came back here. That’s when I fell.”

“Y/N, why didn’t you call the police?”

“I was terrified, Mickey! I wasn’t thinking straight and I—if I call now they’re gonna think I had something to do with it. Isn’t that what Randy says? Everyone’s a suspect! Oh my god, they’ll think it was me.”

“No one will think that.”

His paltry reassurance was no match for your word vomit, because before you could help it, you blurted out, “Are you cheating on me?”

“What? No! Why would you even think that?”

“Why did the police question you if you were shooting your movie?”

He sighed. “Derek was running late to the Delta party. He asked me to stop in and check on Sidney. I was at the party for maybe ten minutes before the police found Cici’s body. After Ghostface showed up, they questioned everyone who even looked at the place that night.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Kim—“

“Is about to be on academic probation because she watches soap operas instead of going to class.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should go ahead and call the police, let them know what I saw.”

“No, like you said before, with the timing and everyone being on edge, I don’t think it’d be a great look right now.”

“So what do I do?”

“Let’s just keep this between us, okay? No more secrets unless it’s with each other.”

“Okay,” you agreed. 

He took your hand, turning it over to look at the damage to it. “Jesus, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I should probably go to the student health center, huh?”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You probably haven’t slept. I’ll be fine.”

“Just let me do this. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

You smiled, giving him a kiss that he quickly escalated, laying you back on his bed. Making out with Mickey was nice, it was normal. For a few minutes, you let yourself forget about Ghostface as you parted your lips for him, letting him slip his tongue inside your mouth. When his hands gripped your wrists to pin you to the bed, however, you hissed in pain, and he quickly released them.

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot,” he whispered, pressing apologetic kisses to your lips. “We should get going.”

Reluctantly, you agreed, remembering that his roommate wouldn’t be back any time soon, and you had the rest of the weekend to yourselves after you went to the health center, and got something to eat, too, since you were thinking about it.

Mickey kept his arm securely around you as the two of you made your way across campus. You spotted Sidney, Randy, and Hallie speaking among themselves at one of the tables outside, and Mickey made a bit of a detour to go talk to them. You couldn’t exactly read their expressions when they saw you until Randy spoke up.

“You sure missed a lot last night. Convenient,” he said, not bothering to hide his accusatory tone.

“Cut it out. I already told you guys they were working on a paper,” Mickey said, holding you closer to his side. “You can check the computer logs in the library.”

“Wh-What happened to your arms?” Sidney asked, her eyes fixed on your scraped wrists. For a split second, you thought it was out of concern, but then quickly realized the suspicion in her voice.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened, but I don’t know anything,” you said. “After I finished my paper, I went back to my dorm and then I tripped and fell on the way to Mickey’s. There were plenty of people who saw me last night.”

Hallie gave you a tense smile. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m taking them to the student health center so nothing gets infected. We’ll see you guys later,” Mickey said.

The varying looks of distrust on the group's faces made you want to cry. As you and Mickey resumed your walk to the dining hall, your brain worked overtime to come up with worst case scenarios, as if somehow the Ghostface killings could be pinned onto you, even the ones in town despite you being with your friends during that whole incident.

“They all think it’s me.”

Mickey’s silence was more than enough of an answer to make you panic.

Stopping in your tracks, you grabbed his arm. “You don’t think it’s me, do you?” 

“I know it’s not you,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “They’re just on edge after what happened last night, especially after Derek went back into the Delta Lambda Zeta house after Sidney saw Ghostface—“

“Oh my god, is he okay?”

Mickey shrugged. “He got cut, but not fatally. Not the best look on his part.”

“What? No way, Derek would never—Seriously?”

“C’mon, Y/N, why would he go back in there?”

“So what, since he happened to get cut and I happened to trip, now they’re all thinking Derek and I have been secretly scheming to chop everyone up? Where is he? Maybe I can talk to him and—“

“Why don’t we just get to the health center before you run across campus to find the other top suspect in this whole thing.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

He nodded. “I’ll drop it. I’m sorry, baby.”

The rest of the walk to the student health center was silent, though Mickey kept his arm wrapped around you. 

“If you don’t have anyone else, you know you have me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I know,” you said, though you didn’t exactly believe yourself.

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

Harry’s Home

Part II.

Read Part 1 Here!

Pairing/AU: Roommate!Harry // Roommate!Y/N

Word Count: ~ 8.7k words

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Lots of Flirting, Pining, Sexual Desire, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Mentions of Body-Type Biases, Fantasies of Rough Sex, Breeding Fantasies, ~Slow Burn~

My mom adores Harry (probably more than me, sometimes) and she’s confident that we’ll fall in love and get married within the next year or so. To Harry’s chagrin, his own mother seems to also be manifesting some sort of whirlwind romance to ignite within this cottage. Not to brag, but Anne Twist has already practically declared me as her daughter-in-law. She mirrors my mother’s doting of Harry, and I don’t mind it one bit. I’ve even heard Anne and Harry talking about me a few times during her brief visits to the states. Always pleasant things, thankfully.

One time, they were chatting in the kitchen while I’d just passed them to continue laundry in the room across the hall. I could hear every word—whilst I’m sure that Harry hoped to God I couldn’t hear any of it…but these walls are just so thin. 

“‘Scuse me, guys…just gotta get these goin’.” I smiled, making my way down the hallway with Harry’s clothes hamper. Before I’d passed by, I made eye contact with Harry for a brief moment. My heart sank as if I was nervous all of a sudden. I didn’t know why, but things felt weird that day. Between Harry and I, I mean. Normally, I wouldn’t even bat an eye whilst giving the man a quick greeting in passing. I lived with him, he was the first and last person I’d see and speak to every day, so I was used to his presence being a constant in my life. But that afternoon, something just seemed off. 

Maybe it had something to do with his mom visiting us—uh, I mean, him. Ugh, I’ve gotta quit making a habit out of grouping Harry and I together as a package deal. We’re not a couple. No matter how much his mom hugged and doted on me like I was her own daughter, the line was already drawn when we signed our lease.

That’s not to say that Anne has ever made me feel uncomfortable. Quite the contrary. It was strange how natural and familiar it felt to be around Harry’s mom. I suppose one thing that bothered me is that she’d tend to assume things about our relationship. And so the unavoidable reality of my roommate’s mother suspecting us to be more than just friends certainly made me a little uncomfortable. Actually, insecure would be a better word for it. I was insecure that I may have been too obvious in the way I care for Harry, and that I was stupid for even having thought he could feel anything similar towards me. 

I teetered between optimism and self-pity constantly. Men could be so complicated. Nay. Harry could be so complicated. But that’s beside the point. The real issue was the growing tension in the air…the flickering flame left unattended, slowly eating away at both Harry and myself for far too long. And Anne, of all people, would be the first one to bring attention to it.

Once I’d made it to the laundry room, I popped open the washing machine and dumped out all of Harry’s dirty clothes. I was truly minding my own business, drifting off in my own little world; but then I was yanked out by Anne and Harry’s restless banter that echoed down the hall and disturbed my relaxed state of autopilot.

“Oh, you’re cheeky, Harry.” Anne hummed. Even though they couldn’t see me anymore, my ears still worked fine from where I was. I don’t think Harry’s mom really intended to be quiet anyway. “What?” Harry asked after sighing. “Oh, don’t act so shy, dear. I’ve seen the way you look at her.” As the last words exited her mouth, it was like a light switched on inside of her. She gasped and swatted at Harry’s shoulder—him instantly reacting with a, “What I do?!” Anne then scoffed, “Why didn’t you tell me the two of you finally got together?!” A kaleidoscope of butterflies danced around the soft curls that cascaded down my shoulders and traveled south to tickle my belly. 

Harry looked at me…like that? In front of his own mother? So he wasn’t just a horny bastard…he was actually attract—

—“What on Earth are you talking about? Me ‘n her?!” Harry gestured towards the hallway. Anne pursed her lips and nodded. “Oi, tha’s ridiculous! Y/N and me?! Tha’s just…that’ll never happen…”

Oh, um…never mind.

“…‘Sides, mum, you’re mad if y’think I’d start somethin’ up' with my housemate. Just be makin’ things weird…She’s not even my type, anyway.”

I silently sighed out a breath and roughly dumped out the rest of Harry’s dirty clothes into the washer, a faint scowl adorning my face.

“Yeah, right. You can’t possibly expect me to believe any of that rubbish. I think you’re just afraid of getting hurt again.” I could tell by the sadness in her voice that she was frowning. “Oh, my poor baby boy. Don’t you think you should put yourself back out there, Lovie?” 

“No, no. It’s not because I’m afraid, mum. I’m just…I’m too busy. Vol. 6 is working on an autumn collection, and I’m in charge of the ad design. I’ve got a lot on my plate, you know?”

To be fair, Harry was actually getting pretty busy at work. He’d told me about the new campaign he’d been working on and how it needed to be approved by corporate by October. That meant he had a couple weeks to complete it. I was excited for him, as he’d become the brand’s lead marketing strategist earlier this year, which had provided him with a lot of decision-making power in his department. Surprisingly, the promotion made him slightly more humble, but in-turn, he was also a bit crankier at home. I think it was because he was overworking himself, honestly.

Anne huffed and said, “Well, not everything in life has convenient timing, dear. Y/N could get scooped up tomorrow and you’d have completely blown it f’yourself!” The front door opened and it sounded to me that they’d slowly made it out onto the front porch. Harry kept the door open, as there was a slight chill in the air and I assumed he was also feeling a bit flushed at the time, so the breeze was welcomed. Since Harry didn’t shut the door, I was still able to listen to their conversation from the laundry room. Though, their voices became less intelligible due to the distance and the outdoor ambiance.

“Oi, mum! Please keep your voice down!” I found it funny how Harry was claiming he had nothing but platonic feelings for me—that he was too busy and we weren’t compatible in that way at all—yet, he sounded so desperate to ensure I wasn’t able to overhear their discussion. If he didn’t care about me romantically, why would he be so adamant about keeping Anne’s volume down? Why would he be so defensive about it? It’s not like he’d be lowballing if he were to go for me. I may not be perfect, but I don’t have to be a skinny little model with legs for days—my body has curves to die for, and no man has to worry that he’ll break me in half. My feelings are fragile, but I can take a good, hard fucking any day of the week. Hell, I’d take it every day of the week if it were up to me. And for his information—I have…it’s just been a while…

“She’s doin’ your laundry, for bloody sake!” That was true, I was doing his laundry. But that was only because Harry’s always insisted that I do it. Ever since this one time when we were sitting on the couch together, and I was falling asleep watching tv. Attempting to get more comfortable, I’d stretched my legs out towards him and laid back against a pillow and the couch arm. Luckily for me, Harry was nice enough that night to let me get away with using him as a leg rest without any complaints. I also remember him starting to doze off. Instead of pushing me out of the way and going up to bed, he squeezed himself to lay behind me and spooned me. He nuzzled his face into my hair and into my neck, and then rested his cheek against my shoulder. I then heard the rumble of his sleepy voice as he said, “Mmh…you smell…s’sweet…kinda like vanilla…I like tha’…wanna smell ya all the time…you should wash my clothes f’me so I can smell you on me wherever I go…”

At the time, as I laid there in a soft daze with Harry’s strong, inked arms wrapped around my middle, his stubble scratching my neck, and something firm rocking back and forth ever-so-gently against my ass…my heart soared at his words, and I couldn’t bear to deny him his request.

