#it could really be called procrastination instead

[socially-awkward-pisces]

Random Fact About Me:

I'm a perfectionist, so every post I make sits in my drafts for days or even weeks until I decide it's good enough to post. This decision is arbitrary and will often be made by posting each draft without changing anything at all

I could have just posted, but I didn't

[spookypete-94]

Pregnant by Proxy

SimonRileyxPregnant!Reader

Have had this idea in my head for many, many months. Finally just decided to do it- even if it seems strange to some.

Triggers for medical inaccuracies, language, minor angst, still born mentioned

What triggered it all is you not showing up. Being Laswell’s right hand while she was Watcher, given you the opportunity to assist Task Force 141 on multiple missions. So much, they considered you a part of their team.

Here instead, Simon Riley stood back watching you from afar. He had hunted you down and located you in your hometown. Something he was never ever supposed to do. There was a no contact rule for them outside of their work. Price enforced it for safety reasons. But Simon just couldn’t stand not knowing where you were or what had happened. That was unsafe for him. He needed to see you, needed to make sure you were alright.

“I can’t tell you much, just that she will not be attending this mission.” Laswell spoke from the computer screen during their video call meant to be a mission brief for the 4 of them.

“She ok at least?” Price asked, looking up over the stack of papers in his hands up at the camera.

You had made your mark on all of them… but maybe not as dark or inflicted as you had on Simon.

“Medical emergency back at home. I know you guys are worried about her, but I really can’t disclose anymore.” Laswell’s voice firmer, protecting you.  “She deserves privacy and her time off.” Something you had earned away from them.

Simon couldn’t help but pipe up. “When will she be back?” You are an asset to this team, as much to his spirit.

A heavy sigh from Laswell, “We need to focus on the task ahead.” She was putting up a wall. How dare you leave without relaying some sort of word to him…

What had happened to you?

That was the moment Simon knew he needed to find you. You were at risk, something had happened. Did you get sent somewhere without him and hurt? Are you bruised and bloody? Had someone laid hands on you? Dangerous as you were… Simon couldn’t help feeling that you were fragile. He had seen you in the most intimate of ways on more than one occasion. Perhaps that had changed his perception of the clarity of body. Fragile like clay figurine, porous and breakable. Skin smooth, even though littered with scars in places. Special, is the way to describe you to him. You understood him. An extension of his peace.

So, he finished the mission. Angrier than he had ever been at the end of one. Days drawn out, even though it only took them a week to find their target and take him into custody. It was a success, a record in apprehending someone capable of such violence. Little did the Task Force know, Ghost’s unbridled rage of procrastinating the ability to find you, the result of such a feat.

Price knew something was up when Ghost had turned down the interrogation of the suspect. This was his forte. One of his best qualities of finding intel was beating a man into submission. Glancing with a side eye filled with suspicion, Price then closed it. Halfway knowing what Ghost was up to, the fact that Simon now needed this. He needed to know you were alive.

There were a few times you would tell him stories of your hometown and family after you would connect and lay naked together. He enjoyed it. It distracted his mind while his brain would close his eyes and imagine it. Never once did you tell him where you from or the name of the town… but he had seen it so many times in his mind’s eye, he had just an inkling of where it was hidden.

Imagine his surprise when had finally found you outside your favorite coffee house. A small coffee in your hand… and a swollen belly round in front of you as you slowly waddled away from him. He had stood back near the corner about 3 buildings away from you, following you ever so slowly.

Shock had filled his system. He could walk away now… in fact he fully wanted to bolt and sprint in a different direction. He knew you were safe, alive and clearly thriving… but he had more questions now then when he did about your absence.

Feeling like you were being watched made you turn around. Eyes instantly locked on the black shadow that was following you.

“Simon?” Your sweet voice called to him, filled with confusion and happiness.

“Wanted to see you…” Was all he could mumble out as he approached.

Awkwardly you tried hard to lurch to him, hard to do so when your counterbalance was way off.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” a rushed hiss to him, as you tried to lay your head into his chest. It was difficult with how round you were, the babe pressing you away.

His finger guided under your chin, lifting it up so he could see your eyes. Tears welled in them that he brushed back with a thumb. Fucking hormones.

“Missed you,” you repeated. Somehow even through all your emotions, the glow on you was so strong and intense. How beautiful.

Simon remained quiet, while he tried to decide how far along you were. The time frame… seemed possible, but he wasn’t entirely sure. The time away from you seemed so much longer. He wanted to ask, he needed to know this now. Sure, he wanted to run at the same time, but you were important to him. This was important to him.

“Is it mine?” He asked his palm spreading over the circumference.

You stood there unable to speak. It was such a long story. Words hindered, closed off. Instead, you shook your head with a slow no. Regret written all over your face.

Instantly, the rage returned to him. Of course he wasn’t good enough for you. That’s why you left. That’s why everyone eventually does. How dare you be so important to him….

Turning on heel, he pushed past the crowd of people nearby trying to get away from you. Anger blinding him, deafening your calling out.

“Simon!! Wait!! She’s not mine either!!” Trying your hardest to run after him.

What?

He stopped dead in his tracks, unable to turn to look at you yet. The same tears that had stung yours now been transferred to his. Had he really wanted this with someone so bad before?

Your hand pressed into his back letting him know you were still there.

“She’s my sisters… it’s a really long fucked up story, but she is my sister’s.”

Abstract. This whole thing was completely abstract and fucking strange. You were being a surrogate to it all.

“What?” Simon said again, finally turning around, his head looking to the side, still not fully able to look at you yet. He needed clarification, needed to comprehend you hadn’t betrayed him.

“I went on leave because my sister was pregnant and went into labor at about eight and half months…but something had happened. She got this blood infection in her uterus causing a still birth. And when it did, it made things happen to her reproductive organs so she would never be able to carry a baby again…They had to take it all out.” A heavy breath left you, as you started to explain, a shake he could hear in your voice, one that and couldn’t ignore.

He turned back around, finally able to look at you again. To you, it was like the break of dawn and the sun greeting the Earth for the first time. He was listening to you. This whole time you were fearful of losing him… but here he was standing before you. Shining like the sun every morning, a wordless pact.

“My sister… she lost her baby and I saw what it did to her. This is all she has ever wanted was to be a mother, and her chance has been taken from her. So, when the doctor said they had saved some of her eggs…I knew I had to do this for her.” Taking his hand, you placed it back on your belly, sprawling his long fingers over it. “This baby isn’t yours… and she isn’t mine. That doesn’t make her any less important though. Just know I had to do this for her.”

His hand was warm. Radiating warmth into you. It gave so much into you, like you had just spewed out back to him.

Did he doubt you?

“I was on my way to an appointment. Why don’t you come with me and maybe that will help you understand.”

A compromise. Let me make this right.

Sliding his hand across your belly, over to your hand he took it and gripped it, squeezing once in awhile. His quiet assurance. So, you led the way. The sail to his boat, teaching and guiding him.

The room was white. White bed, white paper covering it. White walls. White Floor. So much white it hurt for him to look at. Carefully, he stood next to you, letting you climb on the bed to lay down.

“Where is your sister?” A valid question. He would think if this was her baby, she would want to know details, right?

“Work. I think it still hurts her to come sometimes… She has come to a few in the very beginning, but as it gets closer it scares her.”

A valid response.

“You been coming by yourself?”

A slight shrug of your shoulders. “I have…” That hurt him to know you were doing a majority of this alone.

“How did you…?” He said looking down and looking back up at you.

“Conceive?” Unsure if that was what he was asking or not. “Artificial. They planted the embryo after it was fertilized."

Oh, thank God. The relief written on his face makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry. No one else has been inside me in that way. I would never let anyone, let alone my brother-in-law.” Still chuckling.

“Better not.” The only words he could say in his embarrassment of thinking so.

In walked the doctor, who looked over at the mountain of a man.

“Well, hello. Is his him then?” She pointed to him and looked back at you.

“It is.” A smile radiating back at her, truly at your happiest.

The doctor glanced back over at him. “She has talked about you quite a bit and how much she wished you could be here. It’s hard, what she is doing for someone else, but I’m glad her person is here with her now. Your girl’s quite brave.” Rolling across the floor of the room on her stool.

Simon was dumb founded; you had talked about him to someone else? Did he really mean that much to you too?

“Now let’s have a look.”

Rolling your shirt up, exposing that smooth skin to him one more time. It’s been so long since he had last seen it, and here it had changed so much but remained stunning to him.

The doctor measured it before pulling out the doppler to hear the heartbeat. A soft whooshing noise was instantly recognized, making you close your eyes and smile. It was so surreal to Simon. Like he was on the outside looking in. He had the opportunity to see you in this light… and somehow it still was that way for you too. Knowing you were carrying this baby… but it wasn’t entirely yours either.

“Your niece is looking wonderful. See you at your thirty-six-week appointment. Will be once a week starting then.” Niece… A reminder that you were grateful for this baby, but a deep part of you wished it was daughter.

Somehow, he had made it to the checkout desk with you and hadn’t even realized it.

“Can I list you as an emergency contact?” the question that brought him back to reality. Your eyes were looking up at him, pen and paper in your hand before you wrote his name down.

“Sure,” he said taking the pen and paper, scribbling his number down next to his name. Who said anything about no contact outside of work again?

Ending the day, you brought him back to your home. Allowing him to see more of your personal life. Baring it all to him today. His fragile figurine, safe and protected now that he had found her once more. Never again would you be out of his sights. He will see to fix that, all on his own.

Two hands started at your hips before snaking around, his arms fully embraced you from behind. He lifted up on your heavy belly, taking the weight off your hips. A pleasant groan emitted from you. How good did that feel.

“Such a nice thing you are doing for your sister… but next time, the baby in there is going to be ours.” His mouth hot and heavy next to your ear, before running his tongue from the bottom up. It made your skin run hot and cold all at once, goosebumps in the wake on your skin.

“Going to be such a good mother,” his hand trailing down your belly and onto your thigh before squeezing it. “I want this to be safe and healthy for you all, but as soon as you can… I’m fillin’ you with my own. As many as you’ll let me.” Grinding into you, imagining you swollen with his seed making him aroused.

“I missed you.” You whispered out the thrice time today.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[rinachains]

sukuna x gn!reader; fluff; established relationship; no-curses!au

“Why are you so pretty?”  

Sukuna turns his head to your figure that is sprawled lazily on your couch, your own head hanging upside down on the headrest, blinking at him owlishly. His gaze, which had just been focused on the cutting board in front of him - where he was preparing the late-night snack you requested - is now focused on you, interrupted by your unexpected words.

“Are you mad?”

“Yes.” A dopey smile stretches across your face, high on whatever feelings are rushing through your body at that moment. “Madly in love with you.”

Sukuna glances at you, a deadpan look, though your eyes catch the flush that colors his cheeks, barely noticeable, soft and oh so pretty. Betraying his nonchalant exterior.

“Go to sleep.”

“Aww, c’mon, I can see you blushing!”

“Tch, don’t be weird,” he grumbles, face turned to the side, before abandoning his task and making his way to the couch, putting you in a headlock, ignoring your shoves and squeals.

Sukuna finally releases you after you try to bite his arm, your teeth almost leaving a mark (not that he'd actually mind). As you sit up, disheveled and catching your breath, his large hand wanders to the back of your head, a careful grip, and he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.

To an outsider, your boyfriend would probably appear unaffected, perhaps even threatening. But as his partner, someone who knows him too well, you can quickly recognize the softened edges around his eyes, the glint in the maroon of his irises. It never fails to spread warmth throughout your entire body, and you have to stop yourself from burying your face in his broad chest.

“You’ve been trying to tease me a lot lately, you brat,” he drawls, scratching his nails along your nape.

You hum, tipping your head back into his pleasant touch and giving him a short, firm nod. "I am. It's because of your reactions, they're really cute."

Sukuna immediately grimaces at your words and stops scratching, his eyebrows drawn together as his lips fall into something awfully resembling a pout. Like an angry cat, you think to yourself.

“Don’t use that word with me.” 

You roll your eyes and bring a finger up to his face to smooth the wrinkled space between his furrowed brows.

“Oh, get over it. What do you want me to say? Hardcore?”

He pretends to bite your finger, sharp canines lightly scraping the skin while another unhinged giggle escapes your lips at the playful gesture.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t say anything at all.”

A snort leaves you as you wave a hand dismissively at him.

“Yeah, yeah, if that were the case then you wouldn’t be with me in the first place.”  

Suddenly, his other hand reaches up and squeezes your cheeks, causing your lips to form an 'o'. He shakes your head from side to side, gently, eyes never leaving your face.

"You run your mouth way too much."

"M'only matching your energy," you manage to mumble and he lets go of your face.

A click of his tongue, “You wanna die?”

“Uhh, I’m so scared,” you taunt him, the corners of your mouth lifting up, knowing that his threats are just empty words. His own way of showing love, one could say.

His hand, the same one that just squeezed your cheeks, then travels down to wrap around your waist and your lips part immediately at the sensation. But instead of giving it a light squeeze like he usually does, he pinches your side, making you yelp and slap his hand away.  

“Stop!”

"You asked for it," he shrugs, and you can see him trying to fight off a smile that threatens to spread across his face. You're tempted to tease and coo at him again, but you're afraid of what he might do to you, unsure if you'd survive.  

You let out a loud sigh, "All this just because I called you pretty. How sensitive of you."

His brows rise and this time he doesn't hold back a smile, threatening and promising nothing good.

“Oh, I’ll show you sensitive."

a/n: wrote this bc i'm lowkey procrastinating my toji fic whoopsie hehe

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk��about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

[wheeboo]

laundry day | hansol vernon chwe

SYNOPSIS. in which it's laundry day and you're in a bit of an embarrassing predicament. PAIRING. hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader (however, sorta implied that reader is more leaning toward fem) GENRE. fluff, humour?, best friends/roommates to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, vernon is checking reader out lowkey, reader embarrassingly wears hello kitty underwear i don't make the rules, ik vernon is mainly chill but in this they bicker <3, this was very stupid n silly lmfao WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from @weird-bookworm: lemme be annoying already— noni + #16 and #59 from list 1!! - #16: "You hugged me like your personal pillow." - #59: "Laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, I’ll make an exception."

notes: i'm never good with writing humour but i thought of this stupid scenario and idk how i feel BYEE (cuz ur girl lowkey struggled on figuring out how to put #59 in the story lmao) tysm for submitting this in sky <3 and ty @bananabubble for reading it over for me!

join the 2k celebration!

You are so stupid.

So fucking stupid.

How could you let yourself get carried away in loading all your laundry that you forgot to save a pair of pants to wear in the meantime?

You replay everything in your head: your overflowing, neglected laundry basket, the utter satisfaction you felt after loading it... right up until the moment you realised every single pair of pants you own was now basically swimming around in a goddamn whirlpool, and now you're left sporting nothing but your underwear and a shirt that didn't offer much coverage than expected.

You let out an annoyed groan, burying your face into your hands and mentally slapping yourself in the face. The chill of your room sends a trail of goosebumps running up the exposed skin of your legs. There really was nothing you could do but wait for your laundry to finish.

Then your head shoots back up, and maybe your bedroom lights up a bit brighter at your metaphorical lightbulb moment, because you think of Vernon. He's the only other option you have.

