#and i decided it would be a good idea to do a re-watch before i potentially start some gifs

[saltpepperbeard]

i think there's something in how episode six begins with a darkened lighthouse. the thing it's known for--the light, the warmth, the guidance--is not there.

and the man inside it encourages that very thing. the man inside it is the very catalyst.

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ KEEP IT ON, ANGEL…❞

— satosugu x fem! reader, shoko might be a little into you, pet names (princess, angel) bratty reader, slightly suggestive near the end, outfit is inspired by something like this

summary; you're all getting ready to go out, but both your boyfriends' clothes make a better outfit than your own

Shoko steadily eyes your silhouette behind the partition, watches as you eventually step out in your third outfit of the night. A pout is still etched onto your glossed lips, and she giggles at the exasperated stomp of your bare foot against the floor. Heaving out a sigh, you look over your figure in the nearby floor-to-ceiling mirror. This fit looks nice, cute even…but it's just not good enough. Your last handfuls of attire have all been missing something, a certain razzle-dazzle that left them lackluster and needing a little something more.

“Well?”, Shoko asks, though the answer is evident from your adorable frown and stiff pose. “This one a winner?”

You hum in response, throwing your hands on your hips and lolling your head to the side in a desperate attempt to make the outfit work. Maybe a different angle will make it look better is your logic. Alas, it has the same problem as your previous attempts.

You groan. “I don’t like it.”

“Looks cute, though.” You’re too busy drowning out the bickering from the bathroom and wondering where this outfit went wrong to notice how her eyes trace over your body.

What you do notice, however, is Suguru’s shirt laying idly on the bed.

It’s a neatly ironed black tee decorated with warm-coloured graphics on the front of some band Suguru liked to listen to. Shoko follows your gaze to the shirt, but remains quiet. She decides to see where you might go with this.

You glance towards the bathroom. In the mirror, you catch a sneak peak of Suguru’s irritated expression as he fails to tune out Satoru’s nonsensical rambling. Both are too busy sabotaging eachother to spot you prancing over to the bed where their clothes are laid out. Next to Suguru’s shirt is Gojo’s black, leather jacket, lustrous and extremely expensive. The gears are starting to turn in your head. Shoko, intrigued, watches you strip down at record speed. The faster you can get their clothes on, the easier it’ll be for you to keep them. You slide Suguru’s oversized shirt over your body, fabric still a little warm even though it's been a minute since he ironed it. The shirt hangs loosely around your waist; you’ll fix that in a second. Satoru’s jacket is cool and heavy on your skin, but it looks incredible with the shirt.

“Need a hand?” Your attention draws to the couch, where Shoko balances a few safety pins between her fingers.

It takes a couple minutes to pin the shirt how you like, and you both listen for the end of the boys' bickering to make sure they don't catch the two little partners in crime. In the end, the final result looks amazing. Geto's tee now fits you like a glove, and the thigh high stiletto boots really bring the whole thing together. All that’s left is a matching handbag and accessories, so off you disappear into the closet. You’re so engrossed in the hunt for that one name-brand handbag from Satoru, that the pair of heavy footsteps approaching you from behind fall on deaf ears.

“Hey.” Suguru says to you, appearing over your now frozen form kneeled on the carpet. “My shirt. Where is it?”

Satoru chimes in from his spot leant against the doorframe. “And hand over my jacket, would ya, princess?”

You cross your arms underneath your chest, plumping your tits up just enough to get them to stare, and jut your lips out in a pout as you glare up at them both. “But I’m wearing them.”

“...And who authorized that idea?”, Geto asks in that ever-so-tolerant tone of his.

“They looked abandoned to me," You quip back. “And the shirt’s wrinkled now, anyway." You turn your attention back to the shelf of handbags. "It needs re-ironing, so might as well just find somethin' else.”

Satoru interrupts before Suguru can argue any further. “Okay. And my jacket?”

“Mine now.” You reply in a sing-songy tease, topped off with the same shit-eating grin Satoru's always giving everyone else, and blink your lashes up at them. “Besides, I look great as fuck! You two aren’t gonna make me take it off now when I look so-," You tuck a hand under your chin and breathe out," ravishing, are you?”

Gojo chuckles and starts to fire back, “We’re gonna end up taking it off you later anyw-“

“Fine.” Suguru quickly cuts him off. “Fine. Keep it on, angel.”

Even a deaf person could hear the absolutely treacherous tone laced beneath the pet name. But if there’s one thing you and Satoru are good at, it is waning a poor Suguru Geto’s patience.

“Thank you, Suguru, so kind, so generous.” You purr his name and give Geto those puppy dog eyes that make him wanna choke you on his fingers. And you’re sure he will, later when Shoko has long gone home.

“Hmph.” Gojo pouts over Geto’s shoulder. “No wonder she’s so spoiled when you give her everything she wants.”

And just like that, you’re coming for Gojo as well, pouting and whining at him, “You gonna take your jacket back from me, Satoru?”

Geto turns to look at him and, underneath two pairs of eyes, suddenly the great Satoru Gojo finds the closet wall extremely interesting. He really wanted to wear that jacket out to the festival tonight, but when you whine his name like that…

His thoughts are interrupted as Suguru gives a huff and shrugs out of his grasp, turning to exit the closet. “No wonder she’s so spoiled.”

“Shut up, Suguru.” You can hear Geto and Shoko laughing at him in the next room. And, now that their attention has moved elsewhere, you can focus on finding that pesky, elusive handbag.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Kojo Bradford, Wingman

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (+ the one and only Kojo)

Summary: Tim is (still) a bachelor, until Kojo decides to change that.

Warnings: FLUFF! Kojo's thoughts (italicized) are from 101 Dalmatians

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

A/N: KOJO!!!

It was plain to see that my old pet needed someone. But if it were left up to Tim, we’d be bachelors forever. He was married to his work. Catching bad guys… Oh, he’s intelligent enough, as humans go. And I think you could say that Tim is a rather handsome animal in his way. I could see no reason why my pet didn’t deserve an attractive mate. At least, I was determined to do my best. Of course, dogs are a pretty poor judge of human beauty. But I had a rough idea of what to look for… It was a problem. A real problem… Well, now that’s a bit more like it! It was almost too good to be true… Ah, they’re heading for the park. A perfect meeting place, if I could only arrange it.

Kojo has the frisbee in his mouth, and Tim is squatted, waiting for him to return with it. Suddenly, though, Kojo sprints in the other direction.

“Kojo! You- Boot, get back here!” Tim yells, running after him with the leash in his hand.

✯✯✯✯✯

The park is one of your favorite places to hang out and relax. Sitting on a bench, you glance up from your book when you hear the water in the small pond ripple. You don't, however, see a dog slowing as he trots toward you.

I couldn’t depend on Tim. He’d settle on the grass, and that would be it. No, it was all up to me. Well…

Something lands in your lap, and you move your book to the side to look.

“Oh, hi there,” you say, smiling as you pat the dog’s head.

At first, I had no particular plan, just anything to attract attention.

“Who are you supposed to be with, buddy?” you ask, running your hand over his collar until you find his name tag. “Kojo?”

His tail wags and your smile widens as you look around for his owner.

“Kojo!” someone yells.

You look away from Kojo, who doesn’t move his wide, puppy gaze from you. The man stepping around the tree searching for Kojo is undeniably attractive, and you smile when his eyes meet yours.

“I think I met a friend of yours,” you say as he hooks Kojo’s leash to his collar.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes.

“No need, Kojo’s a sweetie.”

“Well, thank you.” 

Nodding, you return your attention to your book as Kojo lifts his head to look at his owner.

“What were you thinking, buddy?” the man asks quietly.

Glancing at your watch, you notice it has gotten later than you realized. Sliding your book into your bag, you stand and walk in the opposite direction of Kojo.

For a while, it seemed to work. At least they had seen one another. Things were going along first-rate. But for some strange reason, she left!

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo pulls on his leash, moving as quickly as possible toward your retreating figure. He's practically dragging Tim, but he needs to catch you.

“Kojo! What is your problem? Stop!” Tim demands, holding the leash tightly as he follows Kojo as well as he can.

But I wasn’t giving up. I was determined that, somehow, they just had to meet.

Kojo catches up to you, and Tim notices a moment too late what Kojo is doing.

✯✯✯✯✯

You hear Kojo bark lowly just before he walks before you, his leash digging into your legs as he keeps circling. As you turn with his movement, you run into his handsome owner from a few minutes ago. Your hands are on his chest as his arms instinctively wrap around you.

“I am so sorry,” he apologizes, trying to get Kojo to walk back around.

“It’s fine,” you promise. “Just don’t-“

Before you can say ‘tip over,’ he leans too far, accidentally falling backward and pulling you with him. You land on top of him, his arms still around you.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” you ask.

Kojo barks, and you look at him, smiling as you see his tail wagging quickly.

“I’m fine. Are you?”

Nodding, you move sideways so one of your hips is on the ground as you reach down and uncurl the leash from your joined legs.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. Standing, he offers his hands and asks, “Please let me help.”

“Thanks.”

“Kojo,” he chides. “I really don’t know what made him do that. He’s never done anything like this before.”

“Well, no, I can’t imagine he has. He’s a sweetheart.”

“You- are you not mad?”

You laugh, and he soon joins you. Now that he thinks of it, the situation really is funny. Kojo sits beside you, looking like he’s smiling.

Offering your hand, you introduce yourself.

“Tim Bradford,” he replies, shaking your hand kindly. “And you’ve met Kojo.”

“I think Kojo might have done that on purpose,” you whisper. “In which case, he’s a pretty good wingman.”

Tim smiles at you as he agrees, “Yes, he is.”

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo!” you call, setting your bag by the door.

He makes a lot of noise as he runs to greet you, but you still hear Tim’s grumbled complaints.

“Always want to see my dog before me,” he says.

“Hey, without this beautiful dog right here, I wouldn’t even know you and you’d still be devastatingly single.”

Tim rolls his eyes, offering a hand. He wraps his hand around yours, pulling you into his chest and kissing your forehead. Kojo barks, looking toward his leash, which hangs by the door.

“I don’t know what’s worse, that you won’t let me forget Kojo introduced us or that he seems to know,” Tim muses.

“He’s a good boy.”

Shaking his head, Tim clips Kojo’s leash on, holding it in one hand while the other wraps around your shoulders.

Once you're at the park, you sit on the grass beside Tim, watching him and Kojo play. When Kojo gets tired, panting heavily, he walks to your side and lays down, placing his head in your lap just as he did the day you and Tim met.

“Just don’t knock us over this time,” you tell him, laying your hand on his head as you pet him.

“I wouldn’t be completely opposed to it,” Tim hums as he joins you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is Kojo wearing?” Angela asks. “And why is Kojo here?”

“He’s wearing a tie,” Tim answers. “I didn’t choose it, don’t ask. And he’s here because we’re on our way somewhere.”

“You’re proposing,” Angela realizes.

“Yes,” Tim answers as Kojo barks once in reply.

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I will never let you live this down.”

“I- I can’t even care right now.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo, my handsome boy!” you yell, kneeling so Kojo can run into your arms. “Tim, my other handsome boy.”

Tim asked you to meet him in the park after work, and you’ve been looking forward to it all day.

“Kojo, lead the way,” Tim calls.

You furrow your brows but don’t hesitate to loop your arm through Tim’s and follow Kojo down a path to the bench where you first met Tim. Fairy lights are strung in the tree above it, and while you watch Kojo jump onto the bench, you miss Tim pulling his arm from yours.

When you turn toward him, Tim is kneeling on the path, looking up at you with a small velvet box in his hand.

“Tim,” you gasp.

“This was Kojo’s idea, too, but let me finish before you say anything, okay?”

Nodding quickly, you can’t bring yourself to look away from Tim even when Kojo nudges his head against your hand, arriving at your side.

“Even though I didn’t know what I was missing, meeting you completed me, you completed me. And I will never be able to tell you enough – or thank Kojo enough,” Tim says, licking his lips when he sees the tears in your eyes. “So, will you do me…” Kojo barks again, and Tim adds, “me and Kojo the honor of marrying me?”

Unable to speak, you drop toward Tim, trusting him to catch you as you cling to him, nodding excitedly as tears stream down your face.

“Kojo,” Tim warns.

You laugh when you feel a leash drag across your side. Tim catches him by the collar, bringing him into the hug.

“I love you,” you whisper. “And I love you, Kojo. Thank you, buddy.”

[rotrightthrough]

We’re live!

Word count: 2000 somehow?? I intended this to be a little Drabble but oh well. This is a re upload for visibility. Idea is from @swollentummies

Eli adjusted his lingerie to drape perfectly over his baby bump. The fabric was extremely tight, a purchase from much earlier in his pregnancy, but it was one of his favorite pieces, made of pure, delicate white lace, and today was an important show. He was prepared to go all out. “Be good for this one ok?” He whispered down at the 42 week swell of his belly. Eli had actually planned to take a break from camming after he hit his due date but after 2 weeks of minimal movement and no signs of imminent labour, he decided to bless his viewers with one last show, one where he’s as pregnant as he’ll ever be. A grand finale of you will.With one more adjustment of his posture he flicked on his camera and smiled as he watched the viewers pour in. “Ok guys I’m sad to say this will be my last show for a while, so let’s make it a good one.”

Comments flooded through the chat, many disappointed but just as many merely excited to see their favorite camboy stream so close to birth. “We’re going to be doing donations for requests today. Nothing too crazy though.” He giggled, “don’t want to send me into labor.” His first donation came in right after that statement. It was a pretty hefty one too, with the request being simply to do 10 jumping jacks. “Jumping jacks?” He raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. A request is a request after all. The mere action of standing up was arduous now, but he tried to make it look more sultry and less like he was a beached whale coming up from the water. He did one jumping Jack before realizing why the donor had requested such an action. As he jumped out his belly would bob and sway, the pure gravity and speed of the action foreign to Eli’s body at such an advanced stage in pregnancy.

He tried his best to make the exertion appealing to his viewers, even lingering to gently stroke his belly afterwards, which was now awake with a flurry of exercise induced activity. He panted as he sat back down, adjusting his camera so the viewers could be treated to a full view of his overdue belly. “Oof, that was tougher than I thought, I guess I’m getting pretty out of shape huh?” He chuckled before glancing back at his monitor. He saw a request to get onto his bed and immediately took it, those jumping jacks certainly did a number on his back. This odd pain began to spread at the base of it, radiating upwards. But he ignored it, after all who doesn’t have back pain when they were as overdue as he was.He leaned against the plush pillows of his bed, propping his belly up like a cake in a display case. He glanced at a particular donation and grinned mischievously. It was a challenge he’d done quite a few times before.

He had a small vibrater that he had programmed to raise in one level of speed and intensity every time someone donated over 1,000 dollars. It had been a staple prop in his shows for a while now but he hadn’t used it since he hit 36 weeks, afraid to set off labor. However since the amount of money needed to raise the level was so high, he reasoned it would probably stay at a pretty tolerable level of stimulation. “No I am not lowering the level raising price.” He giggled as he slipped the little toy between the very small allowance between his lingerie. It was so tight even the small vibrator fit snugly and secure in his panties. “This is our last show for a bit, don’t go cheaping out on me.” He added a little pout as a flourish.

Then a devious little idea popped into his head.He leaned against the pillows and adjusted his hips so the audience could see the bulge of the vibrator in his semi transparent panties. “I’m so worried though, I heard too much stimulation can cause someone to go into labor,” he purred and stroked his ripe belly. “I really hope that doesn’t happen.” Eli smirked internally. The vibrator had ten levels, and it was incredibly rare for it to ever get above a 5 in a single show, especially considering certain patrons would pay to interrupt the portion to get him to do other acts, resetting the donations. He knew even a 5 may be a little intense for him this late in his pregnancy, but he was certain he could handle it. He was a professional.The first donations flow in, probably brought on by his teasing.

They come faster than usual but not intolerably so, even in Eli’s gravid state. Despite this he makes a show of it, sitting up and rocking his hips, moaning softly as the vibrations echo throughout him. He feels his stomach tighten from the sudden shift but simply continues to rock his hips, it helps with the odd pressure forming at his pelvis.“Oof, guess I’m extra sensitive today guys, only level 1 and I’m already feeling it.” He smiled, tracing hearts along the overstretched skin of his belly button.

As he rode his way through the vibrations he decided to answer some questions.“No, the doctor said he doesn’t think it’s twins. Just one big guy.” He chuckled, reading through further. “Oh come on, don’t underestimate me. I can totally give birth to them naturally. I know my hips are a little narrow but I’ll be getting an epidural so it’ll be fine.” The chat seemed a little disappointed at that and Eli smirked a little too smugly. “What, did you guys want me to give birth on stream? That’s a little far even for me.” For some reason donations started to flood in after that, brutally fast, as if Eli taunts had only encouraged them.

