#missed redecorating lots !!!

[little-pup-pip]

hello! may i have a animal crossing moodboard with themes of plushies, chalk, and pink?

Absolutely!!

[neosimi]

Sims Gone Wired.

[softietrait]

primrose got a makeover. ‹𝟹

[ajournalingtrex]

throwing the green nook inc tarp over my tumblrs bc we are under construction bby!!! check back with us later!!!

[mommywandas]

Pretty When You Sleep — W.M

——

Pairing: Dark!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Nights are lot more dangerous than you think.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, drugging, blood, murder, stalking, mentions of a knives, strap-on.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: This is a very dark and heavy fic, if you find any of the warnings triggering, please do not read. Happy Halloween! 18+ only. Men dni.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

——

It started off small.

All the shoes you left in a mess by the door now neatly stacked up, laces undone, just so they were easier to slip on. The lamp you'd accidently leave on before falling asleep, being off when you woke up in the morning. Clothes that were dumped on the floor, suddenly folded up in your drawer.

Then it got weirder.

Your purse being filled with fifty dollar bills on the mornings you worried you wouldn't have enough to afford your groceries. Some of your clothes, specifically underwear, going missing. Your phone being in the other room when you woke up. Waking up with different pyjama bottoms on.

As it got worse, you found yourself confiding in your friend. Well, a little more than a friend, but the two of you had never labelled it. The two of you sat in the corner of a local cafe, coffee warming up your hands. It was a cool autumn day, causing you to wrap up in a scarf and fluffy coat. This crimson coloured scarf had suddenly appeared in your closet, right when you needed it. It should have been wrong to wear something that had inexplicably appeared in your home, but it was cold, and what else were you to do?

"It's just getting weird. Even the leftovers in my fridge that were about to be mouldy are being thrown away. I see it in my garbage bag. And you know me, I don't even throw it out until it's literally gone blue."

Erin laughed, "You're quite careless. And disgusting." Yes, you were, but that wasn't the point!

"Shush. I'm actually worried here. I'm starting to think.. no.. no one can be breaking into my apartment every night, I'd wake up and hear them. God, I think I'm going mad." You mumbled, hand gripping tightly around the coffee mug. It reminded you of the time you'd left a cold cup of tea on the side, and had fallen asleep. When you woke up an hour later, the cup was hot, as if it had just been warmed up again.

"You've added another lock to your door, you don't even have a spare key for it. It's impossible for someone to break in. And you live on the top floor. Honey, you've been exhausted recently, it's not uncommon for people to get forgetful. You probably did those things while sleepy." Erin reassured you, placing a hand over yours.

You sighed deeply, downing the last drops of drink you had left, Erin doing the same. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's just.. strange."

—

As you entered your apartment late at night, instead of throwing your keys carelessly on a table, you decided to tuck them in the nightstand by your bed. Just to be safe, even if it was just for your own peace of mind. You jumped into the shower, cracking open the window so the steam could be let out. You lived on the top floor of your block, no one could look in, which was always a good thing because your bathroom got very steamy, recently the ceiling paper even curling at the side from the condensation. Making a mental note to look up the prices for someone to redecorate.

You really needed a shower today, you and Erin had gotten a little.. excited earlier, and it always made you cringe not showering before bed after an evening of sex. Under the warm water, you hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all day. It was a song you didn't even recognise, in fact you weren't even sure you'd heard it before. All you knew was that it was in a different language, and it was comforting.

Once clean, you felt overwhelmingly tired, it had been a long day, so you decided to go straight to bed after having your usual cup of camomile tea, with two spoons of sugar. Then you got into bed. Before you could doze off though, you decided to read for a bit, opening up your latest novel of your favourite author. It can't have been too exciting though, because you fell asleep before the first chapter was over.

When dawn broke, the early sun breaking through cracks in your window, you stirred, blinking a few times. Something felt strange, like every morning for the past few months. You felt a stickiness between your thighs, and your pyjama bottoms were definitely not the ones you fell asleep in. You stared down at the light blue shorts, eyebrows furrowed. Were you a sleepwalker? No, your past roommates would have told you. Maybe you'd had a really good dream and just forgotten it? Fuck, this was weird.

Deciding there was nothing you could really do about the situation, you got up, opting to take another shower to get rid of the icky feeling.

It was when you were munching on your chocolate flavoured cereal that you heard your phone ping. Automatically, you put your spoon down, picking up the device you so heavily relied upon. It was a text from an unknown number, causing you to frown. Opening it, you saw there was a picture attached to the text. And when you examined it, your blood ran cold.

It was a picture of you, naked in bed. Your body spread out, intimate area completely exposed.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, reading what had come with it.

Unknown number: Three orgasms in one night, that's your record so far.

You didn't know what to think— someone had.. touched you while you were asleep? They broke in and did this to you? You shivered in fear, your shaky hands typing out a response before you could even think about what the police would say if you went to them; to not engage with a dangerous person.

You: Who the fuck is this?

There was no reply. Not when you left for work, not when you arrived home in the evening.

You were rigid with fear. A sensible person would have called the police, or at least called someone like Erin, asked to stay over, but you just couldn't. Every time you were about to dial a number, something inside you made you stop. You couldn't explain it.

So here you were, sat bolt upright on your couch. It was around eleven, and your eyes were growing heavy. Your camomile tea mug now empty, you blinked a few times, just aching to lay down and rest. No, you had to stay up! You had to see who had been breaking into your home. But.. you were so tired, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over you. Your eyes closed slowly, slumping down and falling into a deep sleep.

—

The next morning the first thing you did was check your phone, seeing if the stranger had replied, and they had. Two images attached to a message. And what you saw horrified you. The first picture, one of you in bed, with a.. strap-on, buried inside you. It made you feel sick, that someone had done this to you unwillingly. Though the expression on your face, clearly asleep but pleasure in your features. You could even see your own arousal dripping down the toy.

The second image quite literally made you throw up, You ran to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl as the picture burned in your mind. It had been someone laying on a floor, covered in blood, a knife wedged in their chest.

You had to go to the police. There was no choice now. For some reason, you looked back at the picture, and your mouth dropped open. That someone was a familiar.

It was Erin.

You just knew, it was her jacket, her brown eyes wide open in fear, her blue dyed hair drenched in her own blood. It caused you to throw up again.

—

"I—I think my best friend has been murdered."

You whispered in a shaky voice to a police officer who had sat you down in a cold grey room. After seeing what you'd been sent, not even reading the message that had come with it, you rushed down to the local police station, practically screaming for someone to talk to.

"Why do you suspect this?" He asked in a gruff voice. He didn't seem to be all that serious about the situation, upsetting you even further.

"I've got pictures! And texts!" Your fingers fumbled around your pocket to retrieve your phone, opening your messages app.

It wasn't there.

"So?" The officer prompted, clearly unimpressed.

"It was.. it was right here.." You mumbled, opening every contact you had in case it had magically gotten messed up.

But no, the messages had vanished.

"Look, lady, I think you should go home and get some rest. You look tired. Our minds make things up when we're lacking sleep."

"But—"

"Listen, if something happens, come back in. But for now, you're making empty claims."

Hanging your head down dejectedly, you fought back tears. You knew Erin was dead. You just knew it.

—

Tonight you weren't going to fall asleep. Just to make sure, you downed two mugs of strong coffee instead of your tea. You hated it, but you couldn't risk falling asleep. The intruder— the murderer, was going to break in, you were sure.

The time ticked on. Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, one o'clock..

Until your phone buzzed. Dread washed over you. There was no one else who would be making your phone light up at this time of night.

Unknown number: How am I meant to enjoy you when you don't have your tea? You look so pretty when you sleep.

This confused you. Why would they be concerned about what beverage you were drinking? You typed out a response quickly.

You: I'm not scared of you.

It was a stupid thing to say, you knew that really. But the only thing you could think of was to pretend you weren't scared. Maybe that would make them bored and leave you alone. All you could think about what Erin's lifeless body. The blood, god.. all that blood..

Unknown number: See you soon, sweetheart.

Your eyes widened in horror; what the fuck did that mean? This person was on their way? Sickness rose up in your throat, and you ran to your kitchen, grabbing the first sharp object you could find— a medium sized kitchen knife. You clutched it to your chest, running to your bedroom, locking the door and panting heavily. You considered pushing some furniture against the door, but you knew you needed to call the police. Then you realised you'd left your phone in the kitchen.

Fuck! Fuck!

You had put yourself in the worst position possible. But before you could panic over that, you felt a gust of cold air. You frowned, turning around to see the window wide open. You definitely hadn't left it like that before, but it was also impossible for anyone else to have opened it. You lived on the top floor for Christ's sake!

Not knowing what to do first; close the window, get your phone, block the door, or just curl up in a ball and hope it would all just go away. You opted for grabbing your phone. If you could call the police, they'd be on their way, hopefully before your stalker could arrive.

Cautiously unlocking the bedroom door, you stepped out into the hallway. The lights that had previously been on, were off, leaving the whole apartment pitch black apart from the moon shining through the windows and the bedroom light.

Your steps were slow, ears straining to hear anything, but there was silence. The only sound heard was the hammering of your heart in your chest.

Until the silence was broken.

"Seeing you awake is strange. But exciting nonetheless."

The voice came from right behind you. Spinning around in horror, you finally came face to face with the person who had been tormenting you.

"Tormenting? That's a bit harsh, sweetheart."

The woman was dressed in all black, a hood covering most of her face. Light from the bedroom accentuated her figure, but more importantly, the silhouette of a knife and a cloth in her hands.

