#ensuite bathroom with bathtub

[hiddenbysuccubi]

Me, fretting because I talked to HR about Stuff: .... Me, subsequently getting to go home on the earlier bus from now on and never having to worry about my coworkers not doing any of their shit and not having to do it for them ever again: !!!! My manager and I both sharing stories about being in management and having workers coming in drunk or on drugs on us: alfjdoihhaoihgoi My manager giving me a bottle of the homebrew beer he and his wife made: what is reality.

[sheiskindasweet]

[redheadredliiips]

New York Master Bath

Large traditional master freestanding bathtub idea with gray walls and subway tile, marble flooring, and gray floors.

[pathologicalreid]

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.” 

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

[aesthetichomerenovations]

Bathroom Ideas For Small Spaces

Choosing ensuite bathroom ideas can be difficult, especially when the bathroom is located in a small room. However, there are a few tricks that can help to create a functional and attractive bathroom. Whether you are updating your current en suite, or designing one from scratch, you will want to consider a few important elements.

The bathroom is the perfect space to have some fun with shape, texture and pattern. The right fixtures and fittings will go a long way in helping you to achieve this look. For example, a countertop basin with a simple silhouette will give your bathroom a sleek and contemporary look.

The bathroom is also a great place to have some fun with colour. This can be achieved by using contrasting colours to create the illusion of space. In addition, adding plush area rugs adds texture to the room.

Another small bathroom ideas ensuite is to use mirrors to bounce light around the room. This can be done by installing an illuminated mirror, which will give your bathroom a luxurious touch. In addition, using hand-painted details will give your bathroom a personal touch.

Using wallpaper in your ensuite is a great way to inject some pattern and colour into a small room. Using a wallpaper with a pattern that mimics the shapes of the shower and bathtub will create a very cool effect.

Using LED backdrop lights in the bathroom will also add a touch of class. In addition, a large, unframed mirror above the sink will also do the trick. Using a floating bench in the bathroom will also add some symmetry. A low hanging pendant will add a dash of offbeat charm to the room.

Using the right bathroom vanity is essential if you are planning to make the most of a small space. Whether you go with a pedestal sink, or a countertop basin, be sure to check the water pressure and check that the sink is draining properly. The right taps will also help to create a luxurious look.

A bathroom should be a place to relax and unwind. A bath is a great way to achieve this, but it's also important to have a good shower. If you're using a shower to get your bathing on, you might want to consider installing a bath screen. These are also available in a range of materials, including stainless steel.

In addition to the bathroom's main features, a good ensuite bathroom should also have a stylish toilet. If you have a small en suite, consider installing a back-to-wall toilet. This can be a more elegant option than a wall-hung toilet. You could even add a chic black toilet seat to the mix.

A good ensuite bathroom should also have a clever storage solution. A built-in cabinet is a smart and stylish way to use space, as is a hidden mini fridge for skincare products. A shelf or storage unit in an alcove can also be a very creative way to maximize the space in your bathroom.

Aesthetic Home Renovations will take care of everything your needs in Home Renovation Services in Australia. Call our team today to book and we excel in providing a vast range of building solutions.

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining the 141 renting out a "haunted" mansion for a short vacation only for the place to be exactly as advertised.

Like, the moment Soap shows you the listing for the Scottish castle alarm bells are going off in your head. You're not superstitious, but something about the place is just too damn ominous. Despite the fact everyone thinks you're overreacting you make your feelings on the trip very clear.

"This is a horrible idea, you guys. The place literally says its haunted."

"Ghosts aren't real." Ghost scoffs.

"Yeah, well then what the fuck are you?"

Everyone chuckles at you. They think you're joking, but you're being serious. They all vote to spend a weekend at the god forsaken place and either you can stay on base or go with them. Those are your options, take it or leave it.

Of course you go. Being left behind in the empty barracks seems even spookier.

-

At first the place is actually quite charming.

It's more of a quiet countryside villa instead of a brooding castle, like the listing portrayed. There's more than enough rooms to house you all. You decide to stay in the book nook room. The bed rests against a rather gorgeously large window. The ensuite bathroom is old timey with a clawfoot bathtub. You make yourself right at home by taking a hot bath before crawling into bed.

That night you sleep like a baby with a thunderstorm raging right outside the window. Lightning strikes through the white curtains and despite the weather, you're thoroughly content. Maybe Soap was right.

The next morning you're greeted to a disaster.

All of the books on the bookshelves are littered across the floor. Adrenaline kicks in and immediately you rush out of the room. You run down the hall to find all of your team sitting in front of the fireplace. Each of their eyes are shifty and nervous. They regard you with distrust.

"Guys, what the hell is going on?" You yelp. "I woke up to books everywhere!"

"Yeah, well I kept waking up 'cause someone kept pulling the sheets off 'a me!" Soap grumbled back.

"Someone kept tapping at my window." Gaz admitted.

"I heard scratching at my door. Thought it was a cat but..." Price trailed off.

Everyone's eyes turned to face Ghost. He was simply staring into the crackling fire.

"You alright?" You ask him. "Something happen to you too?"

"Thought I saw someone in the hall."

[msschemmenti]

emily’s song

emily prentiss x reader

prompt: emily has been away on a case and she comes back to her girlfriend in her apartment cleaning early saturday morning to old 90s RnB love songs. and she’s educated and serenaded on the kind of love of her childhood.

a/n: can i interest anyone in a self-indulgent fluff drabble from my notes app? linked all the songs. and a surprise at the end. not edited at all and way longer than i intended.

emily sighed as her to her apartment door came into her vision. she and the team had been off in the texas heat chasing down another serial killer. two week away from home was already taxing enough but it was the first time she’d been gone this long as a girlfriend. emily had been seeing y/n for about six months now and she’d finally worked up the courage to make it official four weeks ago.

y/n was a childhood friend of derek’s who had moved up to DC earlier in the year. derek invited her out to drinks one night to help her get acquainted with the Virginia social scene and it didn’t take long for her to catch emily’s eye. she’d wowed the team with stories of her life in the south, had eased into a casual girls night invite the next time all of their schedules were cleared, and even got a laugh out of hotch. she unknowingly demanded the attention and interest of every room she entered. emily had been sucked in during their first meeting like everyone else, but that paid off in a way no one really saw coming.

y/n had excused herself to get another drink from the bar and as soon as she reached the bar a man twice her size sidled up next to her. derek was focused on a girl and everyone had dissolved into their own conversations in her absence but luckily emily had been keeping her eye on her for the entire night. emily did the whole knight and shining armor bit, rescuing her from unwanted attention and that had really been the start of everything. it started very casual, almost just friendly for the first couple of months. texting during the day, a quick lunch on a weekend, very casual. until emily got hurt on a case and derek let it slip to y/n. after that very minor injury (in comparison to everything emily had experienced in the past) the younger woman made it a point to check in with her everyday. emily had essentially become her best friend in DC— next to derek. and the fact that she found emily extremely attractive did nothing but fuel her actions. and just like that y/n wormed her way into emily’s most used contact and most seen friend. their schedules hardly aligned but when they did, they made it a point to get together. and now almost 7 months later, they were officially dating.

the team had initially hoped to wrap this case up in three days tops but when the killer extended his cooling off period they were forced to extend their time in texas. when she realized she wouldn’t be back she asked y/n to stop in to feed sergio while she was away. they’d both exchanged keys two weeks earlier under the guise of y/n needing emily to water her plants and with the access it just made sense.

it was nearing 10am when emily finally made it to her door and pushed the key in the lock. expecting to meet a dark and silent apartment she was very shocked to hear music flowing through the walls and lights on everywhere. the song playing was unfamiliar to her but she what was familiar was the voice singing along to the song. she quickly disarmed her alarm and slipped out of her shoes. she definitely hadn’t expected her girlfriend but she wasn’t mad about it at all.

“babe?” emily called into the apartment as she shrugged her go-bag off her shoulder as well.

“bathroom!” y/n called, before going back to singing along. emily followed the sound of her voice and grabbed sergio on the way and leaned against the doorframe of her ensuite.

“what are you doing?” emily asked as her eyes swept the room to find y/n on her hands and knees in the bathtub. y/n staying the night was already a surprise, but she really hadn’t been expecting her to be cleaning her apartment.

“it’s saturday baby.” y/n answered matter of factly.

“well yes, that’s true. but why are you scrubbing my bathtub right now?” emily asked in confusion. “is this your way of subtly telling me im a slob?”

y/n chuckled softly and leaned back to meet emily’s eyes, “no. this is just how i start my weekend. and i figured you wouldn’t mind coming home to a clean apartment.”

“huh, you do this every saturday?” emily asked curiously as she moved to perch on the bathroom counter.

“yep, been doing it since i was a child. every saturday my mom would wake us up, turn on her favorite songs and put us to work. we’d get to start the week in a clean house and it was a sort of symbolic cleansing of the week. i guess it kinda stuck with me.”

“so it’s a learned behavior.” emily hummed as she scratched behind sergio’s head.

“okay miss profiler. it’s my routine. i didn’t mean to fall asleep here last night but since i did i figured i’d do a lil cleaning before you got back.” y/n said climbing out of the bathtub to stand between emily’s legs.

emily smiled and released sergio to settle her hands on y/n’s waist, “well how much have you done?”

y/n smiled and pulled the rubber gloves from her hands, “i spent most of the morning in your bedroom, specifically your shoe closet.” she teased as emily rolled her eyes. “since i’m done in here i’ve just gotta finish in the kitchen.”

“how long have you been awake? do you wake up this early every saturday?” emily asked incredulously.

“not always, it’s just how i was raised baby. come on, i’ll make you something to eat while i finish up.” y/n smiled and patted emily’s hip.