Eli’s performative panting and moans began to transform into genuine guttural sounds as he felt the pressure build around the base of his abandoning. His belly seemed to squeeze with every new donation, a constant war between the pleasure of the vibrations and the pain of these odd sensations. And then it hit him. He was in labor. The thought quickly made him spiral before he realized a few things. This was his first baby, and first babies are known to take forever and his water hadn’t even broken yet. He was fine to wrap up the show.Besides he was making more money now than he ever had. Even an hour more could mean thousands of dollars. But as the vibrator began to approach level 4 he panted a few shallow breaths. The little squeezes were becoming big- long squeezes, so intense they were visible on his belly from the monitor. His stomach now sat between his thighs, low and heavy.

“Ok guys I think we’re gonna wrap up soon. I think I’m in labor.” Perhaps his chat thought he was doing some sort of roleplay thing because that really made the donations go haywire. Hundreds of dollars at a time skyrocketed him up to level 5, causing his entire body to become jelly like- moaning lewdly. “Fuck, guys I’m serious.” He panted, rubbing a hand from the base of his contracting belly to the top, feeling how rock hard the surface was. “Hooo look,” he stammered out, poking his belly for emphasis, showing the camera the state of his baby bump, stretched beyond its limits and wracked with contractions.

He kept trying to reach for his camera, or his monitor to shut off the stream but each new donation and each new contraction kept his nailed down, clenching around nothing. “Ooo fuck guys.. hooo, owww,” he moaned, moving again before immediately realising what a horrible idea that was.Sitting up in it of itself was a struggle on a good day, sitting up with a vibrator in him and a baby thrashing around was nearly impossible. He attempted to wade through the mixture of agony of bliss, rocking his hips in a circular motion.

Unfortunately this only seemed to encourage his babies descent, and before he knew it, he felt the whole weight of the baby on his pelvis, pressing against his cervix. Little by little he was managing to sit up, having to lay back slightly every time a new donation or contraction came in. But eventually he was able to make it right to the button on his pc, finger hovering over it and then-

Optimus_Alpha donated $4,000!

Pop!

Just like that his progress was halted and he threw his head back in a combination of ecstasy and agony. Not only had the vibrator been brought up to its maximum level in the span of a minute, but the pure shock of it caused his water to break, amniotic fluid soaking his bed and his beautiful white lingerie. His brain started to panic, before instinct set in and he almost forgot that he had an audience, with more flooding in each minute. Thousands of viewers, all about to lay witness to the birth of a new life. “Hooo fuckkkk-“ Eli moaned gutturally, attempting to shove off his panties as he felt them bulge. But it was useless, they were just too tight.

He needed scissors or something, but he would be amiss if he ruined such a perfect pair of panties.So instead he focused on slow pushes, panting heavily as he managed to push the lacy lingerie off. It was an agonizing process, his mind hazy with pain throughout, but eventually the panties lay at his swollen ankles and he was able to remove that damn vibrator. Now that his panties were off his viewers received a full view of his bulging exit, swollen and dangerously stretched over the baby’s massive head. He stroked the area with a free hand, gasping as he felt the sliver of head stretch him, a bit of dark hair peeking out.

“Ohhh fuck fuck he’s so big, he’s too big.” Eli cursed, clutching his belly. He was wracked by constant contractions now, and with no vibration to distract him he was forced to confront the full pain of childbirth.

He pushed and squeezed until his face grew a shade of bright red, stroking his belly with one hand and the fiery ring of hell that was his nether regions with the other, helping to stretch the area. The burn was terrible, like nothing he had ever felt, and he became lost in it, bearing down and pushing like his life depended on it.He clutched at his ruined silk sheets as he bore down for one brutal push before he heard a satisfying pop of the baby's head dislodging. He met momentary relief before having to pant out the shoulders, adjusting himself into a low squat to accommodate the rest of the baby's body. With the shoulders out the feet quickly followed and the not so little baby that emerged from him started to cry.

Eli collapsed onto his pillows, cradling his 12 pound infant to his chest. He laughed tiredly before laying a kiss on the babies forehead. “Well aren’t you a cutie?” He sat their peacefully for a moment before he heard his computer ding, signaling the 3 hour mark of the stream. Shit. He forgot to turn the damn thing off. “Umm.” He smiled nervously. “I told you today was a special show?” Honestly, it was a net positive. The money he made from that stream was enough to go on maternity leave for a loooong time.

[rosewaterandivy]

petrichor

a continuation of sugar & mint

summary: a summer friday feat. long lie-ins, a doting husband, and something unexpected

pairing: dad!steve x mom!reader

W.C.: 2390 K

warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, smoking, cursing, pregnancy mention, my usual brand of filth (unprotected p-i-v, oral - m & f receiving, come eating)

a/n: disclaimer, i'm not a mom (unless you count my two pets)!! i am but a simple god mom to some feral babies, whom i adore. if pregnancy or mom!reader is not your vibe, i completely get it - i just couldn't get the thought of these two out of my head 🥹

🎵🎵 Oh, woe-oh-woah is me, the first time that you touched me 🎵🎵

pet·ri·chor /ˈpetrīˌkôr/ (noun)

definition: a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.

Waking to the sound of rain falling steadily on the roof, you blearily pry an eye open to check the time. The sheets beside you on the bed are cool, Steve having made good on his promise to let you sleep in. The clock informs you of the late hour, 1 PM, as your stomach begs for sustenance.

Scrubbing a hand across your face, you roll over and rummage around for a shirt to cover throw on before trotting downstairs. Bub is off with her aunts for one final summer weekend, and there’s a slight chill in the air. Enough to warrant slipping on your husband’s discarded gray sweatshirt.

Aside from the rain against the eaves and windows, the house is silent. Grabbing your favorite mug from the cabinet, you busy yourself making a cup of coffee before you see the post-it stuck to the fridge.

Hope you got to sleep in, your majesty. Grabbing groceries in town, see you soon. xxx - Steve

Grabbing a cinnamon bagel and your coffee you settle in the window seat of the breakfast nook to watch the rain, free of distractions and responsibilities. It’s rare that you get a moment like this, no pressing deadlines, drop-off or pick-up lanes, hosting dinners for friends, or attending a birthday party.

Eyes following the drag of raindrops on the windowpane, your hand falls to the nearly imperceptible swell of your stomach. Early days yet, but you knew the signs: nausea, exhaustion, all the usual suspects. Finishing your coffee, you trekked upstairs in search of a rogue pregnancy test— would it have expired by now?

After checking the date and deeming it worthy, you took the test and checked the time. Deciding it best to go back downstairs to ease your anxiety, you settled back in the window seat with a second cup of coffee.

_

“Couldn’t find a shirt?”

He laughs, shaking off the water droplets like a dog in the foyer. “It wasn’t raining when I left,” Steve says, as if that’s explanation enough. Not that you’re necessarily complaining, his hair and skin damp, tank top doing fuck all being as soaked as it is. “And I couldn’t find my—”

Catching sight of his sweatshirt grazing the tops of your thighs he smiles. “Nevermind, looks better on you anyway.” He kicks the door closed, shoes squelching against the floor as he makes his way into the kitchen.

“Baaaabe,” you whine, catching a whiff of tobacco on him, “Please tell me you didn’t smoke in my car.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, sunglasses resting against the visor of his ball cap as he sets the tote bags on the counter. “Trader Joe’s was insane,” he says setting the keys on the counter, “It was an emergency cigarette, I swear.”

A roll of your eyes as you begin to put away the groceries. “If you bothered to wake me, I could’ve told you Trader Joes on a Friday was a bad idea.”

Steve quirks a brow in interest, grabbing a few items to shove in the freezer.

“Flower delivery is Friday, brings all the Lululemon moms to the yard.”

“Huh,” he grunts, “Explains all the spandex and lycra then.” Damp fingers trail against your thigh before wrapping an arm around your hip to draw you close. “Besides,” he breathes against your neck, “If I remember correctly, you requested to be left to sleep in.”

Failing to stifle a yawn, you eek out, “Because I’m fuckin’ exhausted, Harrington.” Setting your mug in the sink, you turn in his grasp and drape an arm across his shoulders. “Raising your daughter and dealing with your sorry ass.”

“Oh,” he pulls you closer, hips flush against one another, “So she’s my daughter now?”

“When she’s having sleep regression, yes.”

“Poor thing.”

“Yes,” you huff, “Me, I’m the poor thing because she insisted on crawling into our bed and kept kicking me in the ribs all night.”

“Hmm,” he hums, resting his chin against your head, “Explains the post-it stuck to my face this morning. ‘Help me Steve Harrington, you’re my only hope! Can you get Bub off to Aunt Nancy & Robin’s and please (for the love of god) let me sleep in? xxx —the love of your life & bearer of your child.”

“Hey,” you grouse into his chest, “I am clever and cute and you love me.”

Steve pulls back to get a better look at you— sleep mused, hair askew, barely dressed in a sweatshirt that had seen better days, and bare feet. He reaches down to link his fingers through yours. It feels so good, and warm, and you sigh almost contentedly.

“Course I do.” He takes a breath, “How could I not?”

“Steve Harrington,” you whisper against his lips, “You sweet talkin’ me?”

And with that, you crash your lips over his, sliding your tongue—sweet and heavy with promise into the space of his mouth.

He tastes like a stolen cigarette and coffee, cinnamon dancing on his tongue from the Big Red he’d swiped from the car. Kisses you slow and deep, easing you back against the counter. Chest pressed flush to yours, you let out an involuntary hiss.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

A shake of your head as your pepper his cheeks with kisses, bristles of five o’clock shadow catching against your lips.

“My tits just really hurt.”

“Huh,” he tuts, leaning back to look you over. “That’s uh… new.”

Quirking your brow, you level him with a look. “And how would you know?”

Steve’s lips curl in a slow smile, “I notice things.”

Glancing to the green numbers illuminated on the microwave, you grab his hand and make for the staircase. “Sure you do, big guy,” you toss over your shoulder playfully.

Settling him on the bed, you trot back into the en suite and return with the white plastic test in your hand. Handing it to him without fanfare, you watch as his face turns from one of mild curiosity to that of astonishment. Shock.

There was a cautious longing in your eyes and your face was measured. The air was weighted in silence, desire crystallizing as he leaned towards you, a pull he allowed himself to fall toward, closing the space between, choosing not to think, blocking out any hesitation and he was kissing you.

You were trying not to rush this, trying to savor this, slowly, carefully, tormented with the scent of his skin, all warm and washed linen, comfort laced in a simmering heat that he kept tempered somewhere deep within his soul.

Your face was cradled in his hands, pulling you closer, skin hot against palms, lips hotter still against his own when he realised the rain had stopped.

You crawl into his lap, straddle his waist, and his breath is punched out of his lungs in awe of your beauty. You undress him with deft fingers, yanking his clothes, hissing when he pulls away to peel the shirt off— as if not touching him pains you. The sweatshirt comes off— thrown carelessly landing somewhere on the floor— Steve revels in the exposure your chest—soft, heaving with love and agony.

Steve. Stevie. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.

Desperate, again.

You tug his hair, grip his chest and back, kiss him until his head spins. The bed creaks softly, as if it doesn’t want to interrupt the sounds that your bodies create together.

His kisses were deliberate towards one destination as his hands moved toward another, caressing you soft on the skin of your hips, slowly, sweetly up your sides and arching your back where you perched, a way to kiss you harder, reach you further to rediscover all his favorite parts of you.

The moan started low in your throat as he eased himself into you, sinking all the way to the hilt, delicious and easy, because he couldn’t wait and neither could you. You in all your love and splendor, always ready, always open for him, legs widening and gripping him as he began to move, slowly and agonizingly sweet.

Steve was trying to restrain himself, slow it down, revel in the feel of you, warm and wet and wonderful around him. He wanted to make it go slow, try not to lose himself through your soft sounds, the little breaths that told him the how, the when, the yes, please, right there, yes as you dissolved into moans that had him aching.

It was less deliberate now, more messy, a stuttered rhythm that had his legs feeling shaky, chasing his release, the push and pull of desire tightening, closer, hotter, tighter, and then an instant hardness that had him seeing stars, mouth tucked into the curve of your neck, your fingers threaded, gripping his locks, spilling feeling from his cock through your cunt.

He makes love to you, and even though he is bone tired from the hectic morning, he doesn’t feel it until you tremble in his arms and slump against his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat when he drew back to look at you, half-embarrassed, half a smile awash in his flushed face, hazel eyes full and wanting – utterly beautiful. Steve kissed your nose, your mouth, lingering sweetness on your lips, and you groaned as he picked you up, still buried inside you, his hands strong beneath your ass, fingers itching to trail the familiar paths of faded stretch marks. To praise the skin that grew to house you and your daughter, knew instinctively what to do, even if you were less than pleased with their sudden arrival.

Steve can’t help it - he loves your body for that, for keeping you and Bub safe. It’s something he won’t ever experience, but each time he happens to catch sight of you, pregnant or not, he can’t help but feel that he’s witnessing something sacred. Something holy.

The bed now, a comfort beneath your back, sheets scrambled beneath his palms as he balanced himself above you, then a stuttered breath as he slipped out, your muscles already missing the fullness of him. His pretty head moved lower now, your pretty hands still stroking through his pretty hair, sending pretty shivers through his spine.

The gasp was low in your throat when Steve pushed his fingers inside you, slow and agonizing, damp with you and him, all melded together and you almost winced when he dipped his mouth between your thighs, his tongue careful and deliberate, tasting you, tasting him, his mouth warm and licking you from core to clit.

This time, your legs were shaking, skin like fire and you were already too wound up, too high on just the feel on him, his hair brushing skin, beard soft on your thighs. Your fingers were fisted still through his hair, and god, he loved the way he knew how to drive you by the tension in your hands, the scrabbled grip through his locks as you got closer, more breathless, a groan and then an arch of toes before you were wrung out and writhing beneath him.

A clap of thunder sounded out as you collapsed, loose limbs and shivery skin as he came up to kiss you, shared joy and wonder, near awe that he could still bring you over the edge this way.

Steve's hair was something else now, wild and beautiful – definitely overdue for a trim and you were laughing now, face sparkling with glee.

“You look awful,” you told him, bringing your lips up to kiss him, all giggly with delight.

“Thank you,” he replied, nosing you close and drawing new breaths from your tongue as your hands drifted to the velvet skin beneath his thighs, working him slow and sweet.

“Oh, I will,” you answered, tempered smile in that face he adored so well, and shifted your body, drawing Steve onto his back as you dipped lower and he tried to hold the groan as you took him in your mouth.

He had to look away, some way to regather himself, the rushing blood through his skin, shooting straight to his cock, the warmth of your mouth on him, your tongue stroking him, the push and drag of your lips along that sensitive skin.

Steve focused on the feeling of you surrounding him, your warmth, your light, but even so, it was too much after a while and he had to change it, change the way you felt on him before he got too eager, too earnest. He lifted you, a giggle escaping your lips as you pulled off him with one last, deliberate drag of your mouth and this time, he couldn’t help the moan from his lips.

It was heaven, warm and sweet, when he pushed into you for the second time, your knees almost matched high at your chest, grazing your aching nipples as he found that special part of you that drew his most favorite sounds. You were keening, moving slowly together, trying not to lose control, trying to savor this for as long as you possibly could in this delicious bubble of time and space. _

Hours later and the pair of you had yet to leave the house. Rain pouring on and off throughout the afternoon and into the evening.

A tentative look at your belly, still smooth and firm. His hand finds the plane of it, fingers brushing the skin and over newly forming goosebumps. A surprising amount of excitement flutters in his own at the thought. It’d be good.

Steve insisted on throwing something together for dinner and made his way downstairs. He’s excited at the prospect of another baby, especially if they continued to take after you like Bub had. And she’d be adorable big sister, his heart swells at the thought.

He grabs the plates and heads back upstairs, the creak of the trick-step signalling his ascent. Nudging the door open with his hip, he pauses to take in the sight of you, and sets the plates on the nightstand.

Steve doesn’t know how someone can light up a room like you, just sitting there in his sweatshirt, doing nothing but smile. “Honey,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the moment but can’t help himself. He just wants to see you looking at him.

“Yeah?” You turn your head ever so slightly, peek up under flared lashes— sleepy eyes struggling to stay awake— still sparkling. “What is it?”

“Honey, I love you.” Is all he can manage. Everything else seems to fade away.

And then you smile, a slow curling of your soft lips, cupid’s bow catching a moonbeam. You smile so sweetly his heart stops in his chest. The world comes rushing back with your tired sigh and your hand linking itself with his. One beat, two beats, steadily, heavily, his blood pulses again when you kiss his cheek and murmur,

“I love you, too.”

[luimagines]

Flower Petals

Another commission!!