"W—who are you?" It was an attempt at a shout, maybe to attract the attention of the apartment below you, but your voice could barely manage a squeak.

"I've told you before, baby. You're a forgetful thing when you're asleep, mhm?" She stepped forward, causing you to take a step back.

"You've been taking advantage of me! You've been breaking into my home! You killed.. Erin!" You whispered, backing up against the wall. You had no where to go. You were most likely to die, just like Erin.

"Sweet girl, I'm not going to kill you. I could never hurt you." The woman's voice was almost softer as she approached you, only two feet away now. Was she reading your mind?

"But you killed my friend." The images of Erin's body filled your mind, and how you were going to end up just like her.

"Your 'friend'? Please, she was begging for her own life, not for you to be safe." She let out a cold laugh. "It was so satisfying, the sound of my blade tearing through her flesh and tissue." It almost sounded like she'd gotten pleasure from it

Finally, you got some sense and energy into you as she expressed her fucked up feelings. You let out a shattering scream, "HELP! HELP!"

The woman sighed in disappointment. It took her less than a second to raise the cloth up to your face, covering your nose and mouth. The smell of chemicals was overwhelming. You fought against it, until you couldn't anymore. Body falling limp to the ground.

—

The noise that woke you up was the sound of a squeaking. Your eyes wouldn't open, wondering what was going on. You then felt something inside you, a pressure building up in your lower stomach. What—

Finally, your vision became clearer. You blinked a few times, looking around you. The scene became pretty clear.

The woman was in between your legs, a strap-on buried inside you, just like that photo. The squeaking was the bed as she thrusted into you.

You should have screamed, but the pressure in your abdomen was too intense. You let out a whine, trying to move your tired body, but it was useless. You didn't even want to stop it, it felt too.. good.

"You're awake." She stated, a slight pant in her voice. Her hood was down now, revealing her auburn wavy hair, pale skin and deep green eyes.

"Let me.." You trailed off, because you didn't know whether to say 'go' or 'come'.

She let out a chuckle, holding your hips firmly as she thrusted into you. The feeling was delicious. Something about the fact your body was sleepy, heavy, while being fucked by a woman so dangerous..

No! Why are you thinking like this? It almost felt like your thoughts weren't yours anymore. Were you going insane?

The woman grunted, wet noises filling the room, making it very apparent that your body did not hate this at all. "You can come for me, it'll be your third."

Your third? You couldn't even bring yourself to ask about it, your body just trembled, a pending orgasm taking over, making you whimper in delight.

"Fuck!"

Tears filled your eyes from the sheer pleasure, and the fact that you should have hated this. You were filled with so much shame and guilt. This was the person who had killed your best friend, who'd stripped you of your dignity.

"Shh, darling, you don't have to feel guilty. You're allowed to feel pleasure. And your friend, well, she was just in the way."

Her twisted words made you feel sick again, but you didn't have time to dwell on that because the woman's hand suddenly reached down and started to circle your clit while simultaneously thrusting into you. A loud groan escaped your throat, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head.

"You're going to beat your record, four times will be an achievement." Her accented voice was hot and heavy, turning you on even more.

"I— mhm!" You tried to speak, but you didn't know what to say.

"Let go, detka, show me how good I make you feel." She gripped your waist with her spare hand, red manicured nails digging into your skin.

Without warning, you came hard, spilling all over the strap. The woman moaned, slowing down her thrusts and eventually pulling out, leaving you unbearably empty. She slipped the strap off and went to straddle you, leaning her head down to kiss your neck. You felt utter bliss, forgetting how incredibly fucked up and sick this was.

"Seeing as this is the first time we've met while you've been conscious, I'll introduce myself. I'm Wanda." She giggled, as if nothing had just happened, and had been happening for months. Your head spun, recognising that name somehow, as if it had been spoken in your dreams.

"Relax now, sweet thing. I'll be here when you wake up." Wanda said softly, lying beside you, wrapping the duvet around your naked body. Her arm laid loosely across your stomach, hearing her breathing slow down to something calmer than before.

You didn't say anything, too busy feeling a wave of satisfaction, as awful as that sounded. It was like your mind was used to this, and that it was something you'd always wanted.

The last thing you remembered was a soft lullaby, in a language you didn't recognise. You'd heard it before, in your dreams. And it brought you great comfort.

——

Tags: @rezwrites @hatdog96 @ion-news @esposadejoyhuerta @moimmmm @grimlygoblin @lizziesflower @yandereloverb312 @beggingonmykneesforher

——

[aniraklova]

E D G E W A V E

The simblr special summer music fest comes back again. Gather your bands and performers. We will rock this summer together once again!

RAGE - ROCK - REPEAT

HERE WE GO AGAIN! I promised the fest next, already this year, I did it. Y'all rocked this last year and y'all will do it again, having no doubts. This time we're going to desert and have wasteland vibes. Cuz why not? Hell yeah let's go! General info:

The fest takes place in a special lot I’ve built and included in this post once again.

I heard you and this time we're rocking for a whole June!

Special fake crowds are included in download with lot.

Don’t be shy to use your own deco sims and other stuff on lot!

And I encourage you to redecorate the stage for your performances!

Again encouraging you to make an annoucement for your performances! The EDGEWAVE logo included.

When you post tag me and use the #edgewavefest #edgewavefest2024 tag

If you have any questions please ask.

THE RAVAGERS will perform again this year, of course they can't miss this.

PLEASE REMEMBER TO HAVE FUN!

Also no google forms this time

DOWNLOAD

You should place lot here in Oasis Springs! Don't forget about the bb.moveobjects on

[becca-e-barnes]

The Study

Not only is this the start of my 'Moving In' series, I'm also calling it my birthday piece! I turn 24 on Tuesday and I'm trying hard not to think about the fact I'm overdue a quarter-life crisis.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K (oops)

Warnings: Pleasure Dom!Bucky, sub! reader, spanking, use of a vibrator, forced orgasms, kinda Dom vibes but totally consensual, degradation, safe word system but safe word not used, pet names

Summary: Bucky spends the weekend at your new house and you take him on a tour.

Minors, do not interact

Turning the key in the front door still feels odd. One of the very first changes you made to the house was installing a new locking mechanism on both doors and it hasn't had a chance to stiffen up yet.

The smell of paint is starting to dissipate but it hits you hardest when you open the front door. The hallway was one of the last areas of the house to be redecorated so the smell seems to be most noticeable right at the door.

"Damn, this place is deceptive." Bucky's remark makes you smile to yourself while you hang your jacket up. "It's a whole lot bigger on the inside than I thought."

"It surprised me too. All of the rooms are a nice size."

The house had ticked so many boxes for you. More than two bedrooms in a quiet development, a low maintenance garden, off road parking, a downstairs bathroom and the whole house has plenty of potential. The plan isn't to live here forever, after all. It should be easy enough for you to sell when you decide to move on.

You flick a few lights on in the hallway and toss your keys into the bowl on the hall table before you turn your attention back to Bucky standing in your living room. Despite the fact you hadn't removed your own shoes, he's taken his off, leaving them neatly at the doorway of the living room beside his travel bag.

He's respectful of your space; he always has been but it's nice to just have him in your space. It's nice to have him be part of it.

He walks slowly around the little living room, looking at the few ornaments and picture frames you'd collected. "That's cute." He's looking at a picture of you and your best friend, sitting on the floor of your old kitchen, laughing yourselves to tears over the fact your Christmas tree was three inches tall and cut out from the back of a cereal box. The photo brings a smile to your face every time you see it.

"Are you hungry? You've had a long day." You move over behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his back through his clothes while he looks at your pictures on the fireplace. He's had to travel for a few hours just to get here so you imagine he's bound to want something.

"I'm okay for now." You nod at his response, taking in the fact he's actually standing in your home.

The time you have with him is limited. That's how this works but for just less than two days, he's yours. After that, he'll go back home so you've learned to make the most of the time you have with him.

"Help yourself to whatever you like. Kitchen is down the hall." You don't even really want to move but you can't stand like this forever.

He turns in your arms so he's facing you and captures your lips in his. It's a soft, slow, gentle kiss; the kind you've been dreaming of since you last saw him. You need him to feel exactly how much you've missed him without having to tell him.

The kiss lasts for minutes, far beyond its natural end but neither of you care.

After what feels like forever, your lips part but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you determined not to pull away.

"I still haven't gotten the grand tour." He's got the most beautiful eyes and they're locked on yours to the point that you'd almost forgotten he's never been here before. "But I want to start in your favourite room."

"Well, the study is my favourite. I converted one of the bedrooms into an office space."

"Show me."

You don't protest. Instead you head out of the living room and up the stairs to the furthest end of the hallway, with Bucky following closely behind you.

"These all used to be built-in storage units around a headboard for a bed. I took all the doors off the cabinets and made it into shelving." You'd turned the room into a space that you love. The walls are painted a light shade of cream with houseplants lined up between books on the shelves. Instead of storage around a headboard, you now have book shelves, arching around your desk. The other side of the room has a sofa that converts into a bed for extra guests and there's a beanbag in the corner by the window to read on.

"I see why it's your favourite. Odd mix of books here though." Bucky's eyes flick over the titles, ranging from your collection of political figures' autobiographies, the 'Diary of an Oxygen Thief' trilogy, the selection of books providing commentary on the criminal justice system and a good few classics.

"It is. But I like this room. It'll be cosy in winter once I get some fairy lights and nice and bright in summer. Somewhere to unwind." You're thinking out loud as you reach up to close the window and that's when you feel Bucky step behind you.