“she cooks and she cleans?” emily teases following the younger woman into the kitchen.

“housewife training.” y/n winked, focusing on piecing together something for them both to eat.

as emily watched y/n work, she took the time to listen to the music that had been playing through the apartment. the songs had to be old. they didn’t sound like anything she’d heard on the radio within the last ten years.

“have you ever loved somebody so much it makes you cry? have you ever needed something so bad you can’t sleep at night?” y/n sang softly as she scrambled eggs. her hips swayed softly to the beat. emily watched and listened closely. over the past couple of months emily had grown to love y/n’s singing voice but she’s never heard her sing songs like this.

she plated the food and brought the plates over to the island where emily sat watching. y/n paused her singing to plant a soft kiss on emily’s lips then slid onto the island stool next to her to dive into the food. the song came to an end and faded into another, instrumentally specific and again about love.

“what are you listening to?” emily asked after spending most of their impromptu breakfast staring at y/n’s mouth watching her sing along to love song after love song.

“this song is addicted by sisqo.” y/n answered easily as she washed dishes.

“sisqo? as in thong song sisqo?” emily asked.

“yep! same album, just not on this playlist.”

“and what exactly is this playlist? i haven’t known a single song since i walked through the door.”

“not a single one? now that’s just wrong.”

“i can tell they’re older love songs? RnB? 90s?” emily deduced.

“are you using profiling to figure out what we're listening to? you’re almost as bad as the people who shazam songs in the car instead of just asking.” y/n laughed. “if you must know, this is my emily playlist.”

“i have a playlist?” emily asked cheeks tinting with a blush.

“you do. a playlist full of songs you’ve apparently never heard before.”

“well how do you decide what songs go on this playlist?”

“well if i hear a song and picture you— it gets added. something about the lyrics ‘just take my love baby, because you are so dear to me.’ just scream emily prentiss.”

“you have a playlist of love songs about me?”

“i’ll try not to be offended that you don’t have one for me.” y/n teased but moved to bring her phone over to the profiler. “take a look.”

emily rolled her eyes at the tease but picked up the phone trying to distract from the blush taking over her cheeks. she scrolled studiously. it really was a playlist with her name on it. brandy, monica, aaliyah, mariah carey, jodeci, and more. emily smiled softly at just the titles of the songs and turned her warm eyes on the younger woman wiping the counters down.

“you wake up every saturday and clean while you listen to songs that remind you of me…” emily allowed a smirk to color her words in an attempt to hide just how bashful she was actually feeling. she’d never really experienced this kind of outright proclamation of love.

y/n clocked emily’s blush and deflection almost immediately and made her way over to the older woman with a soft smile. she swiped her phone and put on one of the songs.

“someone’s playing cocky to deflect but i’ll let it slide if you dance with me.” y/n extended her hand to emily and pulled her to her feet easily. the pair slotted together in a familiar dance. y/n’s arms wound around emily’s neck pulling her close and brought her lips to her ear. the song forever my lady swelled through the apartment and the lyrics caught emily’s attention.

“so you’re having my baby, that reminds you of me? you trying to tell me something?” emily snickered squeezing the younger woman’s waist.

“not that part particularly but you never know if that’ll change. just listen to the other words.” y/n prompted placing a kiss to the skin beneath her ear. “forever my lady. it’s like a dream. i’m holding you close , you’re keeping me warm. if this is ecstasy.” y/n sang quietly to emily as they swayed. as the song continued, emily’s heart swelled. she’d really lucked out in the romance department with this one.

“you know you’re quite romantic.” emily whispered as the song came to an end and faded into another.

“only for you baby, only for you.” y/n smiled and pulled back to press a sweet kiss to emily’s lips.

emily made a mental note to start her own playlist.

here’s an edit that basically inspired this whole thing :)

[yelenasdiary]

okay. i don’t send requests but i do talk to you a lot but i was wondering if i could request a wandanat comfort fic of just being worried about everything (and i mean everything) like every bad thing will happen. and r sees something on social media and digs deeper and freaks out even more

if you aren’t comfortable with this just delete it amd move on 🫶

Little Worry Pot

Pairing: WandaNat x GN! Reader

Summary: Wanda & Nat come home to find you stressing out. 

Tiny Angst, Fluff

Warnings: None, I don’t think? | 1.1K

Translations: Detka (baby),

AC: I hope it’s okay I used a personal experience for this! I used to get myself so worked up things like this, thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x 

When Nat and Wanda came home, Wanda’s first chore was drying the soaked umbrellas before putting them away. The TV was left on, the local afternoon news report giving a weather update that both women ignored. Nat quietly went upstairs and knocked softly on the bedroom door before entering. She expected to see you taking a nap but instead, she saw the bed frame. 

“Wands!” Natasha called out before she wandered over to the ensuite bathroom. 

“Yeah?” Wanda called back. 

Slowly, Nat opened the bathroom door to an unexpected sight. There you were, in the bathtub with the mattress from the bed covering you. “Detka?” Nat questioned with a confused look, standing in the doorway. 

“Huh? Oh, Hey!” You peeped your head out from under the mattress with a slightly crazed smile. 

Nat did her best to bite back the chuckle she wanted to let out, “W-what, uh, what is this?” She asked just as Wanda entered the bedroom. 

“Did you guys not see the weather warning? I thought that’s why you guys were late home” you replied, slightly confused as to why your girlfriends weren’t worried about the worrying warnings you had read on Twitter before turning on the TV. 

“Darling, it’s just a thunderstorm” the red head did her best to assure you. Wanda stood beside her, looking at you with the same confused look that Natasha had. “My love, did you do that thing again where you dig deeper into a headline and scare yourself?” She asked. Your eyes shifted to Wanda, “no, I promise! This is serious! We could get a hurricane warning at any moment! You both should get in here, come on!” You replied, shifting in the bathtub to make room for your girlfriends. 

Wanda lightly chuckled, “you’re too adorable, but sweetheart, we live in New York City. We are more likely to get a hurricane than a tornado” 

Natasha gently nudged the brunette, “probably not a good idea to say that” she whispered. 

“Well, don’t just stand there! Get in!! A hurricane is much bigger than a tornado, please just get in the tub!” You begged. Natasha wandered over to you and kneeled down to meet your eyes, “how long did you spend online researching tornados?” She asked. Your eyes dropped slightly, a loud crack of thunder making you jump slightly. “A couple of hours” you admit. 

“And what is the rule we have when you start researching things?” 

“To stop when I start to stress myself out” 

Nat smiled softly and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “this is just the same old thunderstorm we usually have” she reminded you. “B-but all the signs were there” you added, looking into her eyes. Gently, she cupped your cheek and stroked your skin softly with her thumb, “I promise you detka, if there was going to be hurricane, you would be the first person we kept safe. We would never let anything bad happen to you, ever.” Natasha assured you, not breaking eye contact. 

“Do you mean that?” You asked, just wanting to be completely sure. 

Wanda smiled softly as she kneeled down next to Natasha, “would it make you feel better if we sat down and came up with a safety plan in case such a thing were to happen?” She asked in a comforting tone. You nodded slowly, “I think that would be a good idea” you replied, pushing the mattress up. Nat helped you out of the tub before Wanda took you by the hand gently and took you into the kitchen.

She made you a hot chocolate as you sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen, listening to the rain hitting the roof while you twirled your thumbs around one another to try and ease your thoughts. “Honey, it’s okay” Wanda said softly, your eyes looking up at her, “we all have fears” she added, knowing what you were thinking. 

“Yeah but you and Nat don’t go crazy and convince yourself something bad is going to happen” you sighed. 

“That doesn’t mean we don’t think about it” the brunette replied. “Anytime we have to go on a mission without you, we worry so much about your safety. Even if you are with us, we can’t stop the millions of thoughts of ‘what ifs’ we just have different ways of dealing with them” she adds. 

You took a small sip of your hot chocolate as you listened to her words just before Natasha joined you both, taking a seat next to you. “Wands is right detka but let me tell something I’ve never shared with anybody before” she says. Wanda slightly tilted her head in confusion, her mind racking for what Nat could possibly be talking about. 

“Never? With anybody?” You looked at the red head. 

“Not a single soul” Nat assures you. 

“I’m curious” Wanda adds making Nat chuckle lightly. “Well, I have a massive fear of a mouse plage. Anytime I see a mouse, my mind goes to the thought of a plage” your girlfriend confesses. Your eyes slightly shifted to Wanda then back to Nat, “hey, unless you have seen the videos I’ve seen, don’t judge!” Nat quickly inserts herself. 

“Oh, I wasn’t judging Natty” you smiled ever so softly, “I’m just a little amused that tiny little mouses are your biggest fear” you added. 

“Just a heads up, I wouldn’t go into the garage, I think I saw a mouse in there the other day” Wanda teases, causing both you and her to chuckle. Nat didn’t take any offense to the little teasing that was just thrown at her, she got to see your smile once more and that made confessing her fear worth it. “Well, if I see it, it’s dead” Nat commented, chuckling along with you and Wanda. 

“Since we’re on the topic, I should confess that I have arachibutyrophobia and claustrophobia” Wanda says. Natasha slightly frowns, “you have a fear of having peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth? But you eat my sandwiches?” She asks. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing thinking about all the times Wanda pretended to eat a peanut butter sandwich and instead would use her magic to make it disappear.

“That’s what you think” Wanda smirked, then it hit Nat, “oh come on! I could’ve eaten them!” She replied. “I didn’t want to hurt your feels, I am sure your peanut butter sandwiches are amazing!” Wanda commented. 

Hearing both of your girlfriends open up to you about stuff you honestly never knew, really helped ease the worries you had given yourself. Going from being scared to worried that your partners would be tired of you doing this to yourself to being here and helping you, really showed you how much they love you. The kitchen was filled with light bickering and laughter before the three of you decided to go out for pizza for dinner.