Later, standing alone with an alert mind sans sexy, tattooed, British rake pressed tightly against my plush body—I was no longer swooning. Harry was perfectly capable of using the same combination of detergent, softener, and scent beads that I use. If he desired my aroma so badly, the ingredients would’ve been all he needed. I guess he was in charge of cooking and the dishes, so there wasn’t really an imbalance of responsibilities. But, damn. What a doormat I'd been for going through with that. He may be insanely hot, but he’s still just as stinky as the rest of them. Sure, I’ve been more than happy to fold all his clean clothes for him, but only if they’re fresh out of the dryer and smell all light and powdery like Downy.

“No, no, we split the difference! She’s got the laundry, and I’ve got the, uh…kitchen. Cooking and all tha’.” Even though he was responding defensively, he was only digging himself a deeper hole in front of his mother. She saw right through all those excuses, explanations, etc. So did I. However, Anne was approaching her disbelief a lot differently than how I would’ve if it were me who he was blabbing all that nonsense to. Granted, I didn’t raise him from infancy, nor had I even known the man for very long. But the truth was that Harry’s never been great at confrontation—well, when he’s on the opposite end of it, at least. And so he tended to struggle with his words whenever someone caught him at a time when he wasn’t prepared. 

“I know you’ve got feelings f’her, Gemma knows you do…hell, I bet Y/N even knows it! C’mon, Harry. You two are so cute!” Anne sounded absolutely delighted. I didn’t blame her, but I couldn’t share her same excitement.

Instead of stepping in and saving Harry from any further humiliation from his mother, I decided I’d just stay hidden and let him dig himself out on his own. He’s a grown man, he could fight his own battles. Besides, I was too busy doing his fucking laundry.

“I—Gemma’s a right nutcase, and you know tha’, mum!” Harry whispered.

“Oh, nonsense. Gem knows you even better than I do, Harry!”

I have to give credit to Anne for so shamelessly putting him on the spot like that. Typically, I was the one who tripped over the simplest of words and phrases. It’s just in my timid nature. But it was entertaining to hear someone else—someone who’s normally so haughty and snide—experiencing that kind of social mishap. Especially since that same person tended to use my weakness against me. Karma’s a bitch, huh, Harry?

“That pest—!” He seethed before Anne immediately cut him off.

“—Oi, hey! Be nice to your sister, Harry! You know, one day, when I’m all old and sickly…”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“...You’ll want me to live with her! Keep up that attitude, boy, and you’ll be the one changing my diapers!”

Aw, what a Hallmark moment.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if Harry was white-knuckling the doorknob. I could picture it vividly—deep lines between his brows, nostrils flaring, his free hand held up to his bottom lip, whilst his sweet mother grinned ear to ear and pinched at his adorable, pink cheeks. “...Ooh, but Harry, lovie, it’s so exciting to think that once you and Y/N finally get together, I’ll have a second daughter! God, I just can’t wait for the wedding!” Anne squealed. Harry must’ve glared at his mother right then because I couldn’t hear him say anything. “Do you think you’ll have it here, or will we fly you back home? In that case, it’ll probably need to be a smaller ceremony, hm? ‘Could always have the ceremony in Holmes, and then close family can fly out for a reception here. I’ve heard of couples doing things of that sort…No matter—we’ll cross that road when we get to it.” She beamed with a quick laugh.

My cheeks hurt and I didn’t know why until I noticed I’d been fighting a smile. I felt childish. It was silly to consider all of that stuff even remotely possible—I mean, Harry and I being a couple. Thinking about us getting married…no, no…that could never happen. Just as he said.

“My grandchildren are going to be so beautiful!” Suddenly my fantastical mother-in-law sang from the front porch.

G-Grandchildren..? I’d almost dumped the entire jug of detergent into the washing machine at that one. Marriage was one thing. But giving birth to…m-m-multiple children?! 

I didn’t have any intention to have a baby—let alone babies, plural. I might’ve not wanted children at all…well, maybe one…or I could just forget about the classic American Dream and get a cat instead. I had no clue. But now I was thinking about it. 

More than just thinking about it, though. I was fantasizing.

My mind was locked on the specific scenario of Harry impregnating me. Marking me as his own. Sowing his seed deep inside my fertile cervix. Hot waves of liquid heat then soaked into the crotch of my panties. I guess my body was quite fond of that fantasy.

As the damp cotton between my generous thighs uncomfortably clung to my sensitive skin, I thought I’d might as well just add them to the wash. So I pushed them down my legs and stepped out of them before taking a moment to examine the evidence of my obnoxious downpour of arousal. I bit my lip at the sight of the large, sodden stain. How was that arrogant asshole able to do this kind of shit to me? He wasn’t even in the room!

I scoffed, shaking my head at the humiliating outcome of my sexual deprivation and desperation, and flung the soiled panties into the machine. Good thing I was wearing a dress where the skirt was long enough to cover my newly-bare ass and cunt. Well, provided I wouldn’t be standing at the even slightest off-angle. Lord, I was so grateful to have been out of sight as my body was bent over at the waist, reaching out for the fabric softener.

Whilst I kept on loading the washer, I was also daydreaming about my newest fantasy. 

Maybe I wouldn’t mind bearing Harry’s children…one wouldn’t be so bad, would it? I wouldn’t be all that against weaning off my birth control and letting the inevitable happen. You know…once he’d pump all his hot cum inside me…He could give it to me every morning before work…after work…before bed…in the middle of the night…hell, if he called me on a lunch break asking if I could take another load, I know I wouldn’t be able to resist. Standing commando in the laundry room got me wondering what Harry would do if I just started walking around the house with tiny little shorts and dresses and rompers with nothing on underneath (except for a bra, probably. I’d need the support). I was grateful for my large, gap-less thighs at that moment as I could sense that more moisture was threatening to escape down my wobbly legs.

I was trying my best not to peek out from the laundry room to witness the scene unfolding for myself, but I stood still with my back pressed against the washing machine, Anne’s words repeating themselves over and over again in my head. Whether any of that dreamy nonsense was true…that Harry had romantic feelings for me…it just wasn’t realistic. I had to remind myself that it was just a bunch of harmless teasing. That Harry’s mom was exaggerating the truth for a laugh. Making up elaborate future plans to get his goat. Yeah, that’s all it was. I could understand why she’d push Harry into throwing one of his lil’ man-tantrums—he’s awfully adorable when he’s stuttering and all red in the face, having the hardest time letting it go.

Growing curious, and not being able to hear them as clearly anymore, I moved myself out from the laundry room and closer towards them at the entryway. I still kept myself somewhat hidden behind one of the large wooden columns situated between the hallway and the front door, near the kitchen’s island counter. I was right when I assumed they’d already made it outside onto the front porch. Anne was so close to actually leaving, but I guess Anne preferred to do a Minnesota goodbye that afternoon. She proceeded to gush about Harry’s non-existent future with me, adding more details for wedding planning. Meanwhile, Harry was trying to keep her mouth shut in the most patient and polite manner he’d deemed possible. He’d already stayed silent through the comments about providing his mother with grandchildren, but it seemed as though she wasn’t going to end the discussion any time soon. It was time to take more drastic measures. He knew better than to be disrespectful towards his mother, and he never intended to blatantly disrespect her in any way. Except, by this point, Harry was reaching the limit of his patience. If it meant he could keep his personal business from reaching curious ears, he’d be willing to suffer the consequences.

“ALRIGHT! I GET IT! SHHHHH!” Harry was desperate to get her out the door as soon as he could at that moment. He’d never act that way towards his mother, otherwise. Anne, however, was not in the mood to tolerate his behavior. It didn’t matter that Harry was a full-grown, 30-year-old man. A mother will always be a mother. She gasped at the way her son tried to silence her and lightly smacked his shoulder. I saw it coming from a mile away, and I wasn’t even technically there.

“Don’t you shush your mother, Harry Edward.” She tsk-tsked. “But—!” Before he could even defend himself, Anne cut him off. “—Enough! Zip it.” The snap of her fingers made my mind create a hilarious image of Harry standing there at 6-feet tall, but presenting as a tiny toddler on the verge of a tantrum. I had to muffle my giggle with my hand.

Then, I decided to sneak a quick glance from behind the column. From where I was, I could see Harry leant up against our opened front door, his arms crossed over his abdomen, one set of long, ringed digits pulling at his lips. “Oi, and quit picking your lips! She’ll never wanna kiss you if you’re all chapped ‘n bleedin’, lovie!” 

“Oh, f’fuck’s sake!” He whisper-yelled. I heard him smack his palms down at his sides like some crabby 3 year-old having just been told to behave himself. Anne cracked up at her son’s childish display of whiny defiance. “Alright, well, I’ll head out now. Gotta give you two some alone time.” Harry’s mom hummed suggestively. I rolled my lips into my mouth and fought not to laugh out loud.

Then, I had a feeling that, to Harry, I must’ve seemed to be ‘minding my own business’ for a bit too long in the laundry room, and that I should’ve actually been finished with the chore by that time. Except I’d just been eavesdropping like a nosey-Nellie for their entire conversation. Mildly flustered, I bolted back to the laundry room, opened the dryer, and began to hastily pull all the warm towels and linens out from the front of the machine. I was pretty sure my breakaway was ‘smooth’ enough that they had no idea I was snooping. Well, I knew for sure that Harry didn’t…or at least that’s what I thought. 

It was a good thing towels aren’t able to make much of a ruckus when they’re dropped into a plastic basket. I made sure to fuss around—emptying the lint trap, reorganizing the coat-rack, gathering stray hangers, and clicking the ‘start’ button on the washing machine. I was doing all of that just to make up an internal alibi of sorts for having been putzing for so long. Just in case. 

In the midst of my rush to complete miscellaneous tasks, some of the dust from the lint trap puffed out into the air in front of my face as I was dumping it out, and I had to hold a knuckle to my nose in an effort to keep an incoming sneeze at bay. Eventually, the tickle died down and I could carry on dicking around and acting busy. 

“That’s a wonderful plan, Mum. Be seein’ you.” Harry sighed.

“I LOVE YOU, BOTH!” Anne called out with a slight amplification, intending to also inform me of her departure. “Love you, too!” I responded, almost instantaneously, also at the exact same time as Harry. My voice ricocheted against the walls and I knew I’d been much too quick to speak. My hand immediately slapped over my mouth once the words left my lips. There was no way I could’ve convinced Harry anymore that I’d been genuinely oblivious of their back-and-forth, innocently occupied by a pile of towels for the past 5-10 minutes. If he didn’t already know that I was listening in on them, Harry definitely realized it then. But everything just proceeded as usual—Harry grumbling back at his mother, returning her affections with a huff. 

“Um, also, could you let Gemma know that if she keeps running her mouth, she can bloody forget about her early-access to the autumn catalog? Cheers.”