"I think we should celebrate." Bucky’s voice is low, his lips trailing up the side of your neck, heading towards the spot just behind your ear that he's always loved to kiss.

"I think..." He stops briefly on his path, taking a second to inhale deeply, determined to slow down. "I think we should make love in every room of your new house this weekend."

Fuck.

"Are you sure you're up for that? Because I can really stretch it out. I'm not sure how we're going to make it work in the pantry or the downstairs bathroom but I'm happy to try."

"Your 'pantry' is a cupboard." Bucky's breath is hot on your neck, and you feel his lips have curled into a smile.

"I know. You promised every room though." You can't help but tease him, although you're half serious. It's not your fault that you're keen. Not when he's kissing down your neck like that and holding your waist so your back is flush against him.

"You're a handful." You feel his fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist and you remember how nice it is to just be touched the way he touches you.

"I might be a handful but I can promise if I have my way, after you leave here on Sunday, you won't even be able to think about cumming again until Thursday at the very earliest."

"Jesus, that's one hell of a promise." He turns you around to face him and you notice his eyes are damn near twinkling with excitement.

You've got all weekend together; there's no need to rush but you can't help the overwhelming need to feel him sliding into you. That's when you feel closest to him and it's the closeness you're craving more than anything.

Your hand cups the side of his face, your thumb tracing across his freshly shaved jawline and you allow yourselves a second to just be together.

He smells familiar. The heat of his body against yours makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe.

"I want to start with you though. I brought you a little something." He kisses your lips gently and smooths a hand down over your hair before he retreats downstairs to the bag that he'd brought a few changes of clothes in.

He returns with a small cardboard box with the tape on one end already cut.

"I didn't have time to wrap it. It arrived last minute." You're so busy trying to get into the box that you hadn't even noticed.

Inside the box are a few instruction manuals, a thin white cord and a black satin pouch. Inside the pouch is a neon pink toy that's thicker at each end, narrow in the middle and nicely curved.

"I've already charged it and paired it to my phone. This end slips inside you." He points to the thicker end, studying your face to make sure you're okay with this.

And why wouldn't you be? This is pretty damn close to a dream come true.

"Remember what you said last time I saw you? You wanted me to spank you. Maybe we should take it a little further." He's always been hesitant to do anything that would hurt you and that fact is the very reason you want him to. You know how much he wants to protect you and knowing he cares about you has you convinced that he's the right person to explore this with.

"Please." You whisper, beyond excited at the thought of getting everything you've begged him for. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking about you bent over this desk with this inside you and we'll start off with a couple of light taps to that pretty ass." He presses the button on the narrow part of the toy and it give a short buzz, coming to life in his hands.

Fuck, you're into this man. You're into his hesitation just as much as you're into his willingness to try something new.

"Traffic light safe word system. 'Red' and I'll stop, 'amber' and I'll give you a break, 'green' to keep going." He wants to be fully sure you know you're in control here, not that you ever had any doubt.

You nod and stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him, this time with as much passion as you can manage. Your hands run through his hair while his trail over your body, your tongue flicking gently against his.

Just being around this man makes you wet, not that you'd ever admit that to him. Even the thought of him has you throbbing with arousal so now that he's here in front of you, your whole body feels like it's buzzing.

He touches you like he can't get enough. He can't get you close enough and it's beyond thrilling to be the subject of his need.

It's almost embarrassing that you get yourself worked up so easily but from the hungry look in his eyes when you undo the button of your jeans, he doesn't seem to mind.

You step out of your jeans and panties and Bucky helps you out of your top and bra, leaving you naked in your study.

"Look at you." Bucky sounds like he's almost in awe, no matter how many times he's seen you naked.

He kisses you again, matching the same passion he'd had earlier, trailing his hands over your soft, warm skin until his fingers are nestled between your thighs.

"Fuck, you're soaked." His fingertips trail between the folds of your sex, gathering the wetness he's responsible for. "Good girls don't get this wet at the thought of being spanked. You know that, don't you?"

You're almost too turned on to even respond to him. "Bend over. I want to see how well you take your toy."

You do as you're told, bending over your desk while Bucky drops to his knees behind you to slip the toy inside you. You feel him trail the thicker end of the toy against your slick cunt, gathering enough wetness to let it slip inside you comfortably.

Within a minute, the toy comes to life inside you and there's no way to stifle the moan that catches in your throat.

Not only is the internal part vibrating at a low, delightful buzz, the other end is pressed right to your clit and is stimulating it at the same strength.

"Did I say you could make a sound?" Bucky quizzes, sounding harsher than ever and when he gets no response, his hand comes down on your ass with so much force that it makes you yelp.

It was a hell of a spank and you can feel heat blooming under the skin of your left cheek, quickly followed by another spank to the right.

"For the record, you can make as much noise as you need to. But only because I've told you that you can. You see the difference?"

You force yourself not to nod and it has the effect you were hoping for. Two more harsh, painful spanks are delivered, one to each cheek, the same as before.

You don't know if you imagined it but the toy inside you feels stronger. You can't be sure if you're just focusing on the pleasure over the pain or if Bucky really has turned it up.

"Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" He needs to know you're enjoying this because a little part of him is surprised at just how much he's into it. He gets to control both your pleasure and your pain because you want him to and the trust alone is enough to get him off.

"Feels amazing, fuck. Making such a mess." Stringing sentences together isn't easy but you swear you're about to cum already. Your nipples rub delightfully against the wooden desk and you swear every sensation is heightened.

"I wish you could see the mess you're making. Looks fucking delicious." He turns the toy up ever so slightly but that's enough to send you spiralling, gripping the edge of the desk as pleasure ripples through your entire body.

You can do nothing but sob, cumming relentlessly because he's refused to turn the toy down. Even after you're done, he keeps it at the same intensity, moving on like nothing happened.

"You say the sluttiest things. That promise of yours to totally drain me. Who says shit like that? So fucking filthy."

"I mean it. I want every drop of cum you can give me. And then more." You know saying something like that will earn you another spank and it does.

"You're not just acting like a slut. You are a slut. You spend your life hiding it from everyone else but you can't hide it from me." A shiver runs down your spine. You almost feel like you've been caught. Like he's figured you out and now you have nothing left to hide. "Say it."

It's a clear instruction but saying it makes it real.

Your hesitation earns you another sharp spank, heat prickling both your face and your ass at the same time.

"Don't make me tell you twice." For someone hesitant to slip into a dominant role, he's absolutely nailing it.

"I'm your slut." Your voice is less steady than you would've hoped but the words at clear at the very least.

"My slut?" He almost sounds like he can't believe what he heard.

"Yours. Your slut." You repeat, wishing you could see his face.

"Oh sweetheart, that's cute." He means it too. He turns the toy up as a reward and even though it's only at half its full strength, you can't help but cum again, pleading your way through another blinding orgasm.

"Such a good girl for me. That's it. Cum nice and hard. Give that slutty little pussy what it needs." He lands one more harsh spank on your ass and you swear it only makes you cum harder, to the point that your legs are shaking.

But all of a sudden, the sensation stops completely.

"B-Bucky?" You ask, turning around to look at him, wondering if something went wrong.

"Don't want to wear you out, sweetheart. I think that'll do for now." You agree that it's probably a good place to stop and you have no problem taking the toy out for a while.

He pulls you in close, resting your head on his chest, letting you catch your breath while he holds you and kisses your forehead.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice is soft, hoping that you'll tell him the truth.

"No. It was perfect." You smile, capturing his lips in yours, hoping to relieve some of his fear. You're almost giddy with excitment. It truly was everything you needed and you fully intend to thank him for it before the weekend is over.

"Good. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would." He's back to the gentle, tender touches that you're so used to from him and it's a blessing that he can flick so effortlessly between both personas.

"How about we order in and stick a movie on?" He suggests, kissing the tip of your nose. "Go put on something comfortable. I'll find a takeout."

[jay7543]

Your boyfriend Simon left one of his masks

Sfw

M4m

Feel free to make requests for stories/ scenarios you’d like to see, I’d be happy to make them!!!!

Not smut this time, just a little cutesy sfw thing, I’ll make another smut one soon. I just wanted a bit of ghost and the reader in a wholesome relationship, I hope you enjoy!!!!

You and Simon have been dating for a few months now. in fact, he’s the first guy you’ve dated since you came out as bi, he was really scary at first, with his skull mask and deep British accent, he’s also taller than you, but he’s really just such a sweet teddy bear. He loves you so much, every time you two go out he does everything in his power to make you happy and comfortable, and he may or may not have beaten the shit out of a few people who were harassing you, but he’d never tell you about that. One morning after waking up, you realize he’s already gone, you get a bit worried for a second before noticing a note on your pillow

Simon(note)- “got called in to work early love, didn’t wanna wake you, you just looked so bloody cute, see you later”

You smile as you read the note, but then you notice something lying on the nightstand on his side of the bed, one of his masks!! You reach over and grab it before smelling it deeply, it smells just like the cheap cologne he uses, you love it so much. You keep it clutched tightly in you hand as you get up and head to your kitchen for some early morning coffee. You push ghosts bag of coffee out of the way, he only drinks black and uses actual grounds, he’s gross. You on the other hand always drink the pods, in a multitude of flavors, you’ve tried to convince him to try it, going as far as filling his mug with the coffee you drink, he absolutely hated it.