Tip-toeing up to your closed door, a bit of hesitancy gnaws at you for being so dumb, before you yell out, "Vernon!"

He's probably in the living room right now𑁋you can overhear the faint music of the record player the two of you snagged at this vintage thrift store the other week. A very good and lucky find, nonetheless.

Taking another (and maybe regrettable) deep breath, you call out again, a little louder this time. "Vernon! Can you hear me?"

The music seems to dip down slightly, and after a moment, the record stops spinning, replaced by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. You brace yourself for the door to swing open to reveal the embarrassing state you're in right now, but it doesn't.

Instead, you hear Vernon's voice respond to you through the door, "Yeah?"

"Uh..." You bite your lip because you can't believe you're about to ask this. "Do you have, um... a pair of pants or shorts I can borrow? I'll give it back to you tomorrow."

For a moment you think he didn't hear you because it's completely silent on the other side of the door, and it does absolutely nothing at calming down your racing heart. You see, you probably should be fine with walking around in your underwear with Vernon because he's your best friend and roommate and he definitely would not judge at all, but it's simply not that simple𑁋

"Did you, like, spill Monster on yourself again?" Vernon asks casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world that you would do (it's happened one too many times).

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean𑁋look, just fetch me a pair and I'll bring it back to you later?"

"Uh, yeah, about that..." He pauses. "I'm wearing my only pair right now since you loaded yours first."

You really should've considered that being best friends with Vernon meant collectively sharing the brain cell of procrastinating when it comes to doing your laundry. Great, just absolutely fantastic. This was very much how you wanted your day to go. Perhaps this is why you're best friends, after all.

"Well, shit," You murmur, more to yourself but Vernon hears it anyway.

"Look, I'm sure it's not that bad, right?" Does he seriously still think you spilled Monster on yourself? "You could probably just𑁋"

You can hardly act by the time the doorknob twists and Vernon peeks his head around the door. But the second he catches sight of you, his eyes flicker over you, before he quickly averts his gaze to the Radiohead poster on your wall. Was it the lighting in your room that's making his face look pink?

You stand there awkwardly, suddenly feeling so exposed in front of him as if some sort of gigantic spotlight was shining down on you. It's not like you haven't been half-naked around each other before, but this feels different... somehow. You don't know why, or maybe you don't want to know.

A cough erupts from Vernon, breaking the sudden silence.

"Oh, wow, um..." He toys with the black hoodie around his head. "I didn't look. I swear."

His eyes dart everywhere except back to you, lingering on the Radiohead poster, the slightly askew picture frame on your desk, just anywhere but you. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or embarrassed.

"Ugh, I'm so stupid." You run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And I have this meeting for work in an hour and I know the laundry won't be done by then. I'm actually screwed."

Vernon thinks for a minute. "You can't like... virtually attend the meeting?

"No."

"Or it can't be postponed?"

"Nope."

"What if I file you as a missing person to the police?"

"You're seriously no help, dude," You say, giving him a light shove to the shoulder, but it's hard to suppress the curve to your lips and the small chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see him fall back dramatically.

Vernon snorts lightly. "Well, it's probably better than showing up to work in your Hello Kitty underwear𑁋"

"You said you didn't look, you idiot!" You exclaim furiously, and Vernon literally does not see the way a pillow practically spawns in your grasp and flinging toward him before he can even react. The pillow hits him square in the chest, causing him to stumble backward with a surprised yelp. "Oh my god, just report me missing at this point."

Vernon just laughs as he catches his breath to stand back up, grabbing the pillow up the floor and lifting it up like a shield as if to defend himself from you. Your face is burning brighter than the lava lamp glowing on your bedside table.

"This is so embarrassing," You mutter sheepishly, wanting to unleash another defeated groan again. "I can't believe I'm this stupid to forget to..."

"You're cute."

"...and then I'm probably going to get fired𑁋what?"

Vernon tosses the pillow back onto your bed and clears his throat.

"I said you're really dumb."

That is not what he said.

For a second, the disastrous situation seems to lighten up just a little bit, and your heart is doing some intense, unrhythmic tap dance against your ribs. You heard exactly what he said𑁋that he called you cute in this ungodly predicament𑁋and now he's trying to brush it off?

Vernon cracks a teasing, boyish smile. "And stupid, yeah. You're not wrong about that."

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get caught in your throat, almost like a choked sound coming out instead. So you point an interrogative finger and step closer to him (and yes, still in your underwear), eyebrows furrowing together.

"You called me cute," You state, all firm and serious now.

Vernon's playful look falters slightly, expression shifting to something a bit more guarded now. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, that nervous habit you've always found sort of endearing throughout time. Perhaps there's a bit more meaning to it now.

The few moments of silence that follow is absolutely suffocating. You can't even tell if time is passing by quicker or slower as the two of you stand there, shifting this uncomfortable weight between both of your feet.

"Yeah," Vernon says simply, quietly. "I did."

You nearly want to laugh for some reason, but you can feel the nerves tickle up your spine. "I'm standing here in fucking Hello Kitty underwear and you think I'm cute?"

You can visibly see the way the lump in his throat tightens as he swallows, his eyes flickering uncertainly between you and the floor.

"Look you just... You caught me off-guard. Like... laundry day doesn't mean walking around in your underwear and all that," Vernon explains, in a tone like he's trying to reason with you. "but for you, I'll make an exception because𑁋"

"𑁋because I'm cute?"

"Because you're so stupidly cute from freaking out when I could just go to the store right now and buy you a pair of pants to wear." Then he sucks in a breath. "And yeah, the Hello Kitty underwear is cute, I guess."

You feign a shocked, traitorous look to your face. "You guess?! It's Hello Kitty, man."

"Dude, do you want me to snatch you some pants to wear or not? Because I'm deadass about the missing persons report," Vernon asks, half-annoyed yet somewhat half-amused. The twitch to his lips doesn't go unnoticed. And the voice of him calling you cute just minutes earlier also doesn't go unheard of too.

You wear a cringy, exaggerated pout to your lips. "Please."

Vernon's face contorts in slight disgust at that. "Please don't do that eve𑁋I'm leaving." And before you can say anything, he's turning around and leaving your room.

You hear the clinking of keys, assuming that Vernon is getting ready to leave to presumably retrieve you a pair of pants to wear for the day. You step up to your doorway to peek into the living room.

"Hey, I owe you!" You holler out to him. "Let me know how much it costs and I'll pay you back."

"No need," Vernon calls back over his shoulder.

"Come on, I'll feel bad," You insist, leaning against the doorframe. "I'll do anything, I swear."

Now that seems to intrigue him, and you watch the way Vernon slowly turns back to you, and maybe you're starting to regret ever saying that to him.

"Okay," he says lightly. "We're watching a movie tonight."

"A movie? What are we..." Then your eyes widen in realisation. "We are not watching Shrek again. I'll end up falling asleep on you because we've rewatched too much."

Vernon just shrugs. "Yeah, like last time. You hugged me like your personal pillow, remember?"

"I..." You stop yourself from responding immediately, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. "Fine, whatever. If I fall asleep again, you can just wake me up this time."

A low, thoughtful hum runs out of Vernon's mouth. "I mean, I really don't mind if you fall asleep, you know. If you're tired and stuff."

You blink up at him dazedly. "Really?"

"Yeah," he answers, and the corners of his lips lift up ever so slightly. "You're cute when you fall asleep on me, anyway."

another note: guys idk what i just wrote lol its like 90% dialogue n rushed HAHSADSA

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi

[pinecipitation]

Pine,,,, smiling friends headcanons, how do you think each of the boys would react to their crush saying they feel safe with them :> if not all of them, your boy Alan and Charlie and Pim (asking for us both im shaking)

SMILING FRIENDS X GN!READER HCS

FIRST OF ALL,,,, HAIIII TEDDYYYY :3 ❤️💛 HELLO WIFE HI LOML…

second of all YESSS SMILING FRIENDS CONTENT WE R SO BACKKK let me get to work ‼️

word count: around 1.2k

authors note: oh my god this was in the works for like a month, I be procrastinating really hard i’m sorry gang 😔🤞 also I’m so sorry alans is so short despite him being my favorite one I’m fighting for my life in here man

CHARLIE: (s1e6)

charlie… is almost relieved to hear it, honestly would immediately flip a switch and do the very most to KEEP you as safe as you can be- but hide it in a playful manner. would carry you for the rest of your life if you asked, just because you inflated his ego.

The two of you are almost halfway in the enchanted forest, you walking in front of Charlie as you hold a little makeshift map in front of the two of you. The whole time Charlie is pointing out little shortcuts, you erasing and drawing paths over and over on the paper until a particularly strong gust of wind blow it away from the two of you, his shocked mouth open and yours would’ve opened if the pencil wasn’t still in your mouth. You didn’t want to say it, but you felt a little aggravated at him for losing your focus like that.

You stop to let him speed up in front of you, the two of you continuing onwards in silence before he speaks.

“Listen… I-“

“It’s fine, you go and I follow. I trust you.”

The minute those words left your mouth, Charlie immediately stops and turns to look at you, the clinks and clanks of his armor making it almost comedic.

“What?”

“…I said you could lead the way?-“

“No,” he shakes his head, the helmet shifting with him, “After that.”

You look at him quizzically, your arms awkward by your side as you look to the side then to him again.

“I trust you?”

What you couldn’t see was Charlie internally squealing like a little girl, happy that someone like you can allow themselves to be so carefree around him. Except you weren’t just someone; he’s unknowingly had a thing for you long enough to where it’s embarrassing that he hasn’t made a move. But, somehow, you telling him that made him understand why he got so nervous around you. Why he always felt let down whenever you had a different mission that day and couldn’t hang with him and Pim. Why he always slightly pulled aside the seat next to him in the office just so you’d sit next to him instead of across.

He finally realized he liked you.

But of course, he’d never say that out loud.

What he did do, however, was immediately grin and flex, his armor audibly showing him move as if he were showing off in a gym mirror.

“Well of course you do, I’d be concerned if you didn’t think a hero like me could protect you. I mean, look at me,” he plays along, successfully earning a chuckle from you before you roll your eyes and shift the bag on your shoulder before you keep moving ahead.

“Alright, hero- hey-!” Your joking manner was cut short as Charlie picks you up, flinging you over his shoulder as his laugh rockets off the trees around the two of you.

Your giggles and pleas to be let down drowned out as he thought about that sentence once more, thinking about what to do to hopefully hearing it again another time.

PIM: (s1e4)

pim….. he’d be so happy, would internally have a little panicked spongebob brain moment but on the outside he’s a stuttering blushing mess. as if he isn’t pink enough.

“Don’t worry, i’ll use this rock to mark the trees- we can find our way back easy!”

Pims words seemed like an echo, his happy go easy personality twenty minutes ago almost feeling like a warning now that the two of you crossed that bridge. The two of you just barely escaped the rain, logs and sticks discarded as the rickety cabin door you called shelter slammed shut.

You were both dripping, Pims cowboy outfit making wet stretching noises every time he stretched his leg or raised his arm. Your outfit was also drenched, a small rip or two from the thorns you pulled away from on the run here.

You were still kneeled over catching your breath as the thunder pursued outside, Pim shakingly clearing his throat before looking up at you with disappointed eyes.

“Listen,… I’m really sorry, I didn’t think it would rain or anything but even then I shouldn’t have taken us across the bridge, and now it’s my fault we’re here-,” he begins, his wet hat now in his hands as he stares down at his cowboy spurs. He only really looked up once he hears you interrupted him with a laugh, a sound he immediately feels his cheeks redden to.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little rain. We’ll be okay- plus, I feel safe with you. I know we’ll make it back fine.”

You were facing down trying to wring the water out of your hair and costume, thinking nothing of it, but to Pim?

To Pim, it meant everything.

He immediately stopped, his eyes widening as he stares at you with his mouth slightly ajar, the redness in his cheeks instantly spreading to his nose and ears. It took two or three tries for him to get his words out, the clothes on him somehow feeling tighter the more he tried to express himself.

“You… you trust me??” The way his meek voice instantly made you straighten up and look at him, the barely there water in his eye almost making you feel guilty for saying it.

Immediately you went to go hold him, your hands wrapping around his back as he listens to you giggle out a ‘Of course! Pim, are you okay?’ and he nods in return. His hands interlock together behind your back, his cheek on your shoulder as he thanks you.

ALAN: (s2e3)

alan… my wife.. would definitely think about asking if you’re SURE. in that case, he’s taken it upon himself to keep his eyes on you like a HAWK, unfortunately intimidating everyone around the two of you.

You seem to feel oddly safe perusing the streets of CrimeVille, thinking back on everyone’s warnings of how dangerous the place was. This is too easy, you think, feeling like everyone was just exaggerating the state of where you two were. What you didn’t realize, however, was Alan shooting everyone the stink eye of the century as he walks behind you.

It wasn’t too long ago when you two left the OfficeCrap, the following conversation unexpected as you both walked out.

“I can do it myself, I don’t want you going to that part of town…” Alan mumbles, the soft mechanic noise of the sliding door behind you helping end his sentence. You only shake your head, shushing him before pronouncing how you’ll be fine, and you trust him to protecting you if anything.

Unbeknownst to you, that’s the only thing Alan’s been thinking about since you left. Fortunately for Alan, being tall and having a somewhat stoic resting facial expression, he was very easy to intimidate anyone looking at you.

He almost walked like your shadow, hands in his pocket as he walks over you like a protective red totem, his blue tie occasionally brushing the top of your head as he looms over everything.

[satuguro]

ೃ PUT ON A SHOW !

porn star! ethan landry x roommate! reader

#SYNOPSIS— ethan really needs to stop thinking about you during his private sessions.

#CONTAINS— anal play, toys, voyeurism, sub! ethan, mommy kink, degradation/praise, dacryphilia, reader is mean, this is filthy i mean it, brief mention of porn star! chad

#AUTHORSNOTE— sorry not sorry x2, might make a part 2 with pornstar chad bc i want to lol

there were a few pros to having a roommate who was as hard working as you.

one, you were barely home. a worrying fact that honestly ethan really shouldn't be so bothered about. most roommates would probably prefer it that their roomie wasn't home, but the thing is, ethan liked you. maybe a little too much; your presence was comforting, you were interesting to talk to, and you were such a good listener that ethan could ramble for hours and not feel bad at all.

two, you had little time to relax, so when you did, you did it with him. laying on the couch and watching a new t.v show with him, making dinner when you came home before ethan did and laughing over the dinner table, playing animal crossing on your switch while he did the homework he procrastinated. ethan liked it when you could just relax, and he liked it even more that you preferred to do it with him, your dear puppy-eyed roommate who was always a little too eager to do things for you.

you were always so stressed, working a job you hated and practically giving your all to school and your profession that you barely had time for yourself. you always came home so exhausted, sometimes even pissed off, that ethan wanted to make it easy for you. he wanted to help you relax. (and sometimes, on the days you came home particularly angry, he imagined you taking that anger out on him instead.)

three, because you weren't home and because you were always so busy, ethan had a chance to keep his side job a little more.. under wraps.

originally, it had started out of curiosity. simple twitter porn videos of him jerking off in front of a camera, whining and moaning as he thrusted his cock into his hand for the internet to see. and only when ethan realized that people liked him and that he was only a little (a lot) turned on by random strangers calling him pretty boy and little slut did he start an onlyfans.

truthfully, even though ethan liked being called all those degrading words, he imagined every single one of them as you behind the screen. typing behind all the accounts, calling him degrading words and praising him for being your little slut and your pretty boy.

but you had already written him off as the innocent roommate. the boy next door type who looked at you with shining hazel eyes and was sometimes just a little too smart with his mouth. and ethan, too afraid of saying his occupation to you, too afraid of possibly making you uncomfortable in any way, kept it a secret.

after the nights where ethan recorded before you came home, fucking himself with a fleshlight and bouncing on a dildo, he could barely even look at you during breakfast. face burning red and hand far too stiff as ethan ate his cereal diligently, listening to you talk about your day plans, completely oblivious to the fact that ethan had used his toys, imagining it was your pussy he was pounding into and your strap on he was taking so well.

which was why he only mildly jumped when you knocked on his door right as he was posting one of his videos.