The door closed after one final guffaw from Anne, and Harry hastily turned the lock before eventually releasing a frustrated breath into his hands. I decided it was a good time to get going with my chores.

A basket of warm washcloths, towels, and sheets was held between my plump hip and my soft hands. As I exited the laundry room, the heat radiating off the freshly-tossed cloth caused a flush of pink to wash over my skin. It was a nice contrast to the cool breeze that had entered through our front door. I made eye-contact with Harry who then let his hands drop from his face once he met my eyes looking through his fingers. Warmth radiated off of him like a space heater, his cheeks were flushed red, and it seemed as though he was burning up—unaffected by the bite of the autumn air.

Maybe he’d also been imagining the two of us making babies. Or maybe he was just mortified by the way his mother assumed our relationship to be more intimate than it truly was. It was possible that the idea of marrying me made him nauseous—and not just in an innocent, nervous way, either. Rather, he was disgusted by imagining such intimate things involving me.

Regardless, I found him adorable whenever he blushed like that. To me, his rare displays of bashfulness brought him back down to earth, and they reminded me of the fact that we were similarly human. Similarly sensitive. Similarly deep in our thoughts. I don’t know why he made a point out of telling Anne that I wasn’t “his type.” Obviously, he hadn’t had much lasting success with whoever fits into his “type,” so maybe he could use someone new for a change... 

As I approached him, I gave him a kind smile and greeted him with a simple question.

“So, what’s for dinner?” I beamed at him sweetly.

Right as I was a meter or two away from him, I suddenly needed to sneeze again. That incessant tickle that tortures the nostrils and sinuses before raging out of the body—it came back to sabotage me in that moment. My previous attempt at holding it in was deemed absolutely useless, as this time it felt like the sneeze doubled in magnitude purely out of spite. My body was fighting against me. The universe was laughing, finding my indignity entertaining. I guess that’s what I get for eavesdropping, huh?

I sniffled a few times—my last efforts to prevent the inevitable. But I had failed. I sucked in a deep breath before “achoo”-ing into my elbow. It was a loud, high-pitched sneeze. If I hadn’t known it came from me, I would’ve assumed the television was turned on in the living room, playing a children’s cartoon. At least I didn’t shoot snot onto my pretty, ruffled sleeves. Or worse, failing to cover my nose and mouth and sneezing right onto Harry. Gotta look for the silver linings, you know?

Unfortunately, my sneeze miraculously sent the blushing boy, who felt so close to my level, back up to his normal self—reuniting him with his high-horse, his pedestal, his soapbox, his big head, and everything else that keeps him standing at a mile taller than me. 

“Oh, my goodness…God bless you…” Harry bellowed, his hand pressed to his heart in mock-aghast. Though he was taunting me, I oddly didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. He paused and his lips formed the cruelest smirk before he continued, “…my sweet Bunny.” My thighs subconsciously squeezed together at him using his favorite pet-name he has for me. What I’d never let him know was how it was my favorite, too. 

“Humph, thanks.” I sniffled, trying my best to pretend unfazed by the special nickname. His eyes finally drifted down my figure, and it seemed he was parched due to the way he was drinking me in through his pupils. Everything around me, especially Harry, seemed massive compared to my shrinking frame. Perspectives were changing drastically, and I was no longer safe from Harry’s sharp scrutiny. I was aware I’d been the one to place myself under his spotlight—that I had the ability to stay in my lane and keep my nose clean—but I was too weak. I craved his attention. I was starving for it—for every inch of me to be thoroughly inspected and explored by that smug son of a bitch whilst he just stood there and acted like he owned me. 

I wanted him, and I wanted him bad.

My bottom-energy may seem readily accessible to Harry, but that’s only because he’s made it so easy for me to tempt him into his dominance. I just knew he was internally obsessing over how he’d further push me into submission. That’s one of the many reasons why being a sub is so liberating. I’m the motivation. I’m the star of the show. I’m the cum-dump. And God, I’d been wanting for so long to be all of those things and more for Harry. Only Harry.

As I continued walking in his direction, a washcloth accidentally fell onto the floor by his feet. “Ope, sorry…” I squeaked. I stepped up to him so that we were directly in front of one another. I dramatically dropped to a bend at my knees—spreading them widely apart in a bouncy crouch in order to retrieve the rogue towel, giving Harry a nice view of my cleavage as I stretched my arm downwards over my hiked-up skirt, intentionally pressing my breasts together with my straightened elbow. If only he was at a lower angle, then he could’ve seen a different set of drooling lips desperate for his cock…

Christ, alive—I am so glad I wasn’t ballsy enough to accidentally say that out loud.

His eyes followed my movements, but he stood in that same spot unwaveringly, not stepping away even a little bit. My confidence strengthened due to his intense fixation upon me. The basket I was holding at my waist was slightly tipping at the new angle whilst I was reaching for the washcloth. My gaze flickered down to the basket, then back up at Harry. Ambitiously provocative ideas and scenarios flooded my brain. I thought about what would happen if I were to dump the basket onto the floor on purpose just to provoke him. Perhaps he’d tease me for my clumsiness and help me. Or maybe he’d get pissy instead and leave me to my mess. My body reacted out of curiosity and desire before my brain had the chance to refute the idea. Well, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, right? 

The towels had poured out onto the floor at Harry’s feet in a massive heap. Letting out a soft gasp, feigning shock, I set the basket aside and knelt all the way down to sit on my knees. I blinked my doll-like lashes back up at Harry, whose stare never left me, and I couldn’t distinguish what he was thinking, let alone feeling. His expression was set in a firm deadpan. He could’ve been on the verge of an outburst, but he also could’ve been plainly unimpressed by my foolish antics. The man was annoyingly skilled at masking when he wanted to be.

I swallowed thickly at the silence. On the inside, I was kicking and screaming with regret. Why did I think he was going to play with me?! Why, after hearing him explicitly tell his mother that he wasn’t interested in me, did I believe it would be a good idea to get on my knees in front of the man?! He obviously didn’t desire me! I was humiliated. Rather than scrambling back onto my feet like a fool, I thought it would be best if I were to just stay in character. Hoe hard or hoe home.

“Oh, no…I’m sorry, Harry.” I managed to peep out without my composure cracking. My voice was small and cute, but it still held enough power to it that I saw Harry’s jaw clench. It worked. I finally saw him narrow his eyes down at me with a tight jaw and flared nostrils. Sure, Sarah warned me that he had a hot temper, but she never told me how sexy he gets when his buttons are pressed. I’d witnessed it myself a few times before this, but my body perceived it differently as I was down on my knees. 

My breathing became harsh, my cleavage rising and falling more noticeably as I anxiously awaited more of a reaction from the man before me. I realistically expected a snarky quip and an eyeroll. Inversely, his face gave the impression that he was frustrated and struggling to keep it together. I was confused as to why he hadn’t raised his voice at me yet. I expected him to be in more of a sensitive mood after his mother embarrassed him just a few minutes prior. I guess all that talk of marriage and babies didn’t have much of a negative effect on him after all. Harry stayed stoic, and his silent glare was locked onto me for a good minute. 60 seconds is dreadfully long when there’s nothing but steamy sexual-tension filling the room. My filthy mind had me imagine he was fighting his urge to throw me down prone onto the cold hardwood, lift my dress up over my ass, and spank me until I was begging him to fuck me. That was certainly my ideal outcome. 

Logically speaking though, I could tell from the speckles of amber in his sage eyes that his emotions were in the red zone—he was angry. It wasn’t because of the mess. No. 

Harry may be a himbo, but he’s not stupid. He knew what I was thinking, he knew why I was acting the way I was, and he definitely wasn’t going to let me get away with any of it.

He was hatching his own plan, and I was convinced a part of it was stretching this out for as long as he could physically restrain his primal instincts. It excited him to play this little game with me. How did I know? Because the bulge in his pants was almost at my exact eye-level, and I had no shame in looking right at it. 

Why wouldn’t I? That was my doing. I deserved to observe my hard work from my delicate little point-of-view.

Feeling a bit more daring after successfully bothering Harry with my suggestive positioning on the floor beneath him, I pouted my bottom lip and grabbed onto the bottom hem of my skirt, dragging it up and down my juicy thighs tauntingly yet sheepishly. The goal was to tease him and guilt him at the same time as if to tip-toe around being blatantly naughty. The breathy moan I’d added on top of it all definitely did him in because I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he gulped at the sound. 

My gaze fell back down to the tightness in the front of his pants for just a second or so, and I couldn’t help the giggles that escaped me. Once the reality of the situation finally set in, I was unable to hide my true intentions.

There I was—on my knees, looking up at him, my tits pushed out, eyes rounded and glossed over, my angelic face adorned with a devil-woman’s lip-biting grin, and the rate at which I was collecting each piece of laundry was just too agonizingly slow to be a legitimate attempt at the task. 

You know what…he could’ve pulled his cock out and fucked my throat right then and there. He could’ve pushed me down onto my back and flipped my skirt up before shoving himself deep inside my needy little cunt. He could’ve demanded me to sit pretty while he jerked off onto my sweet little face. He could have held me down and made me scream so loud that Anne would’ve heard me from her car, which was probably already 10 blocks away and counting at that point.

He had the ability to do whatever he wanted to me; I was physically and mentally incapable of resisting him. And yet, there I sat, my natural essence dripping down the backs of my thighs as Harry had me wrapped around his finger—and he didn’t do a single fucking thing to me. 

And so I huffed, and I repeated what I’d asked him previously before I sneezed, and before he said the one word that tipped me into my subspace.

“Humph…What are we having for dinner?” I asked softly, my voice sultry, yet impatient, and I had my arms crossed over my chest to emphasize my defiance towards him.

Harry took a deep breath and reached out to me. He caressed the side of my face and jaw with his gentle hand. I leaned into his touch as I awaited his answer. I was literally in the palm of his hand—I mean, if he was holding bread crumbs, I’d be licking it all up without a second thought. I would take anything and everything from him. What had this asshole done to me?

I felt his thumb slide up from my chin to fondle my bottom lip. It grazed from side to side for a while before he pulled downwards, tugging my lip down and releasing it. The gesture caused me to keep my lips separated for him. Harry took advantage of the small opening by pushing the same digit through to make contact with my slick tongue, and I instinctually gaped my mouth wider to grant him more access to my drooling entrance. He tapped the pad of his thumb onto my tongue a few times and I moaned at the taste of him—at simply the salt of his skin. My lips wrapped around his thumb and I gently suckled. I can’t even imagine how much of a desperate slut I made myself look like as I slowly nursed on his thumb and hummed against its warm tip with my eyes lazily rolling back. 

He just observed me in my catatonic bimbo state. He stood there and allowed me to put on that pathetic display on the floor at his feet for a few moments longer. I was sure he’d got just as much pleasure out of it as I did, as the sensual act taking place before him had forced a moan out of his throat.

He slowly pulled out of my drooling mouth and rubbed the wetness across my pink lips. 