After you drink your coffee you sit at the counter, bored, waiting for Simon to get back, just like you usually do, other than watching tv and reading. You decide to entertain yourself by putting on his mask, after sliding it over your hair and face, you immediately wonder why he wears these, it’s so itchy and hot, he has to sweat a lot. You don’t care though, because it’s his

Reader-“come here love, give me a kiss”

You say to yourself, trying to inmate his voice and accent as well as you can. As you do, you can’t help but laughing at yourself. He’d probably tease you or call you dumb, in an endearing way of course. After a bit of wearing his mask and doing some chores, you decide to finally take it off and wipe the sweat off your face, it’s really hot with it on, he even wears it during sex sometimes which you find extremely hot but can’t help but wonder how sweaty it gets. After a bit of contemplating on what to do next, you decide to get some stickers and the mask and head to the couch to relax as you “redecorate” his mask. You grab your favorite stickers, your bi pride stickers, and some of your anime stickers. You chuckle to yourself as you peel the stickers off the sheet and put them on his mask, putting a few bi flags on it, then some stickers of characters from your favorite anime.

After you finish you hold up the mask to admire your handiwork before laying it down on the table to watch some tv as you wait for Simon to come home. A few hours later you here his keys in the lock, you immediately shoot up and run to the door, as he walks in and you wrap your arms around him as tight as you can, kissing him all over his mask. He chuckles and carries you in and closes the door behind him

Simon-“I missed you too love”

He chuckles as he pulls his mask off to kiss you properly. He plants his lips on yours passionately for a few seconds before pulling away.

Simon-“so, how was your day love? I hope you weren’t too bored without me”

He smiles and looks down at your pretty face, your arms still wrapped tightly around him

Reader-“well…I didn’t really do that much”

You say with a bit of a blush on your cheeks. He raises an eyebrow as he calls your bluff

Simon-“you’re lying love, what did you do”

You look down to avoid his gaze

Reader-“well, promise you won’t be mad?”

He looks at you a bit confused as well as worried

Simon-“sure love, I promise, now what’d you do?”

You finally let go of him and lead him to the couch, where you were sitting with his mask, you grab it and show him

Reader-“you-you forgot one of your masks, I was bored, so I…decorated it”

You say with a deep blush on your face, hoping he’s not mad. He takes the mask from you and holds it in his hand and stares at it for a few seconds before speaking

Simon-“really? I mean, your stickers are cute, you know I like them, it’s why I bought them for you, but I need this mask”

He says a bit sternly, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. You look down embarrassed

Reader-“I’m sorry, I just thought it would look cute”

He grabs your chin lifts it to look you in the eyes

Simon-“it is cute love, i honestly like it, but I do need to take them off”

He says with a smile and starts to peel one off carefully.

Reader-“wait! I-can you at least wear it tomorrow and send me a picture?

You say, not confident he’ll agree

Simon-“you mean, while I’m at work? With the other guys”

Reader-“y-yeah, I…please”

You pout and pull your famous puppy dog eyes with him. He sighs and chuckles a bit.

Simon-“bloody hell, fine love, I’ll wear it, now stop pouting”

He leans down and kisses you before patting the sticker back down to make sure it was still on. You smile and look up at him

Reader-“now all of your friends will know you have the best boyfriend”

He chuckles

Ghost-“yeah, yeah they will. Now let’s watch some tv”

He drags you onto the couch and cuddles with you as you two watch tv for the rest of the day.

The next day you wake up late, the same as yesterday, there’s a note on your pillow, the same message. But now you also have a message on your phone.

Simon(text)-“I wore it love, and the guys are teasing me, but I’ll keep wearing it because of how much I love you”

He also sent a picture like you wanted, it’s a basic selfie of him in the mask you decorated, his eyes look empty, probably because of the teasing, because he’ll do anything to make you happy, even embarrass himself at work. He’s the absolute best.

[cialovesklopp]

une journée a trois ➻ k.mbappe

summary – they had always been two. but now that they were about to be three, they were starting a new journee. the path of parenthood. ah, the joy of pregnancy

pairing – kylian mbappé x amara imani (oc)

warnings – a somewhat detailed description of childbirth, pregnancy, mentions of morning sickness, labor, breastfeeding

word count — 10.1k

author's note – i guess this is my last official chapter for the mon amour series before i am officially starting my trent fic and the first spin off to this series. i will also be taking mon amour to wattpad where i'll add some more social media since here it came a bit short. there will be a lot of redecorating for my fics in the next time. as a heads-up: i don't know anything about childbirth, my entire knowledge is from google so i am very sorry if i got something wrong. hope you enjoy &lt;3

    ( masterlist )

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. she liked to have her life planned out to the finest detail. she wasn’t organized to the smallest but she liked to live her life in a certain order. so this was not supposed to happen now. there was no in-between for her situation. either women were happy or their lives were destroyed right now. and yet she found herself between the two scenarios.

she had been careful. she had put her career first and it had worked in every damn relationship she had ever had (which had not been a lot). she had made it clear that the success of her career was the most important thing and after the whole evan fiasco, she had sworn to herself that no matter how many times she fell in love, she would never lose sight again of her priorities. and it had worked till now.

it was a small mistake that led to her situation now. a moment of a certain emotional weakness that was the reason why she found herself in the bathroom on the floor with her back leaning against the bathtub as she stared into nothing.

kylian had introduced her to a new world of love. one where longing became sometimes too hard and the moment they found each other again, all rational thoughts were thrown out the window. he had shown her what love really felt like and that it was so much more than just endless fights and screaming matches. so… of course she had lost sights of her priorities and acted after her emotions when her heart had missed him too much.

her situation resulted from a sudden stay in the same city. he had been there to play an important match, she had two nights in that same city to tour and overwhelm her fans with her music. it had been three months that they hadn’t seen each other in person so the moment they had known they were at the same place, all sane thoughts had been thrown out the window. they had missed each other too much to even think about anything else than be close again. feel the other again. and now, not even two months later, she found herself on the floor in the bathroom with a stick in her hand. a small piece of plastic that held the weight of the world. two small blue lines that seemed to throw everything out of order. there seemed to be life growing inside of her now.

she wasn’t crying but rather staring into the air. her eyes held no emotion as she held the positive test in her hands. somehow it didn’t seem to set in that she carried life now in her body. that someone was breathing inside her and had their own heartbeat. it appeared surreal to her. the realization that one of her biggest fears had become true.

amara didn’t fear his reaction. that was probably the least of her problems. he had always expressed his desire for children, no matter at which point in his career he would be. he would support her, no matter what. she was the problem.

there had been warnings for this situation. women with so much potential that had been destroyed or ruined because of a child. and it wasn’t just an empty warning. she had seen it with her own eyes. linda, evan’s mother, had been the proof she had needed. a beautiful woman, beautiful and intelligent — a cunning lawyer who was at the peak of her career. but her pregnancy had ruined her and had turned her into a housewife. the vision, evan had always had of her. being pregnant just before she was about to start the second leg of her tour was the most unfortunate moment, this little gift could have come. it threw all plans out of the window.

she absolutely did not want to become one of those women who were at the peak of their career and then got it ruined by an unplanned pregnancy. it was her biggest fear. especially because she was living on the high of it at the moment. everything was going well, — she was breaking record after record — and now everything was about to stop. because she knew she would never bring it over her heart to kill the small human that seemed to be growing in her. it was a part of her now. and she could never take that decision alone.

time passed and she still found herself in the same position, her mind still processing the news. she didn’t notice kylian coming home from training and calling her name. her senses picked up his smell and noticed his presence but her brain felt disconnected to the outside world. her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting and complicated thoughts she just couldn’t work through.

if he was surprised to find her in the bathroom, he didn’t show it. kylian called her name but there was no response except an occasional small hum. the room felt smaller and the atmosphere was uncomfortable with the big news looming over them.

“cherié, tout va bien?” he asked her softly, eyes filled with worry as he kneeled a bit down and remarked how hers seemed to just stare into nowhere with a numb expression in them. she didn’t find the strength in herself to say her fears out. it was paralyzing her from deeply inside and forming a big lump in her throat that prevented her from being vocal. instead she only handed him the positive test, the two lines glowing dimly under the bathroom light. — honey, is everything okay

there was a confused expression on his face that turned into a mix of shock and slight happiness. but any emotion disappeared when he was met with her expression. “this is a surprise,” he said out loud and turned towards her. “are you happy?” his question hung in the air but she couldn’t find an answer.

“i don’t know. i don’t know what i’m going to do.” she admitted, her voice quiet. there was a certain nervousness and fear that underlined her voice, portraying the weight that she carried on her shoulders now. there were so many possibilities and challenges, so many hills and rocks they would have to climb now. she wished she was fearless like all the other women that were over the moon when they got the positive news.

“i was about to leave for a whole year. the second part of my tour is starting in a month. and now i’m…” her throat became dry as the lump became bigger. the words seemed stuck, as if speaking them out would actually make it real. “i’m pregnant.”

she didn’t have to say more for kylian to understand her. that’s just how they were. he seemed to comprehend that she wasn’t mad at the pregnancy. after all, she adored children. she was amazing with them and they both knew they wanted kids. she just feared the impact it could have on her career.

“je ne sais pas quoi faire,” she mumbled under her breath, her lips barely moving. “it wasn’t supposed to happen now. everything was going soo… well, i guess. i don’t want it to end. i don’t want to lose my career.” — i don’t know what to do

he let out a sigh, his back sliding down the wall as he sat down next to her. one hand still held the positive test while the other wrapped around his girlfriend’s waist, pulling her closer to him. “why would this ruin your career? you’re the most successful artist i know. nothing could ruin this now.”