"ow," ethan hissed, knee colliding with the underside of his desk before he hurried changed the page to another. "come in!"

you peeked in, smile as charming as ever as you looked at your flustered roommate. "hey, they called me in for a little today so i'll probably be home pretty late," you said, opening the door a little wider. you leaned against the door frame, tilting your head a little as you crossed your arms over your chest. "whatcha working on?" you asked curiously, peering at ethan's tomato-red cheeks with an amused grin.

"oh!" ethan laughed nervously, unable to stop himself from subtly looking at the outfit you wore, "i'm working on.." he turned to his computer, eyes widening slightly as he stared at the youtube video he was watching earlier of how to play chess. "chess..?"

"huh." you clicked your tongue, peering into the screen. "okay. i gotta go— logan's gonna kill me if i show up late."

you failed to notice the way ethan's jaw clenched at the mention of your co-worker, a hint of jealousy in his eyes. "don't stay up for me, 'kay?" you said with one final smile, one he quickly returned.

"okay! drive safe, please," ethan said earnestly, making you nod as you shut the door.

"y'know i always do!"

ethan waited until he heard you leave before he returned back to his page. he had planned later on in the week to make a video with chad, but today he had to make a video.

"fuckin' asshole," you grumbled to yourself as you fumbled with your keys. the fact that they called you in just to say that they didn't need you that night only pissed you off a little bit. they didn't think to just text you instead of telling you to your face?

you turned your keys into the lock before slowly opening the door. it was relatively late now; you had left late and returned late. but you didn't want to disturb ethan.

door creaking softly as you shut it and locked it behind you, you didn't want to make your presence known to him as you kicked your shoes off gently. knowing ethan, he was probably fast asleep, playing video games, or talking to chad.

your sock-clad feet shuffled gently across the hard wood floor, a slow sigh leaving your lips until you heard a muffled sound from ethan's room.

you stopped in your tracks, head turning towards his door. was he still awake? a fond smile graced your face as you slowly walked closer, until stopping again when you heard another sound. a moan.

did he have someone over? you couldn't deny the slight hurt and jealousy that panged at your chest at that, your jaw clenching as you tried to push down your emotions.

good for him.

and you almost walked away then to leave ethan to his own devices, if you didn't hear that he whimpered out.

"fuck, this dildo's so big."

what the fuck did he just say?

you blinked, jaw almost dropping at the words coming out of your dear roomie's (not so) innocent mouth, the idea that ethan fucking landry, who sometimes forgot to clean up after himself because he got distracted by some other activity, was moaning like a pornstar.

swallowing thickly, you took a step closer.

and he forgot to shut his door. typical.

but your curiosity and desire was burning far too high for you to just walk away. for you to just turn away from your annoyingly handsome roommate who was letting out such salicious moans that you felt desire pooling at your stomach as you stepped closer and closer.

and when you pushed open ethan's door ever so slowly, you were so happy you gave into your temptations.

ethan looked delicious, ass hitting his headboard repeatedly as he fucked himself dumb on a dildo he had suction cupped to the wood. his eyes were shut tightly, imagining that it was you forcing his hips back to hit yours, making him sink further and further down onto your strap, making him whine as you stretched his ass just for you.

"mm, mm, mm, mm," ethan whimpered repeatedly with every push back of his hips, taking the dildo deeper into his ass with every push. hands gripping his comforter, ethan let out a filthy moan as he sank down fully on the cock, moan moving into a whine as he shifted a little on the dildo. "feels so.."

and when ethan finally opened his eyes, he saw you. shamelessly staring as you watched him fuck himself silly, jaw clenched and pupils dilated as you realized your roommate wasn't as innocent as you thought he was.

"don't stop," you said before ethan could say anything, voice coming out strained as you watched him look at you with wide, mildly horrified eyes.

"w—what?" ethan stared at you like a deer in headlights, hands gripping his comforter as he tried to process your words.

"did i stutter?" you said with a small tilt of your head, finding your voice as you stepped closer. "i said," you sat down right in front of him, eyes snapping to his phone, recording diligently, "don't. stop."

a wicked grin meets your lips as you stare down at him with hungry eyes, finally connecting the dots. “so this is what you do when i’m not home, huh?” grabbing his head of curls, you relish in the whine he lets out as you force him to look at you. “whoring yourself out for the entire internet to see. so don’t stop just because i’m watching.”

ethan bit down on his bottom lip, face red as he looked at you with doe eyes. “y/n,” he whined, eyes glassy and pupils dilated as he started at you. “you’re so mean,” he whimpered, cock twitching as you tilted your head in faux confusion, clicking your tongue.

“don’t you want me to be mean?” your tone changes a bit, melting into sincerity and genuine worry as you look down at ethan, making sure that it’s truly what he wants, that he’s wanted this as much as you have.

and when he nods, face flushing red, your eyes turn cold again.

“good boy.” and with that, you lean down to kiss him, making a delicious moan rip out of his throat as finally, your lips are on his. it’s a mess of tongue and desperation, your lips moving needily over hisas you bend him at an unnatural position. ethan was so compliant, becoming an easy puddle in your hands as he whined into your mouth as his hard cock rubbed against his comforter.

you pull away from him, hungry eyes staring at his pretty red parted lips and his flushed cheeks. “y/n— mommy—“ ethan babbles, already a mess as he stares at you with dilated pupils, eyes glassy with desperate tears.

"crying already?" you couldn't help but tease, caressing his face with one of your hands. ethan leaned into your soft touch, his heart pounding loud in his chest. but that moment of softness lasted briefly; with a sadistic smile on your face, you used your free hand to shove ethan by his shoulder, forcing him fully onto the plastic cock.

his mouth dropped open in a beautiful 'o' as he felt the 10 inch dildo fill him up again, his legs shaking as he struggled to keep himself up. poor baby was so needy, the fact that you fell so easily into the dominant role making him so hard that it hurt.

“if i knew you were such a slut, ethan,” you said, pulling him off of the dildo completely, leaving him empty and gaping, “i would’ve fucked you ages ago.”

ethan whimpered at that, unable to form any coherent sentence as you practically manhandled him to turn around, making it so that he was on his hands and knees with his ass towards you. pulling the dildo off of your headboard with a small pop, you hummed, forcing ethan’s ass back further.

he was so sinful, so compliant to your movements as you practically manhandled him into the position you wanted him in. “mommy, mommy please,” ethan babbled, anticipation making his body tingle as he wiggled his ass, trying to tempt you, “i’m so empty—“ he was cut off with a yelp as you slapped his ass hard, the pain making him whine for more.

all those days of him going off to the gym surely paid off. you couldn’t keep your eyes off of ethan’s ass as you slapped his other asscheek, making him whimper. “that’s for not telling me,” you growled, before slapping his other cheek, reveling in the whorish moan he let out. “that’s for slutting yourself out to anyone but me.” another slap, and another delicious moan.

spreading ethan open with one hand, revealing his gaping pink hole for you, you slapped his hole, hearing ethan sob at the stimulation. “and that’s because you fucking belong to me, got it?”

“yes— yes, mommy,” ethan cried out, tears already streaming down his pretty face as he struggled to keep himself together. he was so horny, so needy, so deep in his head space and you were only helping him. “y/n, i need you, please, i’m sorry, momma, i need you,” he whined out, his words slurring together as he sniffled.

you clicked your tongue, feigning boredom as you rubbed ethan’s rim teasingly, making him push his ass back further towards you. your other hand came to push his lower down, forcing him to arch his muscular back in such a lewd way. but ethan was basically putty in your hands, willing and compliant, and he arched his back so prettily for you.

“what do you need me to do, e?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you sank two fingers into him. ethan took it so easily, his breathing coming out in a low moan as he felt himself filled up.

and maybe it was because he was a bit of a size queen, but ethan wanted more.

“need you t’fuck me, mommy,” ethan said obediently, sniffling as he looked back at you from his position. his pretty face was tear streaked, and his doe eyes were shiny with tears as he cried for you. “i’ve been so good, please,” he begged shamelessly, his lip quivering. ethan’s mind was focused solely on you, how pretty you were, how your touch felt, how your fingers felt inside of him.

he had wanted you for so long. and now he had you.

you pulled your fingers out of his pretty pink hole, spitting over it, making ethan whimper. but before he could even keep thinking about you, you grabbed his thick dildo and slapped its fat head teasingly against his hole, making wet plap plap sounds. “so loose, baby,” you murmured in wonder, sliding the expanse of the cock against his hole. and just like the slut he was, ethan reached two hands behind him and spread his ass apart, cheeks burning red and cock hard from the exposure.

a wicked grin crawled onto your face as ethan whined pathetically, his babbles of “please” and “mommy i’m sorry” fueling your sadistic desire to make him beg.

too bad you were impatient.

you slid the dildo completely inside of him, making ethan’s eyes roll back as he was filled up completely again. “oh fuck—“ ethan cried out as you began moving the dildo in and out of him at a brutal pace, making him moan out in pleasure, his hands still spreading his ass apart for you.

“you’re such a dirty slut,” you murmured, kissing down ethan’s arched back and making him keen. “i bet you’re always so desperate for pleasure, huh? always want to have a pussy to fuck or a dick to suck,” you teased, making ethan grip the comforter hard as he cried out.

“i’m— i’m a dirty slut,” ethan sobbed, his cock grinding against the sheets as you fucked him at such a brutal pace. he felt drool slipping from his mouth, his mouth making such salacious noises that he had no control over. you had practically broken him at this point, his mind solely focused on you and how full he felt as the thick dildo pumped in and out of his ass.

“yeah you are. you just love being a whore for everyone, huh?” you laughed cruelly, watching as ethan pushed his hips back to meet your movements.

“ah, ah, ah, ah!” ethan moaned repeatedly, tongue lolling out and back arching even more as he felt you hit his prostate over and over. he could’ve cum right then and there, but ethan took pride in being a good boy for you. “mommy— mommy, can i cum?” he asked frantically, feeling the dildo pump in and out of him faster. precum stained his sheets as ethan’s thick cock bobbed with every push into him.

“i don’t know if needy sluts deserve to cum,” you tsked, a smirk growing on your face when you heard ethan practically sob at your denial.

he buried his face into his pillows as you dragged the dildo out until only its fat tip was inside, until you shoved it all into him at once. the moan ethan let out echoed in the room, his tears staining his pillows as he begged for you. “please, please, please,” ethan whimpered out like a mantra, looking back at you with teary hazel eyes. “mommy, please—!”

“cum for mommy, ethan,” you murmured, kissing down ethan’s back once again.

“oh fuck— oh fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming—!” ethan whined out, his voice becoming breathy and high pitched as he came over his sheets, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head at the power of his orgasm. you pumped the thick dildo in and out of him through his orgasm, murmuring praise as ethan’s body finally went limp.

you peppered kisses all along ethan’s back, ready to pull the dildo out of ethan before he stopped you, his hand grabbing your free hand. “keep it in,” he murmured, pupils blown wide as he looked at you with a red tear stained face.

“i wanna keep it inside while you ride my face.”

[vampiricgf]

SLAS(HER) - LEON KENNEDY

SYNOPSIS... ❛ you really shouldn't answer strange phone calls. or leave your doors unlocked. or decide you're going to try turning the tables on a masked intruder with one demand: give him a show or it's your guts on the floor.❜

WARNINGS... dead dove, fem reader, creep leon, written with re2r in mind, no outbreak, stalking, voyeurism, guided masturbation, fuck or die, threats of violence, mentions of blood, death and injury, dissociation in a little bit of readers part, home invasion, inspired by ghostface/scream franchise, oral, use of a belt as a restraint

WORD COUNT... 7k+

˗ˏˋ kinktober masterlist ˎˊ˗

It started with an eerie feeling. The nondescript sensation of being watched, by someone just out of reach, just out of sight yet keeping you in theirs from some invisible vantage point. It was something you brushed off through the evening as just a weird vibe because it was Halloween and rather than go out as you’d done in the past you decided to stay home, enjoy the company of your cat and some cheesy slasher flicks they always have running on nearly every channel this time of year. 

That feeling could also be motivated by worry for your friend, working Halloween night was always hectic for everyone on duty at the station. You and Leon had been nearly attached at the hip since you met, not long after he arrived in Raccoon City. The details were a bit muddled but you knew he’d been through a rough breakup, started a brand new job, all at once. An overwhelming amount of stress for anyone, and you were a secretary at that very same job he was the fresh faced rookie in all of a year or so ago. In truth you’d been the first to greet him that day, all nervous and eager to impress. It was cute, really. 

And from that very first day he always seemed to seek you out, handing you a warm cup of coffee at just the right moments, like he knew you usually ended up with headaches by mid afternoon and relied on the caffeine and excedrin combo to make it until the end of your shift. He was always friendly, not overly gregarious but always there to chat about how your day was, if you needed help with anything. He’d even stayed late one day because your cars battery had been on the fritz, gave you a jump so you could drive home. 

A gentleman, through and through, you decided. Soon enough you were dependent on seeing him at least once a day in the cramped old breakroom or coming to loiter by your desk so he could procrastinate his reports (which you would playfully give him shit for later) or else the entire day would feel off, unsatisfying.

All in all, you considered him a friend with some… complicated feelings. You liked him, truly, but knowing he got out of a relationship at the time you met was what gave you pause. You didn’t want to push something that may not be there, after all you might be confusing his nicety for flirtation or just projecting your own attraction. And acting on that, especially if you were right, would be not just humiliating for your ego but would mean you’d lose someone you quickly came to consider a good friend. 

So, just like on many previous nights, you resist the urge to text him. To check up, make sure nothing too wild had come in over dispatch. A casual friend wouldn’t do that, would they? Instead you remain stretched out on the couch, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and absentmindedly stroking the sleeping cat on your lap while images your mind doesn’t register flash over the tv screen. 

Maybe it would be better to get some sleep. You’d see him tomorrow and could ask about how tonight went for him, you could even bring some of those muffins from the little cafe a few blocks away from the station since most of the officers seem to enjoy them. It’s not weird if its for everyone, technically. Right?