“D-Did you hear me?” I whispered breathlessly against Harry’s slippery thumb, my lashes fluttering up at him. “Yes, love. Of course I heard you...” He sighed. Then, he bent down to a crouch, lowering himself down to my height so he could speak directly to me. “...But…I don’t think it really matters what we have, hm…?” My brows furrowed in confusion which made him smile. Then he continued, “...You’ll take whatever I choose to give you, won’t you, Bun’...?” 

His fingers raked through my hair lovingly as he said it. His voice was so soft yet the words so deafening at the same time. They pounded against my eardrums and almost knocked me on my ass when they left his lips. 

I just nodded in reply, my eyes and my mouth glistening as rays of the afternoon glow beamed in from the front window and illuminated my irises. Harry’s mouth twitched as if he was fighting a smile. He never once took his eyes off of me. I had all of his attention, and it was addicting.

“...Mmh, sweet girl…never you doubt these ears of mine, either…I can assure you, I hear everything…”

I couldn’t stop the helpless whimper that came out of me. It was like he was speaking to me through code—telling me much more than what his words were able to reveal.

The sun was setting beyond the glass at our home’s entrance. The air around us was almost bitterly chilly. I typically preferred the cold, but it seemed to be much more noticeable at the time. Goosebumps covered my arms, my neck, and my bare knees. I was feeling exposed and naked regardless of my dainty dress providing modesty.

But I could still feel Harry’s hot breath warming the cooled tip of my nose. His closeness cloaked my bare shoulders with security. Even though the wooden floor was bruising me, I felt entirely protected by Harry’s touch. By his presence. By his expressive adoration of me. My heart pulsed so hard against my chest, yet Harry seemed so relaxed. So calm. So strong. I needed him. I could not continue this ridiculous charade of ignoring my natural instincts just so that I can protect my feelings from potential social betrayal. His eyes bore into mine so deeply, so intensely. It was like they held me there, silently commanding me to keep being good for him. I’ve always been such a good girl for him. His best girl. 

Whatever he wanted, I knew at that very second that I’d obey each demand with a goddamn smile on my face. It didn’t matter what he desired to give me. Whatever it was, I would take it, no questions asked. I lived off of his affections, addicted to the attention he provided. Was he as intoxicated by this as I was? Was he holding back? Did he need me, too?

Before I could even stutter out a response, Harry rose back up to his feet—releasing me from his trance and his touch by curling a lock of my hair through his fingers and setting it bouncing free.

“...I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you, a’right?” He assured me kindly. 

I confirmed my understanding with a  subtle nod. My lips rubbed together and I swallowed the abundance of moisture that had threatened to drip down the sides of my mouth.

“Th-thank you.” I just about squeaked out.

With that, he smiled sweetly and backed away into the kitchen.

The next thing I knew, I was still sitting alone near the entryway, my fingers fiddling with the tag of one of the bedsheets from the pile. I was worried I’d made a puddle below me with my arousal, but my legs had been clenched too tightly for any of it to escape past my thighs. My knees were suddenly aching from the stiff support of the hardwood, and the clean linens—of which had been forgotten about since before I’d even taken them out of the dryer—were all cool and wrinkled. I shoved them all back into the basket as quickly as I could and hid in the laundry room until he called out to me that the food was ready. 

Harry was right. I took whatever it was he made for us that night without a second thought. If he hadn’t already served me a plate, I probably would’ve eaten out of his bare hands. My brain had completely shut down for the rest of the evening. I remember I had to take care of the ache between my legs right after our meal, it was so unbearable.  

That reminds me—didn’t he mention something about his ears? 

🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠

I typically get home from work before Harry does, and so my current state of rest and relaxation—coincidentally adjacent to the book I’m holding: My Year of Rest and Relaxation—is an occurrence Harry’s used to coming home to by now. I mean, not that he’s coming home to me. He’s just…coming home, and I also happen to be living here. Speaking of which, I’m situated in my bedroom. I've already slipped into my night clothes—thin, loose pajama pants and an oversized crop tee—laying my back against the cushioned headboard of my bed. 

Suddenly, my ears perk up. The hum and vibration of the garage door opening and closing pulls my attention away from the novel I’d been engrossed in for the past hour towards my empty door frame. Less than a minute later, a door slams, physically startling me, and my posture straightens as if I’m expecting a scolding from an authority figure. I have no reason to react this way, really. It’s not like this is anything out of the ordinary.

Harry’s home.

That’s all. But judging by the door slams, I should prepare myself for the likelihood that Harry’s had a bad day (again). He’s been so overworked lately, but he doesn’t like to talk out his stressors in much detail or duration because it just riles him up more. More accurately, in his own words:

“I appreciate that you care, Bun’. I do…but it’s just too complicated…’s too much to get into right now. Think I’m just gon’ meditate, or whateva’.”

His therapist definitely had more to advise him beyond meditation, but I think that Harry just cherry-picked whatever was closest to what he’s accustomed to…and so he thinks that his isolation method is perfectly justified (as long as he calls it meditation). He’d never admit to that, though; and I’d never call him out on it either. I know better than to poke an angry bear.

Harry believes he can continue living and avoiding the inevitable, but I have a good feeling that he’ll take me up on my offer sometime soon. I just want to help him relax. Help him release some of that built-up tension. However, he prefers to hide himself away whilst simmering in a fuming silence until his primal instincts are numbed away. 

I wished that I could be some sort of Black Widow to his Hulk—although the incredible sulk would be more like it…but he can’t stand being around anyone when he’s angry, not even me—nay—especially not me. 

I can’t help but to feel somewhat unworthy. As if Harry isn’t comfortable enough with me to unpack all of his emotional baggage. Or maybe it’s not that I feel unworthy, per say, but rather that I’m sick and tired of waiting for him to make a fucking move on me already. I’ve been patient for so long. The least he can do is use me as his stress relief…in whatever way he needs to. Honestly, I’m not picky anymore. I’m dying for anything he can give me at this point. 

We've had our arguments as I’ve mentioned. He'll seclude himself in his bedroom for an hour and eventually knock on my door once he’s cooled down to apologize. The vulnerability and innocence he shows me is quite sweet. I appreciate that side of him. And I understand that the man needs his space. It makes sense to me because whenever I’m upset, I’d prefer to be alone as well. So each time Harry taps his rings all melodically against my door after one of his little fits, I always acknowledge him warmly by opening the door and pulling him in for a hug. Emotional compatibility is one of our greatest strengths as…friends. I think he appreciates me in that way, too.

It’s become a thing with us now—ever since the day that I cried. I’ve never shared a closeness like this with another person until I moved in with Harry. We have this mutual understanding that home is a feeling, not a place. And honestly, I’ve internally accepted the fact that it wouldn’t have mattered where we would’ve lived—as long as I was with Harry, I’d be at home. 

To me, Harry’s home.

One time, we brought this topic up…Harry likes to refer to it as the ‘kindness law’ or something like that. Harry began with, “Well, I jus’ wanna treat you the way I wanna be treated—w’kindness.” He sighed, plopping onto his back on his bed and resting his hands behind his head, looking at me. I stood at the foot of his bed with my hands on my hips. He not-so-subtly raked his eyes over my figure and smirked to himself.

“So, you’re gonna be nice to me now that I’m doing your laundry, Styles?”

He chuckled and scooted up the bed until he could rest his back against his headboard. “Mmm, tha’s right. I do have you doin’ my wash. Y’so good to me, Bunny...” I rolled my eyes and turned to walk out, but Harry quickly grabbed my hand in protest. “…Oy, where y’goin’?” I looked back at him over my shoulder and giggled. “What, Harry.” I asked with a bored voice, but a cheeky smile on my face to counteract it. “Wasn’t finisshhhhed-uh!”

I was typically the whiner, so I was immediately cringing at the sound of Harry’s attempt at my art. He playfully tugged on my arm until I clumsily toppled over face-down onto his bed, and he chose my giggle fit as the perfect time to continue his speech about…whatever it was he was talking about.

“Alright, now that the class is all here…let me continue…” He boasted confidently. I slowly calmed down and propped myself up onto my elbows next to his lap, my loose curls messed and my oversized, off-shoulder sweater disheveled enough that he now had an excellent view of what was beneath my sweater: my ample breasts and the plunging push-up bra holding them up. 

I smiled and nodded my head, signaling for him to carry on. He cleared his throat and ran a hand awkwardly through his hair. 

“So…” He hesitated, noticeably struggling to remember what he was saying previously. “Kindness?” I reminded him. “Yes, yes…kindness. Uh…well, uh…Home is where, um, where love’s made, or whateva’, yeah?”

I practically squealed and I added, “Ooh, yeah! Home is where we make all the love, huh, Harry?” Harry just blushed and shook his head. He was trying desperately not to stare at my chest as my lower half sunk down onto the floor and I held my hands and breasts against the edge of his bed whilst I wheezed with laughter. He spent the following 10 minutes with a pillow over his lap and he eventually asked me to leave because he was tired…

The only reason this had been remotely funny beyond our shared childish humor was because neither of us had anything going on in that department for ages. Actually, come to think of it, I don’t think we’ve ever discussed each other’s sex lives. But what I know for certain is that both of us have been extremely horny. It’s been dreadful. According to Mitch, Harry hasn’t had sex in at least a solid year and he can’t even remember who he last slept with. 

Apparently, there’s just this vivid memory Harry has of not being able to stay hard, the other person complaining, and then everything suddenly stopped. Harry quickly grabbed all his clothes and just rushed straight out the door to drive back home to me. The only reason I can attest to this rumor of Mitch’s is that I remember when he came home that night. He reeked of cheap, floral body spray, his eyes were puffy as if he’d been sobbing the whole car ride home, and he burst through the door calling out for me. He apologized if he had woken me up, as it was a bit past midnight. However, I was still up watching reruns of The Nanny and nursing on a pint of ice cream when he came home, so I just laughed at him. He told me to pause the show and hurried to his bedroom to change his clothes. I silently thanked God he did because the second-hand perfume stench was stale and it made me a little nauseous. His natural scent is much more pleasant than whatever that girl was wearing. Not to mention a part of me died inside at the thought of Harry being close enough to another girl for that long to come home smelling so strongly of her.

Once he’d switched into new clothes—a fitted t-shirt and flannel pajama pants—he’d climbed up onto my bed and eventually squirmed his way into laying his head atop my thighs. My hand brushed through his soft curls that had loosened into waves by that time. I think he fell asleep in my lap after one episode. It felt so natural in the moment that I, myself, started to doze off. And so I turned the tv off and pulled the man’s lean body down onto the pillows so I could be the big spoon and I held him. We fell asleep like that.