They commissioned me right after He Realizes You like Him and died. I made this as a companion piece to Legend's since they liked it so much. They asked for Legend and to make it hurt. This was written in the chaos that was February so I have no idea if I delivered or not.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

There was a time when his life was nothing but monotony. 

Wake up. Fight the deadline. Go to his apprenticeship. Work. Come home. Go to bed. Repeat.

Sure there was the occasional hiccup where he had to leave his village to save the world and defeat the darkest known evil known to man. But that was only going to happen so many times, right?

Following his typical routine, he gets out of bed and relishes at the thought of not going into work today. Link stretches and pulls his arms over his head. His spine pops a few times- easing the constant ache in his bones for a moment before everything settles back into place.

He yawns and gets out of bed.

It’s weird, he thinks, to actually have a routine that normal people have.

There’s no coffee in the house.

Link groans loudly in the safety of his own home. He needs to go shopping.

He collects his things and slings his satchel over his shoulder. Walking outside, he’s momentarily blinded by the bright light. Not that his house is particularly dark on the inside, but maybe he should have opened up the curtains inside so the transition would be easier on his eyes. 

Too late anyway.

Link buys his food and his coffee and avoids as many people as he can until he gets back into his house to make his cup of bean juice. He… marginally successful. One elderly lady asked why he was in a hurry and another was wondering why he looked like a racoon. Both were kind ladies with little to gain from talking to him so he spoke with them, not wanting to be rude. 

His uncle would be rolling in his grave if he ever thought Link would be disrespecting his elders.

Link gets home and puts everything away, getting started on his coffee first thing. With only a minor hiccup of spilling the water before it could even go to the strainer, Link can say that it’s a strange sort of boring to be home with nothing to do.

He’s not used to relaxation.

He’s always on the move.

He’s always doing something.

It feels almost… wrong to just sit around and watch the time go by. Surely someone is in need of help around the town. Finishing his cup of coffee at last and no longer feeling like a hog troll climbing out of the bog at three in the afternoon, Link decides that he’ll go around town just to see if there’s anything he can be of assistance for.

He searches. He asks. He’s denied. Again. And again. And again.

“Oh come on.” Link mutters under his breath as he re enters his house, shaking off all the tools and items he didn’t even get to use. He doesn’t bother putting them properly away. Link shucks them into a corner and rubs little circles into his temple.

His whole center of balance has been tilted.

What good is today if he’s not doing anything with it?

He makes his way back to his kitchen. Aside from the hasty cup of coffee, Link realizes that he didn’t actually have anything to eat once he woke up. And then he ran everywhere talking to everyone and everything so he’s more than a little hungry at the moment.

But cooking? Seriously? He doesn’t want to. Can’t he just have something that doesn’t require any prep? Doesn’t he have anything that he can just shove in his mouth and call it a day?

Link opens a cupboard and starts shoving things about with reckless abandon, looking for something to eat. There’s a book that he pushes aside that opens slightly. A few pages fall out due to age and decay but that’s not the only thing. 

He sees a flower.

He pauses.

You gave it to him.

“He has everything! What do you give to a person who doesn’t need anything?!”

Link smiles and picks it up, twirling the delicately pressed and dried flower between his fingers.

He remembers that day. How can he forget?

“I really, really like him! Help me figure out what to give him!”

Link hadn’t meant to over hear your conversation. In fact, when he had passed by, he thought you were talking about a different person entirely. You certainly weren’t talking to him when he heard you say those things. It was only until later when he gave up on trying to fish that you walked up to him and handed him this very flower.

He promised himself that he was never going to lose this flower.

It is his most prized possession. 

Delicately, he takes the book out of the cupboard and picks up the papers that had fallen out earlier. It’s a cookbook, he notices as he puts the papers back in order. Once the fallen pages are in their rightful place, he picks a new, sturdier spot and opens the book to that page.

He slips the flower inside and closes the book.

It ends up back on the cupboard where it was before and Link has decided to make a sandwich instead of making an elaborate meal.

It gets the job done and he once again finds himself with nothing else to do.

His front door opens and his heart jumps into his throat. His half eaten sandwich drops from his hands onto the plate in front of him as he dashes to the entrance.

“You’re back!” He yells and all but dives towards you, crushing you in the biggest bear hug.

“I was only gone for three days.” You grit out, barely restraining your laughter as he spins you around the living room. “This is a bit much don’t you think?”

“Hardly.”

“Link, please.”

“I’ve been so booored! There is nothing to do anymore.”

“Spoil sport.” You flick his nose and dig through your bag. “I did manage to get you something though.”

You hold up a new flower.

“I love it.”

[shiftingconfessions]

I will be pulling a wild one here

I am shifter before shiftok and shifting tumbler and so on, I was part of the firsts shifting plataforms to ever exist, the work of my friends and colleagues are diluted and changed in many methods the community still using today, or use and not yet know about it.

Shiftok is a lie. It is straight up a lie, more than half of accounts in there are lying, take the big 10 accounts all around the globe and you will see how deeply unsettling and ego blinded these ppl are.

I will share a lil secret to shifting on tumbler, most influencers KNOW that they are talking shit nowadays. The so proclaimed creators of shittok vanglorizes themselves for creating it, but deep down one was a absolute baby shifter and the other one knew her stuff but was caught in drama.

They both are part of the first shifting community ever, started on 2017, they were warned to use their voice to spread information but they decided to blind themselves and continue their fights and dramas.

Besides that, the modern Mainstream Shiftok is around money. TikTok monetizes creators and for these creators to have a base, they need people to watch their videos

Information is freedom, and there is no way to get the proper amount of needed information on shiftok, it is a short video app, we are discussing a experimental practice on reality switching.

Besides that, people now want to make you pay for shifting info, or manifestions courses, and so on

Let me tell a thing that sadly will make sense in the future: Shifting is free, shifting has always been free and those people do not have authority on the matter to even teach it

While the community has been improving, there is a lack on the shifter vanguard, on ACTUAL new stuff and an actual understanding behind shifting. Some people shift by oversimplifying things, others by hard looking into why's and hows, both are valid but they need to correspond to each other. If a community is too complex shifting becomes too hard, if a community is too simple shifting becomes a myth.

That is the state of the community, anyones out there who wants to understand why's and how's can't even find good bases since everything is gatekept and even the so called shifters from shiftok can't even understand it or desire to share it.

Therefore creating a community that is constantly a lie, people tell experiences that don't match when being re-telled and either make sense, many have been spotted doing so. Shifting changes someone, it is a trace marked on their minds forever, to fully shift is to be forever changed. Most people are either LDs or having false awakenings and calling it a day.

Besides all that people are fighting for stupid ideas. Being taboo, race changing was never a topic in our community before it began on shiftok. You know why? Because everyone knew that infinity selfs does not mean that you are equally in all realities, we all playing roles, if I am certain race in my Dr that is not the one I am in this reality, then I won't act like I am part of the minority in this reality.

As for the hypocrisies of these people, most accounts that moved this debate was being xenophobic on Portuguese and Spanish communities.

As an extra information, If you know Sunni Method, you should know that sunni was one of the first shifters (on our understanding of DR, WR and scripting) that created and sourced so many different shifting practices and helped the first gen of the community to understand the practice. She did not only proved shifting to the subliminal communities as well define a work that would be still being used today, the Sunni method is the basic for every method. And she is afro American, and for today terms, she would be changing her race depending on the reality.

For the people that keep making futile problematization on this topic, it shows that you never fully understood shifting and created fake scenarios on your mind to source a point that was never a actual point. Minorities need support on day to day life, not whatever people are believing on determined practice.

tw: mention on self harm

As for respawning, anti-respawing are a bunch of ungrateful. Respawning made the very much bases of modern shifting. And for the respawners that belief that it should end on self harm, you do not understand how respawning work and how delicate are the structured you about to mess. If you are suffering from any mental difficulties, search professional help and not spiritual help that often leads to bad escapism.

Going back

The individual journey of someone starts on the seed planted by the community they find shifting, the hard truth is that shifting isn't only a personal experience but a collective one. In another words the community state you get, is the seed of your journey. Before 2018 people had a hard time shifting because they could not understand what it was, a few years later the community achieved a gold state with sharing knowledge and methods (which the English community would constantly gatekeek to their siblings communities btw) and after the mainstreaming on TikTok shifting went down to a stone age.

People are debating either if they can or cannot do things. In shifting. The. Belief. Of. Infinity.

I can understand why baby shifters do these questions, but I see people on this community since 2020 and the ones from 2019 who end up on the wasteland of other social platforms, asking questions that are so OBVIOUS

You don't need to know everything, but for star sakes you NEED to understand the basics of the thing you are doing, what a script is and how to write one, a few methods and your own cosmological view settled down.

Shifting allows you to mix and match beliefs like a Lego set, do it for your personal journeys using what other have found in the past.

While people are degrating the community and locking good stuff a way, shifting gets every day harder and harder, becoming everytime a godfied event and a hard and thought task that only a few can achieve, that is the mindset that is being grown on the community.

Why the hell the overall community nowadays have less and less actual experiences that the community a few years ago?

For the future, I am not sure but I bet on the end of the practice in a few years, when outsiders "grow out of it". Some will shift, others will just move on with their spiritual journey and so on, the community slowly fading.

I am not here to bring a salvation message, I am so tired, I have been making so much for the last 5 years, trying so hard to archive, share and teach people about shifting, in a way that was forgotten and locked down.

I am permashifting soon, and I am posting what I know on the community where I learned shifting in my native language, this end up more in a vent and a warning to what is happening. Do not believe me if you do not want to.

As for the people that want to understand more, I really recommend for you to dig in the past, a hint is that shifting started on amino. ik it is a bad app but sometimes gems appears. Shifting predecessors (quantum immortality and dimensional jumping) are available on Reddit to be studied (see the archives version of D.J) but they don't fully translate to shifting. (do not use the reality shifting subreddit)

And leave the damned app that is TikTok, you may be laughing for 3 seconds with some random girl talking about draco, but would be way better to be in your dr. why would you let your mind rot?

Shifting is a spiritual practice sourced on scientific facts and theories, both may be fighting a lot but a thing that they have in common is digging stuff, dig and search like never before, the community and it's beliefs are open on the internet, sometimes all you need is to answer a few questions and you will be able to find a good plataform

Your journey will be good no matter what.

Happy shifting.

.

[strawberrysnoopy]

ACT ONE: The Photo Shoot, part one

prologue

summary of the series: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.

summary of this part: recalling the first time you and leon met, you've realized you've been poorly treated by your husband. leon is no different, in a toxic relationship with his wife, ada wong. as the seeds of resentment have begun to germinate, the desire for you grows like a brush fire nearby.

warnings: MENTIONS OF PUKE, BUT NOT ACTUAL PUKING, leon teaches you how to smoke (i don't wanna see no dumb stupid comments about "oh but leon hates smoking", well leon isn't disloyal but here we are), brief use of (adjective) girl (atta girl, good girl, silly girl), praise, mentions of misogyny (not from Leon ofc), awkward, tense ass convos, a fuckton of desc. and a little description, no sex (yet ;) ), cussing, descriptions of fucking, descriptions of masturbation, semi-public masturbation, almost caught masturbating, slight corruption kink (? if you squint), alcohol consumption, use of tobacco, smoking, implied sexual references, etc.

also a/n, writing this as of feb. 2nd, 2024: 60 notes?!!!!! i was writing this for my own personal pleasure but like...??!?! i got reblogged so many times?! im gagged, tysm you guys!!! making a playlist rn, so excited to release the soundtrack. if you see little random edits, i'm probably obsessing over the fic and trying to make it perfect lol/anticipate changes. i would also like to write I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING! always communicate with your partner, discuss issues, etc. this fic is just a lil’ taboo type of fantasy, do NOT cheat on your partners.

The first time you met Leon was at a grocery store: two weeks before your husband would have any idea of his existence and one week before he had invited Leon and his wife, Ada, over for dinner. You were picking up a bottle of red wine for you and your husband under the guise of wanting something nice for date night. The reality would actually be you were buying it for yourself after your husband decides you're not worth his affections anymore, lazily mosey on over to the spare room, and pull out his phone to text other women. The wine would be something to drink to inebriate you while you watched a shitty re-run of a sitcom from the 90s. Maybe if you got lucky, Golden Girls was on.

He was only browsing, stumbling upon the liquor section and staying to look if there would be anything worthwhile. And there was. It was you. He knew he had to think of something witty, something cool people say, before you left and thought he was some creep staring at you because he saw a smidgen of your breasts in a magazine. "You're a famous model, right?" He asked. Oh, how stupid he felt. He was a chronic overthinker: thinking of every last terrible scenario, a trait he picked up after becoming an agent. This had certainly felt like one of the worst options he picked, especially with how you would-- You interrupted him. "Yeah, that's me." The subtle sweetness, the slight rasp in your voice was better than anything any street drug could offer with the amount of dopamine flooding into his brain: overloading every neuron, synapse, dendrite, and cell membrane in his body.

But for whatever reason, he stretched his hand outwards and lazily grinned towards you. "I'm Leon." "Nice to meet you. Well, I'd say my name but y'know..." He nodded in an awkward agreement before you could even finish your sentence, but not daring to go as far to interrupt you. He felt as if he already started off the conversation with a cumbersome beginning. "Right, right. So, that's your real name? I see a lot of models use stage names n' stuff like that." He adjusts his weight from one foot to the other, switching the hand holding his grocery basket from his right to his left. He felt so...awkward around you. Maybe it was the fact you were a famous model, or maybe it was the fact you were just so calm. The joke causes a soft chuckle to leave your lips and the mere look of a fleeting moment of bliss to cross over your features makes his knees turn into gelatin. Those nerves solidify into stone when the overwhelming sense of guilt hits him like a tidal wave but allows it to wash over him for the sake of continuing the conversation.

"Yeah, just my regular name. I'm not that creative outside of modeling. Usually the photographers do the thinking and the creative processes for me." He chuckled, shaking his head and barely moving himself a little closer. Leon wanted to sink in that gentle, warm, and soft presence you carried around with you. Your aura felt comforting: like a hug after a tough day: it had felt so much more different than his wife. True, Ada could be affectionate but that's usually only after something good has happened to her or Leon was her last resort of attention. He really hated how much he would act like an obedient dog, awaiting her arrival home, coming back to her after she's treated him like dirt. You? You felt so goddamn altruistic and considerate. And he's only known you for three minutes.

You notice he's gone silent and you're silently hoping he thought you were cool. Cool. Like a teenager trying to fit in. You silently cringe at yourself until he smiles at you, almost like he's signaling you to continue the conversation. You can't think of any conversation starters. And you're a model for gods sake. You're usually so outgoing and social with other people but now it's like a cat came by and stole your voice box. Thankfully, he takes over that portion for you. "Buying wine?" He knew it was dry as all hell but he wanted to steer the conversation away from him being a fan of your modeling gigs. No, he just wanted to talk to you and discover what you were like behind the camera. (Okay, and maybe he wanted to see if you'd flirt with him.) "Yup. But I'm just buying wine for..." You paused, about to say 'for me and my husband' but your throat becomes dry whenever you feel like you're about to announce it to him. "...Myself."

He smiles. He likes that you're awkward in real life. The fact made you feel more real, like you weren't just some sexy model with expensive tastes and a bratty attitude. You were a person like anyone else.

"Right. Me too, just uh...just browsing." You nod, fidgeting anxiously with the sleeves of the coat you decided to toss on last minute before leaving the house.

The conversation went on to end when you eventually realized you would be home late. Although you thought that worrying your husband a little would be the thing that reignited the spark in your marriage, you knew that punctuality was a habit you'd like to upkeep. That, and you also knew if you talked to this handsome stranger for longer, you'd cheat on your husband. That night, Leon had fallen asleep to the thought of you for the first time. Soft little visions of pressing his lips against yours, caressing your cheek softly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, etc, etc, cheesy lovey dovey bullshit. So much more different than the truly filthy thoughts he had about you nowadays. You're torn from your conversation with your friends when you make eye contact with him. You can practically feel his eyes travel from the hair at the highest point on your head to the very last bit of your black, leathery heels with perfect pretty pearls embellished on the pump. For a moment, you feel like you're trapped in some type of horny labyrinth while you stare longingly at him.

He's ripped out of his own longing by the feeling of your husband's hand slapping his back. Ada sat beside Leon with her arm protectively wrapped around his bicep. You felt as if the gesture were a signal to everyone at the party that Leon belonged to her. He was under her control, nobody else's. Or maybe the protective message was for her husband, as if he was an unruly friend to her husband. And you could agree with that. You fell in love with your husband because he was wild and care-free but after the diamond ring was slipped onto your ring finger, you realized he was also carefree in the sense that hurt you: talking to other women behind your back, and leaving for days at a time only to come back inebriated. But you stood by his side, no matter what. You hated how you felt like a doormat but you didn't know what else to do besides stay married and play the role of an oblivious wife while your husband fucks other women in various positions. In a way, you and Leon sat in the same loveless boat. Who knew when that same boat would be shaking from the violence of the both of you fucking, clothing pulled out and to the side instead of being fully taken off. Your thoughts become interrupted by an unmistakably handsome voice.