“you’re supposed to say that. but you haven’t seen that pregnancy does to women. i don’t want my career to be ruined, not with the way the world treats women. how am i supposed to be a good mum and a successful woman in the music industry?” she shook her head and put it down on his shoulder, resting it there. she appreciated his efforts to comfort her but he was a man— they would never truly understand a woman’s suffering, no matter how hard they tried.

“we could stay home both if you want that. i take a break from football and i could be home for the both of you,” he suggested and amara looked at him incredulously. it was strange for her how he had accepted it so quickly already, that they were about to be three while she still struggled to comprehend the situation.

she shook her head firmly. “i could never ask you to stop for me. i know how much you love football. it’s your life. this is a me-problem.”

“une grossese n’est pas un probleme d’une personne. tu n'es pas seule. je te promets que rien ne va se gâcher. ta carrière est remarquable est elle le sera toujours. no matter what you do,” he consoled her, pressing soft kisses on her temple. “je t’aime tellement. mais ça, c’est ta decision et tu es la seule avec le choix. soo… are you happy?” — a pregnancy is not a problem of one person. you’re not alone. i promise you, nothing is going to get ruined. your career is remarkable and will be

— i love you so much. but this is your decision and only you can take it.

she shrugged, the unexpected twist in her plans still burning through her mind. she just couldn’t understand how there was a small human being growing inside her now. something that was breathing inside her. even though it felt unreal — and all at once she knew what she was going to do. what she would have to do now. her world would revolve around that little human being now. and she would do everything in her power to love that little baby that was living inside her. even if it the feeling of surrealism would never truly leave her.

maybe her mind should have adapted to it by now but it still felt disconnected to the situation. as if she was living two lives now. they hadn’t told anyone yet, preferring to keep it their little secret for the moment. especially because they still hadn’t settled in on the idea of getting a family addition.

kylian had noticed her struggles. how she couldn’t work around it. he would find her sometimes in front of the mirror, staring at her stomach. and even then it looked like she still hadn’t made her peace with the situation. amara had come up with several excuses why she had been going softer on training and why she avoided her pr for the second leg of the tour so much at the moment. kylian seemed to have calmed her down a bit about the pregnancy but the fears and rocks it would bring still hadn’t been overcome. even more when she still didn’t feel a thorough connection to the baby in her stomach.

the first ultrasound had been their reality check. that whatever they had been dancing around, was actually happening. there was a grateful look in her eyes when kylian grabbed her hand while their doctor applied the cold gel on her. it was terrifying for her to say the least. their nurse was friendly, nice — she must have sensed amara’s nervousness with the way she had been trying to calm the singer down. it had been risky getting an appointment but kylian had made sure to be extra careful. to make sure that nothing would come out to the press. the least she needed right now was for the time that should’ve been the happiest in her life to be without any media presence.

hearing the heartbeat was a sharp reminder that they weren’t alone anymore. the sound appeared to be precise evidence of life within her, the real confirmation for her pregnancy. it was a new experience for them, a new chapter that was starting soon in their lives. the impending parenthood that was installing its way into their life. several emotions were rushing through them as they made contact for the first time with their baby. and yet, despite the huge importance of the moment, amara’s emotions refused to truly correspond to the situation because of a missing connection between her and the baby.

she looked at the ultrasound screens, her eyes specifically fixing the point the doctor had shown them was their baby. she was registering the moment but struggled to find an emotional place for it. and it wasn’t because amara didn’t love the growing human in her body enough. there was no lack of love or commitment. her brain was just going into panic mode and refused to acknowledge the incoming changes. an automatic self-defense response from her mind who thought it needed to protect her. because even if she knew her career was good, it didn’t take away her fear of having all of that ruined.

as the doctor left them to offer them some privacy, there seemed to be just them now and the sound of a heartbeat. amara didn’t have to look at kylian to know that his cheeks were probably hurting from smiling so much. that his eyes were probably a bit teary from hearing the heartbeat of their unborn child. his hand found hers and he subconsciously intertwined them, his mind still clouded by all the emotions running through his body. she smiled at him, happy to know that at least he seemed to be able to form a special memory with the moment. for her, everything still felt surreal.

and the feeling of it did not leave her, not even in the night.

they were in bed, cuddled together under blankets when amara suddenly woke up from a slight movement. she turned a bit to look at kylian but her boyfriend still seemed to sleep peacefully. as she felt it again, amara looked down and found kylian’s hand on her stomach. casually laying there all protectively. and somehow, it was exactly what she needed to realise that it would be okay.

a small smile formed on her face and she put her hand on her stomach too. this was going to happen and she would be prepared for it. she wasn’t sure whether babies could already hear but it was stronger than her. the urge to promise her baby the world.

“i don’t know whether i’m going to be a good mum to you,” she began softly, speaking low to not wake up kylian. “but i can promise you, you’ll be in good hands with your dad.” she chuckled, the thought of kylian playing with a small mini-him or mini-her exciting her. “i’m sorry that you’re stuck with a mum who doesn’t know what she wants. but i’m trying. i’m trying for you… to be the best version of myself that you’ll need.”

they began slowly, the changes. at first barely remarkable and now they were plainly obvious. life seemed to radiate from her. she possessed a kind of positive aura around her that even the blind could see. she had truly grown into the start of her pregnancy as she entered her second trimester.

amara found herself balancing her life before and during her pregnancy. she had to get used now to the fact that her body was adapting for the small human being in her stomach and that it included good and bad changes. she had overcome her struggles with the pregnancy and the lack of emotion she had had towards it. now she suddenly felt overwhelmed but happy. nearly excited to start this new chapter.

she was four months pregnant and with that also came the first differences that made this pregnancy real. that made it more than just a statement on a paper. a small, noticeable bump had formed on her stomach — it wasn’t very big but remarkably enough that it had made them nearly cry when they had seen it. now kylian’s hoodies had become her go-to attire to hide the small curve on her stomach. his sweatshirts engulfed her completely, serving as a comfortable shield for her womb and a cover up. after all, they still hadn’t told anyone and the little human growing in her body was still their secret.

and just as she progressed into her pregnancy, so did the unfortunate changes like morning sickness or strange food cravings. instead of spending her mornings in bed, spooning with her boyfriend, she now found herself hung over the toilet as soon as the sun came up, with kylian holding her hair. he whispered sweet encouragements and gentle circles which was now a habit for them every morning as she finished her first trimester to enter the second. it was exhausting, crucifying even and drained her. the doctor had told them it would stop soon but she found no change. she would just have to endure it.

even worse were the sudden food cravings. eating had already become hard enough with nothing staying in her body but her strange food cravings made it ten times worse. strawberries were her first sacrifice that came with nurturing life followed by sushi and chinese food. now even the slightest smell of take-out food had her running to the toilet. it was hard and what made it even more hard was the fact that she couldn’t ask anyone for advice other than her doctor.

they hadn’t told anyone of the pregnancy. she had canceled the second leg of her tour without any reason other than the “personal reasons” she had stated in her statement. it had been a heart-wrenching decision, stopping to travel around the world and illuminate people with her music but it was necessary. another sacrifice for her new life she was entering. they had left the world — including their own families — in the dark as they chose to live in their small pink bubble, far away from the harsh reality. amara would never admit it but she was glad. grateful that she didn’t have to share what was supposed to be the happiest time of her life with the world. she wanted it to be their private little moment.

pregnancy did not only change the way they lived. it changed them completely. amara knew kylian loved her but he had changed his love language. he had gone from sweet words and giving gifts to affection and touching her constantly. it had started small, with small caresses on her back and intertwining their hands subconsciously to gentle circles drawn on her hands now soft strokes. and most of them were always centered around her stomach. it was his new way of expressing his unconditional love that was now not only directed towards her but also towards the tiny life growing inside her. they had adapted to parenthood together and it made her fall in love even more.

especially when he talked to their small little miracle when he thought she was asleep. it had started as small confessions towards their baby and had turned into full one-sided conversations now. it warmed her heart when she listened to him, heard how he expressed some of his fears — that amara found were completely unreasonable— and talked about how excited he was. no matter which gender their little bundle of joy would have. only they mattered to them, her, him and the small unborn baby. their bubble was complete.

but the couple knew that their bubble would burst soon and they would rather be the ones to do it than an outsider. after spending one month at home, shielded from the outside, she had decided to come out. and her first official appearance was no other place than kylian’s match. her parents had surprised her with a visit and both knew, they couldn’t hide it any longer now. they hadn’t exactly spoken about a way they would announce it but it was clear that they would have to share it with their families now.

along with her parents she was seated in their usual reserved spots for the families of the players, next to them kylian’s parents and his brother with his children. she played with kylian’s nephew, bouncing him on her lap while her mind wandered off to thinking about how it would be in a few months. when she would be cheering him on with their small bundle of joy.

their eyes met and she watched his smile grow bigger as he spotted her with his nephew — no doubt, the same image of her with their baby was running through his mind. again, there was an overwhelming sense of pride and excitement. amara turned to her mother, who had redirected a question towards her, wondering why her daughter was glowing so positively. and all she could do was grin. they would know later.

though later appeared to be very close as their secrecy came to an end with the opening score. he had hit a beautiful goal after dribbling his way through the penalty area and instead of hitting his usual celebration, he went for the ball. there were shocked gasps around her along with a roar of cheer when he ran around with the ball under his shirt and sent a heart her way. everyone instantly put the pieces together — after all there weren’t many possibilities what it could signify — and immediately they all turned towards her.

“don’t tell me…” her mother trailed off in shock and amara nodded, grinning widely.