The next morning, I woke up and he’d already left my bed. It hurt me to see he was gone. But I had no reason to take it personally. He’d just had a rough night and he needed some love. I was happy to have been the one to give it to him—even if it was just some innocent, virtually-platonic cuddling, and nothing more. A part of me still ached a little bit whenever I thought back to how Harry chose to release himself from my arms and abandon the cozy nest we’d unintentionally made together. Maybe that was just the lonely part of me feeling that way. I’m not gonna lie, it’s been a while since I’d been sexually intimate with someone as well. I’ve never brought anyone back to the house (neither has he), but Harry always notices when I get dressed up to go out and then come home late…and he knows I was with someone else because—similar to the way his scent had been overcome by a putrid cloak of trashy body spritz—my signature scent would also be significantly altered. It causes a stir in Harry. He knows how childish it is to huff and puff to himself in his bedroom as he waits for my arrival. He knows he shouldn’t be upset when the two of us aren’t romantically involved. And he knows I‘ll always come trudging my way back home…back to my own bedroom where I end up finishing the job for myself. Regardless of his understanding of the situation, Harry refuses to act upon it. Refuses to take initiative. And I have no fucking idea why.

🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠 🏠

Part 3

Writer's Notes: Hi, everyone! Ok so there will be at least 2 more parts to this baby. Again, I'm sorry I suck at updating regularly. I have a job and stuff lol. Also I'm a compulsive perfectionist when it comes to my writing, and I'll re-read my work and edit it until it's a million pages long...but I hope y'all like what I post and that you wanna read more! Please like, reblog, follow, send me messages/requests/submissions/anons, and let me know if you wanna be on my taglist! And I appreciate any and all feedback you can give me. Truly. Thank you for reading. :) xoxo - Regan <3

@victoria-styles @daphnesutton @pishhhh20989

[crepes-suzette-373]

Possibility of Germa augmentations made with the lineage factor of fruit users, not extracts of the devil fruits themselves?

Just to quickly reiterate. My main theory about the weird powers the Vinsmoke siblings has is still based on the lineage factor/bloodline elements of special tribes/races, whose powers happens to be similar to devil fruit abilities. I'll explain more in depth later below, but I'm also considering the possibility of Judge also having used the lineage factor of fruit users.

(official localisation sems to use "bloodline element" as a term, but I'm used to saying "lineage factor")

If he wants to have the powers/abilities, it's not unthinkable that he'd just go after any avenue that he could.

When Yonji talked about the clones, he talked about how Judge and the Germa team developed lineage factor research. This to me implies that he's not working with devil fruits like Caesar or Vegapunk.

But devil fruit powers affects its users' lineage factor to the point that Vegapunk can use that linage factor to recreate the abilities, one in Momo's fruit and the other in Seraphim's green blood.

On top of that, Vegapunk said the seraphim are "the strongest humans". That had been what Judge wanted, strong "supersoldiers". We don't know how far ahead had Vegapunk developed this research, and how much of it Judge later developed on his own in Germa, but this kind of seemed relevant:

My theory about the Germa mods being based on special races lineage factor is because Niji's powers are very oddly similar to the minks. However, since this is the only one that is relatively "obvious", maybe I was wrong and their powers actually come from something else.

Yonji's full extent of power is unclear, since he only ever used "strength", and there are many generically "strong" beings in the world of One Piece.

Ichiji and Reiju's power are also even more confusing because we have no direct examples of natural light-using or poison-using tribes/races.

Either we will see them later, or these two's abilities are actually taken from the lineage factor of fruit users rather than natural abilities. Of the siblings, only Yonji was ever seen going in seawater and not being affected. It's not fully certain yet that Reiju and Ichiji would be fine if they go in water.

It's just that, even ignoring the fact that fruit users can transform into the elements and none of the Vinsmokes can, there are still some differences. Magellan in Impel Down can produce poison and is immune to poison thanks to his fruit, but his fruit doesn't fully protect him from poison, and he gets diarrhoea if he eats poison:

Meanwhile Reiju is just perfectly fine when she does the same:

If Reiju's power is from devil fruit users' lineage factor, does this imply that Judge was able to improve a little on the abilities? Of course, this would be completely irrelevant if the abilities are actually taken from something else.

Ichiji's Sparking Valkyrie is identical to the light beams that Kizaru was able to produce from his eyes:

What did Judge do???? Not even Vegapunk can recreate Logia powers, and the Light fruit is a Logia.

We never clearly see Ichiji produce light aside from Valkyrie, and Sparking "Figure" looks more like something exploding, so it's very debatable what the full extant of his abilities are. Still, if this was really tapped from a Light fruit somehow, then even if imperfect, Judge has surpassed Vegapunk?

However, with Ichiji I have mentioned before that I suspected that possibly, the ability was just in the suit. As we've seen with Queen, the lasers can be recreated by "machine". Besides, Kizaru using his eyes while completely immobilised by Luffy also once again brings to question why Ichiji didn't do anything when trapped at the wedding?

Even Reiju as well, sensei has said that possibly part of her abilities are from the suit.

As such, I still haven't shut the possibility of there still being actual natural light user and poison user that we just haven't seen yet.

Also, if it turns out that the Germa mods were made with Devil Fruits somehow, and yet Yonji is fine even when he goes into the sea, wouldn't that mean that Germa's tech is on par or better than that of the Gorousei? Saturn only semi-succeeded with Bonney 10 years ago. The quadruplets' mods were made much earlier than that.

Back to Niji again.

The minks were very prevalent during Whole Cake, when Germa was there, and it felt like purposeful parallel was being drawn. I've already made a rather detailed comparison in a previous post (apologies it's mixed with a bunch of other theories in the same post), but to quickly summarise Niji's electric abilities really mirror the mink tribe's Electro. They can produce it from their body (Henry Needle), and they can channel the electricity through weapons (Henry Blazer). Niji in the flashback was clearly shown already having the electricity since he was an infant, and the minks said they have Electro since birth

What's specifically noteworthy to me was how the lore about sunglasses and other eye coverings can block Sulong transformation was re-emphasised by Pekoms in the very chapter that Germa reappeared to help.

Niji always wearing goggles is something very unusual that was also highlighted in the Vivre Card. If Niji's powers are really taken from the minks, was his permanent goggles meant to prevent Sulong transformation? As they had no way to teach him how to control it?

But again, because this is very unclear, it's entirely possible there's other explanation for this.

[preservationofnormalcy]

So, one of my old time pals needed a friend to go as their +1 to a wedding so they wouldn't feel alone but I'd feel bad not bringing the couple a gift...only thing is, it's apparently a Fae wedding? What's the tradition there? Do I bring a gift because that's like, the thing you do as thanks for being invited or do you not bring a gift because of the whole Fae thing. If I should bring a gift what sorta thing is traditionally good to bring?

This is a pretty common question. It’s way easier to figure these things out now than it was before the ‘37 Tommyknocker Accords and the formation of the North American Seelie Court. The NASC has historically been very good about curbing the worst offenders in their community after the Goodfellow incident in Sheboygan way back when.

That being said, there’s a few things to keep in mind, if only for etiquette reasons. Gifts and favors are very important in fairy culture.

On the subject of gifts, it’s acceptable for a human to bring a gift to a fae wedding if invited or invited by proxy, but that gift should be proportional to how well you know the couple. If you’re close friends or related in any way by blood, you’re going to want to splurge. A less than extravagant (or sufficiently thoughtful) gift might be seen as not respecting that relationship, or not honoring the tradition of human/fairy cooperation. Practicality has no bearing here - you don’t buy a fae couple a toaster for their wedding, unless you know one of them is like a toast connoisseur, in which case it could be sufficiently thoughtful and valuable. I once got invited to a fae wedding where I knew the grooms both had a thing for Elvis. (Side note: it’s a sincerely held belief in some fae circles that Presley had fae blood. Very funny to me.) I found the gaudiest velvet painting of the King that any thrift store in Vegas could offer me. I got a bunch of really nasty looks from their family members at first, until the grooms saw it. The looks on their faces. Man. You ever see an Old Court wet blanket realize they were wrong? Anyway.

In your case, the opposite is probably true. If you barely know them, a gift is probably polite but go small. A tea towel, a single bottle of milk with a nice ribbon on it, some organic strawberries in a nice cardboard box - fae love nice boxes - all of those things are great options. Don’t present it to them directly, just leave it on the gift table, and don’t put your name on it. They’ll know.

On a more general note, just remember to watch your food and drink. Only eat or drink from sources that have been offered to guests with no expectation of return, typically just whatever tables are out. If the hosts know humans are likely to attend, they may clearly mark the tables with signs saying that the contents are offered freely. They may also have assigned people to watch the tables if they’re not totally trusting of all the attendees - if a malicious actor put food on one of the tables and a human (or anyone else) ate from it, the consequences are pretty politically damaging. You might find this is more common in fae circles that have deep ties to the Old Courts. Old rivalries run deep and the political machinations of fae are impenetrable to outsiders.

This also applies to food and drink offered to you. Fae don’t have waiters or people serving drinks, that would complicate an already complicated process. If someone you suspect is fae (that isn’t a close friend or person you trust) brings you a drink on a tray or in a friendly way, politely turn it down and find one of the hosts. If it’s the host offering it to you, that’s a sign to politely leave.

Keep those things in mind and you’ll have a great time. Have fun!

[youling-the-ghost]

sfth incorrect quotes pt.4 because I'm addicted to making these (the link I used)

*Sam is reading a Clifford The Big Red Dog book* Luke, watching: How did he get to be so big? Do they ever explain that? Sam: Well, Emily’s love for him grew, and so did he. Luke: Well, your dog is pretty small. Guess that says something about you, huh? Sam, angrily shutting his book: YOU’RE SMALL! WHAT DOES THAT SAY ABOUT YOUR PARENTS?!?! AJ: Hey, Tom? Tom: Yeah? AJ: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on? Tom: Tom: Where’s Luke?

Sam: You know what the problem is? Your really cute, so no one ever told you to shut your pie-hole. Luke: You think I’m cute? Sam: SHUT YOUR PIE-HOLE! AJ: I am an expert at identifying birds. Tom: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? AJ: Yeah, they're all birds. Luke: What are you guys playing? AJ: Go Fish. Luke: That’s a nice, safe game. Luke: But don’t you need cards? AJ: Where do you keep the spear gun? Sam: I regret nothing!!! Tom: I regret everything!!! Luke: Live fast, die young, leave behind a pretty corpse! That’s what I always say! AJ: You should say something else. Sam: I failed my safety training course today. Tom: Why, what happened? Sam: Well one of the questions was "In case of a fire, what steps would you take?" Tom: And? Sam: Well apparently "FUCKING LARGE ONES" isn't an acceptable answer. Luke: But what about AJ? Sam: Don't worry about him. Sam: I once watched him fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating his hotdog like nothing happened. Luke: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Tom periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’ Luke: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going. Tom: That sounds like a terrible plan. Sam: Oh, we've had worse. AJ: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism. Luke: And you came to me? AJ: So, I've been thinking Tom- Tom: That's dangerous. Sam: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT! Luke: At least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone. Sam: Oh, I'm sorry. I should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch? Luke: Somehow that's worse. *AJ is crying after a breakup* Luke: There there, AJ. AJ, still crying: Thanks, but how did you get into my room? Luke: Great question— Tom: My aesthetic is "would be suspected of witchcraft by small town citizens." Tom: All of your existences are confusing. The Squad: How so? Tom: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to any of you upsets me. Tom: *looks at AJ* Tom: Baby boy. Baby. Tom: *looks at Sam* Tom: Evil. (Luke is somehow both at the same time) Sam: I love being right. It’s one of my favorite personality traits. AJ: What's the most illegal thing you can do with one dollar? Sam: Exchange it for a hundred pennies, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it. AJ: One time I went to hand Sam a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!”, so instead I blurted out “Careful it’s soup.” Tom: I am in charge of this disaster! AJ: I have a name, you know. Tom: Luke, Sam, I love y’all and all, but can I ask what in the hell are you doing? Sam, trying to stabilize a tower of folding chairs that Luke is sitting atop: Oh nothing much. Luke: I love you too :) Tom: Do you know a turtles only weakness? AJ: No...well, their slowness. Tom: Their weaknesss is they can't roll over when they are on their backs. Tom: Now I have a plan. Tom: If I duct tape two turtles together, they'll be unstoppable. Sam, talking about Luke: WHAT THE FUCK I WAS ARGUING WITH HIM AND I SAID “OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD” AND GUESS WHAT? HE DID. HE KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO I DO. AJ: What are you writing? Sam: The government wants to know what kind of weapons we have in the house. I'm letting them know it's private information. Tom, looking over Sam's shoulder: This just says 'fuck around and find out' in calligraphy. AJ: I was voted “friendliest classmate” in high school. Sam: I was voted “most likely to become a clown”... Luke: You think that’s bad? HA! I was voted “most likely to get rabies”! AJ: Sam won’t come out of their room! Tom: Just tell them I said something. AJ: Like what? Tom: Anything factually incorrect. AJ, shrugging: If you say so. Sam, arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