As your mind wanders between how to walk the delicate line between your feelings you fail to realize how heavy your eyes were, how you closed them just for a second, just to take a moment and then you’d get up for bed…

~

The chime of your phone is what rouses you, blinking bleary, fuzzy eyes into the darkness of your living room. 

With a little groan you heave yourself up into a sitting position, your joints popping from being folded in an awkward position as you’d jammed yourself into a corner to curl up in your sleep. Before you can rub your eyes, readjust to consciousness, your phone is blaring like a shrieking car alarm that shatters the quiet nighttime fuge. 

With fumbling hands you grab it off the coffee table in front of you, flipping it open and hitting answer without a second thought, body working on auto as your mind catches up. 

“Mh, hello?” you ask, tongue feeling thick in your mouth after your sudden reentry into the world of the living.

“Hey there sleeping beauty.”

The tinny, computerized voice startles you, snapping you into full awareness with how alien and threatening it automatically came across,, making the skin of your arms rise with gooseflesh.

“Who is this?” you ask hesitantly, one hand clutching the phone to your ear while the other cast off the rumpled blanket so you could rise from the couch, feeling suddenly vulnerable and restless.

The voice makes a tut tut sound over the line before speaking. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’ll forgive you since I did wake you up. You look real cute in your sleep though-”

“I’m hanging up, don't call again.” You huff into the receiver, hands shaking as you snap the phone shut, practically throwing it back down on the wooden table as if it were made of molten lava. 

Standing you begin to pace, your cat skulking from underneath the table, clearly sharing in your distress as you rake a hand through your hair. Its okay, you reassure yourself, nothing but some bored kid pulling a Halloween prank. They sell those voice changers at all kinds of stores around this time, they probably just dialed random numbers for shits and giggles. Most importantly: no one was actually watching you sleep. Thats impossible, you live alone and no one outside friends or family know where you live. 

That last rushed thought snags in your mind and you cautiously pick up the phone, pressing the keys to see the last number in the incoming call log. Not one you have saved, and also not one you recognize anyway. The area code is local, but again that doesn’t mean it’s anything but some kid screwing around. 

You exhale long and steady through your nose, feeling your erratic heartbeat slowing down and you shake your head at yourself for being so quick to panic. 

Now it’s really time for bed, you decide, scooping up your furball before making your way towards the bedroom, keeping your eyes trained away from the window so you wouldn’t fall into the trap of peeking out of its glass panes in paranoia.

There's nothing and no one there. 

Before your cat can even finish stepping from your arms to the bedspread, your phone went off in your hand again, it’s familiar ringtone far less inviting under these circumstances. This time you don’t feel afraid as you angrily flip it open, mashing the answer button. 

“I told you not to call again. I don’t care about kids playing pranks, but find someone else to mess with, okay?” Annoyance drips from every word but before you can hang up with a satisfied smirk the voice cuts in. 

“Oh but I know you’re fun to play with, sweetheart.”  

“Do not call me pet names you freak-”

“What, you don’t like it? I think it fits you, sweetheart for a sweet girl.” It mocks you over the line, making your body flush with heat as your anger and your fear mingle into a noxiously overwhelming combination. 

“I work at the police station, quit fucking with me or I’m calling the cops and I know they’ll take it seriously.” You cross your arms, as best you can while still holding the phone. You feel smug, knowing that at least that must spook whoever it is no way they want to potentially deal with the police over a prank call-

Your illusion of control is shattered as the voice breaks out into a laugh, the kind that borders on hysterical as if you’d told such a funny joke they couldn’t hold it back. You bite your lip again, this time giving into the instinct telling you to look out the window, scan the yard outside for any sign that someone was creeping around. But nothing except the faint glow of distant streetlights are reflected back at you. 

“Oh no, please don’t call the cops on me!” the voice breaks into giggles again, “I know we’re gonna have so much fun together.” He says your name and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over your head, a million sharp pin pricks that scream for you to stop, leave, run away, do anything to get this to stop. 

“How do you know my name?”  Your question is barely a whisper.

“I know everything about you. Everything.” The emphasis on the word makes you shiver, tears burning in your waterlines. “But you know what I’m really curious about?” 

Your stomach drops but you respond despite yourself, your fingers curling around the phone's little plastic shell so hard you hear it crackling ever so slightly. “What?”

“Do you always keep this sliding door unlocked?”

It feels like your heart fell out of your ass as you break into a run, breathing harshly and hearing that unnerving, electronic laughter once more over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. To your horror the door is ajar, pulled open with the flimsy little curtain blowing in the chill breeze, and you can’t do anything but continue staring even when you know you need to run, you need to do something, anything to get yourself out of this. 

Why is this happening to me?

As the details of the world soften at the edges, sliding down and blurring with the tears running down your face you fail to hear someone approaching from behind, fail to register anything at all until a black gloved hand claps over your mouth to muffle your shrieking. You thrash against the muscled chest of your assailant, the grip of their arms feels more like being encased by perfectly molded steel, and as you quickly exhaust yourself you’re half guided half carried back towards your bedroom. 

Alarm bells, like emergency sirens, bounce around your head, knowing in some inexplicable way that going into that room will seal your fate. There won’t be any getting out of this, any way to stop what's coming. You honestly don’t know if there ever really was. Regardless, you use up the last bit of adrenaline you have to struggle once more as you’re unceremoniously dragged into the bedroom, the darkness now feeling threatening when it was once relaxing. It’s a valiant effort, you even manage to bite down on his wrist, but it’s still not enough. Even with the bite, all you felt was cloth snagging against your teeth rather than flesh. Whoever it was must be covered head to toe in clothing, completely obscured.  

As you’re pushed down on your back against the mattress a worse sight greets you: one of those halloween costume masks staring back, your breath dies in your lungs as you freeze beneath him, feeling the planes of his body through the layers of clothes as he keeps one hand covering your mouth. 

Slowly he removes his hand and you can’t help but dissolve into a fresh round of tears. 

“Why- why are you doing this?” You can’t help the hitches in your speech as you struggle to remain focused on the man on top of you, the weight of his ribs consuming your awareness as he lies between your legs.

He doesn’t answer you, tilting his head to the side as you shiver below, bile rising in your throat as his hand drifts to caress your jaw, trailing down the sweaty column of your throat. He stops just before your chest, to your shock. 

“Don’t worry,” his voice is still masked by that chilling overlay, built into the mask itself clearly. “I’m not gonna lay a hand on you. Well, not like this.” As he speaks he lifts himself off you, sitting back on his knees against the heels of his shoes. “But you’re gonna put on a little show.”

Confusion bullies its way in front of your other more primal emotions, scooting up until your back hits the headboard and you can wrap your arm around your knees, curl inward no matter how futile the attempt at shielding yourself might be.  

“Not feeling talkative anymore, huh? That's okay, you don't really have to talk for this anyway.” You swear you can hear the smile in his tone, can tell by the way he shifts his hips that he’s getting off on this, on your fear. 

“You’re insane, some kind of freak.” You whisper, voice crackling as you try to hold back sobs. 

“Now come on, let's play nice. It doesn’t have to be all bad, sweetheart.” He shifts again, those black, endless voids staring back into your own aching, burning eyes. “It’s simple: you give me what I want, and we can both still have a good time. No harm done.” 

Only an objectively insane person would present that like a real option, as if he hadn’t terrorized you in your own home, hadn’t violated your safety, hadn’t manhandled you into compliance. 

You sneer at the mask, nearly bearing your teeth like some kind of cornered animal. “Fuck you and fuck your good time.”

His hand moves, significantly faster than your reflexes, and grips your jaw painfully, so tightly you’re afraid he might shatter the bone. “You can be such a shit listener.” It throws you for a loop, hearing him speak like he knows you, and your eyes widen while a whimper spills past your lips. “Theres plenty of time for that later,” his thumb moves to brush back and forth over your bottom lip, a gesture so tender it’s wildly at odds with the present situation. “But right now, you’re gonna give me what I want or else those cops you work with might be cleaning your guts up off the carpet in the morning. And I’d really, really hate for it to end that way.”

In the silence that descends over you both you realize there’s realistically no other way. You can’t overpower him, your phone vanished in the struggle, and even if you could get away, who's to say anyone would believe you needed help? You could be brushed off as just someone with an overly elaborate costume. Despair seeps through your body, oozing thick and sticky as tar, a pitch black loss of hope that could swallow you entirely. You can only pray he’s telling the truth, that once you’ve done what he asked you’ll at least be alive when the sun rises. Whatever consolation that may be.

He sees it, he must, because you notice the way he relaxes ever so slightly before pulling away from you again. You feel both in and beyond the confines of your body as he grabs your ankles, yanking you back down into a lying position, like you’re just a doll that needs posing. 

“Good girl.” That electric voice purrs and you can’t help the bodily reaction those words produce in you, tiny shivers quaking down your spine and spreading out over your ribs. Maybe if you pretend it’s someone else that’ll make it easier, at least bearable. His hands feel hot even through the gloves, like he could brand you with imprints of his grip right on your calves. 

“The pajamas are cute,” He gestures to the fuzzy pants covered in a cartoon cat pattern and you feel embarrassment curling around the edges of your brain, “but I’m more interested in whats under them.” 

It doesn’t shock you, in fact his words produce no reaction in your head. You were already preparing for something like this. With a pathetic whine your arms move mechanically, hesitating as they rest against the waistband of your pants. Point of no return. That's what this is, isn’t it? Would it be better to be gutted in your own bedroom, but at least have your pride intact? No, if you’re dead you’re powerless to prevent anything being done to you after that. 

So your thumbs hook in the waistband, pulling them down as your entire body is wracked with tremors so violent you almost lose your grip but with one lift of your hips they’re down past your ass and he's pulling them the rest of the way off, icy mid autumn air kissing the skin of your thighs like a reverent lover. Once those are tossed into some corner of the floor his attention returns to you, grabbing your legs again to position them wide, spread eagle and with a jolt of shame you realize you can feel your clit starting to throb against your underwear at the attention. 

“Bet you got a really pretty pussy, huh?” His fingers delicately travel up and down your calves, like hes trying to both soothe you and rile you up. Unfortunately for you, your body seems to welcome the touch, the tremors morphing into a wholly different sort of twitching as you lay there feeling moisture slicking the gusset of your panties. 

You close your eyes, steeling yourself to feel his touch moving higher but it never comes, instead it vanishes altogether and you almost whine at the absence. You feel delirious, like you’re quickly losing the thread of your previous conviction, crumbing after just a few gentle touches. It makes you feel weak, disgusted with yourself. 

“Ah ah, open your eyes for me. You have to do the work, it’s your show.” He settles back on his knees once more, clearly waiting for you to continue, play your part. 

It’s like stage fright, the nervousness you feel with his eyes on you yet wholly beyond your own vision. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated, as a grown woman you’ve confidently explored your body as thoroughly as possible, it’s the fact that a masked stranger is waiting in eager anticipation to watch your fingers dive into your cunt. 

But it’s also oddly… thrilling. Your heads all fucked up from the mixed singles between body and brain, like you fell in water and aren’t able to properly orient yourself right side up but maybe it would be easier to give in, accept it at this stage. It’s already progressed this far, right?

Maybe it is my show.

You feel light, somehow untethered as your breathing settles down, one hand running over the peaks of your breasts and down your stomach, creeping towards the waistband of your underwear. As your fingers toy with the elastic your eyes never stray from the mask, watching as his hips adjust again. It’s flattering in its own messed up way, that in this situation you do hold a particular kind of power over him. Your teeth snag against your lip as you tug the silky pair down, painfully slow, just to torture him a little bit. And you would be the biggest liar on earth if you were to say it didn’t inflate your ego like a helium balloon when you heard his sharp inhale as more of your pussy came into his view. 

“Oh shit,” he says and you laugh, despite yourself you do, dissolving into barely contained giggles. 

“What, are you a psychotic virgin or something?” you tease, forgetting momentarily that he very well could make good on his threat of spilling your organs across the floor a la Jack the Ripper. 

“Look who's enjoying herself now, huh?” 

You laugh again, at the naked absurdity of it all this time. You're about to masturbate in front of some masked stalker that threatened to kill you. What does it matter anymore if you’re afraid or not?

Your shaky laugh dips off into a soft moan as your fingers brush through your folds, finding them slick and your hips jerk as your index bumps against your clit, sensitive and needy. Under normal circumstances maybe you’d take a little more time but a part of you does want this over with as soon as possible. You just hope you’re able to come, because that’s probably part of what he wants to see. 

But it’s better to not focus on it too hard or else you probably won't be able to, so you decide to veer in a different direction, wield a little more of this newfound power over the situation. 

“Why can’t I hear your voice?” You ask, making your voice as sugary as possible, letting your lips stay parted as you rub slow, loose circles over your clit. His eyes have to be devouring the sight, you’re sure of it, but to make sure you adjust your hips a bit so they’re as wide as you can accommodate. 

He doesn’t answer you, but you remain undeterred. “I could probably come if I heard you.” 

“Don’t tease so much.” He tries, and fails, to sound firm but you hear the crack in his voice regardless of the masks alteration. You’re wearing him down, at least a little bit. 

“Don’t you wanna watch me come?” Your other hand comes up to squeeze and grope at your clothed chest as you gently swirl two fingers around your entrance before slowly pushing in, your mouth dropping open in a silent keel. The only sound in the bedroom outside your own heavy breathing is the soft, sticky squelching of your fingers curling against slick walls, plunging in and out of yourself at a languid pace. 

“Fuck, yeah I do.” The fake voice carries with it an honest tone of wonder, of bare and dangerous craving. 

“Want you to touch me,” you gasp out, rolling one of your nipples between your fingers. “Please.” You can see how hard he is, the black tactical pants doing absolutely nothing to hide the full erection he's clearly sporting because of you. 

And it works, you know it’s working, that he must be doing some kind of cost benefit analysis of it all in his head without realizing you’re laying the foundations of a sort of psychosexual coup. Without a word he climbs off the bed and your self ministrations halt, curiosity and a twinge of that fear return as you watch him unlace heavy dark boots, letting them thump against your carpet, before you watch with wide eyes as he undoes his belt, painfully slow.

It’s obvious he’s well built, you could feel that when he had you locked in his hold earlier, but as you catch a glimpse of his lower abdomen as he strips off the dark, heavy material you find yourself struggling to keep a hold of your sanity. Before you can even think to yourself, god he must be huge, you’re getting a perfect eyefull of him as his cock springs free from the confines of his boxers. Painfully girthy, just the sight makes your eyes water all over again, and hit cut tip was flushed a pretty shade of blush pink, shiny with smeared precum and you can’t help but think of how much it sucks that a dick like that is attached to a guy like this. It's a shame, really.

Either way, you’re glad to have given yourself some prep via your little “show” for him. As long as he doesn't say something like-

"Put your arms up, above your head."

You don't let on that you've got anything in your head besides fear tinged lust, obediently raising your arms up and making sure your wrists are together so he can loop the belt around. It'll be easier if he truly believes you're beaten down, pliant, rather than frantically flipping through a mental index of potential options. You weren't totally screwed even with your arms bound. With any luck, he'll tie it loose without realizing and you could slip the belt at the perfect opportunity.