“surprise,” she exclaimed, a cheeky smile adorning her face. she lifted the sweatshirt a bit and revealed her four-month old belly that she had been hiding for the past month now.

fayza immediately pulled her into a hug, kissing amara’s temple gently. “félicitation ma fille. oh je suis tellement contente.” — congraulation, my daughter. i’m soo happy

one by one, they hugged her, all expressing their felicitations. even the others that were around to support their player on the pitch threw a happy congratulations towards her.

“how far along are you?” her father asked her, pulling his daughter in for another hug.

she smiled into the hug, the feeling of home spreading through her body. “nearly five months now. i finished my first trimester a few weeks ago.”

“now it makes sense why you couldn’t go out with me,” alice realized and amara sent a wink in her direction.

“how could you keep this from us?” her mother asked in a shocked tone, looking at her daughter incredulously. “amaghị m ma m ga-akụ gị maka idobere m ya ka ọ bụ naanị nwee obi ụtọ. ihe a abughi ihe i zonari nne gi ada.” — i don't know whether i'm supposed to hit you for keeping it from me or just be happy. this is not something you hide from your mother.

amara shrugged. “it was our little secret.”

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

amara.imani and k.mbappe

liked by liyah_clark, achrafhakimi and 26.304.752 others

amara.imani secret is finally out. the reason i had to cancel the second leg of my tour. i’ll back soon but in the meantime, baby imani-mbappé is coming

view all 293.753 comments

liyah_clark the audacity to not tell your best friends that we’re becoming aunts

graceywood can’t believe she hid it from us 😔, i think we don’t mean anything to her anymore

amara.imani I APOLOGIZED ALREADY

amara.imani i even told you the gender, what more do you want?

username project mbappe is officially starting

username man really said, i’m starting my own mini-me

psg félicitation a vous deux ❤️💙

equipedefrance félicitation de toute l'équipe de france

username news of the year

antogriezmann félicitation mon frère

sza i can’t waittttt

kipembe3 la bébé de la team va avoir un bébé, trop hâte

paulpogba kyks le daron, qui aurait cru

cynthia_e so excited to become an aunt to this angel

username please say sike

username i don’t wanna lose my (imaginal) wife

username omg now it makes sense why she was always spotted in sweatshirts

kehlani ohh i’m gonna be auntie kehlani soon 🥹

charles_leclerc new member to the amara imani squad

landonorris best news of the week

graceywood auntie grace is ready for her duties

liyah_clark auntie liyah and uncle charles report for duties too

username i’m not even mad anymore she canceled her tour

username fr, i’m too excited for this

achrafhakimi finally. it was so hard keeping it a secret and not telling you i knew

amara.imani how did you know?

achrafhakimi you never decline a glass of red wine

username omg they’re gonna be parents 🥹🥹

tchaga_ felicitations a vous deux. je vous souhaite le meilleur

k.mbappe 🫶🏾

the news had spread like a wildfire and even people who weren’t interested in the football or music industry knew that amara imani was pregnant. their names had been mentioned in every article for three weeks straight, wondering over the gender of the baby and when exactly it could maybe arrive. her phone was now silent everyday to drown out the constant vibrations of notifications. it was spammed with articles and posts mentioning her — everyone had something to say about her pregnancy.

even players she hadn’t ever interacted with had slid into her dms to wish her and kylian well. not to forget the french national team who had called to congratulate them as well. they had instantly launched a group call, to also include those who played overseas and wished their two friends well. everyone bombarded her with questions about the impending arrival of their baby — their new protégé as they liked to call it now. a warm feeling spread through her body as she thought about the way, their baby already had so many uncles that loved their coming bundle and would help them. they were a big family after all.

as she advanced in her pregnancy and her bump grew bigger, kylian also grew more protective around her. he didn’t allow her to lift a finger to do anything around the house anymore except go to pee. he cooked now and send his mother to drop off food when he was busy or away for a game. his chauffeur had now become something like their housekeeper, occasionally checking in on her when she was home alone. kylian had even hired her a personal shopper that would go shopping for her when she didn’t feel like online shopping. he was doing everything to protect her from doing too much.

and amara understood where he was coming from so she couldn’t even be mad at him. after their latest doctor’s appointment, where they had been told that there was a risk of giving birth prematurely, her own fears had reappeared again. they had never truly left her but now they were living in her brain again. her pregnancy had already been complicated with her uterus apparently refusing to grow to give the baby more space. she had been told it was a protective response of her body after a certain kind of trauma she must have endured — a trauma that her body now refused to live again so it took protective measures. she had been ordered two weeks of bed rest and after that, to do the most to go easy on her body. spare it from hard work.

seven months into what should have been the happiest time of her life and she found herself afraid of her own body and what could happen if she gave birth prematurely. she had worked through the fears concerning her career and now she would have to manage the fears of not being ready to give birth.

and adding to that fear that hovered over her now, pregnancy had also become harder for her. what had seemed to be a small curve before now looked like a midsized watermelon shoved into her stomach. the toll on her body became more prominent now — daily ingestions of vitamins, eating twice the amount of what pregnant women usually consumed — measures like that had become routines for her. she had been warned of a complicated pregnancy but none of what she had been told measured up to what she was feeling.

nonetheless, her pregnancy was also marked with good moments, happy moments where both just got ready for parenthood. moments that had put light on the situation they were living in at the moment. painting the room had been a day where they had created lots of memories they cherished. the singer had been visiting friends of hers who had been staying in the city of love and had come home to find kylian with a screwdriver in his hand while achraf was reading him the instructions for the crib.

“you’re supposed to put it like this.”

“i’m doing that. it won’t go in.”

the two hadn’t even noticed her arrival their focus laying purely on the crib. turned out, he had left training early and had dedicated the entire day to constructing the crib and getting the room finished. her heart had grown twice its size that day. there were so many memories they had already created in that room (looking past their messy make-out session because she was feeling horny) and painting the room of their coming bundle of joy was just an addition to that.

the realization of parenthood and their new addition to the family had somehow wriggled into their lives. during her first trimester, she had pushed the thought of pregnancy at the back of her head, hoping to procrastinate everything that concerned it. now she was excited for the arrival of their little bean and was planning each detail as finely as she could. they were navigating their way around it with the new flow of emotions they were experiencing. as she progressed and her bump became bigger, so got the question about the name their unborn child would carry. it was clear to both of them that their baby would not carry a double-name; they held no importance if the only place where they appeared was on official documents. they would settle on a single name their baby would be known through the world.

he had the entire world scream his name and wear it on their shirts to express their support for him, she had people sing her music all over the world and express themselves to it. both names carried big weighs all around the world and no matter which name it got, there would always be expectations that would have to be reached. yet she sensed that it was more important for him — the matter of the name. so they chose mbappé for their last name. but the problem of the forename still linged.

that’s how they found themselves awake in bed at four in the morning with the question of the name preventing them from sleeping (in addition to amara craving for tacos at two in the morning). they were surrounded by baby name books while their phones had websites for baby names open.

“what do we think of kylian mbappe jr?” he proposed jokingly, grinning at her as he stole another of her sweet potato fries.

she rolled her eyes. “of course, why not? and while we’re already at it, why not instantly start project mbappe and put it into the academy instantly after i give birth?”

he held his hands up on surrender. “it was just a suggestion.”

“a stupid one,” a small giggle left her lips as she declines his proposition. she was kind of glad that he wasn’t stressing so much about the pregnancy as much as she was now. one of them needed to be the easy parent and she knew it was just in her nature to be the stricter person.

“what about… malouanne ?” he read out loud from his phone which earned him a pillow thrown his way. “what? it’s a mix of the names marie, louise and anne. fits perfectly if you ask me.”

“as beautiful as the name may sound, do you want our kid to be bullied at school?” amara instantly retorted back, continuing to read in her book to find a name.

that was how they spend the night, searching for names that would fit their little human and create their identity. the question of the name was always a difficult one because somehow nothing seemed to fit. nothing was enough for their baby. they were looking for a name that just screamed their bundle of joy; that upon hearing it would immediately make them think of it.

“should we add a middle name?” he asked her, putting his phone down to look at her. his hand instantly placed itself on her stomach, stroking it gently. “should we give you a middle name,” he asked softly towards the stomach. a smile made its way on his face when he felt a kick at the spot where his hand laid and amara hissed slightly.

“i think we need a middle name,” kylian told her slyly. “our little bean clearly agrees with me.”

“they agrees on everything with you. i swear i have a daddy’s girl in my stomach.”

her boyfriend grinned at her, cradling her stomach. “well, they are their father’s child” his grin widened when he felt a kick again.

she shook her head in disbelief but knew he was right. bidding him goodnight and placing a last small kiss on his lips, she waltzed a bit around to find the perfect position to sleep in. with her belly growing, so did the matter of finding a good position to sleep in but the huge pregnancy pillow that kylian had bought her seemed to help. still it didn’t take away the ordeal of finding the position. she was nearly asleep, her mind already drifting away when kylian finally closed the books and turned off the light. his hand wrapped around her waist to feel closer to her as he got comfortable in bed.

she had nearly missed his suggestion, already dozing off when she heard his voice. it was barely above a whisper but loud enough to hear.