Taglist: @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @karmasgxrl | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @mostlymarvelsstuff | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @angel68104 | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @caporal-nino | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @cigarsandscotchallday | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | @prentgarcialuvr | @stayevildarling | @mommysgoodlittlebrat | 

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[thefallennightmare]

Caged In: Noah Sebastian[One Shot]

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, slight smut, talks about anxiety and depression.

Summary: Noah feels himself falling deeper into the darkness and only one person can pull him out.

Authors Note: I'd felt compelled to write about Noah's mental health break and Just Pretend acoustic since I first heard it. I hope you all love it.

Tags: @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @thatchickwiththecamera @concreteemo @cookiesupplier @whenthesummerdies @sammyjoeee @madomens @xxkittenkissesxx @burning-outx @shayzillaaaa @darling-millicent-aubrey @flowery-mess @badomensls @reyadawn @exitwoundsx @malice-ov-mercy @princesspeach-00 @lookwhatitcost @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @rxdlstgn @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @respectfulrebel @cloudykoookie @niicoleleigh @thisbicc @pathion @themortaljessica @tashka @its-inourblood @amelia-acero @thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch

“Noah?” I called out into the vast darkness of our home. 

The old bones of the home creaked with each step as I walked farther into the darkness, a deep frown settling on my face. I was certain he was home, the text I received from him hours ago told me so. 

My Love 🖤: I’m going to lay down for a bit. Worked too hard in the studio.

I’d been out all afternoon with friends, catching up with them after not seeing them for a few months. I was hesitant to leave due to everything that came to light with Noah but he assured me with an almost there smile that he’d be alright while I was gone. He would keep himself busy in the studio. 

“Noah?” 

My voice met silence as I slowly ascended the stairs, realizing he wasn’t on the main level. It was so quiet, I wasn’t sure if Jesse or Michael were home. Both of their bedroom doors were shut and knowing that Jesse always kept his door open when he was home, it was clear he wasn't. 

Softly knocking on Michael’s door, he opened it with a head full of messy bed head. 

“Sorry,” I frowned when I remembered it was almost late evening. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”  

He gave me a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, Y/N. You got my text?” 

I nodded. Michael’s text was the reason why I’d cut my girls night early. 

“Is he in the studio?” I asked. 

“No,” Michael shook his head. “He met up with Ash for a lesson but I haven’t heard him come home.”

“He told me he was going to lay down,” I pulled out my phone to check Noah’s location. 

At Home since 2:30 p.m.

“Noah’s been home all day,” I said. 

Now it was Michael who frowned. “Why would he lie to us?”

“I have a feeling I know why,” I sighed. 

The frown never left my face at this point so with a small nod, I walked down to the other end of the hallway towards mine and Noah’s bedroom. I could have checked here first, but the SOS text I received from Michael had me wanting to check in with him first. 

As I approached our bedroom door, a soft sound touched my ears and I felt my world turn upside down. My heart dropped to the pits of my stomach as I hesitated reaching for the knob. I could feel the tears burning in the corners of my eyes and let out a long breath.

We couldn’t ignore this any longer. The hiding, the pretending, and the lies needed to stop.

Pushing through the bedroom door, I bypassed the made bed and entered the ensuite bathroom, nearly faltering at the sight in front of me. 

Oh, Noah. 

The bathroom light was off, only lit up from the moonlight breaking its way through the glass of the large window above the bathtub. His large frame slumped against the shower wall, his toned and defined back to me. The intricate lines of his tattoo shivering underneath the water that most likely ran cold. Both of his hands were spread widely apart against the wall, keeping him anchored while his forehead hung low. Droplets of water fell from the ends of his hair, down to the water pooling at his feet. 

Over the noise of the shower, soft cries echoed in the marbled space and Noah’s shoulders shook violently as the sobs tore through him. I stripped out of my clothes pretty quickly, not bothering to take my makeup off as I stepped into the large shower and wrapped my arms around him from behind. 

Noah’s cries seized for a moment and I knew that he would try to pretend everything was fine. 

“It’s alright,” I cooed, placing a kiss to the middle of his shoulder blades. 

One of his hands reached for mine wrapped around him and brought it to his lips. 

“You’re home early.” 

I rested my cheek against his back. “You needed me.” 

“Angel,” Noah breathed. 

Pretty quickly, I slipped underneath his other extended arm so now I was facing him. Glancing up through the chilled shower water that hung on my eyelashes, I sucked in a breath when I noticed how bloodshot Noah’s eyes were. 

“Oh, love,” I carefully caressed his cheek. 

He hadn’t shaved in weeks and I desperately wanted to feel the ginger hair that lined around his mouth tickling the sensitive skin of my thighs. 

Those almond eyes that were always filled with love, wonder, and light had begun to dull into nothing; darkness like the feeling that was beginning to dig its claws into Noah. I’d been afraid for weeks now that while I was away with work or other things that the darkness would swallow him whole. Which is why Michael texted me earlier, he’d become worried for his best friend. 

“I’m fine,” his voice shook. 

“No you’re not,” I gently shook my head. “You’re far from fine, Noah. You can’t keep this facade up.” 

I felt him beginning to slip away from me, like he had many times before. Whenever I tried to get close to him, he would push me away with the lie that nothing is wrong with him. 

“Stop,” I almost begged while wrapping my arms around his neck. “Please don’t pull away from me.” 

Noah stood frozen underneath the chill of the water, the heat long gone and telling me he had been in the shower for quite some time. Behind those dark eyes told an even darker story of a broken man crying out for help. The war that waged in his mind was one he couldn’t continue to battle on his own. 

“I can’t,” Noah shook his head. “You don’t deserve my demons. Your light is too pure for them, angel.” 

My shoulders fell when he pulled away from me completely, the space between us was something I’d become accustomed too. Every time I tried to get close to him, have him open up to me, Noah created an even larger space between us. 

“That’s not fair,” I wrapped my arms around my chilled body. “You don’t get to make that decision, Noah. It’s in our fucking vows that I’ll help you through these dark times.”

His face twitched and he cast his eyes down to his feet, a silent way of telling me he was done with the conversation. I did my best to not let my anger over take me because this wasn’t something he deserved. It wasn't his fault that the demons were winning. I needed to be his light in the darkness. 

For a brief moment, I drank in the sight of his bare body in front of me as the droplets of water ran down the grooves of his muscles. I followed one particular drop of water as it fell over his cock and I bit my lip. It had been weeks since we were intimate last because Noah wasn’t at the right mental headspace for it. I never pushed him, letting him take his time. But as the weeks went on and the heated kisses turned into barely there pecks, my heart was beginning to fear the worst. 

“Do you still love me?” I blurted out. 

Noah’s head snapped up. “What?” 

Turning my head to the side, I let out a shaky breath and wiped away the water from my face. 

“I didn’t mean to. This isn’t about me.” 

My name fell in a quiet whisper as I left Noah standing in the shower alone and wrapped one of the large towels around my frame, doing my best not to shiver at the chill I felt deep within my bones.

It was true. This wasn’t about me. I was supposed to be comforting Noah, not asking him a question I already knew the answer to. But I let those demons that were plaguing Noah affect me. I knew better than to let those win. 

Turning swiftly on my heels, ready to go back into the bathroom to apologize, I nearly dropped my towel when I saw Noah’s tall frame standing over me. He wore his towel loosely around his hips and the wet tendrils of his maple hair fell into his eyes. His broad chest rose and fell with each deep breath as his hands quickly found my hips, yanking me into his chest. 

“Don’t ever question my love for you, angel. Alright?” 

His voice was soft, which surprised me. I expected him to be upset and gruff with my accusation. 

“I didn’t mean to,” my bottom lip wobbled. “I can feel you physically and emotionally pulling away from me, love. I guess I needed that reassurance.” 

I felt a subtle kiss to my forehead and found myself grasping at the sensation it filled me with. 

“I love you so much, Y/N,” Noah’s eyes glistened as he looked down at me. 

We both sniffled at the same time and I molded even farther into his embrace. 

“I love you too,” I proclaimed. 

“I know,” he nodded once. “I also know that I’ve been pulling away from you and I don’t mean to. The demons in my mind keep telling me that no one cares. They keep whispering that no one will be there to save me.” 

“That’s not true,” I began, to which he cut me off by wrapping a hand around the side of my neck. 

“I know that. I’m trying to fight against them but it’s been so hard with everything going on. I feel like my mind and body are in a constant battle of what’s right,” Noah divulged with a tight grip on my neck, almost as if he was afraid I’d be the one to slip away. 

“I’m locked in a cage with those demons. They keep beating me down, not letting me take a fucking breath,” his nose scrunched in an effort to keep the tears away. “They’re telling me to leave you because you deserve a husband that is home all the time, not on the road most of the year. You deserve a man that can give you all of his time.”

“Noah,” I grasped at the thick muscles of his arms, my heart breaking at the sight of my husband looking so defeated. 

I’d known Noah since we were teens and given everything he'd gone through, I’d never seen him like this before. He’d always been the type of man that put others first, took care of his family before himself, and it became clear that I might not have been doing my part of a wife and taking care of him.  

The chilled night air crept in through our open bedroom window, the curtains dancing to the music of the crickets outside and our gentle cries. 

“I’ve lied to everyone. Pretended that everything is fine when it’s not. I’m crumbling into a man I don’t recognize anymore and I’m so fucking scared,” Noah burying his face int he crook of my neck, his tears mixing with the water from the shower that had yet to dry. 

“Will you wait for me until I let you down?” 

With a loving embrace, I began to sway Noah in my arms while his face was still hiding in my neck. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Noah,” I promised. “I’m right here with you. Through the darkness. I’ll do whatever I can to pull you out.” 