"Hey."

You feel a hand being placed upon your lower back except it's so much more different than your husband's. The palms were rough, callouses inside the nooks and crannies, and pulsing veins make you all dizzy if you thought about it for too long. His voice was dampened with some undertone of lust, his fingers prodding into the skin of your sides. He's always been a little too handsy for a man that's supposed to happily married. But you always figured touch was how he communicates: touch. But he's never touchy with your husband. Or any of your friends. And he missed you? Sure, your're friends due to the fact your husband was friends with Leon. (Even though you met him first, but I digress.) The simple phrase had your mind reeling, cheeks flushed red due to the hidden intimacy of it all. His wife shoots him a look and his hand immediately retreats back to his side, fighting the urge to palm the engorged erection struggling against the seam of his boxers. "Haven't seen you in so long, hm? Thought you disappeared on me for a minute." He's holding his facade of being totally and irrevocably in love with Ada up and steady. Like he had no feelings for you other than being friends.

"Of course not." You murmur, feeling a hearty chuckle reverberate from his chest. He takes his index finger and his thumb and gently swiping it against your chin.

"Atta girl." And of course, with how hoarse his voice is, your panties are instantly puddled with a thick pool of arousal. You hate his stupid, thick, sexy, and deep voice. You especially hate his voice whenever you imagine him degrading and praising you whenever your husband was away and you just happened to have your hand down your underwear, playing with your clit to ease the throbbing impulses you felt for Leon. He gives your back a single pat before moving back to stand beside his wife. You really hate that you feel jealousy flare like wildfire within you, but you brush it off.

Everyone would eventually be drawn to the several dining tables that were arranged in a group and had golden candlesticks and smooth white tablecloths on top. Once you are seated, you observe that Leon appears to be striving extra hard to guarantee his place beside you. He looks right at you for a brief moment. And only then can you see, just a hint of thirst sprouting in his eyes, before he glances away from you and gives Ada a quick smile while patting her thigh.

It's only a few minutes before Leon decides to break the awkward silence.

"How's that modeling gig going?" You nod, gulping down way too much champagne.

"Good, been going good. Have to admit it gets a little boring posing in front of the camera after a while but can't bite the hand that pays you, right?" You joke, and the table laughs with some sense of jealousy. "Nice to hear. What was your latest shoot?" He asked, leaning forward in a sudden rush of intrigue. Then those words pass your lips. Words he had never anticipated, even in his wildest guess (oddly.)

"A lingerie shoot. For Chanel." The table goes quiet. And everyone, including your dumb-ass husband, look at you. Someone (Ada) clears their throat in the dining room, hinting at you to elaborate and it's almost like you suddenly developed to ability to hear from light years away.

Leon, who had just finally got his goddamn boner under control feels his cock twitch back to life, fully hard instead of a semi this time. And correct him if he's wrong, but he starts to feel pre-cum smearing his dress pants. He's thankful he chose the black slacks instead of his lighter colored ones otherwise this would be downright humiliating.

"Sorry, um...I did an intimates photo-shoot for Chanel a few weeks ago for their new line of clothing." That seems to help lighten the mood a lot more because everyone goes back to their conversation with their respective friends, the embarrassing "confession" from you immediately leaving their minds. "The theme was Overtime. Like, staying later in the office with my shirt unbuttoned and stuff. Nothing that interesting."

The table simultaneously nodded, Leon going as far to excuse himself for a cigarette.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go have a smoke." Leon scoots out from his seat, heading towards the upstairs balcony to take care of business. Asshole, leaving me with his mean ass wife.

You decide to join him outside.

The air had finally gotten too tense, felt too judgmental for your taste. Scampering outside, you're met with the sight of Leon smoking a cigarette outside. That's odd: you've usually pegged him to be the straight-laced, no-nonsense type of man yet here he was, smoking a cigarette while leaning against the balustrade of their friend's top floor home. At the sound of the balcony door opening, he turns his head to see what you're doing out here. His eyes scan you, almost like he would while he's in combat but it's more or less to get another glimpse of the outfit you were wearing tonight. Okay, and maybe he wanted to commit the sight of you to memory.

"You alright?" He asked, trying his best to look straight forward when you step closer and cross your arms over the balustrade.

"M'fine, just needed a minute of fresh air, I think." When you sit beside Leon, there's a few things you notice. The first was his outfit. A white button-up that usually would be covered by his black suit jacket, though he left it behind on his chair in the dining room. There's also mentioning his blacks slacks, fitting his muscular thighs a bit tight but loose enough so they're comfortable. Then there's the dress shoes, ones he wore at his wedding due to how overly formal they looked. Maybe he wanted to get some more use out of them? Who knows.

"What about you? Why are you out here?" You decided to be the one to take the reigns since the air outside had become incredibly awkward as well. "Same. Thought I'd take a minute of fresh air, you know?" The second thing you notice about Leon is how much he calms you. More importantly, how much you never noticed that you were anxious when you were around others. He had this aura of relaxing or maybe you were just buzzed, who knows that either? Maybe it's the cigarette, speaking of...

"I haven't smoked since college. Cigarettes, I mean. Don't think I even know how to do it anymore." The confession makes his head tilt to the side, now taking more of an interest in the conversation than before. He grinned wolfishly, taking your chin in one of his thick and strong hands and pulling your head forward. For a second, you could almost be dumb enough to think he'd be moving in for a kiss. Of course not. You'd never be that lucky. "Open f'me, sweetheart." And like an obedient puppy, you opened your mouth just enough so your pretty pink-shaded lips could be parted. He placed the cigarette on your lip, the moisture making the filter stay in your mouth alongside his index and middle finger holding it up, thumb brushing your chin. Little hazes of grey smoke dance along your tongue without even taking a sip of the smoke yet, your lips trembling with a lustful agony. "Now close your mouth..." He whispered, his damp and hot and horny breath hitting your ear like an affectionate declaration of love. "And inhale."

You close your lips around the cigarette, faintly tasting the flavor of him where he had sucked on the cigarette. You got notes of citrus, rum or some expensive, top-shelf label of whiskey he used to help quell the pain he experienced on grueling missions, tobacco, and maybe even the slightest hint of his wife's lipstick. Chanel's Rogue Allure, if you had to guess correctly. "...Now hold it..."

You held it. "Silly girl." He whispered, pulling the cigarette away from your lips while you slowly exhaled the rest of the smoke you've been holding in your mouth and then some. You can't tell if it's because of the alcohol, Leon's presence, or your mere anxiety but you begin to feel dizzy. Thankfully Leon seems to swoop in with his questions to keep your head in the game. Bless him.

"Why'd you need a minute, huh?"

For a minute there, you didn't know how to respond. Looking down at the leathery pumps you chose for the evening, you begin to wonder why you even chose them instead of answering his question. But you answered him. Eventually.

"I'm just tired. This whole night just seems a bit…” You gesture to the party in the background. “Fake. I don’t want to be here."

He hummed in agreement, but it felt like more of a signal for you to keep going. "I'm also just terrible at making conversation. Especially when it's awkward and silent."

His eyes flicker down to the pumps he'd already stared at tonight, not finding an interest in them anymore than your own body. He tucked his lip between his teeth, pulling the pink flesh away from his mouth before he spoke up again. "You're not that bad, you know? I think you're pretty good. How about this?" He pauses. Then a beat passes.

"Tell me something true. Tell me something you wouldn't brag to anyone about." He moved his cigarette to rest on the balustrade instead of the space between his fingers. "Something that's yours...and only yours."

You look at Leon with wide eyes, mouth agape as you struggle to answer his question. Your eyes rake down his face from the space between his eyebrows to his parted, pink lips: just a little chapped from the cold chill of the night air. You wanted to kiss him. All of those times you've had him over for dinner, all of those times you've spent with your hand down your panties while your husband was away on "business": dreaming of his best friend, Leon, and god, all of those times you thought about throwing caution to the wind and leaning in to press your lips against his: the sum of all of those moments had you quivering for more.

But you'd never cheat. You have a reputation. You have a husband that gifted you the pretty diamond ring on your finger. But how did it always feel so...impossible? Like you couldn't live another day if you weren't able to fuck Leon like a rabid dog in heat. But he was staring at you, almost as if his eyes were laser beams and searing holes into your skin: you had to answer.

"I don't know what I could tell you that's only mine." You chew on your lip. "Huh. How about..."

How about the fact I wanna kiss you? I wish it was you I was in bed with rather than my stupid, cheating husband? The fact you are so much hotter than him?

"I hate being a trophy." And that brings the biggest grin on Leon's face. A massive shit-eating grin. Leon had gone stir crazy. He wanted to peel your entire being open, see all of the nooks and crannies of your soul and devour it whole. But now wasn't the time to scare you away: even if he wanted to fuck you, you were still a friend to him. So he calmed down. "I can't say that's too surprising. I mean, who would? Being able to be pretty and have money being tossed at you is nice until you want something deeper. Then it seems like one of the only things that are scarce in your life."

You nod, letting out a breath of consolation. "That's exactly how I feel. Like my only purpose is to sit still, look pretty, serve my husband, and be a hole when he needs it."

His eyes become downcast, looking down at the garden on the ground level of the restaurant. "I get what you mean." The moment was interrupted by a waiter peeking out on the two of you: head poked outside of the door that lead to the outside area. He pulls his hand away from your soft skin and back to his side, sighing wistfully that tonight wouldn't be the night he gets to act on his desires for you. Damn it all to hell.

"You should head back. I'll be back, yeah?" You nod and within a few seconds, you've returned to your spot at the dinner table. He sighs, hand slipping down to palm at his erection. Fuck. Can't go back like this.

Just resist. You're just another woman. You have a husband, He thinks to himself, I'm married to a lovely woman. I am a faithful husband. The silent mantra he practices on himself works about as well as a band-aid on a bullet hole. Resist. God, but you looked so pretty tonight. That cute jewelry set you wore with your little black dress? Hot. The smoothness of your skin?

Resist.

But he can't stop picturing you on your knees in front of him, sucking on his cock. The sounds your perfect, wet mouth would make. How he'd ease himself down your throat. How you'd whine.

Resist.

Or how about when he could be fucking his cock into your tight, wet, and warm cunt? The tip of his dick kissing your cervix? Or what about the positions he could force your body into? Like having his arm around your throat, bicep curling into your mouth to muffle your moans from his wife hearing? Or how one of his hands would be gripping your hips while he needily plowed into your pussy, while you begged him to let up. Resist.

Resist.

Fuck it.

In the few moments after he's excused himself from you, he's already rushing to the upstairs bathroom of the restaurant: thanking the holy beings above for making it a single stall bathroom for his jerking pleasure. He hastily unbuckles his belt with one hand, other hand impulsively opening Twitter as a first resort to find some fashion fanatic post about the slutty lingerie photo-shoot you did for Chanel. Alas, you're still a bit of an undiscovered goddess in the modeling industry at the moment: so Google is his next best option. He pulls out his half-hard but hardening cock from his jeans before he can even find your photo-shoot and gives it a quick few pumps to ease the throbbing that's starting to build up in his loins. Eventually, he finds it. Thank fucking god because the creativity for his fantasies are beginning to run quite dry. And instantly he's grunting and groaning while he strokes his cock and scrolls through the multiple scandalous photos the photographers took of you.

"Fuck." He winces in pleasurable agony as he stares at quite possibly his favorite photo of you. The photo was in black and white: theme being "Overtime" like you mentioned. The white button up shirt was undone, revealing you had nothing on underneath, and allowed for the side of your perfect breasts to be revealed. If he squinted just a little harder, he could see your puffy nipples threatening to peek out of the shirt. He tried squinting a little harder to see your nipples a little easier. And oh my god. You have piercings?! He almost shot his entire load on the spot. God, he needed to fuck you. And hard. He groans as he feel himself get closer to orgasm. Closer, and closer, until--

"Leon?"

Fuck. It was you. God, of course you're so goddamn sweet, checking up on him to make sure he's okay. He didn't dare stop stroking himself off, especially not when he's got jerk-worthy material of you almost catching him. That's also not mentioning the soft intonations of your almost innocent voice right there. He's trying not to cum too quick, wanting to savor those images for as long as he could but he also realized his wife might start asking some questions and she wouldn't be on the other side of the door if she came upstairs. "F-fuck, yeah?" He responded after much too long of hearing your sweet voice. "Did you need something?" "Are you okay? I just got worried when you left. You've been gone for like..." You check your wristwatch: a classic and dainty Timex from the 80s with a blank band that wrapped around your wrist snugly.

"Fifteen minutes. Do you need water? Ibuprofen?" He shakes his head as if you could see him while he continues to jerk himself off, hand swirling in a sort of cranking motion as he tries to work his cock to orgasm. But his pre-cum isn't coming out fast enough, not as fast as the pumping motions his hand was doing right now, so he spits in his hand before bringing his palm back down to his cock and lathering his dick in spit. You believe him enough to think he might be getting ready to vomit.

"Nah, jus'...ngh, drank too much, I think." Please keep talking, He selfishly thinks to himself. "Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, just text me?" He nodded, grunting out a thank you while he continues to dream of ruthlessly fucking you until you're embedded into his mattress. He wants you. He needs you. He feels himself get a little closer until he finally releases into his fist. His hot and sticky cum ran down his palm while the waves of post-orgasmic bliss and post-nut clarity simultaneously moved together as one. For a few minutes, he's panting like a rabid dog in heat until his breath eventually stills and he's able to walk downstairs and look his wife in the face while giving her the impression that he definitely didn't just masturbate to his best friend's wife. When he sits down at the table, the first person he makes eye contact with is you. You smile at him, mouthing a "you okay?" because, of course, you're still worried about him being sick. He nods with a grin peeled onto his face. Because he came to the sound of your voice. And you didn't have a fucking clue.

credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics

[the-oblivious-writer]

All Too Well

Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

One-Shot

Summary: You develop a big crush on your friend's older sister, Sam. Will you get your fairytale ending? Or will it blow up in your face?

Warning(s): ANGST, swearing, age gap (not specified age gap but R's legal), a little fluff if you squint, insecure Sammy :(

Notes: I re-wrote this soooo many times but I FINALLY got it done. I listened to All Too Well (taylor's version ofc duh) on repeat while writing this and I'm still not sick of it. Also, quick shoutout to @celiastjamesoscar for being an inspiration with her wonderful Sam fics!

You met her younger sister, Tara, at a party and ended up spending the rest of the night talking about horror movies. After that you two became friends and she started inviting you over to her place to hangout. 

When you first saw Sam you could feel your heartbeat pick up in your chest as you gave her a warm smile. You didn’t even mind the blatant glare she gave you. She didn’t say anything to you, only walking to her room. But even if she did you’re convinced you wouldn’t have heard because of how distracted by her beauty you were. Sam had you entranced from the moment you saw her and you weren’t sure if you would ever snap out of it.

The more you came over, the more you would see of Sam. One night you, Tara, Mindy and Anika decided to have a movie night followed along with a sleep over. You weren’t opposed to the idea; agreeing instantly. You would get to hang out with your friends and possibly see more of your dream woman even if it was only for a few moments.

“What are you wearing?” Tara asked with a chuckle. She had opened the front door to find you in Batman pajamas. “Um, ever seen Batman pajamas? Don’t hate on the drip Tara,” you responded while carrying the snacks you brought under your arm. 

She playfully rolled her eyes as you both walked inside. “I’m not hating, it looks good.” Tara said before closing the door and sitting on the couch. You placed the snacks down on the coffee table, Mindy and Anika were cuddled up on the loveseat nearby. “Sweet pajamas, Y/N,” Mindy complimented and Anika agreed. You thanked them before sitting down on the couch.

The four of you spent the rest of the night watching a mixture of horror and action movies. Laughter, gasps and the occasionals screams could be heard from the apartment. By the time it was one, you were the only one up. You slowly got up, as to not wake up Tara who fell asleep with her legs over your lap, and walked over to the bathroom. You emptied your bladder and washed your hands before leaving. But as soon as you left the bathroom you were met with a familiar face. A familiar pretty face. 

“Hi,” you said nervously. You wondered if Sam could tell you heart was racing. “Hi.” Sam responded back dryly before looking you up and down. “Nice…Batman pajamas,” she commented. 

You felt heat rush to your cheeks. You looked down at what you were wearing before looking back up at Sam. “Yeah, it’s um Batman. Which you…obviously know.” You silently gulped at how stupid you acted in front of her. 

She awkwardly nodded at you and looked you up and down one more time before walking away to her bedroom. As soon as you heard her bedroom door shut you scolded yourself. “Stupid!” You shouted in a whisper, hitting your forehead with the bottom of your palm. 