“i think ada would suit her perfectly as a middle name in case it’s a girl. the perfect mix of you. and you said you wanted to honor your mother.”

needless to say that she fell asleep with a smile on her face. one problem less now in what was supposed to be the happiest time of her life.

a sharp pain shot through her body. she had been seated on the couch, excitingly watching kylian play when suddenly all she could focus on was the feeling of agony that spread through her body. she tries to ignore it but it’s stronger than her. her hands immediately go down to hold her bump as she leans forward, pain rushing through her entire body and making it impossible to think. her mind is consumed with the feeling of crucifying agony and she can’t think of anything else.

as quick as it comes, it subsided again and she takes a deep breath, trying to regain her composure— before it starts all over again. her first thoughts are that she’s experiencing preparation labor — the famous braxton hicks, that her doctor had warned her of and that she had been victim to during her seventh month. but this pain felt different. the match had been long forgotten as she found herself on the floor, tears starting to fall down her cheeks. her body felt weak, too heavy for her to carry to even try to sit up. the salty substance of her eyes had already started to stain the white carpet and she was able to taste her tears. her eyes travel around the room, as she looks for her phone and desperation fills her as she sees it on the other side of the room, charging. she tries to get up, to at least manage to crawl to it but another pain prevented her.

her eyes close, too weak to have them open as soft sobs leave her trembling lips. she’s wallowing in pain, hoping that someone will find her; that kylian will come home soon. she had always been afraid of giving birth in bad conditions, especially as she was early and her due date was supposed to be in two weeks. her arms wrapped around her stomach as she tried to comfort herself by whispering sweet encouragements, hoping that they would at least help her calm down a bit. but the pain did not leave her.

she doesn’t know how long she’s suffering in agonizing pain when she suddenly hears the apartment door opening and someone entering. pearls of sweat are running down her forehead as she’s compressed to the floor, her arms hugging her belly close to her. the solitude had amplified her situation, made it worse as fears had taken over her mind; the fear of having to give birth alone. and she couldn’t be mad at kylian. after all, the due date was supposed to be in two weeks and even that was much earlier than expected. she tries to ignore the pain and at least try to lift her head to see who just came in but the waves of pain that stream through her body are stronger. like electric waves rushing through her body and hitting her everywhere.

it’s his driver that gives her a bit of hope again when she hears his voice. he immediately rushed towards her, kneeling down as he took in the scene.

“i don’t… i don’t want to give birth..” she managed to croak out, pain preventing her from speaking clearly. her voice was filled with agony as small sobs left her lips. "je veux kylian.” — i want kylian

there was no hesitation, no time to panic or doubt. she was sobbing as she tried to catch her breath while he swiftly retrieved his phone to dial the emergency services. while his other hand held the phone, the other was softly stroking her back, hoping to transfer some solace to her. a bystander would have interpreted the scene in front of them completely different but right now, it comforted amara. calmed her down knowing she wasn’t going through this alone anymore.

he also called kylian but he soon realized it was of little avail, when his eyes caught the screen where the camera had just zoomed on the french striker. the feeling of desperation now seemed to have caught onto him too as he quickly grabbed amara’s phone to place another urgent call. this time to his brother who had not been selected for the match. their call was not very long, only sharing the most important details. his heart lightened a bit when he saw the sudden substitution of kylian. but the feeling of relief was as quickly gone as it came when his eyes fell on the woman next to him, who seemed to take the pain harder with every second that passed.

staying conscious started to become hard for her. she felt a bit of relief when the medics had finally arrived, instantly carrying her to bring her to the closest hospital. but he was still not there and it freaked her out. she couldn’t give birth alone. not without him. there was chaos around her, several voices as she was rushed into the hospital and yet her brain only focused on one thought: she needed him here. she had been put into a private room to not attire a lot of attention as they were aware of her identity. they had told her she would soon be ready for the next phase of this journey but she didn’t want to start it. not without him so even though her body was killing her, she held onto the pain till he would be there.

they tried to calm her down as her contractions intensified but it was to no avail. she needed him to be there and hold her hand. be her sanctuary to guide her through her fears. every reassurance that was spoken to her didn’t mean anything to her cause they weren’t whispered by his lips. she wanted him and no one else.

kylian had instantly run to the changing rooms to get his things as soon as he had been informed of the news. there was confusion at first, when he suddenly saw his number on the changing boards but the small explanation from his coach was enough to suddenly hug enrique and rush out as quickly as possible.

there was no time to care about any traffic rules. she was more important. they were what mattered now. short messages had been sent to his families to inform them of the situation before he ran into the hospital, looking to support his girlfriend during this important moment. he didn’t care whether he hadn’t parked right or how many speed limits he had crossed, all he wanted was to hold amara’s hand.

from the reception desk he had instantly been taken to her room where he rushed to her and engulfed her into a close hug. he had seen her in so many states before but this was new to him. unknown territory like each time he went to play on an adversary’s side that he had never crossed paths with. his heart hurt as he took in her appearance; her face scrunched together because of the crucifying pain, the sweat pearls that rolled down her face along with her tears and the small sobs that left her trembling lips. amara was truly in pain.

“t’es- tu est la…” she managed to croak out before another sharp flash of pain shot through her, making her scream in agony. — you’re … here

he wiped her tears from her face and pressed a soft kiss onto her cheek, able to taste the salty taste of her tears. his heart broke as he thought about all the time she must have spent here without anyone close to her and in pain. she had always been scared of facing labor alone, just the thought of it made her doubt everything but he had always been able to calm her down. promises had been exchanged when she had longed for the reassurance that no matter what came, he would always be there for her— in this moment. she would never have to go through this alone.

“je suis venu le plus vite possible,” he mumbled, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. hoping that the solace and feeling of warmth the act usually transferred would calm her down a bit. she cried again, this time though she wasn’t sure whether it was due to his presence or the pain that her body had to endure at the moment. — i came as quick as possible

he lifted their intertwined hands to meet his lips and pressed a kiss on it. “je te l’avais promis. je serai là.” — i promised you. i will be there.

she nodded, another contraction hitting her and preventing her from speaking. her body was overwhelmed with emotions; pain, fear. comfort all present in her body. a bit of solace had been found from kylian being there but the feeling disappeared when the doctor came in agan. when she announced that it was showtime and should have to push now. there was no going back, no time to have second thoughts. it was all happening in this instant now.

labor was hard. jolts of pain were shooting through her body in short periods and each time she had to push through them. she didn’t care if the entire hospital heard her screams or whether she was breaking kylian’s entire hand with the amount of force she was squeezing it. she couldn’t see anything except pain. and what her desperate even more was the fact that nothing seemed to change.

the nurses and doctors were telling her that she was doing a fantastic job but she still felt as if she hadn’t even pushed once. as if nothing had changed. no matter how much she pressed.

“you’re doing so well ma belle,” kylian encouraged her as another of her screams pierced through the room. “you’re so close.”

“why doesn’t it feel like this?” she yelled out in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. she was hot, her forehead was sweaty and her body felt weak. she couldn’t push anymore.

“miss, you’re nearly done. we can already see the head,” their doctor tried to motivate her. “we just need two more big pushes.”

her surroundings drowned out as she gathered all the strength that was left in her body to push. everything around her became blurry, colors, shapes, persons. her mind was too tired to make her sight clear and she had no energy left anymore to try to focus.

“we need one last push,” they called out to her as she nearly broke down on the bed.

“i’m tired, ky,” she cried tiredly. her eyes barely open. she looked desperately at him. “it hurts so much. i can’t do it anymore. i just want this to be over but it hurts so much,” her sobs left her body and his heart ached as he listened to her.

“t’es la femme la plus courageuse que je connais. et je vais pas te mentir, je ne sais pas dans quelle douleur tu es. mais je sais que tu es la seule à pouvoir le faire. bientôt on aura notre bébé dans le main. one last push and it’s over, okay?” their eyes mirrored every emotion present in the room. the fatigue but also the exhaustion. pain but also love: there was everything. — you’re the strongest woman i know. and i won't lie to you, i don’t know what the pain you’re in feels like. but i know you’re the only one who can do it. soon we’ll have our baby in our hands.

amara nodded as she took a deep breath to push again. she’s clutching kylian’s hand with every last remaining strength as he continues to encourage her. the pain she’s feeling now was much higher than what she experienced the last five hours. suddenly she feels everything. as if her senses have been amplified. there was a sharp pain accompanied by an agonizing scream and suddenly there's a new voice in the room.

she’s asked to hold her arms out as kylian’s eyes fill with tears and all of sudden she’s holding her baby. their little girl. the joy of their life they’ve been dying to meet.

her eyes are filled with tears as the realization hit her. all the pain is suddenly forgotten, as if it never existed. now her body’s only consumed with happiness. she’s crying hysterically as her baby continues to let out cries. the sign of life. that everything was going well. she didn’t need to look at him to know that he was crying as well.

every of her muscles is feeling exhausted when they take their new child away to do its first medical care. kylian himself wasn’t one to often feel very emotional but when he had been asked to cut the chord that had connected amara and their bundle of joy for nine months. she’s finally here and he suddenly understood the feeling of surrealism that amara had told him about.

after the first checks had been done, their daughter had been placed into her arms again. and somehow she must have had still some liquid in her body as her eyes began to water again when she truly held her daughter for the first time.

“she doesn’t seem like a faith,” amara whispered, holding her daughter who was covered in a soft, fluffy, pink blanket. she had opened her eyes for the first time and again, a few years left her eyes when she stared into her daughter’s beautiful eyes. they had her eye shape but all she saw looking into them was kylian. she had inherited her father’s eyes. the fact that she could reference to kylian as dad now spread a new kind of warmth through her body.

“no. it kinda feels wrong,” he agreed. as he gently trailed a finger over her delicate face, he couldn’t help but fall more in love with the woman in front of him. he had always known that he would always love her, no matter in which reality they found themselves. and he had fallen in love with every one of her versions. and now he found himself falling for her new role. he had fallen deeply for amara in her role as mom. he couldn’t believe he had ever doubted. she was perfect. “what was the second name we chose again?”