The silence from him was deafening, an eerie feeling that made you tip toe because you were afraid one wrong move would set it off. All of us knew Noah was a ticking time bomb and we all were careful with what we said around him. We gave him the space when he needed it, we didn’t push him when we knew he was lying about his feelings, but when Jesse and I shared a look the other night we knew we couldn’t tip toe around Noah anymore. 

“Fucking bullshit!” Noah slammed the fridge door shut; the condiments in the door rattling against each other. 

Jesse and I looked away from our card game at the kitchen table to see Noah slamming the kitchen cabinets now. 

“Love,” I said softly. “Is everything alright?” 

His eyes sliced into mine. “No, Y/N. I can’t find anything to eat in this fucking house.” 

Jesse stilled next to me, ready to be on the offense if he needed. Noah rarely cussed, especially at me. But I patted Jesse’s knee softly underneath the table, letting him know it was alright. 

This wasn’t Noah. We knew it. 

“I thought you went shopping earlier,” I said. 

Noah ran a hand through his hair. “No, it was your turn.” 

My brows peaked. “Noah, you told me this morning that you would go after your therapy session.” 

He didn’t utter a word, simply stuffed his hands in the pockets of his joggers before stomping up the stairs. 

“Did you skip your session again?!” I yelled after him only to be met with the slamming of our bedroom door. 

That night Jesse, Michael, and I all talked about how we would start helping Noah because we were hurting seeing him in such a dark place. Earlier tonight, Michael’s text gave me immediate fear which is why I cut my night early. 

Michael: He broke his guitar, Y/N. It’s in pieces in the studio. I don’t know what happened but there’s blood on the carpet.

Back in the solace of our bedroom, I gently lifted Noah’s left hand to finally get a look at the deep cut along the tattoos of his best friend's name. 

Keaton. 

Thankfully with the shower, the blood seemed to stop but not wanting to risk it, I led Noah over to our bed and made him sit on the edge. As I stepped away from him, ready to get the first aid kit, his arms yanked me back to him which caused my towel to drop to the floor. 

“Please don’t leave me,” he choked out. 

My fingers worked through the drying knots of his hair as I bent down to kiss his head. “I’m not going anywhere, love. I’m right here with you.” 

We stayed like that for quite some time, Noah sitting on the bed while I stood in front of him; his arms caccooning around me. At that moment, no one else in the world mattered, just Noah and I. Albeit our love might have felt at a standstill the last few weeks, we both didn’t need to fear anymore that the darkness would encompass us whole. We began to realize that in that darkness, flowers would bloom and we could grow. 

“What happened to your guitar?” I asked. 

Noah pressed a gentle kiss to the skin of my stomach and I shivered, body ignited with the contact. 

“I was working on a song for you and I couldn’t get it right,” he admitted with a disappointed sigh. 

He glanced up at me, resting his chin on my stomach as I peered down at him. The roughness of his fingers grazed over the growing heated skin of my back and I let the stress of wondering if he was alright ease away. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

I brushed back the hair from his face. “It’s alright, love. I’m glad I’m here though. Is there anything you need from me?” 

Another kiss to my heated skin; this time along the valley of my breasts. “Just you.”

“I should wrap your hand, in case it bleeds again,” I breathed when his warm lips continued to leave marks all over my skin. 

Noah hummed in response and then pulled me down to the bed with him so we could lay in a mess of locked and naked limbs together. I lay on my back as he buried his face in my neck yet again, breathing me in. The head of his cock brushed along the side of my thigh and I let out a hushed moan, desperately wanting to feel it slip between my folds; it had been so long. 

“Angel,” Noah grazed his fingers over my collar bone. “I crave to feel you again but my brain isn’t in the right headspace.” 

I lifted his chin to force him to look at me. “I won’t push you, Noah. I’m here for you whatever you need.” 

Oh so slowly, I saw the light behind the dark depths of his eyes begin to flicker. 

“Can I play that song for you?” He asked. 

My lips curled up into a smile. “You don’t even have to ask me, love.” 

With a kiss to my lips, one that I wasn’t eager to let go off, Noah slipped away from me to get dressed. 

“I still haven’t cleaned up the mess in the studio. Give me a few minutes?” He said after slipping on the house communal Chief hoodie. 

“Take your time. I’m going to get dressed.” 

While Noah was gone, I dressed in a pair of thin cotton panties and one of his shirts, his scent immediately filling my senses. I went about lighting a few incense sticks, the ones that always calmed Noah down and settled into bed when he stepped back inside. With the moonlight casted over his face, I could see more of that light return as soon as he smelled the incense. 

I patted the spot next to me. “Saved you a spot.” 

Noah practically bounced on the mattress next to me, my giggles echoing around the room. He sat across from me, letting the guitar rest along his lap as he stared intently at me. 

“What?” I shifted underneath the blanket. 

“I missed that laugh,” he blinked. “I’ll never fucking forgive myself for being the reason you stopped laughing like that.” 

My lips parted to speak but he shook his head, silencing me. “I haven’t been the best husband the last few weeks and I know no matter how many times I apologize, it won’t be enough to make up for how I treated you and the guys. It’s not fair to any of you.” 

I nodded as he continued. “Jesse mentioned that you’re worried about me going overseas for all those summer festivals.” 

It was true. 

Noah would be gone for weeks while I stayed back home for work and I couldn’t stop biting my nails with worry about how he would be. I knew everyone would take care of him but it did nothing to ease my own demons. 

“I just want to make sure you’ll be alright,” I bit my lip with nerves. 

Noah tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m not going.” 

“Wh-what?” I stuttered. 

“I wanted to talk with you about it first. With the stress of the CJ OST release and everything the last two years, I need a mental break. I need time to rest and do the things we always talk about but never get to do,” Noah said. 

“So you’ll just cancel all the upcoming shows?” I asked, fingers grazing over the tattoos on his arm as he still cupped my cheek. 

“I’ll still play UPHEAVAL and INKARNATION but I don’t think I should go overseas. I need to get my mind right again. I need to get back into therapy and talk to someone about these feelings. I know I have you but-.” 

“Sometimes it’s better to talk to someone else,” I finished for him with a kiss to the inside of his palm. “Whatever you decide, Noah. I’ll support you. Although I do think this is a great idea.” 

Noah agreed and for the first time in a long while, the smile that I fell in love with slowly crept to his face. I was captivated by it that I nearly missed his thumb brush away a tear, suddenly avoiding eye contact with me. 

“I know the pain you hide behind the smile on your face,” I tapped his nose. 

He playfully rolled his eyes before adjusting the guitar on his lap, strumming a few random notes.. “Well, funny you mention Just Pretend.”

I pursed my lips with confusion. 

“Remember all those years ago when I told you there was a demo for it but I didn’t want you to hear it because I thought it wasn’t any good?”

The memory was clear as day in my mind. We’d just moved into this house with Michael and Jesse, two weeks after Noah and I had our secret wedding. We sat on the floor of this bedroom as he played for me Just Pretend; at the time what I thought was the original and only version. Besides the rest of the guys, I was the first one to hear the song in its entirety. 

“What about it?” 

Noah let out a long breath before the beautifully haunting melody of our song began to fill the empty space of air between us. 

“I'm so afraid that the walls that I have made have locked me in I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend.”

Immediately I picked up on the change of lyrics; these ones cutting even more deep than the original. 

“So will you wait me out until I let you down? So will you wait me out until I let you down?”

I sucked in a breath when the words he cried into my shoulder earlier suddenly made sense. Unsure if he knew or not, Noah’s body began to sway with his music. 

“I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I could wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.” 

Quickly, I glanced down to the tattoo on the inside of my forearm. 

Heaven knows I aint getting over you.

“I know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face. And not a day goes by that I don’t wish it’d go away. So will you wait me out. Until I let you down? So will you wait me out. Until I let you down?”

I hastily wiped away the tears as they hung on my lashes, doing my best to not let the sobs overcome me. He sat criss crossed on the bed, the rose tattoo on his knee brushing against mine. 

“I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I could wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.”

Noah’s eyes had been closed thus far but it was as if he needed to make sure I was still here, listening to him pour his heart out for me; like he did all those years ago. When our eyes met, I gave him a reassuring nod, urging him to continue.

“Can we try again when we’re not so different? Can we make amends? Why can’t we just pretend?” 

I couldn’t stop watching the way his fingers strummed against the strings of the guitar. The silver colors of the moonlight highlighted the sharpness of his cheek bones, down to his plump lips as they sang our song. 

“Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy? Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy?”

“Always, my love,” I breathed, pulling my knees to my chest.

The corners of Noah’s lips turned up. “I can wait for you at the bottom. I can stay away if you want me to. I could wait for years if I gotta. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you.”

Two years and a house full of love and laughter later, here Noah and I sat in the same position as he sang me his original demo for Just Pretend. My heart beat wildly in my chest, the noise roaring in my ears, as he finished out the song with a long, unsteady breath. 

“Can we try again when we’re not so different? Can we make amends? Why can’t we just. Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy? Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning. Way down, would you say I'm worthy?”

Once the guitar was set on the bed next to him, I climbed into Noah’s lap, immediately crashing my lips to his. It was a slow and lazy kiss, filled with the fire of our love that we spent years building and restoring after many dark moments. His tongue brushed along my bottom lip, capturing what was left of my peach chapstick, humming in delight. 

Breathless, I rested my forehead against his. “I fucking love you, Noah.” 

The same thumb that brushed away his tears earlier brushed away mine. “I love you too, angel. I promise I’ll become the husband you deserve again. Those demons are still there but your love keeps them at bay.” 

I pulled him down to bed with me, covering us both with the blanket as I held him from behind him. Noah would never admit it but he loved being the big spoon. It had been so long since we slept like this, always finding ourselves sleeping back to back.