[artiepoison]

Icorect PJO/HOO quotes from this website :https://perchance.org/incorrect-quote-generator

Thalia: You seem familiar, have I threatened you before?

--------

Nico: The only thing keeping me from running away and hiding from society for the rest of my life is spite. I could disappear forever, but there are some bitches whose downfalls I have yet to witness, and I wanna be around when that happens.

-------

Percy: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

--------

Percy: Pros and cons of dating me. Percy: Pros. You'll be the cute one. Percy: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

------

Grover: Yum, thanks!

Kidnapper: *puts more tape over their mouth* I said stop eating it.

-------

Nico: My aesthetic is "would be suspected of witchcraft by small town citizens."

-------

Annabeth in TLT

Annabeth: *trying to buy a Father's Day card at Hallmark*

Annabeth: Excuse me, do you have any that just say "You are my dad?"

Associate: Well, I-

Annabeth: How about "You banged my mom?"

Associate: No...

Annabeth: You know what, I'll just get a blank one.

Annabeth: *writes* You are a father. This is a day. Here is a card.

--------

Leo: I'm a firm believer in "if you're going to fail, you might as well fail spectacularly."

------

Nico: You can't wake up if you never get to sleep.

-------

Piper, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

-------

Hazel: War is heck!

------

Jason: I have yet to encounter a problem where a sword didn't factor into the solution at least in some way.

------

Frank: Well, needless to say. Uh-oh Spaghetti-os.

-------

Will: Can we go to a haunted house?

Nico: What’s wrong with the one we live in?

Will: Wh-what?

Nico: Goodnight, Will.

-------

Percy: Shouldn't get stressed out, it's not good for the baby.

Annabeth: What baby?

Percy, crying a bit: Me.

--------

*The Squad is playing Chess*

Annabeth: *easily beats everyone because they know how to play*

Piper: *doesn’t know the rules, but wins anyway*

Leo: *doesn’t know the rules, and loses*

Jason: *knows the rules, but still loses to those who don’t*

Frank: Actually, you can’t do that, because I said so.

Percy: They named a board game after cheese?

--------

*when the Squad drops food*

Annabeth: Eh, oh well.

Piper: FIVE-SECOND RULE!

Nico: FUCK!

Jason: *just gets more food*

Percy: *drops to their knees and mourns the food*

Leo: *eats the food off the ground*

---------

Leo: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Hazel and Frank's convo?

Piper: Me. I'm in the laundry basket.

Percy: I'm in the washing machine.

Nico: I'm in the closet.

Jason: We accept you Nico. <3

Nico: No I'm literally in the closet.

Jason: Love is love. <3

--------

Frank: Are you trying to give me a frickin’ aneurysm?

Percy: Pretty sure we all are.

Hazel: I wasn't.

Leo: I was.

Jason: I was trying to stop them, for your consideration.

Nico: I just cause aneurysms naturally.

--------

Annabeth: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Percy: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

Annabeth: ...

Annabeth: You mean ring bearER, right?

Percy: ...

Annabeth: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

---------

Nico: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Will: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Nico: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Will: Is it working?

-------

BONUS MAGNUS CHASE

Mallory: Nothing in life is free.

Sam: Love is free.

T.J: Knowledge is free.

Alex: Friendship is free.

Halfborn: Self-respect is free.

Magnus: Everything's free if you don't pay for it.

The Squad: ...

T.J: Magnus, that's illegal-

Alex: No, let them finish!

sooooooo yep. Hope you enjoyed

[yeoldenews]

This is my 12th year posting Dear Santa letters on tumblr.

Over the last decade+ I have read more letters than I could ever count. This year alone I probably spent 50+ hours and read well over a thousand letters just to find the 50 or so I’m posting.

Publishing letters to Santa in the newspaper first became popular in the mid-1890s.

In large cities Dear Santa letters often acted as a method of getting needed clothing and supplies to impoverished children when parents might be ashamed to ask for charity. Subscribers to the newspaper could chose a child’s letter and provide the items they asked for. The most common requests were shoes and coats.

Sometimes newspapers offered prizes for the best letter (which I suspect often acted as another clandestine form of charity as the winners were often letters asking for basic clothing and school supplies.) Though these prizes could range from the ordinary (a sled or a doll) to the extravagant (a $20 gold piece or a live pony.)

Many local stores would enter children in a drawing if they mentioned the store in their letter - which on occasion would result in children hilariously name-dropping every store in town just in case.

Writing Dear Santa letters was commonly an activity done at school, often following some rough form letter. These letters are fairly easy to spot due as they often hype up what a good student the child was and include effusive praise for their teacher (who would likely see the letter before it was sent.)

Through Dear Santa letters you can see how Christmas traditions vary and evolve from place to place. Some places the presents go under the tree, others on it. Some place Santa brings the tree himself and sets it up.

Stockings were hung over the fireplace, or on the doorknob, or at the end of the bed, or by the kitchen stove.

In the Deep South fireworks are were the stocking-stuffer of choice, while fresh fruit, nuts and candy were popular everywhere.

The traditional milk & cookies left for Santa didn’t become popular until the 1930s, though that was hardly the beginning of leaving Santa something to eat. Popular choices prior to the 1930s included cake, donuts, “lunch” (it’s always lunch for some reason, never dinner), and “just help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen.”

Dear Santa letters offer a rare chance to see history unfold through the eyes of children - often in their own creatively spelled words.

1914′s “Remember the children in Belgium” becomes 1918′s “Please visit my brother in France”.

During the Great Depression the very commonly seen phrase “I know you’re poor this year too Santa” gives a glimpse into parents attempts to explain to their children why they might not be getting as much this year.

1939′s “Be careful flying over Europe” becomes 1945′s “Since the war is over you’re making bb-guns again right?”

Requests for toy flying machines become aeroplanes become fighter jets become space shuttles.

Dolls and wagons become Shirley Temple merchandise and Erector Sets become Barbies and Star Wars action figures.

But despite all these changes one thing remains clear throughout 130+ years of letters to Santa - despite the rapidly changing world around them - children have always been children.

I hope you enjoy these letters as much as I do! (All twelve years of posts are tagged “Dear Santa” if you’d like to see more than just this year’s selection.)

Hapy Holadays and Marry Crimes

[villainsview]

Chapter 8

Take Me Home?

<Prev | Masterlist | Next>

“Ow.”

“Shut up.”

“Y-you pinched me.”

“I could punch you instead.”

“...sorry sir.”

“That’s what I thought,” I grumbled as I tightened the handcuffs around the teen’s wrists a notch, before dragging him over to the cupboard.

“I had a long drive, several long days and more long days to come. Now is my time to catch up on sleep, so I don’t want to hear any crying, whining, kicking or any other kind of noise until I come wake you up. Understand?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Erick said, shuffling on his knees onto the spare mattress I tossed in there.

“Attaboy,” I said, “see you in eight hours.”

Without waiting for a reply, I closed the cupboard door, jammed the rusty latch back in place, and headed outside to park my van in the driveway so I could carry my bags inside. My landlady, Ethel, either slept through it or thought it too late to go out, since I didn’t see her after parking my van.

I decided to slap a note on my front door to let her know I needed to sleep in so she wouldn’t burst in on anything suspicious, before going to take a shower, tossing some clean sheets on my bed, smoking a last cigarette, and then passing out.

As far as I knew, Erick didn’t stir up any trouble while I slept. I was borderline comatose for hours anyway, so I doubt he could’ve woken me up even if he tried. No, I think I eventually woke up purely from dehydration, my throat feeling dryer than the Arizona desert that I just left.

I got out of bed with a groan, heading into the kitchen to drink some water from the tap, before filling up the reservoir of my coffee machine to get a fresh pot brewing. I used the bathroom, got dressed, poured a coffee, found my laptop and dusted it off, plugged it in to charge before grabbing my phone and calling Tito, sipping my coffee as I waited for him to pick up.

“Fetcher! How was the trip?”

“So and so,” I replied, “now, let’s talk details…”

After about half an hour of talking on the phone, Tito eventually agreed to send me all available details on the target via email, so I could get to planning. But before that, I had another thing to tend to.

I finished my coffee before opening the cupboard door. Erick had managed to find a comfortable enough position to sleep in, though he woke up from his snoozing when the daylight hit him square in the face. He groaned softly, looking a bit sweaty, trembling in fear as he recognised me, sitting up and pressing against the wall.

“Come on out,” I said, “you can use the bathroom and then I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“Hgnn…y-yes, sir, thank you,” the teen mumbled, needing my help to get to his feet.

“If you’re just gonna mumble you better shut up,” I said, removing his handcuffs and pulling him into the hallway to show him to the bathroom, but we both froze when there was a knock on the door.

“Chase, honey? Are you still asleep?” Ethel’s raspy whisky voice sounded through the door.

I quickly shoved Erick against the wall, putting a hand over his mouth as I pinned him in place with a warning glare.

“Just woke up, Ethel!” I called back.

“Do you need anything, dear? I threw away half your fridge last week, it was becoming a health hazard! I’ll make you some breakfast!”

I glanced back at Erick. I’d have to hide him, but it would save me some trouble trying to fix up a meal for him while I had basically nothing in my cabinet.

“Thanks Ethel, I’m starving!” I replied, “don’t come in yet! I was about to shower.”

“Shame! I’ll just peek through the camera I secretly installed in your bathroom!”

“Already disabled it, Ethel!”

Her laughing died away as she headed back downstairs, though I waited until I heard her front door slam closed before letting go of Erick.