But you panic, far too early, and grab the leather strap as soon as it's in reach. Of course he anticipated it, but didn't predict you'd have some renewed energy after your previous adrenaline crash so he doesn't quite block you from it in time. Or rather, he doesn't block your hand that comes down on the mask in your mixed tangle of limbs, knocking it askew and in a snap decision you yank it off revealing blonde strands and a pair of shockingly, stomach churningly familiar blue eyes.

The world holds still. More accurately, it's like a miniature atomic bomb has detonated in your home, only instead of blowing out windows and collapsing the roof it brings your racing mind and overactive nervous system to a screeching halt.

As you both breathe heavily neither of you moves a muscle, not even by one miniscule inch. With all the speed of a drop of pitch landing in a dish you feel your features twist, your hands shake so badly with anger, with disbelief. With want.

"You know I was thinking about you, before I fell asleep?" You say, barely audible but you know he hears by the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. "I was thinking about how god, you're just so nice and what if I was confusing that for something romantic?"

Your hands move as you speak, coming to cradle his face in your hands, moving in until the tip of your nose is almost touching his. You can hear the way he swallows, hard and thick, his entire body as tense as a live wire in your grasp.

"Its so fucked up, but you know, this isn't even a deal breaker for me." And at that revelation you laugh, staring into his ice blue eyes like you've just shared an intimate joke. "You said you know everything," you pull the word out, like it's stuck between your teeth, "well, there are some things about me no one knows."

Smiling now, you feel more whole and in control then you have all night and it's reflected in your movements all lithe and predatory as you straddle him, feeling the head of his still semi hard cock brush against your cunt. That sends satisfaction licking, white hot, down your back and you can feel yourself getting wet again. The truth feels fizzy, tight, in your chest as if you swallowed a baby bird that was now frantically beating its wings against the cage of your stomach.

"I'll tell you this, and we can call it even, okay?" You stare into his eyes again, hunting for anxiety or trepidation, but find none.

"Okay." He says it slow, distrustful. Well, you'll see in a moment how trustworthy your little crush really is.

"I know you were there, on scene, with some of those bodies they found in the forest out by the lake last Halloween?" He nods and you continue. "Mhm, that last girl? A screamer. God it was horrible, she just wouldn't shut the hell up. Finally I just ended up jamming the handle of the axe right in her mouth. Have you ever heard a jawbone splinter?"

"That was you?" His tone is critical and you do your best not to bristle, you have to tread carefully now.

You nod. "It was. It's a bit of a... Family tradition, basically. All those disappearances every so often, always on Halloween? They weren't all me, that'd be impossible, but I did learn from the best." You smile at him again, tasting fresh blood in your mouth as you brush a stray bit of hair from his face.

To your surprise he follows your touch, like he's chasing after it, and you're nearly overcome with giddiness. Is this what they mean when they say that people feel lighter after telling the truth?

"Are you gonna kill me?" This time it's his turn to wonder, to ask in that adorably nervous tone they all do. The same one that gets you unbelievably wound up, a spring loaded bearing just waiting to snap.

You giggle again, all sugar and syrupy sweetness. "Of course not, I really do like you, you know. That's not a lie or a trick."

To emphasize it you push yourself down a little, just enough that you can fully feel him pressing against your soaked pussy, and enough to feel that he's unbelievably hard. It's enough to make you feel dizzy, lightheaded. You genuinely believed there was never, would never, be anyone who really understood you. And more than that: could love you regardless.

"Y'know, we can still put that belt to use... If you want." Your lips ghost over his as you whisper it, and you can hear his breathing freeze in his throat.

"You still up for that?" He sounds both incredulous and horny, hands running up and down your sides, bunching your top up until you reach down, pulling it over your head to be cast into the abyss with your other clothes with a grin.

"No mask this time, I wanna see you." You coo at him, clambering off his lap to stretch out on your back against the bed.

At that he cracks a small smile, eyes glazed over in awe as he stares at you and it makes you preen. He's just like you. A perfect match. Leon doesn't keep you waiting, just as eager and clumsy as he was when you first met and it endears you to him all over again.

His lips capture yours in a kiss full of heat, like opening an oven door only to be blasted in the face with searing air, and your teeth clack together as your tongues slip serpentine over and under one another. By the time he pulls away to trail spit slick kisses down your throat you feel that ache coming back into your clit full force.

You whimper, clutching at his shoulders and tugging at the shirt he still had on, desperate for full skin to skin contact. Luckily he obliges your neediness quickly, yanking the offending cotton barricade over his head and adding it to the forlorn pile.

With a shy smile he grabs for the forgotten belt and you once more obediently raise your arms above your head, this time with no ulterior motives than the selfish anticipation of pleasure. You do make a mental note however to ask how he feels about asphyxiation later.

As the leather settles against your skin you give a few light, experimental tugs, gasping when you feel his lips travel across your chest, between your breasts, and over the plane of your stomach until hes scooting back, warm breath fanning over your inner thighs and causing a fresh round of goosebumps to rise over your arms.

You can't help but squirm as he kisses the side of your knee, your thigh, coming so so close to where you want him but then veering to give the other leg the same treatment.

"I should have figured you're, ah, a huge tease." You barely get the words out as his tongue flicks, light and gentle between your folds.

After that one taste the man between your legs transforms in some way you can't identify, like some new neural pathway was unlocked the moment his tongue touched you and his arms hook around your thighs, fingers digging so harshly into the flesh you can feel the sting of his nails threatening to break the surface and he sucks in your clit with abandon.

You can't help the way your mouth drops open in a silent wail, hips lifting up from the bed as if you're trying to make sure he doesn't let up for even a second but you don't have to worry, the slurping and suckling noises crowding your bedroom emphasize just how focused he is on lavishing you.

It's unlike anything you've ever had before, the feeling of his mouth overpowers your other senses, leaves no room in your head for anything except him, him, him. Your fingers grip his hair, pulling less than gently on his silken locks, but it doesn't deter him or even slightly distract him.

The pressure in your abdomen quickly builds to catastrophic levels, and his name is ripped violently from your throat in a primal wail as your hips grind against his face, the burn in your legs coming from both the overextended muscles and the fact that his nails have broken skin, little beads of bright crimson dotting the surface.

Pain and pleasure in equal parts, to you that is bliss of the highest order. And finally, like a gift fallen from the sky right into your lap, there's someone who might understand that.

As you come down from your orgasm visions of blue eyes, bloodied floors, a boyish grin, and steaming viscera blend behind your eyes and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

[unluckilyimnot]

making out with rin itoshi? I imagine him quiet and shy with you in public but he’s super clingy to you in private.

(no pressure in doing this request.)

Shy boyfriend - i.rin

m.list || rules

note: hiii thank you for your request <3 i took some time i'm sorry i'm busy but also procrastinating. i have a lot on my mind lets say

i'll try my best catch up my resquests for the moment

To say that Rin was in the hurry to go back home was an understatement. He didn’t say much, but his release sigh when you finally decided to say goodbye was enough to let everybody know that he was fed up. You two still left without him being rude to anyone, surprisingly, but you could tell how tense he was at home. 

He didn't say a thing, leaving his keys and jacket at the entrance and got to the kitchen without taking any look in your way. You sigh, tagging along as quickly as you could and wrapping your arms around his waist. He was making boiling water, probably to make tea, so you had to speak up a little.

“Are you mad ?” 

Rin shook his head, not saying a word but you know better than that. He doesn't want to bother you yet it's easy to notice when he's done or bothered. Your friend was a little on his back this afternoon, you admit that but never thought it would annoy him that much. 

He's not the type to talk when there's too many people. Rin finds it difficult to get along with some of your friends or their partner and this lunch at their place reminds both of you how some people can be straightforward. You lost count how many times they called him shy or not funny when he didn't laugh at their jokes. You felt really bad about it. 

“I'm sorry, they're not usually like that I promise.” You muttered into his shirt, waiting for his next move until he forgave you. 

He turned around, pulling you into his chest instead and laid his head on your. It lasted a little, neither of you in the mood to break the finally intimate moment he probably wished to have this whole afternoon. 

“You shouldn't be the one who apologizes.” he said before kissing your head. 

“I do it for them.” you added before getting on your tiptoes and kissed his lips as your real apology. His arms tight up around you, not ready to let go at all, he kissed you one more time. A few pecks before deepening the last one, he turned around so you were the one paying against the counter. You chuckled as he pressed you a little more against it but grabbed his shirt in approval.

The bubbling sound of the kettle behind your ears is increasing, not that you cared much at this point. It mirrors Rin action as he slightly pulls the end of your shirt, making room to place it on your hips. You moved your hand up, lacing them around his neck and smiled in the kiss, enjoying the last few seconds of it. 

Then you light off the kettle swiftly and leave a few pecks on his lips. You grinned at him, lightly patting his cheeks. “That’s enough for an apology ?” 

His cheeks flushed making him look away for a second. He ended up laying his head in the crook of your neck before nodding. His arms tight you up into a hug that you reciprocate without thinking twice. He may not speak a lot, but it never meant he wasn’t the best boyfriend you ever had.

I hope you liked it ♡

[boydepartment]

so cute - anton lee x reader

a/n: DONT LOOK AT ME RN…. okay i’m having a moment shut up i can’t sleep. this is completely self indulgent and writing for fun so whooooooops

warnings- none just fluff and goofy. idol! anton. photography major! reader. (i am not a photography major so pls um bare w me) THIS IS ALSO REALLY CLICHE SO I AM SORRY i also have no idea what tags to use :( so if you are on riize tumblr PLS HELP ME IN MY INBOX WITH TAGS

wc- 250-300

MASTERLIST

when you sat down after you ordered you got all your stuff organized. you had a plan to meet your friend to study together at a small but sweet boba shop. a lot of college students would come and go and half the fun of studying was procrastinating and choosing to people watch instead.

your friend was late and so you were left to fend for yourself. which was okay, it didn’t bother you. you got a little lost in thought and didn’t even notice the gaggle of boys walk in.

you didn’t even notice when the second cashier called up your order and you skipped over to pick it up. it tasted sweet and made you smile.

the way you set up your table looked really nice so you took a couple steps away from your chair to take a photo, not for class. just for fun.

your notes and laptop looked like those aesthetic posts on pinterest and the view outside the window was not the worst for a parking lot. you looked down at your phone and frowned, maybe the flash would help?

you went to get in position again when a guy totally bumped into you. sending both of you crashing onto the floor!

when you sat up you saw all his friends almost sprint out of the shop laughing, you looked down, eyes widening.

“i’m so sorry! here let me help you up!” you stood up and put your hands out. he was quiet and took your hands. you bent over and picked up his thankful pre-poked boba, nothing spilled thank goodness!

“are you okay?” you asked, handing his drink to him. it was a little hard to tell or read him as he was wearing a mask, there was only so much you could read with his eyes.

your head turned to the side trying to get an answer out of him. eventually he snapped out of whatever daze he was in. did this boy hit his head too hard?

“it was my fault! i was walking backwards while talking and i didn’t see you i’m sorry…” the boy was very soft spoken and it took you by surprise. a lot of people you met in college were a little outspoken.

you smiled at him, hoping to lighten the mood, “it’s okay it was an accident!”

“you fell pretty hard on your knees, are you okay?” he asked, noticing that they looked pretty scuffed.

“oh! i’m okay. don’t worry about it.” you went to grab your bag which softened the blow of your fall.

“is your phone okay? if it’s broken i can help pay for the damages…”

that was sweet of him…

you looked at your phone and saw the crack in the screen protector, “it’s a little cracked but it’s just the screen protector! it’s fine! if anyone asks i can tell them about this.” you laughed a little and looked at him again, “my friend’s gonna wish she wasn’t late…!”

you heard the boy laugh a little, “i still feel bad for tripping over you and ruining your photo, can i do anything to make up for it?”

“there’s no need to feel bad!” you said quickly- waving you hands back and forth, “again it’s totally okay. you should probably get back to your friends though… they kinda ran off.”

you saw him look outside the window, scoffing a little, “i’m going to choose to ignore them.”

this made you laugh, it was a total 180 from his voice, it was cute.

“i’m y/n. i figure since we’re having a conversation it’s appropriate to introduce myself, since you’re not just falling over me and dipping.” you stuck your hand out again.

he looked at your hand and shook it, “anton.” his eyes curved which told you he was smiling. cute.

“um… your friend still isn’t here… can i sit with you?”

you nodded, might as well, it wasn’t like you were studying. he happily took a seat next to you.

“you’re in college right?”

you nodded, “mhm! photography major!” you opened a file and scooted your laptop to him. anton looked through your photos almost amazed.

“i’m trying to put together my portfolio right now actually. i’m hoping i’ll get a job soon.” you explained, leaning your head on your palm.

he practically perked up at this, “my friends and i need a photographer for our next show!”

“show?”

“ummmmmmmmmm.” anton scratched his neck, “yes. show. music. yaknow….”

you smiled, “honestly, if it pays well, i’d love to.”

he looked at you and nodded, really enthusiastically. you felt pride bubble in you for someone being so impressed by your work to offer you a job.

“can i get your number to get the details?” you asked, unlocking your phone, he was cute and even if the job didn’t work out, maybe a date would. you could hear his phone buzzing rapidly.

anton nodded again and put his information in, “text me your name n stuff and i’ll answer i promise.” he stood up, “i really need to get back to my friends they’re blowing up my phone… even though they ditched me…”

you laughed again, “no problem. i’ll text you!”

“yeah!” he was walking away from you smiling when he ran into the door awkwardly. almost like the scene of a movie. it was so cute.

he was so cute.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Pulse 💗

Summary: Bucky can hear your heartbeat through the wall, and he can tell everything isn’t alright.

Pairing: Bucky x gn!Reader

Words: 600 (exactly 600, holy moly)

Warnings: None really, just mentions of anxiety and adhd. Wrote this within an hour, sorry if its bad

A/N: Self indulgent fic alert! This goes out to all my peeps who struggle with ADHD/anxiety. It sucks, but hang in there!

Divider credit: @saradika

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Come in,” you called, not looking up from the papers on your desk.

A brief second passed, and the door creaked open. A cautious Bucky peeked his head in.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked.

You suddenly became aware of your leg bouncing 70 miles an hour, and forced yourself to stop. 

“Yes, why?” You replied, ignoring the urge to get up and walk around.

“Well, I—” he hesitated, and brought his hand to rub the back of his neck, “I was passing by and I heard your heartbeat going really fast—super hearing and all that,” he awkwardly chuckled.

“120,” you stated, glancing at your watch.

“What?”

“My heart rate is 120 right now.”

“That’s pretty high for just sitting,” he responded, having a hard time hiding his concern.

“Well, y’know, anxiety,” you breathily laughed, but it wasn’t that funny.

“What are you anxious about? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Nothing.” You sighed, lowering your pen and facing him. At this point he was now in your room, perched in front of your door.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Seriously, I’m kinda freaking out over nothing right now.”

“C’mon, you’re always telling me I’m valid for having concerns, you are too.”

“No, I mean there is literally no singular thing I’m anxious about right now—it’s just physical anxiety, the general feeling that I’m going crazy, or dying, I don’t know, both I guess. That sounds so dramatic. I really am fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but I am, yeah?” You rambled on and on, and cursed yourself when you noticed your leg had started bouncing again.