The next time you saw Sam, you found her in a more vulnerable state. You had been avoiding her after your interaction at the sleepover. Every time you saw her the memory replayed and the embarrassment you felt only sunk deeper. You were worried you would make yourself look even more ridiculous in front of her so you made the decision to avoid talking to her unless absolutely necessary.

Lil Guy (5:53 pm) can you come over? 

Simp (5:54 pm) uhhh can’t tn

Lil Guy (5:54 pm) why?? 🤨

Simp (5:55 pm) school stuff yk 

Lil Guy (5:55 pm) cut the bullshit. this is obviously about Sam

Simp (5:56 pm) what does she gotta do with this? 

Lil Guy (5:56 pm) you know exactly what. I unfortunately had to wake up during your

awkward ass interaction with her. heard everything

Simp (5: 57 pm) if I come over will you stop talking about this?

Lil Guy (5:57 pm) no promises. see you soooon

Simp (5:58 pm) yeah yeah cya

You sighed and got up to put on your shoes. Of course Tara would find out about your big crush on her sister eventually. 

You were walking past Sam’s room but stopped in your tracks when you heard sniffling from behind the door. You lightly knocked on her door saying, “Sam?” In the gentlest voice you could muster. Shuffling could be heard behind the door before it opened.

“What?” She asked in an annoyed tone. Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had been crying for hours. “It’s just that I thought I heard somebody crying and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” It pained you to see her like this and you swore to do everything in your power to make everything better.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just–” she sighed, “go back to whatever it was you were doing.” You nodded but stopped her as she was closing the door. “But one more thing. If you need to, like, talk about anything or get some stuff off your chest I’m here, okay?”

 She looked at you almost skeptically. Surely you didn’t mean that. Nobody actually means that. But when Sam looked at you, all she saw was a genuine person offering an ear. She could feel her heart warm at the thought. 

That scared the shit out of her.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Sam thanked you. No glare. No attitude. She meant it. You gave her a warm smile, one she’s noticed she started to look forward to seeing, before telling her it was no problem and walking back to Tara’s room.

Ever since that night you and Sam have been secretly hanging out more and more. It was nothing romantic but she did enjoy talking to you. So, whenever you got the chance to sneak over to her room you would take it. There would be some nights you and Sam stayed up for hours just talking and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Sam was falling while you had already fallen.

One night, you and Tara spent the night watching Gilmore Girls while you drew in your sketchbook. As you continued to draw you suddenly heard the locks starting to turn on the front door. Before you had time to react, the door opened and Sam walked through it. She was about to say ‘Hi’ to Tara before she saw you and instead let out an, “Oh.” She furrowed her eyebrows before looking you up and down. Once again, your heart was racing and you could feel butterflies in your stomach. Just looking at her always had you weak in the knees.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. Sam still chose to act slightly cold toward you around people as not to draw suspicion but she assured you it was just for show. The fact that she wanted to assure you about that, made you give her a lovestruck smile while she told you. 

Tara rolled her eyes at her sister’s attitude and answered for you. “I invited her here, we’ve just been watching TV. Wanna join?” She asked and Sam looked over to the television before nodding. 

You were sandwiched between the two sisters; your sketchbook long forgotten and you blushing madly from the amount of contact you were holding with Sam. Fifteen minutes go by and Tara reaches over to the bowl for some popcorn, only to find it empty. “I’m gonna go get a refill,” she tells you and Sam before grabbing the bowl and going to the kitchen.

You and Sam were now left alone, sitting on the couch. Her left hand was so close to your right that you would barely have to move in order to hold it. As if Sam felt your hesitancy, she brushed her pink against yours without looking at you. It sent a jolt of electricity through the both of you. Your eyes moved down to your pinkies before you turned them back to the television. 

In a moment of confidence, you decide to lock your pinky with hers. You expected her to pull away, shove you off, or even tell you to fuck off but she did neither of those things. Unexpectedly, she kept it there. That was until Tara came back. When the younger Carpenter came back you both pulled away; both sparing a glance while the other wasn’t looking.

Later that night, you were getting ready to leave until suddenly you were pulled into Sam’s room. When Sam fully pulled you into her room, she shut the door and time stopped around you as you felt her soft lips on yours.

By the time you two pulled away, your hands were gently gripping her hips and she had a hand softly holding onto the back of your neck while you were pinned to the door. “What took you so long?” You finally asked with a lovestruck smile. Sam couldn’t help but reciprocate that smile.

—

Your relationship with Sam was often complicated. Her mixed singles were not always easy to identify but you pushed through for her.

You and Sam have been dating for seven months now. It was the same routine every time; Tara would invite you over, you would hang out with her for a bit until Sam chose she wanted you around and signaled for you to follow her when nobody else was looking. 

For the first few months the sneaking around was fun and all but recently you have found yourself wanting more. But every time these thoughts crossed your mind you chose to shove them down. You didn’t want to ruin what you had with Sam. You were with her and that’s all that mattered. 

When Sam invited you over for Christmas you did not hesitate to agree. You felt like your relationship was growing, and this would be one step closer until you could be more than just her little secret. 

You walked through the door with Sam, the air was cold but something about it felt like home somehow. You placed your scarf down on the hanger, along with your coat and hat. Tara and the others came to greet you and Sam before the questions ensued.

“I didn’t realize you two were coming together,” Tara remarked. You and Sam gave each other discreet glances at each other before Sam opened her mouth to reply.

“Her car isn’t working right, so I offered her a ride.” They all nodded to this before moving on. It was not long before board games were being played and hot coco was being sipped. The setting was warm and comforting, and when you felt Sam’s hand grab a hold of yours under the table it only got warmer. 

Tara rushed back from one of the rooms with a scrapbook in her hand as she wore a giddy smile. “Guess what I got,” she said while holding it up. Sam mentally groaned as you shot up and made your way to Tara. “Is that–”

“Yup.”

“Well what are we doing just standing here? Let’s go see what little Sammy looked like.” You and Tara ran to her room. Sam got up and rushed over to you both; not wanting her girlfriend seeing any of her awkward phases.

By the time she got there, it was too late. Tara was already showing you pictures of younger Sam, braces and all. Sam let out a sigh as she saw you look down at the pictures. You look up at her with an opened mouth smile. “Sammy! Well aren’t you just adorable,” you tell your blushing girlfriend.

She walked over and sat down beside you. “You just had to pick when I had braces, Tar?” She asked her sister. Tara gave her a smirk before flipping through the pages. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got more,” Tara responded and flipped to a page that had pictures of when Sam was just a toddler. You let out another dramatic gasp when you see them. 

“Absolutely adorable!” You exclaimed. Sam bit back a smirk as she rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay. I think that’s enough for tonight. We’re about to put on Die Hard; you coming?” She asked you and the younger Carpenter.

“Yeah just a second,” Tara told her before Sam left the room. “Okay. Seriously, when were you gonna tell me about you and my sister?” She suddenly asked, catching you off guard.

Your eyes widened at the accusation. “What– what do you mean?” You stammered. Tara sighed, closing the scrapbook and placing it on her nightstand. “It’s obvious something’s going on. Not to mention you disappearing whenever we hang out and Sam wearing a brand new hickey everytime you re-emerge. Seriously, you guys do a shit job at hiding it.” 

You sighed and contemplated your next words. “You can’t tell anyone though, okay?” Tara looked at you and could tell you were being serious. She holds up her pinky to you before responding, “I won’t tell a soul.” You give her a small smile before hooking your pinky with hers.

By the time you and her leave, the movie’s already playing and you plop down beside Chad, and Tara joining you on your right side. You felt your eyelids growing heavy and eventually fell asleep on Chad’s shoulder, which he didn’t mind. By the time you woke up, a fresh set of snacks were put out and a new movie was on in the background as everyone spoke.

“Oh good, Y/N you’re up just in time for truth or dare,” you heard Mindy say. “What is this, fifth grade?” You joked before joining them on the ground. Tara sent you a smirk when she saw you immediately go to Sam’s side.

“Okay, we were just about to ask Sam if she’s still with cute boy,” Quinn said and felt yourself grow a little small.

“Cute boy?” You echoed and Quinn nodded before continuing her interrogation. 

“So, how about it Sam?” Sam felt your eyes on her; only sparing you a single glance before answering. 

“No, we broke up awhile ago actually,” she answered and everybody else moved on except for you. As they continued to play truth or dare you silently thought to yourself. Who was ‘cute boy?’ And why did it seem their relationship was far more public than their own. 

It wasn’t until you heard your name get called when you snapped out of your spiral. “Y/N, truth or dare?” You heard Chad ask you. You thought for a moment before answering him. “Truth.” 

“Well, I gotta know Y/N…are you and Sam dating?” The room went silent, at least for you it did. You knew Tara would never give your secret out like that. Especially when you literally pinky swore on it. You just did not realize the group would catch on so quickly. 

“Uh–” before you could think of a lie or some lame excuse, you were quickly cut off by Sam. “No no, we’re not dating. I mean come on guys. Could you imagine us together? That’s ridiculous,” she said defensively as you felt your heart ache. 

“You didn’t have to say it like that,” you muttered. “Wait– Y/N I didn’t mean–” Sam started but this time you were the one who cut her off. “I know what you meant.” 

You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom, locking yourself inside. You felt like a complete idiot as you silently cried. The voices in your head continued to say the same things, You are not the exception. You will never learn your lesson.

You were growing tired of putting in ninety nine percent of the effort in your relationships. It hadn’t been the first time you were in this position. Most of your past relationships were you being the only one who cared enough to put in the effort.

As these memories flooded back to you, you felt naïve for letting it happen again. You scolded yourself for it. To make matters worse, you had just embarrassed yourself in front of everybody and probably ruined everything you had with Sam.

You suddenly heard three soft knocks on the door. “Who is it?” You sniffled. When you heard it was Sam you instantly debated whether or not you should open the door. Sam patiently waited on the other side until you opened the door.

Her heart ached for you as she saw your tear stained face. She had done this to you. She had caused you pain. “Hey,” Sam said in a small voice. “Hey,” you echoed back with a cracking voice.

“Can we talk?” She asked you. All you did was nod before she led you to her bedroom. She deeply inhaled as she tried to muster up what she was about to say. 

“Listen, Y/N I’m sorry I never told you about Danny.” You furrowed your eyebrows at her before responding.

 “Sam, it’s not about that. Of course you’re going to have past relationships. I just don’t understand why I have to be a secret while he obviously got to be pretty public. I just– I just don’t know what I did wrong,” You told her honestly.

“What? No, you did nothing wrong okay? It’s just…easier this way,” Sam said and you felt yourself growing more irritated by her vagueness.

“How? How is this easier? Cause’ it feels a hell of a lot harder to me. Especially when my own girlfriend seems so disgusted by the thought of dating me.”

You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Sam kneeled in front of you and took your hands in hers. “I wasn’t disgusted. It was all an act. You know that mi amor.” Her right hand moved up to cup your cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear.

“Do I?” You challenged. Sam looked up at you with her big brown eyes before answering. “You’re my world. Nothing could ever change that,” she reassured you.

You took a moment to think to yourself. You felt Sam’s thumb brush against your bottom lip, causing you to look down at her.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she told you. You sighed in defeat; you knew Sam had gotten away with something once again. You loved Sam deeply but there were times you doubted she felt the same. The thought brought you pain, both physically and emotionally. But for now you would just lay in her arms and try to forget about the world around you and your problem along with it.

Christmas and New years came and went faster than you thought it would. You had enjoyed your time at the Carpenter–Bailey residence despite what had gone down your first night, but you and Sam were good now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Sam and you hit the road at around nine in the morning. You lived half an hour away from them so the ride wouldn’t be long but it wouldn’t be short either. Cruel Summer was playing while Sam drove. Luckily you had a girlfriend who didn’t mind you picking the songs.

“I love the ‘Fuck The Patriachry’ keychain, Tara got you,” you said as you examined said keychain. Sam chuckled a little before looking at you.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing compared to that skirt she got you,” she said with a smirk while eyeing you. You couldn’t help but blush at your girlfriend’s attempt at flirting with you.

You looked ahead to see the light turning red. “Red, Sam–”

“Shit!” Sam slammed her foot on the break before looking back at you. “Maybe you should pay more attention to the road instead of eye fu–”

Sam cut you off, “Yeah yeah, whatever.” She playfully rolled her eyes before moving the car again once the light turned green.

It did not take long before you went back to your typical routine with Sam; you would come over, hang out with your friends for a bit before Sam pulled you into her room when nobody was looking. You felt stupid for letting the incident at Christmas almost ruin your relationship with Sam.

Any time now, she’s gonna say it’s love. You had not exactly said the four special words to Sam just yet; you were afraid of scaring her off. But there were little things that Sam did that showed she felt the same toward you even if she was not the best at displaying her feelings.

You truly believed she loved you back and tonight would be the night you told her you loved her. If only you knew what would transpire. 

Sam held you close to her chest as her chin rested on top of your head. “Sam..” You softly said as you played with the hem of her shirt. She hummed before you continued. “I…I wanna tell you something.” Sam started sitting up while you sat up with her. You lifted yourself up by your arms and looked at her.

You now had her full attention and you were not going to waste it. “I love you, Sammy.” Sam’s breath immediately caught in her throat. “You…what?” She asked, although she heard you just fine.

“I love you,” you repeated, growing nervous.

“Oh..” Was all she said before getting up. You watched her movements as she walked over to gather her things.

“Oh?” You repeated nervously. “Yeah um, hey I’ve been thinking,” she started as you sat there on your bed.  “This isn’t really working. I think we should stop–” she gestured to you and her, “–this.”

All you could do was sit there as you tried to process the woman you loved deeply, shattering your heart as if it were glass. “Sam, what the hell are you talking about?” Your voice was soft yet demanding. You wanted answers.

“We can’t see each other anymore, Y/N.” Sam’s voice left no room for bargaining. When she saw you lightly flinch at her tone she had to resist reaching out to comfort you.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. “I just think it’s better for both of us.” Bullshit, you thought. 

“Tell me a reason. You at least owe me that.” You ignored the tear that fell from your eye as you spoke.

“You deserve more than me…”

Sam spent a lot of her days thinking about you. From the moment you walked into the apartment she had her eye on you. Kissing you for the first time was both her best and worst decision she had ever made. None of this was your fault. She knew what she was getting herself into that night she chose to press her lips onto yours. Risks would ensue and she was aware of that.

Sam felt like a fool for thinking she could have something to herself; something that has not touched the darkness from her past. But that’s just it; you were too good for her. She didn’t feel like she deserved you in any way shape or form. You were too good for her and this world.

That’s why breaking up with you hurts even more. Sam knew in the process of protecting you, she would have to break your heart.

“Sam, please don’t do this.” You were more than familiar with the older woman’s habit to overthink and get lost in her head.

“Please, just let yourself be happy for once,” you practically pleaded as you got up. 

Sam averted her stare and swallowed a lump in her throat as she lightly shook her head. “You know I can’t…”

Samantha Carpenter would never allow herself to be happy. The realization of this set in as you look at her. “That’s disappointing,” you choked out.

“So, what was the point of all this?” The question had been on the tip of your tongue. Sam looks over to you with furrowed eyebrows before you elaborate. “Us. Was I just a hookup to you?” Sam hated that she made you question what you meant to her.

“Y/N…you will always be more than just a hookup. But we both knew how this was going to end,” Sam answered. If you bit your cheek any harder you could draw blood.

“No, actually. I didn’t. But I guess–” you let out a dry chuckle, “–you did Samantha. From the start, right? That, one of these nights you were gonna call me up again just to break me like a promise? Fuck I’m so stupid,” you mumbled the last part.

“Y/N that’s not what I meant–” She reached over to you but you pulled back as if she had burned you; in a way she did. She had just confessed to leading you on during your entire relationship with her. Sam never called it what it was.

“I know what you meant…” Memories of the incident at Christmas flicker in your mind when you say this. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam mutters as she reaches for the door knob but not before giving you one last glance. 

“Goodbye Y/N.”

“Goodbye Sam.” 

Later that night, Sam was in her room holding your scarf closely as she cried more than she had ever cried before.

The memories of you flooded her mind, the moments you both shared before she lost the one real thing she’s ever known. 

As soon as she left you broke down; letting everything you were holding in, out. Maybe you both got lost in translation, maybe you asked for too much. But maybe this thing was a masterpiece til’ she tore it all up. You would forever remember this day all too well.

-----------

A/N: And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us did the love affair maim you too?