“Okay, you got five fucking seconds to use the bathroom and drink some water, that woman cooks like a maniac and I suspect she’s already cooked something before coming up to ask.”

“W-what—”

“Shut up and get in there!”

I opened the bathroom door and shoved him inside before closing it, standing outside and listening for him to be finished, though it sounded like it took him forever to even get started.

“Drink water from the tap, no time for glasses,” I said after finally hearing the toilet flush.

A second later the bathroom tap was running longer than usual, before he knocked on the door to let me know he had finished. I opened it and pulled him back to the kitchen, putting my hand over his mouth again when he tried to ask another question.

“You don’t talk, you listen!” I hissed, “You’re going to be very quiet while my landlady is up here or I will kill you! Understood?”

The boy quickly nodded his head, for as much as he could with my hand clamped over the lower half of his face. Still, I didn’t want to take any chances, so I grabbed a roll of duct tape from the one messy drawer in my kitchen.

It’s not a good home if you don’t have that one drawer with random items that you may or may not need in a hurry. Erick whimpered as I tore the tape off the roll, but stayed quiet otherwise as I stuck it over his lips, nor did he struggle as I turned him around to tape his wrists behind his back. Then I took his arm, dragging him towards my bedroom.

I could probably stash him in my closet, Ethel never went in my bedroom while I was home anyway, I just had to make sure he wouldn’t kick against anything to grab her attention.

“Get down! I said down!”

I shoved him against the floor, ignoring his pained cries as I grabbed his legs, warning him not to move as I taped his calves to his thighs, trapping his legs in place before dragging him into the closet. I had to squeeze him between a crate and the wall since that was the only floor space I had left.

“It’s just until she leaves,” I said, looking at his fearful expression for a couple seconds, before closing the door.

I quickly wetted my hair in the bathroom and combed it to make it seem like I had just showered, just in time to hear the front door open as Ethel let herself in.

“Oh good, you’re dressed. Come give an old crone a hand, would you?”

“You’re not old,” I said, putting on my best charming smile as I took the large tray she was balancing on one arm and carried it into the kitchen.

“Flirting doesn’t get you a discount on your rent, hun,” Ethel said, “so how was your job?”

“Eh, the usual,” I said, setting the tray down and looking over all the foods she had stuffed onto the tray.

Cooked eggs, boiled eggs, sausages, bacon, toast, yoghurt, granola, a mix of berries, another mix of fruits, an orange, an apple, a banana…she even pulled out a recycled water bottle full of milk and one with chocolate milk, as well as plain water.

“I know you only eat that horrible gas station food when on the road, you need your vitamins, Chase,” Ethel said, pouring herself a coffee and a refill for me before sitting down, “what kinda work did you do again?”

“Whatever pays the most,” I said, “sometimes it’s yard work, other times it’s home improvements, package delivery… Speaking of payment, you mind if I pay a couple months ahead on rent again?”

“Not at all dear, it’s hard to cash in when you’re never home. Paying ahead works just fine,” Ethel said, “is it gonna be cash again?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll walk you to the bank to deposit it,” I said.

“Such a gentleman. How are you still single?”

“I could ask you the same,” I said, taking a bite from one of the sausages.

“Oh you know I couldn’t bear to try and replace Han,” Ethel said.

I nodded, while trying to figure out whether her late husband’s name was Han or just a bad pronunciation of Juan. I’d known Ethel too long to ask at this point, so I just settled for never knowing.

“You look tired,” she suddenly said.

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you get this look in your eyes and you stare miles into the distance.”

“Just lost in thought,” I said, “it’s a good breakfast though.”

“Well, I best leave you to it,” Ethel said, getting up and taking her coffee with her, “I’ll go wash this and you bring my stuff back whenever.”

“Of course,” I said, “I’ll take another nap and then I’ll come down with your stuff and your money and I’ll walk you to the bank…actually maybe we’ll drive, I need to buy some fresh food before getting ready for another job.”

You never sit still, do you, Chase?” Ethel sighed, “oh to be young…”

“I’m in my fifties?”

“When you’re my age you’ll wish you were fifty again,” Ethel said, shuffling out of the kitchen.

“You’re only as old as you feel, Ethel!”

“Yeah yeah!”

I chuckled a bit, getting up to at least walk her out, waving her off as she carefully descended the stairs, before closing the front door and locking it…and then I heard it. Muffled whining coming from the bedroom. Had he been making noise this whole time? With a sigh, I headed into the room and opened the closet door.

“I thought I told you to be quiet?”

“Hmm…”

He looked up with me with glassy eyes, his chest heaving like he had trouble breathing. With a sigh, I pulled the tape off of his mouth, to which he coughed and gasped for air.

“Slow your breathing, or you’re gonna start hyperventilating,” I said, pulling him out of the closet.

“I-I waited…s-sir…”

“You waited for my neighbour to leave before you started yelling?” I asked, raising a brow.

“I-I couldn’t breathe, b-but you told me to be quiet while she was here, I-I didn’t know what to do—”

“You’re fine,” I quickly said before he’d start crying again, “hold still, I’ll cut you loose and you can get something to eat.”

He nodded, holding still while I grabbed some scissors from the kitchen and returned to cut him free, pulling the tape off of his legs and wrists, giving him a second to stretch before taking him back into the kitchen and sitting him down. I grabbed the bowls with fruits and put them in front of him.

“Here, you need some vitamins.”

Erick looked down at the fruit, then back up at me.

“V-vitamins?”

“Yeah, I can’t send you home with scurvy, that’s bad form,” I said.

But the teen still seemed confused. I rolled my eyes a little.

“Scurvy is an old name for vitamin C deficiency,” I explained, “humans can’t make it by themselves so we need to rely on external sources; like nice juicy oranges.”

I pushed the fruit salad closer to him, to which he gingerly picked out a piece of orange and ate it.

I let him eat his fill for a change, and even then he didn’t eat much. I was wondering if fruit was hard for him to eat as well, but then I noted he looked rather pale. Maybe he was just tired from the drive, and I couldn’t imagine he’d had too much sleep in that cupboard. Or maybe I was wrong about that too.

Just when I convinced him to take a sip of water, he suddenly gagged and spewed everything he ate right on my kitchen floor. A splash of half-digested macaroni and chewed up orange coloured the tiles a red-ish hue, and the smell was not my favourite.

“Come on,” I sighed.

“cough! I-I’m sorry— Urk!”

“Bathroom,”  I said, pulling him to his feet and dragging him towards the bathroom, so he could spew the rest into the toilet, clutching the bowl for dear life as he gasped for air a bit. I flushed for him, grabbing a towel from the shelf and running some cold water over it to wipe his face after he seemed done.

“You’re burning up,” I noted, putting my hand on his forehead briefly, “did you pick up a bug somewhere? …no, that doesn’t make sense. Let me see your arm.”

I unravelled the bandages covering his right arm and fingers, checking his wounds for signs of infection. His nails had started growing back, but none of them were growing in. I checked higher up his arm, the boy flinching as I pressed near the bite wound, and a bit of pus came out.

“Damn rats,” I sighed.

“W-what’s happening?” Erick asked hoarsely.

“You’re fine, just a little sick,” I said, “get in the shower, run some lukewarm water over this until clean blood starts coming out. I’ll go clean my floor and find you some clean clothes. It’s probably just an infection so I’ll get you some medication and you can sleep it off before going home, okay?”

“O-okay…”

<Prev | Masterlist | Next>

[raccoonfallsharder]

(Ignore this if you'd like^^)

What if Rocket and his S/O were the only ones (aside from Nebula) who didn't get snapped, how would they deal with it?

i could never ignore you. i would never ignore you. i don’t always get to respond to everything, but trust i read each ask, and think about them, and am grateful for each one ♡ also oh god this got long and it was delayed and might possibly not make much sense because i wrote most of it in the hospital on my phone sorrrrry ♡♡♡♡

to answer your question ~ it depends on the SO, i think, and how their relationship has unfolded with rocket and the other guardians.

if they’re new to the guardians-team, i suspect they’d be trying to focus on caring for rocket. hopefully, they’d balance his tendency to act recklessly by holding space for him, helping him process the loss.

if they’re creative like him, that might mean working alongside of him in relative silence, side-by side. painting or sewing or inventing, working on little machines with him, helping him make repairs to the bowie. they might make note of little things, hoping to open the conversation.

it’s so quiet on the bowie these days, they might say softly on the flight deck. i miss the noise.

the unexpectedness of the question might be enough to crack him, silvery tears tinseling the fur below his eyes while nebula shifts uncomfortably a few feet away.

or maybe they sit next to him on the flightdeck, both pairs of feet propped on the console, stars spinning lazily by. rocket would have the zune playing, staring down at it without really seeing it, thumb stroking mindlessly over the edge of it. maybe, in this universe, his partner watches quietly, then shifts in their own seat to gently rest their hand on his knee.

wordless, quiet togetherness.

maybe this person is a touchy person. every night, trying to melt the interim captain's grief with hands pressed into his narrow shoulders, or stroking the crown of his head, or with lips pressed carefully to his brow. not to take his sadness away, but to make it a little easier to carry.

or maybe — unfortunately for rocket — they’re a talker.

tell me the story again of how you met pete, they’d say. tell me about the time you hid the whole crate of zargnuts from drax and convinced him gamora ate them all. tell me again about the one single time you let mantis hug you.

they’re not gone — not really, rocket's partner reminds him. not as long as we keep their stories.

that last one’s probably the hardest for him to deal with. rocket holds onto his loss like a tiny knot of dark matter, or a perfectly-collapsed, glowing neutron star: caged behind his ribs, making every bone buckle inward. talking about it feels as dangerous as a superradiant instability: it’s just asking to become a black hole bomb.

but eventually, talk he does, letting the words wind their way up out of him in the shadows when he's woken up between dreams, or shuffled against the soft clink of blubber-ale bottles while the two of them sit with nebula, getting quietly drunk too late into the sleep-shift.

but what if this significant other of rocket's has roots just as deep in their little makeshift family as he does? deeper, even? maybe they knew one of the others first: another half-sibling of pete's, stumbled across in a distant star-system; another child kept in the relative safety of the eclector. maybe an adopted child of thanos, brought up in competition with gamora and nebula; maybe they're a survivor from kylos who had been best friends with kamaria when they were children.

in this case, i suspect they probably still try to prioritize their care for rocket, and likely end up fraying: he gets too drunk one night and they run out of patience, or he finds them crying in some half-forgotten corner of the cargo-hold one night. he realizes too late that they're not sleeping, or not eating. maybe it's nebula who points it out:

you're going to lose them if you don't open your eyes, Fox.

rocket will probably hate himself for not noticing sooner, but he will repay their care for him thousandfold. gruff, of course. just don't want you to frickin' pass out behind the flight controls. but we all know the truth: he's so fucking soft for them, and they're all he has left.

there are some things i imagine would be the same no matter what, though. to begin with, i think this person would make sure that nebula and rocket weren't fastened to terra. they'd make sure that the three of them got out into the stars (the mcu canon is conflicting but some of it points to our guardians sticking around on earth and the avengers using the bowie to get from place-to-place planetside; i like to think rocket's SO would laugh at the mere suggestion of this, wiping tears of mirth from their eyes with an oh, you were serious?). instead, the three of them touch base with kraglin on the eclector; they start coordinating efforts and aid to planets in their sector.