“I’ll be here for you, Noah. Heaven knows I ain't getting over you,” a soft kiss to his sweater glad back. 

He linked our fingers together, bringing them to his lips. “We plan on releasing that version on the soundtrack but I wanted you to be the first one to hear it.” 

“Thank you,” I breathed in his scent. 

We found ourselves in a comfortable silence and let the tears we shed together dry against our skin. Neither of us were perfect but those demons would no longer cage Noah inside his mind. I’d walk through the flames of hell to protect him from them. Just as slumber sunk its claws into me, ready to drag me under, Noah’s soft voice roused me from sleep. 

“I dream in Hell and wake up screaming. Wishing that I was someone else. The static leaves me in a catatonic peace. I wanna finally sleep now.”

Swallowing the large lump in my throat, I raked my nails along the skin of his stomach underneath his sweater. 

“Sleep now, my love. I’m right here.”

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Everything | Overlord!Husk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Overlord!Husk fluff, established relationship with reader, very sweet and domestic, a slightly intimate moment near the end

Word Count: 913

Summary: You were out to support your fiancé while he did his job, but by the end you were about ready to drop, so he steps in to remind you exactly why you're marrying him and not some other overlord.

A/N — I've never written for Husk before — let alone Overlord!Husk, so I'm hoping this gets some love 💗

"It's about that time, my love." You whispered in his ear, watching the hands on the clock tick with every passing second — every passing minute.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

"I'll be done soon, Doll." His grip around your waist tightened as the men around the table stared you down like a piece of meat.

You thought he was insane playing high stakes games. On more than one occasion you found yourself uttering the phrase 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes', which was essentially the equivalent to 'fuck around and find out'. . . Which you had also said many, many, many times.

Husk nearly always had a good hand, so the prize was often money or jewelry — anything that was bet and valuable at the time of his win. Even souls, if they were put on the line. You loved watching those ones, as twisted as it likely sounded. 

Hell, you were almost certain the engagement ring that sat prettily on your finger was won in a bet. No complaints regardless of how it came to be. It was sparkly and just your style.

The only time you had a complaint was when he chose gambling over his responsibilities. . . Namely making sure you were happy and satisfied. Even then, it was a rare occasion, despite practically being his whole job.

Tonight, though, you were bored.

You were hungry.

You were tired and just wanted to go home — but you stayed to support him and it was now long past when the two of you ate dinner and it was rapidly approaching the time when you usually went to bed, knowing your mornings were early and consisted of mentally taxing wedding planning with your closest friends.

You loved them, though, and appreciated all of their ideas. Who in Hell didn't love the idea of an event as important as an overlord wedding?

Bitter, loveless souls obviously — but other than that. . . Who?

When the game finally came to an end, it was no surprise to you when Husk collected his winnings. Almost 10K and two souls. You loved when things worked out.

"Let's get you home, Doll. You look fuckin' exhausted."

"You really know how to flatter a woman." You snorted, allowing him to lead you out of the casino he owned. "I should lock you out of the room for mentioning my exhaustion in public."

"Oh, don't be like that!" He smirked, playing into the little game you always played. When he played back, you knew you were about to get your way. "Gonna make you forgive me, one way or another."

You hummed with a smirk of your own, looking away from him. "We'll see."

"How about. . . Dinner at the house and a nice hot bath, hmm? . . And your favorite ice cream?"

Your smirk morphed into a smile. "Close, but we'll see."

"I'll join you?"

"You're forgiven."

It wasn't long before you were sat at the table eating the quick and delicious meal that Husk made — it was far from something he would've usually made, but it was delicious and you enjoyed it.

He finished eating first and went to run the bath for you, but not without kissing you on the forehead on his way to the shared bedrooms ensuite bathroom.

You loved that bathroom — it had been what sold you on the house in the first place. Sure, the kitchen was nice, but the bathroom had a huge bathtub, a spacious shower, and the colors of the floor and shower tiles went together without clashing or being gaudy.

The lighting wasn't bad either.

You called it your 'own little slice of Heaven'.

You soon finished and put your plate in the sink, but before you could wash up the couple dishes, Husk grabbed your hand and guided you to the bathroom where he urged you to undress and get into the hot bath while he handled the couple dishes.

You did as he asked and got undressed, stepping into the tub filled with water and bubbles. Immediately, the stress from the day melted away as the heat soothed the aching muscles that you surprisingly hadn't noticed until then.

Husk joined you a few minutes later, slipping into the water behind you. He hated water as much as the next cat, but for you, he'd do anything and everything.

"It was a long fuckin' day." He groaned at the hot water, your back pressed against his chest.

"You're telling me. . . I thought it would never end." You chuckled and then sighed contently. "I could fall asleep right here."

"You love going with me and you know it." Husk mused, his hands finding their way into your hair, fidgeting with the strands in a way that raised goosebumps.

"I do. But I also love having moments like this. Moments where it's just us. No gambling. No overlord society gala. No worries. Just us in our slice of Heaven."

He couldn't help but agree, those moments were perhaps the best part of his day.

And he'd give you that.

He'd give you everything.

It didn't matter what it was, whether it was material or otherwise. He loved you, so the world was yours if you asked. Money. Power. Anything. Everything.

"We have all of eternity for moments like this. . . We've already taken the first step." He ran one of his clawed hands down your arm until it was placed in the hand that the sparkly ring adorned, glistening in the light.

Everything for all of eternity.

🏷Tags: @6esiree

[cringefailvox]

the vees have a shared ensuite bathroom with a ton of space and obnoxiously large bathtubs so val can take his long, luxuriously overinvolved bubble baths while velvette does her hair & makeup and vox perches on the edge of the tub with his feet in the water (his head isn't waterproof) as he does his spreadsheets. and they're talking mad shit the whole time

[youaintnothinbuta]

“I’ve got her, you relax.” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: daddy Elvis comes home from tour finally, and you’ve been extra tired lately having to take care of a sick toddler. He goes straight into dad mode when he gets home and gives you a chance to relax and he’s just the best dad ever to your daughter n I love domestic elvis <3

Pairing: Elvis or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 678

Warnings: fluff!! Domestic!Elvis n daddy!elvis 😋 probs typos SORRY

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Finally the day had come where Elvis was coming home for a break from touring. You were originally going to meet him at the airport with the others, but your daughter had been under the weather, and sick toddlers and overstimulating environments don’t mix well. Instead, you waited at Graceland for him to return, your daughter resting on your lap.

As soon as she heard the lock of the front door click, she lept out of your lap, running over to Elvis, her arms outstretched towards him, cheering, “daddy, daddy!”

Elvis’ face lit up with a radiant smile as he scooped her up, spinning her around in the air before cuddling her to his chest, peppering her face with kisses. You watched with a smile, waiting for your turn. “My little girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with affection as he planted another kiss on her cheek. “My other little girl. I’ve missed you,” he continued, turning to you and enveloping you in a warm embrace, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss.

As he lifted your daughter onto his shoulders, her giggles filling the air, you felt relief wash over you, “I've missed you too, E,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

“How is she?” He asked, his concern evident in his voice, reaching up to tickle your daughter’s tummy, who was perched happily on his shoulders.

You let out a tired sigh, the weight of the past few days evident in your voice, “Getting there.”

“Tell you what, I’ve got her, you relax this afternoon, tonight it’ll be just me and you,” he suggested, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. Your heart raced a little at his suggestion, “I’d love that.”

You made your way to the bathroom, the promise of a warm bath beckoning you, Elvis followed closely behind, your daughter still perched happily on his shoulders. Together, you ascended the staircase, the sound of y/d/n’s laughter filling the air as Elvis carried her up to her bedroom to retrieve a coat.

“And mama,” Elvis said, his voice filled with determination as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him, “don't you even think about cooking, or cleaning, or tidying, or nothing, okay? I got it.”

You couldn't help but smile at his insistence, a wave of gratitude washing over you at his thoughtfulness. “Alright, daddy,” you replied playfully, backing up against him and teasing him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. You wandered away into the your bedroom, Elvis shot you a knowing smirk, shaking his head in amusement as he watched you go, saying you’re going to get it tonight.

“Alright, monkey,” Elvis said, turning his attention back to your daughter, who was now perched on her bed, her eyes shining with excitement. “Let's get a jacket and go play outside.”

Bending down, he gently lifted her off the bed, setting her down on her feet. Opening up her wardrobe, he sifted through the clothes until he found a warm coat, zipping it up around her little body snugly to protect her from the chilly November air.

Once she was properly bundled up, Elvis took her hand in his, a smile lighting up his face as he led her out of the room and down the stairs. Outside, the world was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, the crisp air tinged with winter on the horizon. The bathtub in yours and Elvis’ ensuite was positioned perfectly next to a window, allowing you to watch on as he and y/d/n headed out into the backyard, their laughter echoing through the air.

The pair ran around playing together, first in her cubby house, then playing chasey, before she got bored of that too. You leant against the bathtub ledge, smiling at your little family.

“Baby, come here, look,” Elvis pulled her into his lap, “see, look, wave to mama, do you see her?” He cooed, pointing to you in the window for her as she waved both hands around at you, making you laugh.

[stevebabey]

a piece that alas, will never get finished 😔 the bath fic that was once discussed, half written, and left to rot in my tumblr drafts. i hope u can read the seeds i was planting and see the vision i had even if i never could write it <3

Hot water is, indisputably, a luxury in the Munson household.

Far as Eddie knows, the same goes for the whole damn world.

Hot water is something sacred. Something to be used scarcely, lest you drain the tank and have only cold water to wash your plates and yourself in for the rest of the week.