[idonthaveany]

About the petitions to have the whole season of Good Omens

I previously re-blogged one, and now I deleted the reblog, for the following reason:

if Amazon thinks that we want a serie and not a movie, they'll cancel it again. If we write a petition on the lines of "we want the movie if there's no alternative, but we wish to have the whole serie" the petition would have 0 impact on Amazon. But if we say "we want the whole series" than Amazon will most likely read it as "they don't like the idea of the movie" and they'll cancel it. I honestly would love to have all 6 episodes, and I really would love to see everything as it was supposed to be, but folks, let's not throw away all the struggle and job done in these months to get this movie! We did get something, is it disappointing that it is shorter that what it was supposed to be? Yeah! But it is something! Let's not risk to have this canceled as well, please!

These petitions made sense before we came to know how difficult it was to have this finale, and we thought they just decided to shorten it. We than came to know that, actually, they had already canceled it, and were afterward convinced to at least make this one episode.

It took long to convince Amazon to give us those 90 minutes, and, from what we know, it seams like they didn't want to produce even this single one, and that they're doing it with as little effort as they could (I'm talking about those who decide wether to produce it or not, I'm not talking about the cast and the crew and all the people that will work on it, which I'm sure will give anything and everything and they'll do their job with lots of passion and love). So if Amazon thinks that there won't be enough people to watch it, they'll cancel it right away. They've already done it once, and than they were convinced to give us at least a movie, and all they need to cancel it back is a snap of their finger. So, again, please let's not make this happen again, please!

[l33bang24]

OMG It’s You…

Youtube! Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️ Warning ⚠️: overthinking, anxiety, undeserving, frustration, fatigue

🏷️: @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone @silverstarburst @jusanontstuff @anxiousskylar @drewsandsebastianswife @amararosesblog @niaalove (taglist open)

Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

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Y/N’s POV

I don’t think people understand just how exhausting life can be. ‘Not to mention expensive too.’ I thought to myself. When I got home I greeted my family before dumping my stuff by the front door then headed to my room. I collapsed on the bed and let out a huge sigh. I didn’t want to get up because of how exhausted I was but I needed to edit some of my videos I’ve made in the last couple of days. I dreaded doing it because I lost some of my footage due to me falling asleep at the computer. How I did it exactly is a mystery to me. All I know is I tried to find it and it wasn’t there.

I got up and started moving about the room. I needed to get changed and get a shower before I started working. As I was in the shower I started reflecting on my YouTube channel. I’m an introvert as most people would say. I don’t socialize much with others unless I’m at work where I have to, but I usually mind my own business. Unless I hear gossip then I’m interested. I debated whether if it was a good idea to start a channel since I didn’t think I was very entertaining.

You see I grew up in the South where I listened to Country music along with some Pop and occasional Hip Hop or R&B. When I first heard K-pop music it was odd at first but over time I came to really enjoy it. Which brings me to where I am now, listening to K-pop music and rating the group’s albums from my perspective and reacting to videos of them being silly. Stray Kids found their way into my heart one day and since then they’ve become a part of my life.

After getting refreshed, I go into the kitchen to find something to eat since my stomach made a gurgling noise. I decided on a sandwich and some chips. After making my food I head back to my room and start up my computer and monitors. It’s been a little over a year now since I started this channel. I knew from the start that doing a reaction channel probably wouldn’t go viral right away, but after some time more people started to find my channel and following me. Especially after my reaction to God’s Menu MV. Call it the Felix effect if you would. Even to the point where they were excited for new videos to come out.

I always worried that people wouldn’t like my videos, but then I would see all the positive comments and smile that I made someone’s day better. I used that positivity to keep me going, doesn’t mean that I didn’t get hate here or there. Although there are a bunch of people who stood up for me. That would always make my day better.

‘Focus Y/N. You still have to finish these two videos so you can start making more for next week.’ I shook my head and got working on my videos that I already recorded. ‘I need to re-record what I deleted so that I can finish editing this video.” I got to work on the one I didn’t mess up first before going to the second one. I pulled my camera towards me and turning it on. I pulled up the previous videos I had watched from that evening before doing my intro.

“Hello Lovelies and welcome back to the channel. So, as you will see I’m dressed different from my previous video. Reason being is that I deleted some footage and now I’m having to re-record where I left off. So, let’s get started shall we.”

——————————————————————

Third Person POV

The boys were taking a small break from practice. They’ve been going at it for days it seemed like, even if it were only a couple of hours. Things were picking up since their comeback was coming up soon. As each one of them found a place to relax, Felix was watching a video on YouTube.

“How many times have you watched that same video?” Felix looked up to see his other half looking at his screen with his eyebrows raised. “I can’t help it. She’s very relatable, super sweet, and I love her accent. Plus she’s beautiful and has gorgeous y/e/c eyes.” Hyunjin sits down beside Felix. “Okay okay I get it, you love everything about Y/N. It’s not like you’re the only one though.” Hyunjin takes a moment to look at the rest of his members. “We all have seen her videos and like her just the same as you, if not more.” Felix sighs. “I know. I guess some days I enjoy watching her videos because they make me smile. Especially when some days are harder than others. Her videos comfort me like a warm hug on a cold day.” Felix smiles thinking about it while Hyunjin smiles at him, understanding where he comes from.

He remembers when they first found Y/N’s videos. During Chan’s room, there were some Stays that told Chan to look her up and watch her videos. It didn’t happen right away but Stays were persistent on them watching her, so they finally watched one of her videos just to see what their fans were talking about. One video turned into three videos then seven videos, up until the point where they had seen all of her videos. Some might say that Stray Kids themselves love Y/N’s videos more than Stays. Each member has there own favorite episodes of Y/N as well as their favorite qualities of her. Chan likes how motherly she acts, especially when it comes to Stays asking her questions on certain topics. Lee Minho likes how she can understand and speak Korean. Even go as far as to have subtitles in Korean for people who don’t understand English that well.

Changbin likes her laugh, especially when its uncontrollable laughter. It makes him want to laugh with her. Hyunjin likes how creative she can be with her edits. Like when she adds in all these cool effects or audio cues that make the video even more engaging. Han Jisung likes how uncharacteristically funny she can be without trying. Felix like her smile, he thinks it’s her most charming point. Seungmin likes her sassy/blunt side. He thinks that’s the funniest part of her personality. Jeongin likes her whole personality in general. He knows he could see her as an older sister if he ever met her.

Hyunjin turns back to Felix “I believe that’s exactly how Stays feel seeing videos of us too. We’ve seen them express it through messages and videos. So I get where you’re coming from.” He pats Felix’s knee and moves to go back over to his original spot.

“SHE JUST POSTED A NEW VIDEO!” All of the boys looked in the direction of the voice they heard. All scrambling to get over to Changbin who had called them. “Well what are you waiting for? Play the video!” Lee Know shouts as Changbin presses play on his phone.

(Terrible title but it’s all I could come up with lol. Hope you all like it! I’m trying something new so who knows how far I’ll go with this one. I’ll try to update as much as I can. Thanks!)

[natashaslesbian]

Another Mother (Pt 2)

Summary: it’s your first morning in Scarlett’s house and after an argument with your dad you find yourself leaning on Scarlett

Word Count: 2.1k

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You flopped down dramatically onto your mattress, hitting it slightly harder as it was only laying against the floor. “Thanks Dave” you said as you rolled onto your back “no problem darl” he smiled. Dave was one of the movers helping you and your dad move into his girlfriend’s place, he had single handily got all your furniture up to your new bedroom on the second floor. In just a few hours you had got to know Dave well, it was nice to talk to someone who didn’t see you as the girl whose mom had died. Dave picked up the last of cardboard boxes on the floor “welcome home darl” he said. You smiled politely but couldn’t quite thank him, because this wasn’t your home. It was Scarlett’s home. Yes, Scarlett Johansson. “Bye Dave” you waved as the mover gently closed your door. You sat up slowly on your mattress, looking around at all the furniture you would have to re build tomorrow. In reality, the size of the room made it look like a lot less work, you were worried about how you would fill all this empty space. You heard laughter from downstairs, reminding you of the two love birds down on the first floor. Colin, your dad had managed to fill his empty space, but you weren’t quite so open. You didn’t want a new mom, you wanted your mom.

It was late by the time everyone was someone settled and Scarlett decided to treat the three of you to takeout, as if it was a dent in her purse spending $30. You decided to eat in your room, wanting to be alone for a while. Your dad had tried to convince you to sit with them but you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop the gag in the bag of your throat seeing them so lovey dovey. “Ok Kid, we’ll come say goodnight in a bit” Colin said as you trudged back up the stairs. “She hates me” Scarlett sighed, looking down at her engagement ring. “She doesn’t hate you, she just doesn’t know you that well yet” Colin said as he wrapped an arm around his partner. “It’s not been easy since her mom, she’s not as adaptable as me. It’ll take time but one day you and her will be the best of friends” he said. “Do you think so?” Scarlett asked “I know so. She’ll never admit it but when she was little I tried to get her into superhero’s. Black widow was her favourite before she watched Harry Potter and decided that that would be her entire personality” Colin smiled, Scarlett smiled as the little story. “I know deep down she’s excited to get to know you, she’s just scared. She thinks I’m replacing her mom, I just wish I could tell her that would never happen. But I have moved forward, and I’m happy. I’m so happy with you” Colin said as he lent forward to kiss Scarlett’s forehead. “Let’s eat, then we can say goodnight to y/n and snuggle up in OUR bedroom” Scarlett said with a wide smile.

Waking up in a new unfinished bedroom felt strange, what felt even more strange was the sound. At your old house, you would wake up to the birds singing, no matter the time. Living next to a large field had its perks and you loved the fresh air that came rushing into your bedroom every morning. You felt stiff having slept on a thin mattress against the bare floor, stretching out your sore muscles felt so good. You checked your phone briefly, seeing it was still very early. Your stomach growled as you looked over at the untouched takeout from last night, food had been the last thing on your mind sitting in your new room. You figured it would be a bad idea to eat next day cold chicken, so you ventured down to the kitchen in search of breakfast. It had only just gone 6am so you were surprised to hear cluttering coming from the kitchen. Shuffling in slowly, you saw Scarlett at the stove, pouring what looked to be pancake mix into the pan. Your heavy footsteps alerted the blonde to your presence “morning y/n” she said as she turned around to give you a warm smile, making you cringe internally. “Morning” you said as you crossed the room.

Scarlett continued her actions until she noticed your confused glance “thought I’d whip up a little something for breakfast, I’m a bit of an early riser so was gonna surprise your dad with breakfast in bed” she said as she flipped a pancake. The sweet tone of her voice infuriated you and without thinking you spoke your true thoughts “my mom used to do that for dad, she made her pancakes from scratch though” you coldly said, not missing the slight frown in Scarlett’s features. “Well I’m not the best at cooking” she said as she painted a smile back on her face “I did get a vegan mix tho, your dad told me you don’t eat dairy” she finished. “You’re making me pancakes?” You questioned, feeling slightly guilty at your earlier outburst. “Oh if you want something else feel free to help yourself. I have oat milk for cereal and there’s some eggs if you’d like those” Scarlett said, delicately moving the hot pancake from the pan to the plate. “I could make you some bacon if you’d prefer or perhaps some sausages?” Scarlett continued as she listed off the long list of breakfast items she had. “Can you just stop!” You yelled out suddenly, Scarlett froze at your outburst. “You don’t have to do…all this! I can take care of myself ok. I know you weren’t expecting some random teenager to be dumped with you when you got involved with my dad but I wasn’t exactly expecting a new mom. And just so we’re clear, I’m not looking for one either!” You yelled as you stormed out of the kitchen and stomped back up the stairs.

The noise from downstairs had woken Colin up and you brushed past him on your way back to your bedroom. “Y/n?” He said as you stormed past him with tears coating your cheeks. Your dad decided not to press you straight away, he’d learned early on after your mom passed that it was important for you to let out your emotions. Colin headed downstairs to see if his fiancé might be more open to talking. Walking in slowly, he saw a saddened looking Scarlett standing by the stove “honey?” He said softly. “You’re supposed to be in bed” she said as she turned to Colin “I was making pancakes for you” she said sadly. “What happened?” Colin asked as he made his way over to Scarlett. “Does y/n think I’m gonna replace her mom?” She spoke quietly. “Is that what she said?” Colin asked “well sort of” Scarlett said with a large frown. Colin ushered his fiancé over to the kitchen island where they sat together hand in hand. “She just said that she’s not looking for a new mom. She got upset when I was giving her some ideas for breakfast” Scarlett said. “Oh my god she’s so dramatic” your dad sighed “I’ll have a word and get to her apologise, she’s not gonna get away with being so rude” Colin said angrily as he rose from his seat. “I don’t think she meant it like that” Scarlett called, pausing Colin’s movements “she just got…overwhelmed. Maybe I came on too strong, I just wanted her to feel welcomed” the blonde frowned.

Back in your room, you sat in silence letting the guilt consume you. It was only when you heard the thumping footsteps outside your door did you finally return to reality. “What the hell is the matter with you!” Colin shouted as he threw open your bedroom door “I told you that you would be respectful to Scarlett and then you go and talk to her like that!” He yelled. “I’m sorry” you whispered under your breath “I’m not finished!” your dad screamed as he interrupted you “I am running out of options with you y/n, this behaviour has to stop! You are not the only one who lost your mom and it would be nice if you could just appreciate that I am happy. You may not like it but I am with Scarlett now and you are just gonna have to get used to it because this is reality now! I’m getting sick of you.” Colin said as you just sat and took your medicine. He didn’t even give you a chance to explain or apologise before he was out the door, bumping into Scarlett on the way. “You’re supposed to be taking a shower” she said with a disappointed glance. “I’m now going” Colin said in a huff as he brushed her off. “If that’s how you talk to her it’s no wonder she gets riled up so quickly” Scarlett said softly “what would you know? You’re not a mother are you” Colin said as he slammed the bathroom door closed.

Your door was gently pushed open and you glanced up cautiously to see Scarlett carrying through a tray of food. “Brought you some pancakes” she said brightly, slowly depositing the tray atop your desk. You could see the glimmer of sadness behind Scarlett’s eyes “I heard what my dad said to you, I’m sorry” you said. “It’s not your fault y/n” Scarlett said as she sceptically came to sit with you. “If I hadn’t made him angry he wouldn’t of said it, so I’m sorry” you sheepishly said “and I’m sorry for what I said too” the blonde placed her hand on your shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting touch “does he usually speak to you like that when he’s mad?” She asked. “You heard?” You said in an embarrassed tone “could hear him from downstairs” Scarlett replied. “He expects a lot from me, especially since mom died” you frowned. Scarlett had never seen such an angry side to Colin, she found herself feeling somewhat protective over you, despite her unconditional love for your dad. “He shouldn’t have yelled at you like that” the older woman said “he’s just going through a lot” you said, trying to find excuses for your dads behaviour. “So are you” Scarlett said as she rested her arm around your shoulders. You felt tears well up in your eyes and couldn’t resist but to lean into Scarlett’s embrace. You didn’t expect it to be so warm and so comfortable, something that felt almost like home. You forgot for a second that you weren’t basking in the comfort of your mom and sat up quickly to wipe your eyes. “Sorry, you shouldn’t have to deal with me being all hormonal and teenagery” you said while rubbing at your nose with your sleeve “thank you for breakfast” you said ending the conversation. Scarlett smiled as she stood up and left your room.

It was lunchtime when you next dared to venture out of your room, once again in search of food. Silence followed you throughout the large house as you journeyed towards the kitchen. You helped yourself to an apple from the spotless fruit basket on the corner counter. “Hey kiddo” your dad said from behind, startling you slightly. “Hi” you said questioningly over your shoulder, you watched as Colin took a seat at the island counter and assumed he wanted you to do the same. “Y/n I’m sorry about this morning, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that” Colin said “it’s no excuse but I guess the move has been harder on me than I thought it would. I know you miss your mom sweetie and so do I but I just want you to get along with her” he finished with a face full of regret. “It’s okay, I forgive you” you said quietly before taking the first bite of your apple. “Scarlett said you got a bit upset, it was her who made me realise I was wrong, she was really mad at the way I spoke to you” Colin said with an uncomfortable laugh. “Oh mother of the year everybody” you said sarcastically, making your dad raise his eyebrows at you in a warning way “sorry” you huffed. Assuming the conversation was over you made a break for your bedroom “fancy a movie night later?” Your dad said pausing your movements “the 3 of us, your pick first?” He said as he walked up next to you “I think Scarlett might like another little hug” he said with a cheeky grin. you watched as he went into the living room, slightly annoyed that he knew about your slip up. Deep down, you knew the hug felt nice, but you remained decided - Scarlett isn’t your mom, she never will be.