at some point — sooner or later, depending on the dynamic — im sure they go through a problem-solving phase. the denial part of the grieving process, maybe — or perhaps bargaining. what can we do to get them back? the little trio of guardians start taking jobs for or near people they can interview for information and ideas and answers. i hope, for everyone’s sake, that this partner of rocket’s is more diplomatic than the other two crewmates, otherwise these interviews interrogations will get a bit messy — especially at first, when nebula is still new.

she is, of course, extemely skilled at interrogation, and she's eager to show her first-ever friends what she can bring to the table.

eventually, i suspect this pursuit for answers falls away. what’s left is an unspoken desire shared by all three of them to live up to what they each think being a frickin’ guardian of the galaxy means. and may all the gods in the universe help them if rocket ever feels like either of his two crewmates are being reckless. the first time one of them almost gets hit by a laser or caught in an explosion, he damn near loses his mind. yelling at them, fussing over them, yelling again. using far more bandages than are strictly necessary — trying to waste medpacks on scrapes and bruises. fussing and yelling again — calling them idiots and morons with silver tracking through the fur under his eyes. he's a cross between an anxious grandmother and a drill sergeant, with more insults to hurl than a landlocked ravager.

of course, when it happens to be his partner, he always makes sure to make it up to them afterward.

headcanons & imagines masterlist

[peachymilkandcream]

AU idea: Evil Marleyan Levi who came to Paradis undercover and became the Captain, but Evelyn always tried to get to know more of him and accidentally found out the truth, so he kidnaps her and keeps her hidden away while continuing his mission. I was thinking he could be super mean and condescending in this 🥰 (my degradation kink is showing lmao)

The Truth About You|Levi x Evelyn AU

(A/N: Interesting idea Anon! We love a good degradation kink, it makes everything a little better. All you guys are so creative with AU ideas and I absolutely adore them! I might have to do a part 2 if anyone wants it! Hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!)

WARNINGS: implied noncon/dubcon, imprisonment, yandere behaviour/themes, misogyny, forced pregnancy, Evelyn's essentially Levi's slave and breeding machine, violence, degradation, attempted suicide, manipulation, mind breaking, forced marriage, etc.

================================================

Evelyn had never considered herself lucky. She had always had some terrible bout of misfortune following her. Whether it was the death of her parents, or her make barely passable grades in the Training Corps, or being peer pressured into the Scouts, she didn't know. But those were all manageable compared to the luck of joining the Scouts just as a new Captain was appointed.

One she got directly placed under. And she believed that his height had to go somewhere on the account of how big of a dick he was.

===============================================

Captain Levi quickly gained the reputation of being ruthless and unforgiving. If the smallest error in the code of conduct was breached the entire squad would suffer. Or even the whole division, it depended on if he got the perfect leaves to water ratio in his tea that morning.

However his record was impeccable and in the process of choosing the members of his squad they chose Evelyn. Probably because they believed Levi's strictness would whip her into a model soldier in no time. And not that she entirely minded the idea, the higher in the ranks she rose from a good record then maybe there was a chance she could push paper instead of corpses onto carts.

But she would shovel a hundred corpses to be placed under anyone but Levi.

She didn't know what made him hate her the most. But her legs were so sore from doing so many laps because she sneezed too soft or too loudly she needed to find some way to appease him. If that meant sucking up to him? Sure, if that meant borderline stalking him to find out what they could have in common? Of course. So long as she wasn't sucking him, she was happy.

================================================

Stalking seemed to the be thing she had to resort to since all other avenues were met with more punishment. She began to follow him around, take into accountability what was on his desk and what he liked to do, eat, or drink. Everything she could think of she tried. She was getting desperate to make a good impression at the cost of her morality. But it was worth it.

She seemed to be finding more and more about him, how he mysteriously bypassed the Training Corps, knew a lot about the military and knew who he had to rub shoulders with to get shot up to Captain so quickly. Apparently he had been on one or two missions tops, there was no way he could rise that fast. Her need for his favor morphed into suspicion and curiosity of what kind of man this was.

Her investigation came to a head when she following him home one night.

Levi had ducked into an alley, and while staying out of sight Evelyn overheard him talking.

"Send word to Marley. I've infiltrated their military as Captain. I have a small squad but I'll see if the Coordinate is in the ranks. Maybe at this level I can order him to come with me back home."

"And what of your cover? Has anyone suspected?"

A pause, probably a head shake. "No. Braun, and Hoover have seen to it that the Scouts don't know who I am. Leonhart is keeping the capital at bay in the MPs. I think we're close. After their failures I'm sure that through me they can redeem their embarrassment of careers."

"Very good sir. We'll be in touch."

Evelyn hurries to walk down the street when she hears footsteps approaching. Reiner and Bertholdt, they were in the newest Scout recruits, but were working together with Captain Levi? On what? And who was Marley? A division of politics? Maybe a terrorist group seeking to overthrow the government. Whatever the case she should report this to Commander Erwin, he'd know what to do.

"Cadet Glass."

Levi's voice halted her. Slowly she turned, meeting his gaze. It almost seemed disappointed with her.

"What are you doing out and about at this hour? You have a curfew."

"I'm sorry sir, I just- couldn't sleep."

"I see. You understand it's a punishable offence to be off of the grounds without leave, correct?"

She swallows. "Yes sir."

As he nears, Levi takes a hand and puts it on her shoulder, turning back to the direction she was walking. "Don't worry. You're not in trouble."

"Where are we going?"

"You wanted to get out didn't you? I'm going to buy you a drink."

Nervousness churns in her stomach. Did he know she was there? Surely not.

"I shouldn't-"

"I insist."

They continue to walk until he turns her down an alley, and before Evelyn can question she hears a metal thud before falling to the ground, the world going black as she stares at Levi's perfectly polished shoes.

================================================

When she came to, the pounding in her head was unbearable. Before her on a table was two aspirin and a glass of water. Behind that, Levi sitting in a chair, watching her.

"Captain-"

"Save it. I know what you heard. The question is how much."

"I don't know what you mean-"

"Don't play dumb with me devil. Tell me what you know and I'll let you go."

"I don't know anything! Let me go!"

She winces as the pain in her head worsens.

"Take those. They'll at least make you able to think enough to tell me the truth."

She hesitates, but takes them anyway. She needed them to think, but of how to reason with him instead of how to tell the truth.

"Now. I'll ask again. What do you know?"

"I know nothing."

"Continuing to lie are we? We'll see about that."

He stands, and she hears his belt buckle jingle, making her panic and stand to fight back. But as she's sure to hit him he's just out of reach. Her vision starts to go all weird and crazy and her mind spins. She doesn't even register him behind her, the pain, the fullness, the end.

Evelyn didn't even know what happened to her entirely save for the unending drip between her legs. She wanted to vomit, the world was spinning so much. She closed her eyes and then it just....stopped.

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S03E13 - Mansion on a Hill - PART A

With that name, I'd expected a more horror-like episode. Bloody, or something like that. But it does not disappoint. I have a few thought about the ending but it's a good episode regardless.

Black letters in quotes: Actual show quotes.

Green letters in quotes: What I come up with my twisted up brain.

"And this must be the legendary coworker that she keeps talking about." You can almost see Sarah's soul leaving her body.

Oh, poor Charlie.

Don't laugh, you two. I'm sure Fiona did this as payback because Sarah hasn't stopped talking to her about Charlie for the last two years, by the way.

Yeah, no, definitely stay away from this one. She will eat you alive.

"Sorry about the glass. The cheap ones are slippery." Oh, shut up.

"Love a man in a uniform." Wow. Just wow. He's not even in uniform???

We're actually lucky she wanted to do the crime in a subtle way because she had the opportunity to stab Sarah right there and then make a run for it. Hmm, this is giving me ideas, though...

That's when she poisoned the wine! Why am I only figuring it out now?

And then Sarah puts down her drink, Fiona picks it up and voila. Again, I can't help thinking of what would have happened if Sarah had drunk from it as intended. I imagine Charlie would have gone feral one season earlier.

The way they set this up is quite clever, actually.

I wouldn't call these two to any dinner parties. They bring misfortune.

"Naloxone in your kit?" Why would she have her kit with her in the first place?

Is she really your best friend if you haven't tried to resuscitate her at least once?

I know what you two are thinking. More work.

"She's your best friend. You okay?" "Let's fix this. And then you can ask me that question." And we'll be there to see it, right? RIGHT?

Joe: "Charlie, I thought this was your night off." Charlie: "It is but we visited one of Sarah's friends." Joe: "Say no more."

Joe: "We've got a bit of a skeleton crew here tonight". It's literally you and Jesse.

Jesse being like oh man I got plans tonight but as soon as Joe tells him Charlie, Sarah, and Rex are in trouble he immediately takes off his scarf looking all worried... Family.

This is the most uncooperative bunch of witnesses/suspects I've seen in this show. Also, this is the actual Knives Out episode.

Charlie: "Okay everyone. You're worried about Fiona and you're worried... *pause as he looks around at what kind of people he actually has in front of him* about yourselves."

How does someone get a citation for littering?

Why would anyone want something like this in their house? It's not even nice to look at.

You know, Sarah needed a hug the entire episode, Charlie.

"Vicodin. This is an opioid like Fentanyl". And I think that's where their similarities end. What is your point? Fiona was clearly drugged with Fentanyl, what does Vicodin have to do with it?

"She got me into rehab." "Oh, that worked well." Come on, man, don't be like that.

Joe: "So, first the vending machine eats my five dollars and then it gives me the wrong item. Twice." Jesse: "You should probably tell the boss about that." Joe's look. Also, what the hell, they should have a free commissary or something. Are you telling me that they pay for all those coffees as well?

Jesse: "That'll put hair on my chest." Joe: "I doubt it." lmao

"That fucker dared to cheat on my friend? Give me your gun, Charlie."

Why would he put Fiona's birthday as a password on his burner phone that he uses for his affair? Be for real.

No, this is actually her "I'm going to kill the fucker" look.

You definitely have to be a piece of shit to lock yourself in a room with your affair when your wife is fighting for her life. I don't care what you two were really doing.

I admire Sarah's self-restraint.

"Damn your small human noses, can't you smell that?!?!"

"Rex..." "You're welcome."

I bet Charlie is really glad that he and Rex accompanied Sarah right about now. And I'm not being sarcastic.

Oh, that actually makes me wonder how Sarah invited Charlie to this.

"Bela Lugosi." "Are you having a stroke?" STOP

"Men don't break up with me." Holy shit, lady.

How would Fiona know that the notary had done this to say it?

"Code yellow" no way that's what people call it when their dogs have to pee. Charlie, you're a weirdo.

Rex: "Damn it, I can't even pee in peace. We just have to find bodies everywhere."

Sarah: "Creepy shed at night. Okay. Thanks, pal." Rex: "We're literally here because of you."

Body jumpscare.

To be continued in Part B.