“I don’t think you’re okay, do you want me to bring you to Dr. Cho?”

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t think there’s much she can do. The worst of this should pass in thirty minutes anyway, it’s just my meds.”

“Oh.” 

You could tell Bucky wanted to ask more, but wasn’t sure if it was polite.

“I have ADD. ADHD, whatever you want to call it. So I take medicine so I can focus on certain tasks, like these reports. And it does help me focus, but it’s also a stimulant, so it also gives me a lot of anxiety, which is totally awesome!” You scoffed.

“Why do you keep stopping your leg from bouncing?”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to annoy you.”

“If bouncing your leg makes you feel better, it doesn’t bother me.”

“I feel like I’m embarrassing myself,” you whined. 

Beep.

You looked at your watch.

“Oh, look at that, 126!”

“Do you—would…would a hug be something that would help you? Calm you down?” He offered, casually putting his arms out for emphasis.

“Sure, Bucky,” you smiled, and stood up to meet him halfway. You knew it wouldn’t fix it, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

Bucky wrapped you in a big embrace, and you were shocked by how warm and teddy-like it was. You gave a small sigh, and rested your face in his neck, knowing you weren’t going to be the first to let go.

He held onto you for longer than you expected, just calmly swaying together in your room. 

To your dismay, he eventually let go of you. You were about to thank him and return to your work, but he gently grabbed your wrist and brought your watch to his sight. 

“107. Good, but I think we can do better than that,” he sweetly smiled, and wrapped you back up into his arms. 

“It might take a while.” You mumbled into his shirt.

“As long as it takes.” He cooed.

A/N: Should be either A) studying for a history exam I have tmw, or B) writing my stupid essay that the rough draft is due tmw, but I wrote this instead bc I’m procrastinating  HELP ME

[literallythegrabber]

Yo , can you do the famous reader one but with characters ¿? Sorry if I was not clear :p

my bad, it's not ur fault I was being dumb. I'm also writing this at 3:00 am, after procrastinating for a week, so sorry for any typos in advance. enjoy!

Finney

Will probably keep his distance from u.

Will admire u from afar, kinda like how he was with Donna, just a bit more extreme since ur famous.

This boy will just stare at you from across the room. No shame whatsoever. Can't hold eye contact for shit tho, and easily flustered.

Since ur famous, I'd imagine you'd be like a child act or actress, so Finney would go to the movie theatre every Friday with Robin or Gwen to see ur movies.

(just remembered how Robin is 6 feet under rn, I'm imagining Finney carrying a pile of bones in a bucket labeled "Robin" to the movies, LMAO, anyways...)

Since he's short on cash (I headcanon he's broke af, I mean he's 13) he'll hideout in the bathroom once ur movies over, then wait for the next audience to come and watch it, then sneak into that booth so he can watch it again. Like, mf u could just go home? But he's committed to u.

When yall got together, the whole school was SHOOK, the people were pondering over yall for days.

You'd have to reassure him a lot. He gets insecure a lot by ur status and what people say.

But Robin will beat the haters up!😁

Robin

will def beat up all ur haters, whether yall are dating or not.

He'll try to act non-chalant and tough around you when he's literally freaking out the moment u walk into the room.

Imagine him just locking eyes with u while he's beating up some kid, just holding eye contact mid punch cause he thinks it makes him look cool.

And ur just like "😐".

Like I said with Finney, he'll go to the movie theatre EVERYDAY to watch ur movies instead of studying.

He just ignores doing it cause homework's for losers.

Like aren't u failing math?

U get scary dog privileges once yall start dating. He's always staring people down when they look at you for too long, he's super protective.

Yall would def be a power couple.

Bruce

He fangirls over u.

Thats it, that's all I have to say.

He ain't a stalker, but is 100% ur biggest fan.

Will flirt with u, get u small gifts, and invite u to his baseball games.

Will definitely serenade u with a guitar in the middle of the hallway, then laugh when u get embarrassed.

He brags to his friends about u all the time.

Nobody's surprised when yall start dating.

The popular boy and the movie star, it was a match made in heaven.

Like with Robin, yall would be a power couple.

Vance

He's literally ur biggest hater, polar opposite of Bruce.

He doesn't really hate u, he's just trying to deny his feelings for u by becoming ur mortal enemy.

He's trying to convince himself he doesn't like you, even tho he thinks about u (and pinball) all day.

Teases u, calls u names, goes out of his way to ruin ur day, he's honestly a menace.

"Vance! Did you see y/n's new movie? It's so cool!" "She looks like a seahorse be fr." "😟"

Vance is just insecure, with his dirty reputation, it's hard for him to believe someone like you would want someone like him.

He's unsure of how to process his emotions correctly, so he just bottles them up. Then imagine yall get into an argument, then all his pent-up feelings come pouring out in an aggressive confession, then yall get together.

The world was SHOOK, again.

Nobody could connect the dots, the goofy "bad boy" dating the movie star? Nobody predicted it.

He keeps his affection under the radar, wouldn't want to ruin his reputation.

He claims ur turning him into a "softie", but he's totally whipped for u.

Scary dog privileges, too.

[sugaryplum]

the tale of sugar cookies

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader summary: about how your procrastination got you a first date and a night spent in hogwarts’ kitchen. warnings: language mistakes, lots of cuteness, i made some hogwarts–related stuff up AND I’M SO SORRY TO ALL THE BRITISH PEOPLE. the name “cookies” just fits better. notes: first piece of the autumn(ish) collection, prompt here being baking together. i’m happy with the premise of this fic, i think it’s super cute. i’m a major procrastinator, currently supposed to be studying for the exam i have in a few days so i very much resonate. and i could really eat a sugar cookie right now yum yum

your knee is bouncing. it’s stupid, really. consequences of some of your dumb choices catching up with you. you’re desperately in need of help, but now you try to focus on theo, who’s heading towards your library table.

he says “hi, y/n.” as he sits down next to you and you chuckle faintly. “i get a whole hi? you sound particularly excited to see me.” he rolls his eyes and smiles ever–so–slightly. “don’t acknowledge it or i’ll go back to just nodding.”

you two are in something. you don’t exactly know what it is and can’t pinpoint when it started, but it’s definitely something more than just study buddies, acquaintances or even friends. you’re a people person by nature, you’ve had so many friends over the years, but this, this is different. this is butterflies and hearts all around. this is overhearing his roommates talk about you, calling you “nott’s girl”. you can’t help but blush at even the thought of it.

today however, neither the boy sitting next to you, nor the essay you’re supposed to be finishing with him are the things on your mind.

“alright, you have to stop this.” after fifteen minutes of your mindless writing, theodore’s hand lands on your knee gently. the touch makes your heart go a bit faster. “you will bounce your knee into oblivion.”

“i’m not sure if oblivion takes in bouncing knees.”

he doesn’t acknowledge your poor attempt at a joke and just looks at you. it's the kind of expression that makes you want to tell him everything immediately. so you do.

“you’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“most things you say are a bit ridiculous, didn’t stop you before.”

your problem is fairly simple. you’re supposed to have one hundred sugar cookies in your dorm by halloween. that’s in two days. so far, there are no sugar cookies in your dorm and you want to drown in your sea of procrastination.

theo’s brows furrow. “one hundred?”

“it’s a hufflepuff thing. i’m sure you’ve heard of it.” you sigh, when he looks clueless. “every halloween we give first–years the opportunity to go trick or treating around all the dorms of older students. so the older students such as myself need to have treats prepared for each kid. most of the people just buy some sweets from hogsmeade but i thought it would make an excellent idea to make them myself. i got all the ingredients and stuff but never got around to do it, because the amount is overwhelming. and now halloween is so soon and i have nothing.” you’re almost breathless when you finish your rant, ready to take his scolding. what came upon you when you decided to do this? you had a whole month to go to honeydukes and buy some candies instead.

he’s quiet for a couple of seconds, looking at you the way he always does. a hint of excitement appears in his eyes, as if he got an idea. “i could help you.”

“what?”

“you heard me. tonight you need to finish this essay.” he looks down at your parchment with only the first few sentences and random doodles all around them. “but tomorrow we can do this. bring the ingredients and we’ll meet up in the kitchen. i end practice six thirty, we could start at seven.”

“you think we can make one hundred in one go?”

“nothing i can’t do.”

“that’s not true. but i’ll go with it this time.” you smile. it means a lot to you. not even the act itself, but the fact that he, of all people offered to help you. theo isn’t exactly a person who expresses his feelings easily, he’s not like you. and he definitely is not a person you could imagine in the kitchen, baking cookies for first–years. you thank him and hope he doesn’t notice the red on your cheeks. as expected, he doesn’t answer with anything but his eyes. you go back to the homework, calmer and happier.

time passes and you start feeling sleepy. you tell theo you’re going and you pack up your bag. when you stand up to leave, you hear his voice again.

“so tomorrow? kitchen? seven?”

you smile.

“it’s a date.”

you’re meant to turn around, but once you realize what you said, you freeze and your expression changes. your eyes stare at him for an excruciatingly long second, petrified. but all he does is shrug his shoulders slightly.

“yeah.” not even looking at you. he reacts as if you sky is blue. you can’t help a smile forming on your lips that only turns more beaming when you turn around and he can’t see your face. it’s a date. damn.

being a hufflepuff has it’s perks. one of them is constant access to the kitchen, accessible through the back of the common room. there were so many times throughout the years when you skipped the normal hogwarts’ dinner to cook something homely. or countless moments stumbling there in the middle of the night to make hot chocolate. you thanked helga everytime when you, or your friends got to taste the goodness you prepared.

today you’re also thankful. it’s almost seven in the evening and you’re giggling, seeing as theo is struggling to put on an apron.

“here, i’ll help you.” you tie it and step back, looking proud of your work. “you look like a professional.”

“i am a professional.”

“have you ever actually baked anything?”

“...no. but isn’t it just a couple of–” he moves his wind a few times to demonstrate what he means and you chuckle. he has no idea what he signed up for. “this will be fun.”

you put your arms on the table. “we’re doing this without magic. it’s better like that. tastier.”

he’s not talking for a couple of seconds, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something. “you’re joking. it’s one hundred cookies. how is a normal, sane person supposed to bake it all in one night, muggle style?”

“that’s exactly what i need your help for.”

“this is a trick, you’re tricking me.”

“not a trick, just my undying charm that caused you to worry about me so much, that you offered me help and now we’re gonna spend the evening baking cookies. you might actually learn something from it, it’ll be good for you.”

“cruel woman.” he shakes his head, but comes up to you anyway, getting a pinch of sugar into his mouth. you give him a scolding look and take away the sugar bowl.

“i’m gonna show you how to make the dough. it’s simple and we need a lot of it, for six whole batches.” his eyes follow you around the kitchen, when you take out ingredients from the shelves. “we need to mix everything together. first, butter and sugar. then flour.” you start mixing things in a big bowl with a spatula, stealing a few glances at the boy in front of you. he’s smiling.

four batches of cookies later, fifth one in the oven, theo really gets into it. at first he seemed skeptical, but now you can see the care in his eyes, when he adds the flour to the bowl, making sure he doesn’t spill anything.

“look at you! doing so well, you might end up as a cookie maker after a–” before you get to finish the sentence, he gets some flour in his hand and throws it all on your face.” when you open your eyes, you see a small grin on his face. “you look like a ghost.”

you talke a big breath and exhale slowly. then you steal the flour from behind his body, ready to fight back. “you are not getting away with this!”

a sweet war starts between you two. each of you fire your shots. all you can do is laugh, there’s powdered sugar on your nose, cheeks and lips. you feel like a small child, so carefree and innocent.

laughter distracts you from the situation you’re in. theo is holding you by the wrists, preventing your hands, armed with a spatula of dough, from rubbing the mass into his face. your eyes open to meet his and in one moment you both turn quiet. you might be delusional, but this seems like perfect time for a kiss.

his lips crash into yours so suddenly, that you barely get the chance to register that it’s actually happening. when he backs away after a second, you pull him in once again, this time him much more confidently.

„you taste like sugar.” you whisper against his lips.

„i wonder why.” he whispers back and kisses you again, and again.

you like the softness on his cheeks when you touch them, and way his hands wrap around your waist. you stay like this for a moment, closer than ever before, until you’re brought back to reality by the oven alarm. sugar cookies. you pat his shoulder and run to get the baking tray.

when you turn back to him, he’s still leaning his lower back on the table, looking at you, smirking. you pretend like you’re not extremely flustered and point to the bowl he never finished mixing. „work, theo! this dough won’t mix itself!”

he quickly grabs the spatula again, saluting to her with it. „yes, chef!”

you giggle. „i don’t think it works like that in cookie shops.”

„yes, chef.” he murmurs quietly, glancing again, as if to see how you react.

you roll your eyes, smile and look away, feeling your cheeks getting hot. your face hurts from all the smiling, but with the smell of sugar cookies and theodore’s eyes on your back, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to stop any time soon.

[justmystyles]

Series

Now You're In My Life

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down and leads you on a whirlwind romance with one of the biggest pop stars in the world.

(More Than) One Shots

(One shots that got away from me, but aren't quite a series.)

Lost (2 Parts) Lose You to Love Me A run-in with your childhood sweetheart brings up old memories, and lingering feelings. Lost and Found You and Harry reconnected a month ago, and he insisted you come along for the final show. when your emotions start to get the better of you, you wonder if you and Harry could ever really just be friends.

End of the Road (2 Parts) Home Stretch As the tour comes to an end, the schedule starts to visibly take its toll on Harry, and you can't help but worry. Crossing the Finish Line It's the final show and Harry charms you into making good on a promise you made last time you were together.

Big Winners (3 Parts) Harry and Y/N have been friends for fifteen years, they finally work together on an album, and it leads them to a night that will change everything for them. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

One Shots

All I Ask*

You're finally starting to get over Harry, what happens when fate brings you back together?

Having Your Baby

You get some life changing news, and come up with the perfect way to tell your husband.

Wallflower

You're sitting alone at a wedding, can a handsome stranger help you come out of your shell?

Line of Fire

You and Harry have been keeping your relationship off the radar, but his concern for you overwhelms his need for privacy.

Coming Home To You*

Harry comes home early and catches you by surprise in the best way possible.

Scars

Can Harry be the comfort you need after falling back into old habits?

Ooh La La

After a revelation on movie night, you and Harry decide to reenact one of the scenes.

Love Don’t Cost A Thing

Harry loves to spoil you, but you're having a hard time adjusting to his lavish lifestyle.

The Battle in Barcelona

A crazy crowd at the airport comes between you and Harry.

Misplaced Emotion

As Harry prepares to jump back into the spotlight, he has a hard time re-adjusting to public life, and it manifests in the wrong way.

Good News All Around

You reach a big milestone in your life, but feel overshadowed when you call to tell Harry about it.

Perfect Harmony

You're in the final days of the tour, and Harry makes a suggestion that ends up changing everything.

Lights, Camera, Action

What was supposed to be just another job becomes the start of something new.

Business or Pleasure?

You return to Love on Tour after an extended break, but after your last interaction, you come back to an awkward situation with Harry.

Reigning it In

You're about to participate in your first horse show, but the nerves overwhelm you. Harry finds you just in time.