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Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @kkreader78o / @hatergirl-69 / @asv-xx

[gingerlee-holds]

I feel bad for popping a request in ☠ anyway

If you're feeling up to it, perhaps ler Todoroki x lee Reader (bc me and reader insert are inseparable /j) from MHA? Length, perhaps 900+ words if possible? But I'll be grateful for anything haha, I also don't want to force you to write more if you're not feeling inspired i'm gonna be honest here I haven't watched MHA in a long time ☠ and I have no idea what scenarios would be realistic because he's,, Todoroki,,

Personally i'm a sucker for evil/more intense tickles because I wish I was ticklish but if that makes you uncomfy do feel free to ignore :)

oh hush, you!!! i love requests, so thank you so so much!! i just hope this is somewhat what you wanted heehee- enjoy!!! i have a huge crush on this dork so that creeps in- also the reader's quirk is whatever you want it to be, cuz its not mentioned- also also!! im really really sorry if i fuck the names up cuz from what i know of the show, Todoroki is the family name, so Shoto is the given name but i could be totally wrong

i just wanna say that i really really like writing the rambly bits from Shoto about the book-

the reader is sorta a brat lol

Like Poetry

Words: 2,334 Pairing: Ler!Shoto, Lee!Reader Warnings: lotta fluff!!! not proofread!!!

You groaned as you entered the common room. Mr. Aizawa’s personal training was brutal today, and you were not looking forward to feeling how sore your muscles would be tomorrow morning. Sighing, you grabbed one of Sato’s cupcakes from the counter and flopped onto the sofa, confident it would be unoccupied. It was about seven in the evening on a Friday, which meant everyone was either in their rooms or somewhere around town. 

You huffed into the mattress before gasping at the sound of a page being turned. Looking up, you saw you were about a foot away from, in your mind, the strongest student in your class. He was sitting with perfect posture, reading a book with yellowed pages. On the coffee table sat a mug filled with tea.

Shoto Todoroki didn’t look up from his book at you. If he knew you were there, he didn’t show it. He silently read, seemingly fully absorbed. You sat upright, shaking off the embarrassment of almost landing on him, of all people. 

You cleared your throat and gobbled up your cupcake in one bite, setting the wrapper down next to his tea. Still, he didn’t move. Raising an eyebrow, you poked him in the side to get his attention, and the surprised gasp he gave made you giggle. Shoto looked at you, brow furrowed in annoyance, but his face soon softened when you smiled and waved.

“Hi!” you said chipperly. 

He nodded politely in return. “Hello, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

With a chuckle, you shoved his shoulder. “No worries! Whatcha reading, bookworm?”

Shoto tilted his head. “I’m not a worm.”

You sighed and repeated your question without the tease. You loved that your classmate was so adorably literal. 

“I’m reading this book of old poetry. I don’t remember where I got it - it feels like my family’s always had it lying around. I decided to read it today since everyone’s out.” His voice was calm as he spoke.

You were somewhat interested in the subject but mostly just wanted to hear him talk some more. It was so rare that he spoke. “Anything good in there?”

“I found this one that I liked,” Shoto said before flipping back a few pages. “Rain on lemongrass. / Ash trees weep o’er their lost sun: / Their light and love, gone.”

The poem made you hum in thought. “What’s it about?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asked. Taken on its face, it was an insulting question, but you knew Shoto was genuinely unsure whether to explain it. You shook your head in reply. “The poem is about heartbreak. A woman falls in love with someone, and suddenly, that person has to leave. The woman feels like she has nothing left as she cries into a world that has bigger concerns than her. Soon, perhaps, her love shall return, the sun re-emerging from the clouds, but there’s also the possibility that she doesn’t last until then, and the wind blows her over. Ash trees symbolize grief, so perhaps they may never meet again. The lemongrass, evoking a cheerful memory, is smothered under the rains that hide her beloved.” Suddenly, he looked up from the page. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was rambling.”

You scratched your head. “How did you get all that from just three lines?” You didn’t mind, of course. He was cute when he rambled. To your great surprise, he let out a soft and sheepish smile. 

“Well, I suppose I have too much time on my hands,” he said, looking away. You smirked and poked his side again, giggling at his surprised reaction. Shoto let out a muffled yelp and jumped, glaring at you suspiciously and rubbing his side. “Quit that.” 

“Sorry, Icy-hot! Can’t be helped!” You held up both your hands in mock surrender.

“Hm,” Shoto mumbled, looking back to the book. “This book was written entirely by hand. See? This character is slightly different here, here, and here,” he continued, pointing at different parts of the page. “And from what I can tell, its publication predates quirks, hence why they are not mentioned. If they had quirks, you would think there’d be a suggestion of their existence, no? Yet there’s nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seems like this book is a remnant of a simpler world.” His expression looked distant as if his mind were a hundred miles and years away. 

You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head. “Sounds dorky. Maybe you should tell Deku! I’m sure he’d be all too interested,” you chuckled, then looked over. If he heard your comment, he gave no sign. He must still be lost in thought. Looking down at his side, you saw it was perfectly exposed. You were pushing your luck. Then again, what is a hero if not someone who tries their luck? You pursed your lips together and quickly extended your hand to poke Shoto’s side again. 

But he was faster. As if expecting your reckless act, he set his book down and grabbed your hand before it made contact in one fluid movement. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“I do my utmost to avoid doing that, yes,” you said, giggling nervously. His grip was firm, giving you no delusions of escape. His hand was chilly, as if Shoto was threatening to encase your whole arm in ice at any moment. You tugged slightly.

He didn’t let go. “No, you need to learn this lesson.” Somehow, that was among the scariest things you’ve ever heard, right alongside the speech of the hero killer and Mr. Aizawa announcing an extra homework assignment before the summer break. Shoto pushed your legs toward the end of the couch, pinning you to his chest with both hands held behind you. You shuddered as Shoto said, “Now, learn well.”

Since both your hands were stuck behind you against his torso, you couldn’t defend yourself whatsoever when he descended both hands onto your stomach. You erupted into bright, bubbly laughter and kicked your feet like that would do anything to help. All that went through your head was repeated, ‘Oh, fuck, that tickles!’ 

You heard Shoto’s hum of approval from behind you as he clawed his fingers over the thin fabric of your shirt. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. 

“ShIhihihihIt! ShohOhOHohotoHoHoho!” You shook your head and thrashed all you could, but it didn’t matter. Shoto was stronger, and he would make sure you knew it. 

“Yes, Y/N?” he asked casually.

“STohohoHOAhaap!!” It didn’t have a chance of working, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“No.” Shoto’s clawed hands squeezed around your stomach in circles, taking a moment to dwell on your extra-ticklish lower stomach, which he took delight in exploiting. If you didn’t know any better, you would even say he enjoyed it as much as you were. 

“NohOHoHOhoHT TheheHEherre!” you pleaded helplessly, throwing your head back to give your torturer the best puppy eyes you could… although they were far less effective than you had hoped since they were quickly squeezed shut in uproarious laughter. 

“Here? Right here, yes?” Shoto released a flurry of pokes on your lower stomach as if he wanted confirmation.

You nodded and hiccupped, doing all you could to contain the blush that bloomed on your face at the sound of his cooing hum. Mercifully, he gave you a break, and you panted for breath against him. “Shihihitt…” you giggled, squirming in his grasp to get the ghost tickles off your tummy. 

“Here,” Shoto said, and you turned to see he was holding up his mug for you. Gratefully, you took a big sip of the refreshing tea, smiling a little at the warmth of it. It was strangely sweet; you had expected Shoto to only like the bitter teas, but surprisingly, the flavor was somewhat sugary. As if reading your mind, Shoto said, “It’s chamomile. It helps me relax.” He took the mug from your mouth and set it back on the table. 

Shoto cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Is my release dependent on how I answer that?”

“Yes.”

“Then… Never!” You madly giggled as you attempted to escape his grasp before quickly regretting it. He had you suitably pinned, and to further reinforce his lesson, you realized with terror that he was rolling up your shirt to your ribs. “Wait, Shoto-!”

Your tormentor didn’t give you time to finish. Without fanfare, his hands descended onto your exposed tummy. Instead of clawing around, as he had done before, he was using quick scribbles, which, coupled with his cold fingers on your bare skin, was maddening. 

“SHohOhoHOTO!” You had no idea you were so ticklish! By the looks of things, it seemed like he had been in tickle fights before, and from how badly he was wrecking you, he was used to winning them. 

He hummed in thought as your thrashing weakened. “Your belly button is incredibly ticklish,” he observed. It was, to your dismay, very accurate. It didn’t help that his cold finger was heightening the feeling!

“PLehEHehEHHEase! MeheHEheheercyy!” you squealed out, kicking and bucking like a horse.

“Goodness, you’re dramatic. It’s only tickling, Y/N. If anything, this should build your endurance. What if the League captured you? I doubt you’d last a minute before you spill everything you know if they knew this weakness of yours.”

Why did he have to be so monotone with his teasing? He sounded so casual as if he were still explaining the history of that old book - only he was speaking over your hysterical cackling. He was a fast learner, too: he was pretty adept at locating the spots that got an especially wild reaction out of you and cruel in punishing them.

Shoto’s fingers increased in pace while always keeping one wiggling about in your navel. “I know,” he said, “I get it; you’re very, very ticklish. Now calm down.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He was having fun! “I wonder… you’ve inspired me to write my own poetry! Let’s see…” He paused to think, unfortunately not slowing down the tickles, making you yelp and shriek. “Ticklish cutie / Squealing on the couch with glee / With a cute tummy,” he slowly said as if writing it down. With a gasp, you felt him do just that, writing down the poem on your belly with the tip of his fingernail. 

You turned beet-red as you threw your head back, your laughter turning silent. You had long since begun crying with delight, and tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers, but he didn’t stop until you started coughing. With a chuckle, he released you, and you panted for breath. You didn’t move from his lap, and Shoto didn’t seem to mind. He gently placed a hand on your forehead, tilting it toward him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently. You nodded with a smile, which he returned. His smile was inviting, like a sunbeam on a winter’s day. He slowly helped you sit back up and handed you his mug again. You eagerly gulped it down. The tea was warm and sweet, and when you finished it and set it back on the table, you realized that Shoto wasn’t too different. 

“Thank you, Shoto,” you said softly.

“For the tea?”

“Yes,” you replied, “and… for the tickles. It… helped me unwind.” You looked away and rubbed your neck shyly. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N. It was fun for me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.” He smiled again, a small treat like candy. “It’s nice to see you so carefree. You’re usually a ball of nerves,” Shoto admitted bluntly, making you sigh and nod in agreement. 

You basked in the silence for a bit before both of you suddenly looked up. That was the unmistakable sound of… And right on cue, the word ‘mumble’ began to figuratively float across your field of view. At its origin, you and Shoto saw Izuku madly scribbling in his notebook and mumbling about something. You swore you caught the words “ticklish,” “stomach,” and “squeals.” 

Behind Izuku, standing in the hallway, were Ochaco, Denki, Tsuyu, Mina, Eijiro, and Kyoka. The first two desperately attempted to quiet Izuku, to no avail. You sat bolt upright, glaring at the unwelcome audience. 

Eijiro broke the silence with a playful swat to the back of Izuku’s head. “You got us caught with your nerd shit, Deku,” he joked, making the green-haired hero look away backfully. 

“That was adorable!” Mina grinned, pointing at you. “You made a bunch of noise, so we wanted to check it out!” 

“You’d better erase what you wrote, Deku.” You spoke calmly but in a way that gave no misapprehensions about your seriousness. 

Ochaco looked over Izuku’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like he’s gonna do that.”

“Midoriya,” Shoto spoke up. “Be sure to write that they couldn’t use their quirk while being tickled.”

You gasped at the betrayal. “Don’t you fucking dare write that, Deku!”

With a glance, Denki, Kyoka, and Tsuyu replied simultaneously, “Oh, he’s already writing it.”

With a growl, you shot from the couch. “You’re fucking dead, Deku!” Your classmates yelped with shock and ran down the hall from you, stifling their giggles. 

Eijiro, egging you on, tossed back over his shoulder a snide, “Now you’re sounding like Katsuki!”

“Oh, I’ll make Katsuki look like a fucking bag of pop rocks when I’m done with you idiots!” Your threat carried no heat since it was filled with giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation, smiling fondly at how much you loved your friends.

And behind you, on the couch, Shoto grinned with pride as he picked up his book to continue reading. He was glad he had been allowed to be so affectionate with someone for a chance. Absent-mindedly, he picked up his mug of tea for a sip but sighed disappointingly at the lack of tea inside. Maybe he needed bigger mugs. 

[meliciousmel13]

WOULD'VE COULD'VE SHOULD'VE PART 2

PT 1 PT 2

warnings: angst, fluff i promise you end up together. mentions of suicide and ed. if these things make you uncomfortable please do not read!

wc: 1,834

SYNOPSIS: the aftermaths. madison comes to your best friends house for forgiveness? (you blocked her number).

taglist: @guysimgay164, @madisonbeerssecretwife @bandanamatt

an: tell me if u like it or not cuz i don't!

the following days were normal. staying at home, re watching your old favorite movies and Allison occasionally coming over to spend time with you.

you totally forgot about madison now. yes. forgot about madison and everything else. except now you go to sleep to pass the time, now you wake up at midnight and watch gravity falls with a million useless thoughts in your head. now you stare at your ceiling watching the fan spin while thinking of what would’ve happened if you didn’t leave—if you didn’t lash out. what would’ve happened?

it’s been 4 days since new years which means it’s January, 4th. 96 hours. since your talk with her. your not one to count the days but she was stuck in your mind. if she wasn’t there then you would’ve been fine. if she didn’t approach you, you would’ve been having fun with your friends. but your stuck at home thinking about her again. you finally got her out of your head with allisons help but she ruined your peace of mind and your life.

madison was now outside allisons door. apprehensively waiting outside your best friends door. why? because she was genuinely scared that Allison would physically hurt her.

She rang the bell again, hearing shuffling behind the door and a head creeping out. it was allison, “the fuck are you doing here.” she opened the door wider, not as an invite in, but so madison could see the absolute disgust in her face.

“i just wanna ask you something.” she answered, fumbling with your her over-sized sweater. repeating the same thing over and over again in her head because she had to muster up any courageous nerve she had in her body to let a sound out. the nerve to be so desperate that she came to her exes, best friends house, who wanted to strangle her and leave her in a ditch.

“no—i wanna ask you something. how the hell did you find my house?” allison asked, and madison sighed, looking away from her face and playing with her braids. she wanted this to be done with so she could explain herself and then get you back and then happy happy. but the world doesn’t work like that and first she has to explain, to explain again.

“y/n forgot her sweater in your house once so she asked me to get it for her.”

“so she gave you the keys to my house without telling me? your lying.” allison said, and madison wanted to bash her head in a wall because why the hell. in the living hell. did she think this was a good idea.

“look, i can just go if you want i just—”

allison laughed. she laughed. “i’m joking, come on.” it wasn’t funny. but Madison chuckled to mask the fact that she was overanxious.

the house was filled with a unique scent of cinnamon and pumpkin spice. multiple things—trinkets on the small shelf in the living room. it’s grown since the last time she came. it was sort of welcoming. it seemed lived in.

“so what do you want?” allison said, with an under meaning tone. “wait wait. let me guess.” she hummed, as if thinking. she wasn’t thinking. she was taunting her. “you came to talk?” madison almost said ‘no shit’ out loud but she didn’t want to make the blond even more hostile to her. she was the one who had to deal with the mess known as you for 2 weeks. and she wasn’t about to forgive the person who almost made her best friend kill herself so easily.

madison couldn’t even get out a word before she was interrupted. “you know she loved you? you know she tried to kill herself over you? she tried to fucking slit her wrists, because you dumb fuck—your dumb. fucking. brain. decided, that breaking up with someone—over text! who you know! has suicidal thoughts, was a good fucking idea. i know you know because you were there when she attempted for the first time!” Allison yelled, and madison was culpable of it all. because allison said all the things you were too afraid to say. because you were too soft to say the things on your mind.

it was pure silence. until allison spoke again. “do you still love her?” and madison scoffed. of course she still loved you. she loved you so much it was overwhelming her every thought. you left your clothes at her house and she cried on every single one. she wore them so much that it didn’t even smell like you anymore.

“you were all that she talks about. literally, it was starting to get annoying. until you ruined it all and now she’s just constantly sad, because of you. so i want you to answer. do you still. fucking. love her? because if you loved her you’d have an answer for me when i ask, why in world would break up with someone you loved so much.” the blond asked—pointed out, madison couldn’t tell. but she knew that she didn’t know a future without you in it.

the yearning to wake up next to you was so intense she didn’t know how she survived 2 and a half months without going insane.

the words allison said went on for hours, so long she sat madison down, just to stand up and yell at her. madison took it. she took every insult and sat there with a headache so extreme she had to rub her temples to try to calm it down.

now the blond was in her kitchen drinking water and madison laid her head back on the couch and looking at the ceiling fan turn.

“hey, can you come over?” a small voice, raspy from all the yelling. madison turned her head just to hear your sweet velvety voice echo through the empty home. like honey. and she swore she’s never felt so at peace. so happy.

“she’s coming in 15 minutes so get your shit together.”

madison didn’t understand. why the blond would give her another chance if she hated her so.