It's not the worst, but, well, then again Eddie can think of few things worst than needing a shower during the colder winter months when the water splutters out lukewarm and the cold trickles in right when he's in the middle of washing his hair. It sucks. Always sends him to bed with the shivers.

Hell, sometimes he'd even do the mile at school just for a chance to get in the showers first — dashing in for the free hot water that only lasted a good couple minutes.

It was worth it though, Eddie thought.

Both the exercise and the sneers, in exchange for getting to be truly warm for the first time since he'd gotten out of bed that day. Warm showers will do that to you though.

Eddie's heard stories of places, of faraway like Hawaii or somewhere, where it gets so warm that when it rains, the water sometimes rains down already warm. Like a great big shower for the whole place.

He reckons if that ever happened here in the middle of nowhere Indiana, he'd be out dancing in the streets in the warm rain. Soaking it all in. Taking not a single drop for granted.

Steve's house, as Eddie has discovered, has more than one shower — because it's got multiple bathrooms.

In the time he's been hunkered down there, his sides patched up roughly and healing at what feels like a snails pace, Eddie has taken to exploring the empty halls of the Harrington House.

It's... enormous. Gargantuan. Fucking massive.

There's rooms with doors that never open. Rooms that Eddie's never even seen Steve go near. Endless doors and cupboards and an upstairs and downstairs, and far too many garages for one just couple and their son.

Eddie explores them all.

It stems from his boredom, of course, because patient isn’t one of the words used to describe Eddie Munson but restless certainly is.

He wanders aimlessly, under the guise that he needs to keep using the muscles in his legs while he heals up but truthfully, he loves a good snoop.

Soon enough, the driving force of his wandering transforms from boredom to… curiosity.

Steve Harrington has always been an enigma to Eddie.

Upholder of conventional standards and the heterosexual gaze turned, well, loser, in the manner of a couple months- it was jarring to say the least.

Especially to the likes of people like Eddie, for whom he had represented everything wrong with small town Hawkins. Rich meathead jocks who pay their way through school.

Eddie always figured he’d had a fucking mansion of a house but this place… it’s unsettling, seeing so much space, so unlived in.

It’s even more unnerving how Steve just… doesn’t take up space.

Even in his own home. Steve’s bedroom doesn’t sprawl out, it’s not packed with possessions and hobbies like Eddie knows his own is. His wallpaper matches his sheets, picked out by someone who clearly doesn’t know Steve.

Everything is tidy because Steve seems to have this neatness ingrained deep within him. He putters around, on auto pilot sometimes, to keep the space clean for parents who don’t seem to come home.

When Steve's out at work and it's just Eddie, wandering aimlessly to keep the strength in his legs, the loneliness of the place yawns down the halls. Consuming. Suffocating.

He’s found himself eagerly awaiting Steve's arrival home from work, if only to hear someone else's voice other than his own.

Today, Eddie's searching has lead him here— into the master bedroom’s ensuite and they have a goddamn fuckin’ bathtub.

It’s a proper fancy type one with clawed bronze feet and a wide lip, made of sparkling clean marble. The type he might describe for that is a King in a campaign, just to be on the nose about how wealthy and greedy this character was.

He’s so transfixed on it that he doesn’t even hear Steve jimmying his keys into the lock, coming home.

It isn’t until— “Eddie?”

Eddie jumps, startled, as Steve’s hand touches on his shoulder lightly. His goal to not scare the other boy doesn’t go as intended, considering how much Eddie flinches but the moment he turns his head, his face is relaxing.

“Fuck, dude,” He breathes a sigh of relief, lips quirking into a smile. “Didn’t hear you come up.”

Steve shrugs a bit and scratches behind his ear, a bit awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie nods, but his gaze has already shifted back to the tub before them. Steve follows his gaze easily, an easy chuckle passing his lips.

“I see you found the bath.”

“Yeah…” Eddie says, sounding a bit breathless, his voice distant. Steve glances over, trying to understand the strange emotion toying on Eddie’s features. It’s just a bath. Steve hasn’t even been allowed to use it before, sure, but he likes his own shower just fine.

“It was such a bitch to get it in when they first got it,” Steve explains, folding his arms across his chest as he recalls the memory.

He points his finger behind him to the doorway without moving his arm. “Knocked down a whole wall ‘cos they couldn’t get it to through the doorway. To be honest, I’ve always thought it was kind of ugly.”

He’s waiting for Eddie to say something. For the joke, for the sneering comment on his parent’s fortune, for any lippy spiel that usually gets under Steve’s skin in the best way. The longer Eddie stays quiet, the more it begins to worry Steve.

It’s as though Eddie hasn’t even heard him.

Steve clears his throat and tries again, his tone light and delivered with a chuckle. “Man, you’d think you’ve never seen a bath before.”

Eddie’s head snaps toward Steve. He finally breaks his trance, regrettably just to snap at Steve. “I have, thank you very much.”

Steve feels a bit of embarrassment bloom over his cheeks, wanting to backtrack on his poor joke instantly but before he can open his mouth Eddie is already softening, hackles falling. His eyes are back on the bath.

“Just… haven’t even taken one.” He admits softly.

Steve doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what’s going through Eddie’s mind — can’t come close to understanding what forlorn nostalgia is tugging at Eddie’s gut.

“Not really, I don’t think.” He continues. He pauses to think, head tilting back just a bit. “When I was really little, maybe. Little enough to fit in the sink or— or something.”

Eddie seems to realise he’s letting whatever thoughts he’s having drift out of his mouth and promptly snaps his jaw shut, teeth clacking as he does. He doesn’t look at Steve, doesn’t want to see the pity or the sympathy or the—

“Anyways,” Eddie huffs a breath, turning to leave his newfound discovery on the exploration of the Harrington House.

When—

“Do you want to?” Steve asks suddenly. His voice is sincere. “Take one?”

Eddie blinks. Wonders if it’s a joke, that it’s being offered out just so it can snatched away and Steve can laugh at how desperate Eddie is to actually be given this. He has to hastily remind himself that Steve wouldn’t do that to him.

There’s no containing the excitement rushing in his voice when Eddie spits out, “Can I?”

Steve chuckles, an easy smile at the other’s eagerness.

It’s easy to overrun the instinct that’s ingrained deep, not to cross the little rules his parents have scattered through the house — easy because he’s doing it more and more with Eddie here.

They’d eaten off his mom’s expensive and untouched china on the first night Eddie had managed to get up and about to eat downstairs, instead of tucked in bed.

He’d been so keen to help, proclaiming that he’d set the table for the both of them— too excited to be up and moving to remember that he and Steve weren’t usually as buddy-buddy as they were acting.

Steve had soaked in it greedily. Warm brown eyes, saccharine smile, he’s found that Eddie sort of glows when he’s happy. And that giving him good food is one of the ways to stir up that happiness.

But even then, Steve had paused seeing the plates in Eddie’s hands, an instant stone in his throat because he isn’t allowed to use those ones.

Sputtering through a sentence, Steve swallowed the stone and skipped over the rule he’d never broken before. It was worth it for the smile on Eddie’s face.

Just like it’s worth it now. Seeing the awed smile on his face, already a little jittery at the thought of a bath… Steve’s embarrassed to find he can’t really say no to him.

He keeps that to himself though, because if Eddie knew that he’d be batting his eyelashes and making every demand known to Earth. But then again, that didn’t sound so bad either.

Christ, Steve thinks to himself. He’s so screwed.

[withacapitalp]

Bathtubs, Closets, and Coming Home

For the servers daily prompt today "closet"

Eddie was giggling. 

Steve’s metalhead rockstar badass boyfriend was straight up fucking giggling. 

“Look at this, Sunshine,” He crowed, practically skipping into the ensuite bathroom, “There’s a clawfoot tub. Clawfoot!” 

Steve slowly made his way over to the bathroom, and by the time he was at the doorway, Eddie was lying fully clothed in said clawfoot bathtub. His legs were crossed and his arms were spread wide in front of him, a dragon with a weird porcelain horde. 

“Can you imagine the wicked wild sex we can have in this thing?” Eddie asked in a hushed whisper, his eyebrows waggling up and down. 

“Eddie!” Steve hissed, quickly glancing around to make sure that their realtor wasn’t standing nearby. 

Luckily Sophie seemed to be occupied elsewhere, so Steve felt brave enough to creep closer, linking his fingers with Eddie’s and giving their joined hands a single soft squeeze. From the moment they had set foot in the house, Eddie had been acting like a kid at Christmas, and the last thing Steve wanted to do was ruin his mood by being a sourpuss. 

“You’re not funny,” Steve teased, throwing on a mock pout just because he knew Eddie loved to kiss that look off his face. Sure enough, Eddie immediately sat up, turning to Steve so they were nose to nose, so close that Steve could smell his shampoo. 

“That’s because I’m hilarious,” Eddie declared, quickly smacking a kiss onto Steve’s lips before hauling himself out of the tub and striding back into the master bedroom, “And this place is perfect!”

Perfect. 

Steve’s heart seized up, and he leaned against the tub, trying to force himself to breathe steadily. 

On paper, Eddie was right, the house was perfect. With eight bedrooms, seven bathrooms, an absolutely ginormous kitchen, a gorgeous backyard, and a guest house on property for when any parents come to visit, it was a dream come true. The house had everything that had been on their list, and with Corroded Coffin’s newest single staying at the number one spot for the sixth week in a row, it was well within their price range. 

On paper, this was everything they were looking for. It was perfect. 

And yet here Steve was, standing in a bathroom trying not to have a complete meltdown. 

“I mean, come on!” Eddie shouted, his voice carrying through to the bathroom. Steve forced his body to walk, barely feeling every step he took as he basically frog marched back into the bedroom.��

Eddie was standing with his arms directly out to his sides, trying and failing to touch each side of the doorway to the walk in closet. There was a big fat grin on his face, and in any other moment, Steve would be dying of happiness instead of despair. 