Family Portrait

Harry has a couple of heartfelt surprises for you while you're visiting him on tour.

All or Nothing*

You find a new way to tease Harry during a tour visit, which leads to a new way to drive him crazy.

With this Ring

Harry takes his commitment to you to a new level.

Veiled Insecurities

Harry has some insecurities about your relationship, but instead of talking to you about them, they end up coming out in the wrong way.

Heart Song

As a former member of the Love on Tour band, and current girlfriend of Harry, he asks you to reprise your spot for the final show.

Road to Recovery

After reading some negative comments about yourself, you nearly spiral back into old habits. you try to keep it from Harry, but he finds out and confronts you about it.

A Work of Art

After procrastinating for a few weeks, you finally make moves to finish your assignment, but run into an unexpected road block.

He's Not Me

You introduce Harry to the guy you're seeing, and you see a side of him you've never seen before and are shocked by his reasoning.

Sharing is Caring

You can't find your favorite handbag, Harry assures you he doesn't have it, but you see some photos tell a different story

Cantaloupe

In this one shot/flash forward from the Now You're In My Life storyline, you and Harry recap the big news from your family's Thanksgiving dinner.

Like Riding a Bike

Despite being on break, Harry manages to find his way back onstage.

Fa La La La Freakout

You will be meeting Harry's family for the first time over the holidays, and you are desperate for them to like you.

The Morning After

The morning after Harry's 30th birthday, you're hungover and Harry reminds you of your drunken actions from the night before, leading to a conversation you never expected.

Baby-Baby-Baby

Harry meets his niece for the first time, the joy and excitement are quickly replaced with a whole new set of feelings when his best friend, Y/N joins him at the hospital.

Smoke & Mirrors

Harry asks you to move to London with him, but a new opportunity for him makes things a little more complicated than you'd both expect.

(*) - NSFW

For my Harry inspired press-on nail artwork, click here!

[luckykiwiii101]

A Tendency To Kill…

And It Takes One To Know One….

Hey Upper East Siders.

Words out that it’s been…6 months since you’ve been sitting on your ass, procrastinating. Maybe that why it’s so flat…

Wait…you haven’t been procrastinating?

What a shame. When B built a bridge, it all came crashing down. Well maybe, the bolts weren’t strong enough.

Persist once. Shame on you. Persist twice. The blame’s on you. Persisting is nothing if you aren’t out to persist forever. Because your persistence should result in the 3D also showing you proof later…meaning that you can’t just “stop” persisting when it’s right in-front of you. If you know what I mean.

But what’s “persisting” if you don’t take it seriously.

If you ask me, you’re too bold playing around with the only thing holding your hope for a bright future. Or any future at all.

The only way to persist is, with a tendency to kill.

Woah woah woah!! Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here and unleash the murderers roaming tumblr.

What I mean is…murder the old state. Until it no longer exists. Replace it with your new state.

You’ve already created the monster that you call “yourself” today. So what makes you think you can’t create another one. Except, this new one will be more in your favour. Completely in your favour.

Done with being nice. Because look how ever so far that’s gotten you…

You’re out to kill. (Metaphorically incase some of you illiterate dumb fucks can’t get this information into your brain, as usual, because if you did, you’d be sitting in your mansion right now, or wherever you desire, just anywhere but your lazy arse).

A wise girl once said, peak failure is the moment you’re too lazy to get off your metaphorical arse and persist, even though it doesn’t require getting off your physical arse. How embarrassing. Now how do you stoop that low….into your couch. You’re leaving a dent. It’s been ages. The springs must feel a new awakening when you finally choose to get up. If you get up. Don’t you feel butt hurt? Like literally? I cant imagine. How will you be able to do anything? Instead of running on treadmills and getting absolutely nowhere, quite literally. Instead venture into your mind, and actually get somewhere. You know you create your reality. Yet you refuse to…

The old you no longer exists. The old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now. And I mean literally. Get the hell off your phone, and start applying instead of scrolling tumblr searching for answers you already know the answer to.

You haven’t truly persisted if you haven’t drowned the old state in the new state. You’re somebody else now. And if you ever return to your old self, then you never truly claimed your new state. Only call yourself a success when you actually persist. And currently, by the looks of it you aren’t.

Cmon, try it. You’ll start to like who you become along the way. Wouldn’t it be satisfying to give yourself what you deserve?

Well either way, it’s not my problem what life you choose to live. Nobody’s going to shake you out of your trance when we all leave with our success stories, and you’re just…here.

And if books could kill, we wouldn’t wanna be you…since all you really seem to do is look for more info in them. It’s about time they bite your face off. You’re supposed to be attending Constance Billard/St Jude’s private school, not Hogwarts.

I hope I don’t see you here instead of enjoying your summer with your dream life. How many summers have gone by? I’m losing track. Well I guess some things never change…especially you.

- gossip girl

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Twelve

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: I've been procrastinating on this update for a while I won't lie, but I really wasn't sure where I wanted to head with it. Hopefully this reads well, felt like the right move! AH it's actual stress. Hope you all enjoy:) Thanks for all the love this series has gotten, means a whole lot x

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223

Masterlist

I’d always been intrigued by ceilings. And I know that sounded so stupid, which was why I had yet to admit it out loud, to anyone. But I don’t know… I supposed after having stared up at so many of them my entire life, from my childhood bedroom to the hostel I’d wound up in shortly after leaving home, then to my friends' living rooms and the hotels dotted all over the world, that it just made sense for me to find a certain sense of comfort in them. In having a roof over my head.

I realised that it was also the reason as to why I was currently hiding away in my room at Marshall’s, sprawled out on top of the duvet so that I could peer up at the blank canvas which loomed above me.

The day spent with Marshall had been, well in one word, perfect. It had given me the chance to see a whole new side to him, and forced me to come to the conclusion that the man was nothing if not a rubix cube; a complexity made up of so many sides.

He’d truly followed through on his word and shown me the entirety of Detroit and everything the city had to offer. I’d enjoyed it all, the museums, the culture, the theatre, the people, but what I’d enjoyed most of all, was seeing his love for the place he called home. His city. It seemed to loosen him somewhat and unstick that silver tongue of his, allowing me to get a deeper insight into the man that stood behind the facade, behind the stoic persona the public saw and the Dad Rosie adored. It was like I’d been handed a pile of secrets, however small they’d been at times, and silently been asked to guard them. As though they were my own.

But as nice as the day had been, I’d had a lot of shit playing on my mind. 

See, my message to Lottie had gone unread.

I checked the screen for the umpteenth time in the last half hour, almost compulsively, before I let it fall back onto my chest, hardly even feeling the thump it made. 

I had texted her at least a dozen more times since this morning and had yet to hear a single word in return. It was doing my head in. I hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything since we’d driven back, because, as much of a distraction as Em had been, every hour that had passed by without hearing anything had me on edge, worry weaving its way around my ribcage.

I was just about to check again, maybe send another message, or try calling once more, when a knock sounded. I was startled by it, in truth, not having expected the sudden break in my silent solitude. But as I went to answer, mouth poised to call out, I was left to watch the door to my room slowly creak open instead. My brow furrowed at the sight of the intruder.

“Z, you okay?” My voice was full of concern, strained even more so by the sight of the red rimmed eyes the girl bore when she came into full view. My heart skipped a full beat at the slight sniffle that followed her entrance, her hand caught on the door’s handle, before she just started– sobbing.

My eyes widened in an instant and I almost tumbled off the mattress in my haste to sit up on the bed, arms opening as Rosie’s feet carried her across the room, not even second guessing the action.

“Oh, lovely. What’s gone on?” I found myself murmuring into her hair the moment she dropped into my embrace, her knees crowded against my thigh as she began to cry into my shoulder. I pressed a hand to the back of her head, cradling it carefully as I struggled to find the right words needed to remedy this situation. Dumbfounded by it, in all honesty. “Rosie, love, talk to me.”

Her sniffling only continued, shoulders shaking as she hiccuped around another cry. I wondered then where Marshall could possibly be, if he knew the state she had worked herself into, bewildered by the fact that she’d come to seek comfort in me instead of him. If he was still hanging around the house somewhere, or if it was him she was so upset about, wondering if something had happened in the short time I’d been gone.

“I just–” She hiccupped in turn after a short moment and I felt myself relax just a tad at the sound of her voice, glad for it even as it jumped around another hiccup again. I soothed her gently in an attempt to coax her to carry on, thankfully she did, “I just had the worst day.”

My heart broke for her. Hearing how defeated she sounded, as well as the fact that it was something no one ever wanted to hear from a child, especially one as lovely as Rosie. 

So I took a deep breath after swallowing down the bitter tang her words had left me with, then shifted to try and chance a glance at her face, dipping my chin slightly. When I managed it, I was surprised to note the angry red splotches which stained her cheeks and just how upset she really looked. It felt like there was more to the story than just having had a bad day.

“I–” Rosie sniffed heartily and lifted a hand to rub at her right eye, which only appeared to infuriate it further, “Sorry,” She seemed to force out, breath escaping her, “for bursting in.”

I chuckled lightly at it, immediately waving the apology away. “Don’t say that, you’re more than welcome to barge in whenever you like. Especially if you’re upset, Z.” I assured her, taking in the devastated expression that still marred her face, my small smile fell into a concerned frown, “You wanna talk about what happened?”

She seemed to think it over for a long second, gaze straying away from me as though she was embarrassed by her reaction now that her cries had died down somewhat, but I kept her close, dragging a hand up and down her arm. It was that, I supposed, which had her agreeing to the ask and so I shuffled the pair of us backwards so that we could ruin the mountain of pillows Marshall had adorned the bed with, the same ones I’d picked up off the floor when making it that same morning.

“As much as I hate them, they do come in handy when you just wanna melt into the mattress for a while.” I mentioned as we settled, flashing the girl a soft smile when she looked over at me. “But I don’t know why there has to be so many.”

“You don’t like pillows?” Rosie giggled wetly, another sniff following suit as she pulled her knees up, pooling effortlessly into my side. 

I shook my head, wrinkling my nose a tad. “Just the one’s fine. Gives me a neckache otherwise.” To further exaggerate my point I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck and grimaced, which proved to make Z laugh a little more. It was with that in which I found myself relaxing a little further, enough so that I could patiently wait her out, wanting to give her the time she needed before she spoke again.

It worked.

“I love school,” She murmured, eyes downcast, “and I love my friends. Just sometimes– it's hard.”

I couldn’t help it, I frowned at her words. 

“What do you mean?” I wondered as I peered back down at her, then got to watch as she wrung her hands, her own gaze caught on the anxious motion as she replayed it over and over again.

“There was a new kid that started on Monday. We did what we always did when someone new starts, but usually Ms Gabris picks one of us to show them around the school. This time it was me.” Rosie started to explain, dragging in a ragged breath as her lower lip quivered before she finally found the strength to carry on, “I really liked him at first. He was so nice and real funny too. He even liked the same shows I do, right? And so we spent the rest of the week sitting next to each other in class, and then in the cafeteria, I even introduced him to my friends at recess and they all seemed to like him, too.” 

She exhaled heavily, sniffling away again, and so I waited to listen in closer, solely focused on her.

“But then today, well, he started to act all weird around me. I waved at him before class started, just after you and Dad had dropped me off, but he just looked away. I figured that maybe he hadn’t seen me, but when I got to homeroom, he’d switched seats. Like, he actually chose to sit next to Dean Dimitriou and he’s just the worst!” She exclaimed, the very real and amplified huff which followed the cursed name brought a small smile to my lips but I did my best to dampen it before she could see. “I tried to talk to him about it, I really did, I was just so confused, but he ignored me. And then Ms Gabris was telling us all to start our work, so I had to run back to my seat before I got in any trouble. By the time recess came around though, I guess he’d decided to stop the silent treatment.”

My brow furrowed at the way she had ended that particular sentence and I felt an odd sense of anticipation fall over me. “What did he do, Z?”

Rosie rubbed at her eyes once more, pressing the back of her hand to her nose before it dropped to her mouth to muffle another cry. My resolve was quickly crumbling. “He was just, so mean. I– I didn’t even know what to say or do. I was just sitting with Kelsi under the oak tree, talking like we always do, and he came up behind us. I didn’t even know he was there until he shoved me off of the bench we were sat on.”

“He what?”

Rosie’s eyes flashed upwards to meet mine upon hearing the heat that had rolled through my question and so, even as I regretted the sudden anger that had fueled the words, I got to watch the way she fell completely apart at the answer she gave me in turn. 

First her lower lip wobbled, then the skin between her eyebrows wrinkled, and finally, her eyes flooded once more. “That wasn’t even the worst part.” She spluttered, chest heaving as she crumpled back into my side, “The stuff he said, it was just– I don’t think I’d ever even heard some of the words he’d used. He was so nice to me all this week and then, then suddenly he just changed. He started saying these things about me, about how ugly and stupid I was, then about–”

My hands had since flown up to soothe her, an arm wrapped around her trembling shoulders whilst the other had taken her smaller hand in my own, my grip tightened a fraction then as I prompted her on, “About what, Z?”

“Dad.” The word was practically whispered, what with how hollow her voice had become, and yet, I couldn’t help the sharp breath it pulled from me. 

I chewed on my lower lip to keep from pushing her further on the revelation, eyes now caught on the door instead, realising then that she had sought me out because she hadn’t wanted Marshall to see her so distraught, to know that ultimately this was because of him. It made me ache with an unfound sort of pain.

“The things he said, he just didn’t stop, El. He made Dad out to be so horrible. He called him name after name, even said he was evil. That he should be locked up in jail instead of taking care of me.” She choked then on the words as they escaped her, enough so that her next sob was accompanied by a plethora of coughs. “Why would he say that? I just don’t get it.”

My eyes slipped close for a split second, hand rubbing over her back as I tried to withhold my temper, knowing it would do nothing for her right now. 

“I was so confused by it all. And then, before I could even leave to go home he was waiting for me at the doors.” Rosie revealed, her cheeks long since stained by shimmering tears and flushed by the emotions which wracked through her. “He tripped me up just as I was walking out and then when I didn’t actually hit the ground, he pushed me. Actually pushed me. I knocked my head on the railing by the main stairs and scraped my knees, but even then, he still carried on. I was so shocked I couldn’t even cry. I just tried to ignore him and all the things he was saying as I got back up. But, El, he looked so happy. Like he really thought that what he was doing was okay, like it was right. I think that’s what scared me most.”

I wrapped her up in my arms, unable to do much else, unable to find the words. It brought me back to earlier last year, to the days I’d spent with Lottie in situations similar to this one. To when she had hated going to school and had been terrified to step foot in a classroom. It broke me, tore me apart in truth, because it still continued to baffle me just how nasty children could be.

I was unsure how long it took for Rosie to calm down again, to ease up on the tight vice she had on my arms as well as wipe her cheeks, but it must have been a while. I’d managed to get us into a more comfortable position, staring up at the ceiling once more whilst my head warred with my heart over how to best deal with the situation. I knew I’d have to tell Marshall, that much was obvious whether Rosie wanted to or not, but it was the knowing of how it would simply destroy the man that was killing me. It was the one thing I knew wholeheartedly that he had tried his very best to avoid happening once he’d realised just how corrupt this way of life could become. His girls were his world.