“and if your wondering why. i’m doing it for my best friend, because i know although your a horrible person, that you make her happy.”

allison swore a lot.

15 minutes passed in a blur and the door was ringing already. and allison ignored it. “will you get the door?” madison asked, sitting up; overstrung.

“are you kidding? your apologizing not me.”

madison groans, so nervous her hands were sweaty. she opened the door to see you. you had you bag swung over your shoulder and your hair was messy—you looked gorgeous. and confused.

“what are you doing here?” you looked across madison’s shoulder to see allison on her phone over at the kitchen counter, you push her aside and walk over to the blond, “what is she doing here?”

“she wanted to apologize,” she shrugged her shoulders, “i’ll leave you two kids alone.” allison mumbled and went to her bedroom.

you sigh and turn around to face her. she had her hair done but her face was a mess. she had dark circles under her eyes and she was wearing your favorite sweater and baggy jeans. she looked beautiful.

“that’s mine.” you comment, dryly. pointing at the sweater she had on.

“you left it at my house.”

you nod, please let this suffering end. oh god this is painful.

“i missed you.” Madison said, bravely speaking up. and speaking to you. she was talking to you, and you weren’t hostile.

“you don’t miss me anymore?”

never mind. “what?” she frowned, clenching her sweater tightly, “past tense.” you point out, obnoxiously. and you hated yourself for being so damn awkward. you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

“i mean, i still miss you,” she rolled her eyes, “shut up smart ass.” she said, and you laughed—giggled, and madison laughed too. because you were contagious. whenever you were sad, everyone was sad. she let out a smile so big her cheeks started to hurt. a flower bloomed in your stomach and you couldn’t think anymore. all you could see was madison. you were crying now—sobbing. madison hugged you, and all you could feel was her. all you could smell was her perfume engulfing you everywhere and it made you cry harder.

you cried about everything. you cried because you were happy. you cried because you missed her too. you cried about the great depression which was the first two weeks she was gone. you cried because you hold it in anymore. you cried because you had filled a tub with water and a razor on the counter. you forgot to lock the door. you cried in her arms and you don’t remember the last time you could breathe.

words were coming out her mouth but your brain was translating it and turning it gibberish. ringing filled your ears. madison took your face in her hands and wiped your tears with her thumbs and kissed your forehead. you felt another pair of arms around you and you griped the stupid stupid sweaterin your hands they almost tore. because in that moment you wanted to be under her skin.

you stopped crying once she started to litter kisses up your jaw and neck. she held your hips so tightly and it felt so good. you whisper ‘madison’ out like a prayer—over and over again. until your mouth was filled with foam. she ‘shh’ed you and rubbed your hair and back. you swallow, and breathe in her neck. just breathed her in. your nose was filled with snot and her pretty sweater was wet because of you.

“m’ sorry bout’ your sweater.” you sniffle, and madison chuckled.

“it’s your sweater. your gonna be the one cleaning it.” she said, and you whine into her neck. “I’m kidding! god, don’t cry more. i hate seeing you cry.” especially if its my fault.

“are you guys done?” allison asked from behind you, eating her bag of peach rings and putting her phone down.

“why? does it bother you seeing people be happy?” you ask.

“you just cried.. are you really happy?” that question made you question yourself. were you really happy? it was confusing because you had absolutely no idea. you stood still and dug your head in madison’s shoulder. sighing.

the whole world turn buzzing and white. you toy with her sweater while deep in thought. allison looked at madison and madison looked at you. you and her were about the same height so she kissed you forehead and rubbed your back.

“anyways. are you guys OK now?” allison asked and madison shrugged.

“i think so?” she looked at you. arms warped around her waist and toying with her brown sweater. “yeah,” she answered. “we’re OK.” and you decided in that moment that you were happy.

[turretistrying]

Infected/Zombie Reader helping RE men (Leon K., Carlos O., & Ethan W.)

Somewhat based on that one zombie reader post by @qdbs-writes because honestly it was really cute and this idea has been bouncing in my brain for a bit. I’m going to preface that I’ve only played RE2R, but I have a vague understanding of the RE lore and stories, i’m only doing these three because I know them the best, if I knew chris better I would’ve added him

(this is just a suggestion but here’s what’s damaged on your zombie body: right eye gone, right cheek crewed off, left shoulder nearly gone, and several bites all around)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE2)

You’re one of the many, many, people who fled to the RPD to escape the growing hoards of zombies, unfortunately you were infected early on and hid out in one of the many storage rooms as you succumbed to the virus

…but your conscious stays somewhat intact, sure every thought is slower and less verbose but you still have some of it left, speaking is hard as well but you can speak to some degree

you stay on the third floor, observing Marvin and eventually Leon once he comes in

You’re enamored as soon as you see him, so you decide to try and help him as he goes through the entire RPD, placing some ammo here, some boards there, in general helping out behind the scenes despite how slow you move

This slowness bites you when you go down to the main hall to place a green and red plant you had found next to the typewriter, since Leon had been limping for quite awhile around the RPD

You gently place the two plants (still in the containers, you can’t grind them up due to the shakiness in your zombified hands) but you hear Leon coming down from the second floor library so you try and shuffle back into a room to hide again, until you hear the click of his gun

You turn around and see Leon, gun raised to likely give you a headshot like he’s given to plenty of the other zombies around (you know since you’ve seen plenty bodies with exploded heads..)

So you just, start shuffling backwards with arms raised in peace, mumbling ‘sorry.. sorry.. please, no.. hurt’ as best you can with your undead voice, which comes out pretty rough

Leon was about to shoot you but as soon as he saw you back away and mumble what sounded like human speech and not just growls and rumbles, so he lowers his gun slightly, tilting his head at you

You escape into the west office, and Leon fully lowers his gun and then looks at the plants you left him (he uses them, he’s not an idiot to ignore a healing item when he’s been at ‘danger’ for 2 hours)

When Leon unlocks the Goddess statue you come out from hiding and softly approach, and hand him some ammo and healing items “good.. byye..” you say to him look at him with your singular eye (you lost the other one when you got infected) before starting to walk off

Leon watches you walk away, about to hide again and he hesitates before saying “Wait, would you… like to come with me?”.

He watches you turn slightly and grumble “..you.. sure?”

He nods at you and you walk back up to him, and follow him as he goes down the stairs

Bonus:

During the G-3 fight you help by throwing yourself at him and stab one of the eyes with a knife Leon gave you, smiling in triumph when you stab an eye fully

Ada is very cautious and nearly shoots you several times, she thinks you’re just in the early stages of infection and she doesn’t want you killing her pawn (leon) before he gets the virus for her

When you get on the train Claire and Sherry are a bit wary of you but during the trip they start to like you, Leon’s account helps a lot as well

Carlos Oliveria (RE3)

Similar to Leon’s, you’re one of the people who fled to the RPD and got infected, and hid in a storage room (this storage room was clearly for all the Christmas decor… the bells gave it away)

You picked off the bells and kept them in a small box, as well as stealing post-it notes and a pen from the west office

From the second floor you watch Carlos and Tyrell make their way in, watching them scope out the place

As soon as you saw Carlos, you muttered under your breath “he..h.. scruffy..”

You noticed he was having a hard time with the Lickers, so you decided to make use of the bells you took, throwing them down hallways out of sight of Carlos so the Lickers chased the noise

He heard the chiming, making a remark like “The hell is that coming from?”

After awhile of doing this, you decided to just gift Carlos the bells

You place them on a desk with the brightest sticky note you could find

He finds it, noticing the stark contrast of the gloomy environment of the RPD, and reads the note

‘For the licks! Hold tighy in hnd then throw, it loud so they chse! : )’ was written on the note, it was hard to read being a shaky and messy handwriting but he got the general idea, chuckling at the squiggly smily face on it

He opens and sees 4 tiny golden bells

He looks around, hoping to maybe find who put it there but finds nothing, nothing but a hunched over dead (?) zombie next to the desk “Whoever put this here, Thanks, and thanks for probably being the reason for saving my ass a few times”

He leaves and you say to the air “no.. problemmm..!”

You start following him around and so he eventually notices you, and nearly shoots you on the spot before you move your hand to ring the golden bell you kept and attached to a string as a necklace

He relaxes a bit but keeps his guard up until he realizes that you’re just an innocent smart (questionable) zombie!

Bonus:

Before realizing that you weren’t gonna hurt him, he really thought you were because you kept staring up at his head… In reality you just really wanted to pet his hair, but because words are hard when you’re a zombie and you didn’t wanna get shot you just didn’t say anything

(You eventually did get to touch his hair, muttering a “soooft.. so.. soooft!”)

In that helicopter cutscene when Nicholai is about to shoot Jill, you jump from nowhere and tackle the guy by the neck; Carlos shouts in exclamation “Hell yeah! Get him!” before Nicholai punches your jaw right off (ouch)

Ethan Winters (RE7)

In this case you’re kinda like Ethan if he didn’t get all his memory and body transferred (does.. does that make sense???)

Since the moment Ethan stepped into the Baker House, you’ve been watching him

While you can’t remember most of your past, you know you were human like him, and watching him brings you a sense of… comfort. So you watch as he explores the house, trying to find Mia

Sometimes you forget what you’re doing and make noise, making Ethan more paranoid as he goes through the house (you felt bad every time you accidentally spooked him)

Watching him getting attacked by Mia was a nightmare, and you felt like you shouldn’t intervene… until Mia stabbed him in the hand

You emerged from the shadows (and mold..) and pulled her off of Ethan, giving a soft growl at her before she tried to attack you. You sidestepped and pushed her into the wall, which caused her to knock her head against the wall and faint

You stared down at her before turning to Ethan, who was a bit put off by your appearance

“You’re… hurt. Follow.” and you start walking to where a first aid liquid was hidden away and hand it to him

After patching him up you go over to the boarded up door and started to remove the wood with ease, before Mia got back up and threw Ethan through the nearly open door. You yelp (with some scratchiness) at that before running up to try and help, but then Ethan swung an axe into her neck.

You look at him and see the horror in his eyes at what he’s just done, you reach out to touch his back before slightly withdrawing; “you… oo-kay?” You asked in a low voice, and he shook his head before standing up and making his way deeper into the house, fully ignoring you after that.

So you follow, wanting to make sure he’s okay. He’s the only thing human in this house (for now)

Then Mia comes back again, of course, stabbing Ethan in the hand with a screwdriver this time. You run up and start trying to pry it out of the wall and his hand, before you see Mia coming with a chainsaw. She slashes with the chainsaw, cutting you in half at the shoulder before hitting Ethan’s wrist.

You blackout for awhile, coming to after about an hour as your body of mold stitches itself back together into one solid form again

Submerging into the mold, you reform in the living room adjacent to the nightmare dining room, seeing the back of Ethan tied in one of the chairs

You carefully untie him from the chair, before being noticed Marguerite pulled you up by the hair unto the table

You reach into a clump of mold and pull a smoke bomb before pulling Ethan out of the chair and away

From there on you helped him the best you could

Bonus:

You alway try and take the hits for him, he’s still fleshy and human, you can take it! He’s still worried for you despite the fact you can patch yourself back together.

When Ethan dies and becomes mold, you feel bad for him. You don’t tell him, since if he thinks he’s still human, then he’s still human to you.

After the BSAA comes you don’t know what to do, you assume you’re going to be left there or be experimented on… but Ethan calls your name (that you told him at some point, it’s one of the only things you have left from before being molded) and gestures you to come with him, you come close before fearfully looking at Chris, but he just nods and lets you on the helicopter.

OKAY WOW this is… something. I don’t know. I kinda gave up in that last one despite Ethan being my favorite next to Leon. I really hope, that this is good, im some way, amd i hope i didnt totally screw the canon, ahhh. Hope people like thissss,,, would’ve done art but i’ve got art block

[obsidianpen]

Makes large, pleading eyes at the unpublished Harry/Hermione/Voldemort oneshot.

...would it be possible to get a snippet of this? Only if you're comfortable, of course! The premise had me hooked

Hermione had just taken the first sip of her tea, feeling the tension in her shoulders finally ease a bit, when she noticed it.

Harry was tapping his leg with his finger.

It shouldn’t have meant anything. He was just sitting on the ground, crossed-legged, re-reading The Tales of Beedle the Bard for perhaps the fiftieth time, one arm propping up his head while the other rested on his thigh…

Tapping.

It was an entirely innocuous gesture, except that it wasn’t. 

Hermione knew Harry. She knew his every mannerism, his every nervous tick, his every tell. She knew that when he was anxious, he ran his hand through his hair like he was trying in vain to flatten it. When he was secretly afraid but acting brave despite it, he would jut his chin out and clench his jaw so tightly his muscles visibly tensed. In their fifth year, he developed the habit of clenching his hand when he was mad, making the words etched into his skin stand out: I must not tell lies.

He didn’t tap. Ever.

Right hand, middle finger. 

Last night’s dream flashed before her, its toxic bright colors making her feel feverish and dizzy. Tom Riddle, sitting so casually, so indolently in the landscape of her own subconscious, a parasite in her mind. Tom Riddle, looking so young and handsome, but with a razor sharp smile that did nothing to conceal the monster within, because it was no secret to either of them, what he was. Tom Riddle and his dark eyes and darker voice, dangerously soft.

You have no idea what I’m doing to Harry.

Tom Riddle, Voldemort, staring right at her with those pitiless black eyes… tapping.

Right hand, middle finger.

Hermione watched the movement coming from Harry as though she was watching some kind of timer, a detonator that was counting down, slowly. Harry was a bomb that might explode at any moment. 

Hermione set her tea down. She took a deep breath, then forced herself to speak in a calm voice.

“Harry,” she said. He looked up, but otherwise didn’t move. Tap, tap, tap. “Can I see the locket?”

Harry arched one brow at her, then gave her a weak smile and shook his head. “No way. You had it all night. I’ve barely started my shift.”

“It’s okay,” Hermione said, and she could hear the nervousness creeping into her voice. Tap, tap, tap. “I feel really good today, and I think—I could pull a double. Give you a bit of a break.” 

She laughed, and damn it all of it didn’t sound painfully fake. 

Harry noticed. “It’s okay, ‘Mione,” he said slowly. “I’m fine. Really.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Oh, bollcks. Hermione cleared her throat and tried again. “I would really appreciate it if I could see it,” she said. “I'd rather wear it when I’m feeling up for it and take a break later, you know?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed in a way that Harry’s eyes rarely did. “If you can’t handle it later, I’ll just keep it on then too,” he said. “It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel like you need to add more to your plate now, just because… because we don’t have… Now that it’s just the two of us. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

He looked away from her, returning his focus to the book with a bitter expression on his face—a clear signal that, for him, this conversation was over.

His finger never stopped tapping. 

Hermione decided to throw all caution to the wind and be direct. She had to get that locked off of him, and she had to do it now.

“Harry,” Hermione said firmly. She walked over to him, hovering directly in front of where he sat, and extended her arm. “Give me the locket.”

Harry looked up, his eyes widening in shock at her sudden frostiness. 

Tap, tap, tap.

“Hermione, I just said—”

“Give me the locket!”

Hermione whipped out her wand, panic seizing her. She didn’t yet point it at him, but she was prepared to. “Give it to me, now!” she shouted. 

Harry jumped to his feet and took a few hasty steps away from her, sending the book flying across the room as he did. “Hermione!” he yelled. “What has gotten into you?”

“Give me the locket!” Hermione demanded again. “Now, Harry! Don’t make me hex you!” 

She jutted her wand at him, making  sparks crackle in the air. Harry’s focus went from the tip of her wand to her face and back again, he had both hands raised defensively, and—and Hermione swore she saw something flickering there, in his eyes, something burning with rage, something red—

But then Harry was pulling the locket off from around his neck. “Sheesh! Okay, okay!”

He offered her the heavy golden chain, which Hermione snatched up at once. Harry then backed further away from her like he was afraid she might hex him anyway.

Not that she could blame him. Hermione was certain that she’d sounded like a crazy person with how she’d snapped for seemingly no reason. 

Hermione pocketed her wand. “Thank you,” she said curtly. “I… I’ll be outside. I need some air, and…”

She didn’t bother finishing her sentence. Harry only nodded, keeping a safe distance from her as she marched out of the tent. 

Begrudgingly, Hermione put the locket on once she was out, far away from the tent's entrance. It filled her with a familiar, immediate sense of dread. Wearing that locket was horrible, but she’d had to get it off Harry, she’d had to. She shouldn’t ever give it back to him. Hermione lifted it up, examining the glittering emeralds that housed a sliver of the world's most deranged soul.

The real question was, of course, how long could she keep it on herself, in an attempt to keep it off of Harry? Considering what it did to her when she wore it… especially when she was asleep.

You have no idea what I’m doing to Harry, he’d said. But if you don’t get out while you still can… you just might find out.