“This closet is bigger than the entire trailer,” Eddie stated, giddy with the exhilaration of someone who had finally found everything they were looking for. Somehow that one single statement was the thing that pushed him over the edge. 

If Steve was a good partner, he would be happy too. He would rush over to Eddie’s side and pull him in close, show him how much he loved the house, and they would be living happily ever after. 

But Steve wasn’t a good partner. Steve was a selfish goddamn brat, and he couldn’t hide how utterly miserable the house was making him. He couldn’t fake a smile and he couldn't make the tears in his eyes go away, no matter how hard he blinked. 

And the worst part was, Eddie- who was the world’s best partner- instantly caught Steve’s shining eyes and wobbling lip. 

“Steve?”

Fuck. 

It was just his name, but it was the way Eddie said it. That soft tone, the gentle voice that was reserved just for Steve and maybe the kids on a particularly bad day. Compassion and love and understanding all wrapped in a sweet Eddie ribbon, an arrow that sailed right over all of his walls and pierced directly into Steve’s heart. 

“Come here,” Eddie commanded, trusting his hand out. Steve was like a puppet on a string, everything he did tied to whatever Eddie wanted. He swayed into the closet, letting his boyfriend pull him into his arms, setting them both down on the floor with care. They ended up sitting side by side on the ground, their backs against the wall, Steve’s head on Eddie’s shoulder with a comforting hand curled in his hair. 

“It’s great,” Steve tried, hating how thin the lie was. He wanted to be able to put on an act, play along for Eddie’s sake, but there was no way it was going to work. 

“You hate it,” Eddie whispered, and there it was. Steve wasn’t able to lie, but neither was Eddie, and the disappointment in his voice was crushing Steve’s lungs. 

“No,” Steve replied immediately. Eddie scoffed, and Steve pulled away, just enough so they could look at each other. He wanted Eddie to know he was honest when he said he didn’t hate the place, because he was being honest. Steve didn’t hate the house, he loved it, but he hated the way it made him feel. 

“It’s not the house, Eddie. The house is great,” Steve trailed off trying to find the words to explain but coming up empty. He sighed shortly, frustrated with himself as the explanation for the strange rolling feeling in his stomach didn’t come. ”I mean it’s exactly what you want. This is the kind of place you’ve been dreaming about since you were a kid.”

“What I want,” Eddie emphasized, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked at Steve, “But not what you want?” 

“I’m being stupid,” Steve shot back. When Eddie made a sound and tried to reach out, Steve stopped him, knowing this was important. “No, seriously, Eds. I know I’m being super fucking irrational,”

“What do you think you’re being irrational about, baby?” Eddie asked softly, linking their pinkies and looking at Steve with those big brown eyes. 

“You grew up wanting a house like this. I grew up in a house just like this,” Steve explained, closing his eyes as he did. He wouldn’t be able to look at Eddie as he said it, wouldn’t be able to get through without losing it as he finally got to the heart of why this house scared him so badly, “It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be,”

It was irrational. Eddie wasn’t going to stop loving him the second they bought the house. He wasn’t going to leave Steve alone in a tomb of their own making. They weren’t his parents. 

Steve’s brain understood that, now he just needed to get his heart on board. 

“Oh honey,” Eddie murmured. If it was anyone else, there would be pity there, and Steve wouldn’t be able to help being angry. But it was Eddie, who understood him more than almost anyone, and there was nothing to be upset about. 

“Listen to me Steve Buckley, and listen well” Eddie began, his voice firm and filled to bursting with love. A shiver rolled down Steve’s spine, and a small spark of joy burst in his chest as he heard his full name. Even just that reminder was enough to tell him he was never going to be alone again. No matter what happened, he had Robin. 

“I would be happy if we were living in a shoebox under an underpass. We can stop all this right now and live in the trailer for the rest of our lives. I don’t care where we are, or what we’re doing. I just want to come home to you."

And that was all he needed to hear. Steve already knew that, but now he understood it. Eddie might have to go on tour, or to record, or just need his own space, but this would be their home, and he would always come back to it.

To Steve.

“I love you so much,” Steve whispered, leaning forward for a kiss. It was a chaste thing, small and sweet but carrying the promise of everything that was to come. 

“Well boys?” Their realtor said from the doorway. They instantly broke away, both turning to face her with fear. Sophie was watching them with a knowing smirk, holding her pad and pencil like she already was aware of what they were going to say. 

“We'll take it,” Steve declared. 

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Could you do a Lookalike reader getting his hooves or ears brushed / cleaned by Alastor in a similar vein to the antler one? Maybe a standalone mini series of 'Parts I wanted to include in the main series but couldn't find space for it.'

I would be so up for that.

Hey man, thanks for the ask! I think I went a bit off-topic here, but I still think it's hot so I'm gonna post it. I've put a line for the more squeamish readers to stop at. Caveat emptor and all that.

Pairing: Alastor X reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: they/them pronouns, reader is a hermaphrodite, Foot stuff, Hoof stuff, scent glands, DEER THINGS, slight sexual content, Alastor being fucking weird

You didn’t know what was wrong with you at first. You’d held a variety of jobs during your mortal life, but vet wasn’t one of them. What you knew about medicine you knew from backwoods surgery, and what you knew about deer physiology was limited to the things that made their meat unsafe for consumption, the telltale lesions and growths on a carcass that meant it got burned or buried rather than butchered. This wasn’t one of those things.

There was a hard lump on the front of your leg, above where the keratin of your two standing nails ended and below the level of your dewclaws, close to the webbing of skin where your two toes joined. On a human this would have been the shin, but for you it felt more like your tarsal.

It had been small at first, and you had ignored it. Then it had grown larger, painful as it had rubbed against the tongue of your boot. Today you had limped your way through your shift at the hotel, your smile more of a grimace than anything that could genuinely be describes as cheerful, and retreated to the room you shared with Alastor as soon as your contract no longer compelled you to work.

Now you lay in the four-footed bathtub in Alastor’s ensuite bathroom, examining your hoof more thoroughly. Was this an abscess? Did you need to lance it? Your skin graded to a dark grey towards your red nails, so it was difficult to gauge the lump’s condition from color as it would be on a paler part of you. You were pushing at the lump with your fingers, feeling the heat of inflamed flesh when Alastor materialized from the shadows at the bathroom door, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What are you doing here?”

You hadn’t expected him to return to the room for hours, and even then, he generally gave you privacy when you were cleaning yourself. Fear shot through you like a cold wave in your stomach, the feeling of being caught, and you fought the reflex to hide your leg from Alastor. Your career as a serial killer would have been short-lived if you weren’t able to hide guilt, after all. “Do you mind?” you said, broadcasting annoyance.

Alastor looked unimpressed, taking a step closer. “I asked you a question,” he said.

“I would think it’s fairly apparent, but right now I was thinking of cutting my nails,” you lied, smoothly. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, looking for you,” said Alastor, his gaze settling on the red tips of your hooves. “I was about to cook dinner for everyone, and I could do with a sous chef who doesn’t try to boil themselves every time I set a pot of water on the heat or drink all the wine before it goes in the sauce.” He moved closer, arms behind his back. “Though I suppose those are getting rather long,” he said, eyes still on your standing nails, the two red points on the end of each of your hooves. “Let me help you with that.”

“No, I couldn’t put you out,” you raised a hand in protest, but Alastor was already in the space with you, bending to fetch a pedicure kit full of small knives, curved clippers and different grades of files from the cupboard that stood next to the basin.

“Nonsense, my dear, pure nonsense.” Alastor took a seat on the painted metal stool that lived next to the tub and looked down at you, teeth gleaming. “I hope you don’t mean to say I’m not up to the task.”

“Of course not,” you frowned, and Alastor clicked his tongue in disapproval as he took your good leg in his hand.

Disapproval at your facial expression did nothing to stop Alastor’s roving hands, however, the hand that was holding your leg stroking down the arch of your foot to the pads beneath as he fetched a pair of clippers from the box at his feet. The touch was pleasant, and deliberate, and the clippers resembled a pair of secateurs more than anything else, the sort that could easily remove a thumb if applied correctly.

“If you cut to here-” Alastor took your hand, pulling it to the pad of your hoof, where the flesh was attached to the backside of the nail, and traced a line, dragging your finger alongside his. “-the hoof will be too short, and you’ll injure yourself walking-” You listened carefully as Alastor talked, moving your fingers over your hoof so that you would know his instructions by touch. It would have been a relaxing, bonding activity, if it weren’t for the aching lump on your leg, and your growing anxiety at it being discovered. Alastor’s hands were gentle on the pads beneath your hooves, holding your leg perfectly steady as he made each cut.

He moved to your other leg, and you were sure he would notice the lump, but he said nothing, either ignorant or letting you stew in your own embarrassment as you lay in the warm bathwater, his skilled fingers squeezing the arch of your hoof, thumb brushing against your dewclaws as he repeated the process, leaving you enough length in your nail that you would be able to walk comfortably. Sweeping the red slivers of your hooves aside, Alastor took a pair of files from the box, one coarse, one fine, and you felt the vibrations through the nail and through the bones of your leg as he filed down the rough edges. He did it slowly, watching your face as he drew the file back and forth with a gradual movement, the sensation something like a shiver as the metal abraded the surface. When he was done, he ran a thumb over each edge, feeling for imperfections.

Alastor brushed away the fine pink dust with his hand and smiled at his handiwork. “There. That’s better, don’t you agree?”

You nodded, something like relief flooding through you when Alastor hadn’t addressed the problem. You were free to deal with it. Privately.