It must have been a way of realigning fate because as soon as I’d thought about just how I was going to attempt to talk to him about it all, there was yet another knock and the man himself was stood there by the door that had since been left ajar upon his daughter's entrance. He peered around it, expression clouded by obvious confusion as he stepped inside but when Rosie lifted her head at the unexpected sound he’d made, the confusion he wore immediately vanished and was painted over by such an extreme colour of shock.

“Baby? What’s gone on, what’s happened?”

Marshall’s voice was so soft as he all but flew across the floorboards to meet his daughter’s wary form, but the worry was there, the fury, the fear.

“Bean, talk to me. What’s up, why you been cryin’?” He pestered further, slumping onto the side of the bed to pull her close, his face crumbling the second the girl started crying again. His eyes jumped over to find mine, widened with such alarm and full of a thousand questions, but before I could even react, answer him, he was pulling away from Rosie and trying to get a good look at her face. It was then that he noticed what I had yet to, her knees.

“You’re bleedin’, baby.” The words fell from his mouth like sludge, whilst his stare caught on the vivid scrapes her skin bared, thumb dropping to hover just above the grazes but not quite touching. “Z, what happened? You fall or somethin’?”

His eyes flickered over to me once again when he received no imminent reply and so I swallowed thickly before choosing to shuffle a little closer to the girl, sitting up now so that it wasn’t much of a stretch when I reached out to take her hand in mine. Rosie allowed the gesture easily, something that drew Em’s attention before he was cradling the underneath of her knee in his palm, his voice strained when he spoke again.

“Babygirl, talk to me please.”

The pleading appeared to work a whole lot better on the girl, who’s sobbing had started to hiccup, but it was only after she’d shot me a weary glance which I answered with a goading nod of my own that she tried to explain it all. 

Her voice wobbled throughout, pausing and stuttering as she told him a majority of what she had told me, unable to meet his eyes the further she went on, her gaze caught once again on the wringing of her hands.

Marshall’s face drew blanker and blanker the longer the story went on too. And as Rosie continued to describe what had occurred, I could only observe how the man beside us crumpled under the weight of her words. It felt like I was floating somewhere outside of my own body the longer I watched, witnessing the way Marshall’s shoulders grew hunched, how his hands started to shake and his jaw tightened. 

And yet, despite it all, despite everything he felt, the anger, the guilt, he still reached out with the most tenderest touch to envelope his daughter in his arms.

“I’m sorry.”

I had to look away upon seeing the devastation which marred Marshall’s face the second Rosie spoke, her words echoing almost around us.

It took a second, or maybe a minute, before he could finally answer her, his own voice rough and drained, “Don’t gotta be, nothin’ to be sorry for.”

Rosie only seemed to sob harder at that and it was then that I met Em’s gaze from over the girl’s shoulder. I wanted to reach out, stupidly apologise too for God only knows what, but the dampness which clouded his eyes had my entire body stilling.

I didn’t understand it. The fact that he was allowing me to see him this vulnerable. Marshall was always so guarded in his emotions, stoic and solemn when it suited him, enough to make his gentle smiles and tepid laughter seem like gifts. So the sight made me question everything I knew about him, why he would allow me to witness him like that.  

“People are weird.” Marshall continued on, and it was hard for me not to listen to his voice as he continued to keep me trapped in his stare, his hushed words blanketing over his daughter, soothing her in a way mine couldn’t. “Ain’t got nothing to do with you, Z. Ain’t nothing you did, you hear? Some kids, they hear stuff their own parents say, what the adults around ‘em think, they internalise it, use it. Whether they know if it’s right or not. They mimic what they know, ‘cause the people lookin’ after them couldn’t be wrong, could they? It’s why I’m always so careful ‘bout what you hear. You get me?”

Rosie’s soft nod broke me from the staring contest I'd inadvertently been a part of and I sucked in a sharp breath as the girl withdrew ever so slightly from her Dad’s hold to look up at him. Marshall dragged his eyes away from mine to greet hers. He sighed softly. 

“But listen, if they think for one second I’ma allow some snot nosed little brat to treat you like that, they got another thing comin’. I swear it, Z. No one gets away with something like this. It’ll be resolved, I’ll make sure of it.” Em added in a tone that carried no arguments, his hands moving to wrap around her fidgeting fingertips. “Can’t promise people won’t say stuff like that to you again though,” He mentioned rather reluctantly as his eyes flickered away for a split second, something heavy lining his tone, “And for that, I’m sorry. But, I can deal with this properly. Make sure that this kid leaves you alone from now on, ‘kay?”

Rosie still appeared cautious, probably thinking of the consequences that could possibly follow if the kids in her class knew that she’d gotten this new boy in trouble, but Marshall’s gaze held firm and she could do nothing more than nod around another sniffle.

Em reached up to wipe under her eyes then, his palms cradling her pinkened cheeks before he brought her close enough to press a slow kiss to the top of her head, holding her there for as long as he could. She slotted herself easily into his arms once more afterwards and I smiled softly at the picture they made. 

“Feel like I sorta intruded on your lil girls moment.” Marshall said after a moment had passed, clearing his throat in a way that told me he’d been struggling to hold back his own emotions. He smiled though when Rosie’s head turned against his chest, her doe eyes peering out from under the shelter of her father’s chin to take me in. He shucked her shoulder, “I was waitin’ on you to come home, went lookin’ and everything when I didn’t hear you.” He added, prodding her side just enough to erupt a quiet laugh from the girl and have her squirming to get away. 

“Dad.” Rosie huffed in warning, batting the man’s hands away from her as she scootched back a notch, far enough to have her pressing against my side now.

“Z.” Marshall mimicked in the same drawn out tone, earning another soft chuckle that had his shoulders slipping just an inch. He smiled as he watched her, but ultimately let his face settle into something more subdued, “I ain’t messin’, girlie. You shoulda come and found me.”

His words were met by the prominent scrunch of her nose. “I found El.” Was the defence she made.

I couldn’t help the amused quirk my mouth formed as I draped an arm over her shoulders to show that I hadn’t minded in the least, pulling her in close and allowing my worry to unwind now that I knew she was doing better. Em levelled the pair of us with a long stare, but ultimately resorted to shaking his head when he was met by the same gesture in turn. Z peered up at me then to share a smug smile, her eyes were still a little too pink for my liking but it really did further enhance the blue of her irises.

Marshall’s slight exhale recaptured our shared attention and I wasn’t all that surprised to see that Em was focusing on Z’s knees now that the initial storm had passed us. The slight tick of his jaw told me that he was still holding onto a cage full of feelings, but his touch was as gentle as ever, Rosie was none the wiser.

“Gotta clean these up, kiddo.”

It earned him a hefty grimace in response, which made me chuckle to myself before I squeezed Rosie’s shoulder in a show of compassion. “It’ll be quick,” I promised, “Just a quick once over and then we can plaster them babies up.”

She laughed lightly and eventually nodded, but it was as she went to stand that she squealed, not having expected the way Marshall went and scooped her right up. “Dad!”

I couldn’t hold back the snickers that climbed their way up and out of my mouth upon seeing the way Em didn’t bat an eye at the loud exclamation, nor the way Rosie pounded on his shoulder in hopes to be let down. 

It was only as we reached the doorway, laughing away, that I realised I’d been following the pair and suddenly, feeling like an intruder, I fumbled slightly in my gait. Something which Marshall appeared to pick up on because he paused at the top of the stairs to look back at me, raising a brow and smirking ever so when he gestured his head over, “You comin’ or what? Gonna need some help here, this patient seems like the real aggressive type.”

“Am not!”

Rosie’s evident mirth was drowned out by Em’s heavy sigh, “Denial, too.” He teased whilst somehow managing to keep up his stoic charade, “Guessin’ they just be letting anyone in these days.”

So I’d followed with a blithe smile, chiming in on the joke as we descended the staircase and made our way into the kitchen to where Marshall seemed to keep a First Aid kit on hand. I quietly figured that I should probably remedy the lack of my own when I got back to London, especially seeing as I could be as clumsy as a newborn foal most days. Did everyone have one, was that typically expected?

But true to my word, Em made quick work of cleaning the grazes on the girl’s knees and covered them up with a couple of plasters (“Band aids!”) dotted in comic book characters. Something which had earned Marshall a raised brow even when he’d avoided my stare, obviously feeling sheepish at having been caught out. He checked on her head afterwards too, crouching ever so slightly to look in her eyes now that she was perched up on the counter.

“How many fingers?” He asked for the third time now, crossing his own eyes as he wiggled a hand before her.

She giggled, “Five.”

“ER, wrong!” Marshall sounded, creating his own buzzer as he dropped his hand to his side in mock disappointment.

“Am not!” Rosie argued back, narrowing her eyes at him, the gesture lost upon seeing the strength of her smile.

“Are too,” He shot straight back anyway, “It was four fingers and one thumb.”

“You’re so annoying,” She claimed but seemed far too amused by his antics to be truly irritated by it all, “And I’m fine, it’s just a bump!”

Em hummed doubtfully, though he still pressed another kiss to the side of her head before he pulled away to put the rest of the kit back in its box. “Gotta be careful with stuff like that, baby. Head’s a precious thing.” He resorted to telling her and I was evidently reminded of the story he’d shared earlier in the day, about the time when he’d been hit hard enough in the head to have left him lying unconscious in a hospital bed. He patted her knee carefully to send her on her way, “Go on, go get changed. We can order out, okay? Your pick. That sound good?”

Rosie all but beamed at the offer as she slid from off the counter top to do as she was told. It was only when we’d heard her telltale steps on the stairs that Em slumped once more, the fight of having to pretend around her slipping out of him like water through a storm drain.

“Could kill that kid, I swear.” He muttered harshly into the quiet, his hand shaking ever so slightly as he reached out to shove the antiseptic wipes he’d used back into the box. Fists clenching around nothing but air when he withdrew.

I acted before I could think things through, stepping closer to press my forehead to the back of his shoulder in an attempt to offer comfort. I felt him tense at the sudden touch and waited a moment for him to pull completely away when he surprised me by slackening once more, only he unwound a little further this time around.

“It’s not on you.” I reminded him gently and lifted my hand to trail a fingertip down the curve of his spine. His breathing stuttered slightly, barely even audible to me, before he scoffed, closing the kit with a loud click. I let my fingers press a little harder into the thin fabric of his t-shirt, unwilling to be brushed aside. “It’s not on you, Marshall.” I repeated into the silence of the kitchen, wanting to be heard. 

He sighed and I felt, more than heard, him swallow back the biting words that I knew wanted to escape, “Fuckin’ feels like it.” Is what he settled on.

My eyes caught on the small trail I’d been making, it had started out with a soft line drawing up and down at first, but now I was circling over each knob of his spine without much thought. 

“‘Course it does, Em. Doesn’t mean anything more than that though.” I exhaled softly, “You’re a good dad, the best even. But stuff like this happens with all kids, if it wasn’t down to your notability, then it would’ve been down to something else.” 

The assurance wasn’t lost on him, I knew that much, but it was also one thing to hear it and another to allow it the space to sink in.

His palms came to rest on the top of the counter as he let go of another heaved breath, “I knew it would happen though, should’ve prepared her better, should've let her know. But I didn’t want–”

“Didn’t want her to fear other people?” I figured.

“Yeah,” He blew out hopelessly, his shoulders moving with it. “She’s already been affected by all this, I didn’t want her growin’ up sheltered, feelin’ like she couldn’t trust her friends, the people that are meant to look out for her. You know?”

I lifted my head away from the curve of his shoulder but allowed my hand to linger on the small of his back, “You can’t shield her from it all. As much as it hurts, you’re gonna have to let her learn. Sometimes it’ll end in tears, but at least you’ll always be here for her when it happens.”

He was quiet for a long moment before I felt him start to shift beneath me, I let my hand drop and lifted my chin to look up at him, his position between the counter and I made all the more obvious in that moment. “But I wasn’t there this time.”

Frowning, I was confused by his words. “You were. I just literally watched you patch her up and stop her tears, Marshall. If that’s not being there, then what is?”

He shook his head minutely, but where I expected him to dip his chin or glance away in a show of huffy resentment, he didn’t, instead his gaze held strong. “She didn’t come lookin’ for me.” He stated, voice barely above a murmur but determined, “She found you.”

I didn’t quite know how to respond to that, because his words didn’t feel accusing. No, they somehow sounded both soft and heavy at the same time. “Marshall,” I tried, but nothing appeared to follow it. His smile was small but genuine in that next moment and as he reached out for me, I could do nothing but hold still.

His fingers dragged their way down the length of my arm to capture my hand in his own, I withheld a shiver at the featherlight touch but kept watching, unsure of what it meant, of what he wanted. He squeezed the digits ever so slightly in a fist and stepped closer so soundlessly that it was almost like he hadn’t moved at all, as though he’d always been there. Just a breath away.

Slowly but surely, he raised his other hand too and I felt my skin warm beneath it when he moved to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I blinked at the sudden shift and couldn’t deny the way I watched his eyes flicker downwards before they jumped back up to look me dead on. 

“I like these.” He murmured, voice still as gruff as it had just been when his fingers moved to trail over the curve of my jaw, “Dotted with stars.” His mouth quirked up ever so slightly, gaze caught on the freckles which littered my skin. 

My breath caught in my throat at the blatant caress, the weight it held, but I didn’t dare move, my own hands twitching to reach out and touch. But it was his next sentence that knocked the air from my lungs, because I didn’t think anyone ever had, or ever would, say something like it to me again.

“You really are made up of constellations, ain’t you?”

Somehow, he’d managed to shuffle even closer. His shoes knocked against the sides of my socked feet. I held my breath. Waiting.

His thumb skirted over the corner of my bottom lip and the breath I’d been holding left me shakily, fanning across the back of his hand. I lifted my eyes carefully, surprised to already find him watching me and my every move. It seemed as though his head tilted right after, he was leaning in, heavy stare jumping back and forth between my own glazed eyes. I thought… I thought–

Footsteps.

Just like that and he was withdrawing. Quicker than a cat caught near water and straightening up like nothing had even occurred at all the second Rosie came spinning into the room, her eyes bright and smile beaming.

I swallowed, throat dry, but tongue practically salivating. I wanted to reach out again, to press the action. But my head was addled, whirling with what had happened, what could have. Then before I could even react Rosie was sliding up beside me, talking a mile a minute about what to have for dinner. Right, I reminded myself, the takeaway.

I didn’t dare chance another glance in Marshall’s direction as I let the girl drag me over to the drawer full of flyers and menus they had, nodding and smiling when appropriate but my mind was still stuck on the feel of his hands, the weight of his gaze.

Another issue to add to my ever growing list of worries, I supposed. 

I was entirely fucked. I knew it too, because I couldn’t for the life of me get my pulse to calm down even as I rattled off some sort of order through the phone, only meeting the man’s eye for a splintered second when I’d fumbled my way through typing out the restaurant's number. He knew. He had to have known how affected I was and yet he looked away, lips pressing into a firm line. I wondered what would have happened if Rosie had only taken a minute longer.

Constellations, he’d claimed. Made up of stars. 

How was I supposed to act after having heard something like that?

How was I meant to continue on not knowing if he’d really meant it?