[nb: if you just wanted hoof clipping, stop reading here]

“And it’s high time we did something about that,” said Alastor, gaze sliding over your bad leg, and your sense of relief shattered. “After all, you didn’t really think there was any part of yourself that you could keep a secret from me, did you?” Alastor’s smile turned cruel, his finger tracing a gentle line up between the two toes of your cloven hoof to the lump, even the light pressure he applied excruciating, and you held your breath to not cry out. “You were limping, darling,” he continued, voice chiding. “I was worried.”

You blinked away tears of pain, studying Alastor’s expression. Really, you’d been embarrassed more than anything- the horror that the strange lump might be due to a failure of basic hygiene on your part, but the way that Alastor examined it without surprise told you that it was an issue he was at least familiar with. Maybe something he’d dealt with on his own body, in his early days in Hell.

“You know what it is?” you asked.

Alastor hummed, his fingers trailing down the freshly pedicured red keratin of your nails and round to the soft pads of flesh that sat behind them, pressing and probing. Oh, that felt nice. “You’ve field dressed a deer before,” he said, chiding. “You really should know this yourself.”

You sank a little deeper into the bath, pouting. “I was a hunter, not a veterinarian. I cut the hooves off before skinning. Dried them sometimes.”

“And I thought you were a curious person.” Alastor smiled to himself, seeming to enjoy having such an advantage over you. “But I suppose I should educate you.” His fingers ceased their massage of your spongy underfoot, and he parted your toes, his touch on the web of skin where the two of them joined. “You have a scent gland here,” he said, pressing his finger against a narrow vertical slit on your dark skin, less than an inch in length. Like the lump above it, it was tender. “It’s blocked. You should have come to me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You felt your ears drop, your leg relaxing a little in Alastor’s grip,

“That is quite the hangdog look you have.” Alastor’s smile grew thin, and he reached over to cup your cheek. “Fear not, I know a remedy.” His fingers lingered, tracing the grim line of your mouth. “It will be painful though, you think you can grin and bear it?”

Alastor always wanted a smile from you, but especially in difficult situations. You weren’t sure if it was sadism, a test, or some twisted beneficence on his part. “Of course,” you said.

“I will hold you to that, dearest,” said Alastor, raising your hoof to his lips. It was all you could do not to gasp when he ran his tongue between your two standing toes, laving the pad of each, a pleasurable but alien sensation. It made it easy to smile for him, and his eyes met yours, the corners creasing with approval. His hand cupped the back of your leg, the part that your brain still fuzzily equated to the arch of your foot, long fingers stroking the lines of the tendons. You had been intimate with him enough times that there was no terror for you in his teeth, only the disconcerting sensation of sharpness as he pressed his mouth to your spread toes, his lips a seal around your scent gland, and sucked.

To describe the sensation as pain was technically correct, but it would be like describing standing within a meter of a working jet engine as loud, or the sea as wet. It was a nerve pain, a primal sensation of wrongness. Pain conducted through the bones of your leg to your stomach and your spine, making you queasy and tearful all at once. But you had promised you would smile through this, so you fought for conscious control of your face, forcing your breathing into a slow, steady rhythm, pushing the tension that had collected in your shoulders down as you lay back in the bath, the corners of your mouth up. You spread the fingers of your hands over the lip of the bathtub, palms outward, arms trembling, and Alastor clasped one of your hands in his, squeezing.

Tears rolled hot down your face as Alastor continued, the sensation unrelenting, the only sound in the room your breathing and the low frequency hum from the lights above you. You were still smiling when Alastor’s thumb hooked around your leg, pressing into the cyst above your scent gland. More pain. A whimper in your throat that you could no longer suppress, the curve of your mouth a forced one. Alastor squeezed your hand tighter as he pushed, or perhaps you were squeezing his, and you felt movement in the gland, the inflamed tissue shifting as the blockage was pushed out. You sobbed once and it was gone, replaced by the sensation of pressure being released, Alastor’s tongue moving between your toes.

Alastor raised his mouth from your hoof, his eyes half-lidded and sultry. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he said, sweetly, and all of a sudden it was easy to smile again, his hand no longer in yours as he used both hands to handle and inspect your hoof. “Nearly done now.”

You peered at your hoof, the toes still splayed as Alastor massaged the cyst with his thumb. Your scent gland wept, oily yellow fluid spilling from it. It stank, an earthy, musky smell filling the room. Alastor could smell it- anything with a nose would be able to, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as Alastor kept your leg firmly in hand. He had probably tasted it, too.

“Guess I should rinse that off,” you said, your smile turning wry as you wrinkled your nose, trying to hide the mix of horror and shame that you felt.

“Absolutely not,” said Alastor firmly, lowering his head to your hoof and lapping at the mess with his tongue, his breath hot between your toes. Fuck. Your stomach tightened at the sight of it, the noise of his tongue almost obscene in the quiet of the bathroom. It was disgusting and erotic all at once, Alastor’s eyes fixing yours with a fervid intensity as he breathed in your scent, and you found yourself hard, the throbbing pain that you’d felt moments before receding to arousal like a curtain revealing a stage.

If Alastor noticed your state, he chose not to acknowledge it, instead teasing the last of your scent from your gland with his mouth and his thumb and planting a soft kiss over the abused tissue; one that was painful by most people’s definitions of pain, but from him it was almost romantic, his lips the barest pressure. You knew better than to raise the matter- that would make him tease you, at best, leave you aching and unfulfilled. What Alastor gave was on his own terms.

“Incomparable, as ever,” Alastor murmured, as if what he had eaten had been drizzled across a plate in a Michelin starred restaurant and not licked fresh from between your toes. “You will come to me for these things in future, hm?”

“Is that a request?” you asked, a rough edge to your voice.

“Given your reaction, I don’t think it’s too tall an order, do you?” Alastor flashed his teeth, flirtatious and sinister all at once.

[yxtubers]

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

chris sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: chris is intrigued by your skincare routine, so you offer to do it for him too

warnings/notes: none? lmk if i missed anything

requested?: yes!!! tysm for all of these requests u guys are so creative

> > >

You were in Chris’ ensuite bathroom, applying a cleanser to your face. There was nothing better than washing off the remainder off the day and committing to some self care before bed.

Hearing Chris enter the room, you let him know you’re in the bathroom as he follows you in. He sits on the edge of the bathtub next to you, watching you.

You begin to dab the water off your face as you reach into the cabinet to pull out a cream face mask.

“What’s that?” asked Chris.

“It’s a face mask,” you respond as you unscrew the cap, “it’s kind of like a moisturizer, except you keep it on for a few minutes and then wash it off.”

He takes a closer look at the substance, tilting his head.

“Can I try?”

You smile at him as you nod, taking out another spatula for him before setting the container onto the corner of the sink. Taking a bit of the mask onto the spatula, you begin demonstrating how to put it on.

“Okay, don’t put too much. A little goes a long way,” you explain.

Chris finds a headband of yours in one of the drawers and he sets his hair back before getting to work. His application is slow and gentle, as if he was scared to mess up. It was a bit messy, but he did a good job overall.

“What now?” he asked.

You giggle at his impatience. “We wait.”

Grabbing the spatula from him, you rinse it in the sink before placing it back in your skincare bag.

You look over at him, giggling at his confused state. It’s not like it was his first time doing skincare, but he had never done it with you before.

His white face stared at you under the bathroom light, smiling as he noticed that you both looked slightly ridiculous.

After spending some time watching tiktok together, you begin to wash off your mask.

You get a towel and run it under warm water before wiping away at your face slowly. It always felt gross to wipe off this stuff, but the warmth of the cloth against your face was nice. Turning to Chris, you raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to take it off for you?” you asked.

His eyes lit up as he nodded, sitting back down at the edge of the tub and closing his eyes.

Finishing yourself up, you took another small face cloth and repeated the action of putting it under warm water. You moved to stand in between his legs and Chris’ hands instinctively went to the back of your thighs, gripping you close.

You ran the wet towel against his forehead and cheeks, making sure to wipe any residue from his face. He tilted his head back to give you a better angle. The newfound access made it easier for you to clean him up.

“That feels really nice,” he whispered.

You kissed his chin as you finished up. “Let’s rinse our faces and moisturize.”

“I thought the mask was moisturizing?” he asked curiously.

“It is, yeah, but you need to apply some after anyway. It keeps the moisture in so your skin doesn’t dry out.

He nodded at your explanation, turning the tap on to splash some water on his face. After getting rid of the remaining bits of the face mask, you pulled out your favorite lotion and began slathering it onto your hands.

“Okay look at me,” you said to Chris.

He tapped his face with a towel quickly before turning to you, hands finding your waist immediately. He turned his head to look at you in the mirror, smiling at the way that you were looking at him, hands covered in face cream.

You turned his face towards you before you massaged the lotion into his skin. Rubbing small motions into his skin, you lathered it onto his neck as well, making sure to get it everywhere.

His hands tapped your waist in a random rhythm, humming an unfamiliar tune as you worked away. He began to sway you slightly, despite the lack of music.

“We should do this more often,” he said as he pulled you closer, grabbing your hand in his as you wrapped the other around his neck.

Dancing around on the spot, you responded with a silent ‘yeah’.

It was all you could say as your words were cut short from your throat. You couldn’t focus on anything but his eyes staring down at you, the arm around your waist soothing you into a rhythm with him as he urged you to keep slow dancing.

His lips found your forehead as he pressed a kiss to it. They then moved to your nose before finally connecting his mouth to yours.

You hugged him tighter, pressing your body into his as the dancing came to a halt.

Brushing his fingers along the hem of your shirt, he pulled back and rested his forehead onto yours.

“Alright, let me help you moisturize too.”

He set you up on the sink, settling in between your legs as he grabbed the cream from the cabinet and opened it.

After tonight, skincare routines became a nightly necessity for you both.

- - -

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