“are you talking about anaïs?”

kylian’s smile grew bigger as he continued to stare at his daughter. he had learned the meaning of infinite love with amara but the term of unconditional love. it was this small human that taught him what it meant. what people were talking about when they talked about loving someone unconditionally. “yeah. i think she looks more like an anaïs.”

and looking at her, amara understood. she had stopped crying and was looking at her, as if she was taking in her new surroundings. she had been removed from the safe comfort of her mother’s womb and had now to get used to the outside. “anaïs-ada mbappe. welcome into the world.”

she pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before turning to look at kylian and both smiled. they had done it.

“t’es prête papa?” she asked him teasingly and motioned for him to step closer. “take off your shirt. it’s your time now.” — are you ready papa

she was tired. exhausted. there was fatigue written all over her face and yet her face still wore a smile as she watched kylian take off his shirt to have his first skin-to-skin with their daughter. he gently took anaïs out of her hands and sat down on the bed next to her.

he had her cradled against his chest, the warmth of his chest spreading was a connection between them. an expression of love sacred to only them. their phones were vibrating but they ignored it. only their little family mattered now. “salut ma princesse,” he whispered to her softly as she wrapped her hand around his finger. “moi, je suis ton papa. et je t’aime tellement.” — hello my princess. i’m your dad. and i love so much.

their tiny miracle was held in his warm embrace as time around them seemed to pause. no one else existed in their bubble that shielded them from reality going on outside. it was only them. and somehow, as they held their daughter in their hands, the idea of parenthood didn’t seem so scary anymore. amara fell happily asleep, knowing that they were going to do this chapter together.

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

amara.imani and k.mbappe

liked by achrafhakimi, graceywood and 28.763.541 others

k.mbappe bienvenue au monde anaïs mbappé

comments were turned off by the user

it was their first day at home. and with the first day also came the first night and the first cries.

it still felt so unreal to them how they had left their home as two and had come back with another person. their family addition that represented the proof of their love. putting her down for the first time in her room filled the air with a warm atmosphere. there was so much love around them as she placed anaïs in her bed after putting her to sleep. a small light of the nightlight they had bought cast a yellowish glow around the room, revealing a few of the fine details they had put into the room. their eyes did not leave their daughter, they were too much in awe of what they had created.

she’s woken up by anaïs’ soft cries in the night. a quick glance at the small clock next to the bed told her it was just one in the morning. she’s tired and every bone is begging her to stay in bed but her motherly intuition prevents her. turning, she saw kylian still sleeping profoundly next to her as she gets up to calm down their daughter.

“you’re hungry, aren’t you,” she asked her daughter in a gentle tone as she picked the small baby up and sat down with her on an armchair next to the crib. she thanked kylian’s brilliance for having had the idea of installing one next to the crib. “ça va, maman est là. maman va s’occuper de toi,” she soothed anaïs’ cries as she got ready to feed the little human in her arms. — it’s okay, mummy here. mummy is gonna take care of you

just as she had predicted, hunger had been the cause for her awakening as she watched anais latch onto her breasts, hands grabbing onto each side. her cries quickly subsided as the little girl got fed while amara tenderly stroked her cheek. she waited for a bit longer after making sure anais had burped and rocked her little princess back to sleep before joining her own bed again. she couldn’t even find it in herself to be mad at the way kylian was sleeping so profoundly, as if he hadn’t heard her cries. it was her first time experiencing motherly intuition and tending to her responsibilities. she placed a soft peck on his forehead before falling asleep again, her mind drifting away before she had even truly placed down her head on the pillow.

the second time anais woke up, it was kylian who tended to her needs. amara stirred, ready to get up but the french striker tells her to go back to sleep. that she was already exhausted enough and her body needed some rest. after changing her diaper, he instantly took off his shirt before picking up his daughter and putting her close to his chest. immediately her cries stopped when she felt her father’s warmth and comfort as his fingers gently brushed against her head. they stood in the same position for the next thirty minutes before anais fell asleep again, their small bond blossoming through moments like this. amara’s still heavily asleep when he slips back into bed again, wrapping his arm around her waist to find sleep again.

but his sleep didn't last for very long before they heard her cries again. this time though they had managed to find three more hours to sleep with the clock indicating that it was already eight in the morning. amara was about to get up to look after their daughter when kylian grabbed her hand, motioning for her to stay in bed.

“you went last time,” amara muttered tiredly, already looking for her slippers but kylian shook his head.

“go back to sleep cherie,” he interjected, putting a shirt on. “you need it more than me.”

“your holidays are over tomorrow. if anyone needs sleep it’s you.”

he shrugged, standing up and ready to go look after anais. “and you just gave birth a week ago. repose toi un peu,” he convinced her and she nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with him. she gave him a last kiss before closing her eyes again, fatigue instantly taking over. she didn’t know what had been the matter this time but since her cries quickly stopped at the sight of her father, she knew he had everything under control, her instincts could relax as she slept a bit more. — get some rest

she woke up to an empty bed the next morning. it’s the feeling of coldness next to her that managed to bring her out of her sleep even though she was still tired. she knows that kylian must be around somewhere with anaïs but she enjoyed staying in bed for the first time since she gave birth. regain all her forces.

there was an instant smile on her face when she saw her daughter in kylian’s hands while walking out their bedroom. her heart grew twice its size when spotted them on the sofa with kylian talking to her and anaïs having her eyes wide open. as if she was understanding or at least trying to follow what her father was telling her.

“regarde qui s’est réveillée,” he said softly to his daughter, noticing amara’s presence. “tu as vu maman?” — look who woke up

— did you see mummy?

“vous ��tes trop beau ensemble,” she greeted him with a kiss as she sat down next to him and reached for their daughter. anaïs calmly got comfortable in her mother’s arms, not making much of a fuss as she got ready to eat. — you’re too beautiful together

she had a fond smile adorning her lips, looking at her daughter. this tiny human being that changed their lives around. even though she was only a week old, they could already recognize that she was her father’s photocopy. that she would be his except for the shape of her eyes. the one thing anaïs had inherited from her.

“t’es la femme la plus forte que je connais. je ne sais pas comment t’as fait. comment tu fais…,” he told her completely in awe which made amara chuckle. — you’re the strongest woman i know. i don’t know how you did it, how you do it

“et toi tu es l’homme le plus beau, magnifique de toute cette terre. no one i would rather have than you as the father of my baby. — you’re the most beautiful, amazing man on this earth

“she makes everything better,” kylian chuckled as he got up to prepare breakfast for them.

amara nodded, softly cradling her daughter while she breastfed her. her small little hands were placed firmly (as firm as they could be for a one week old) as she drank the breast milk.

“weird how i’m ready to go to war for someone i’ve practically known a week. and yet she’s the answer to everything.”

he understood that feeling better than anyone. if the world turned around him before, now his world turned around her. he was ready climb mountains, cross jungles or put the world on fire if it was necessary for his daughter’s happiness. he would do anything for her. “i love you two more than anything.”

his eyes held that famous sparkle as he spoke and amara leaned in to place a kiss on his lips. in the span of a week their lives had changed and they had been thrown into the world of parenthood. the one thing no matter how much one studied, there was never the perfect preparation. one would never know how parenthood actually worked out till they were parents. it was a new path to life.

amara and kylian had each other to overcome the hills and rocks that may have been put onto their way. anaïs was the confirmation of what they had always been. a family. their bubble was finished and perfect now. they had everything they needed.

taglist: @lorarri @aechii

[silverpetrichor]

My Love Is Mine All Mine

A/N: I know I’ve been MIA but the mania surrounding Gravity Falls right now has awoken me from my slumber. I’ve had a huge crush on Ford since I got into the series during the pandemic and I just had to write this.(I've also never written smut before so please forgive me if it's cringe.) I’ve never written him before, so forgive me if he’s a little (or a lot) OOC. As always constructive criticism is welcome and please enjoy! 

Last Summer. . .

You were helping your brother cook dinner for his heavily pregnant wife and 2 kids. Laughing and joking as your younger brother arrived with his husband, wine and dessert. It was shaping up to be another ordinary evening hanging out with your family when you got the call. 

Next thing you know you’re hugging your loved ones goodbye before opening a portal to the outskirts of Gravity Falls, Oregon. Staring up at the darkness enveloping the town that you’d only heard of in passing, watching on in horror before assisting the others in reinforcing the natural barriers around the town to keep it from spreading…  

“—Y/n! Earth to Y/n! Are you okay?” Your coworker asked as you looked up from where you had zoned out while shelving the new books.  

“Yeah? I um, I’m fine really. Just lost in thought for a second.” you respond. 

“Oh, okay. Well, I was just trying to tell you that it’s lunch time,” Tracy said, smiling up at you. 

You tilted your head to the side, brows furrowing “Geez, already?” you looked at your watch, and low and behold it was noon already.  

You cast one more glance to the book still in your hand, a post apocalyptic romance who’s cover had evoked memories of the centralized apocalypse that had taken place last summer in the seemingly innocuous town. You recall arguing with the council about actually getting involved and helping the town instead of just doing damage control. You didn’t like the stances they often took, and were preparing to go in despite their decision when all of a sudden the oppressive feeling of Bill’s presence vanished and with it your need to be there, standing sentry. 

Or, so you thought. Now, you have moved from the hustle and bustle of New York City to the quiet and peculiar little town of Gravity Falls. All because you dared to go against the council and nearly disobeyed them, you were now stuck as a librarian here indefinitely. Merely monitoring the situation and living in a cottage not too far from the Mystery Shack, hidden by magic and finally inhabited again after decades of going unused after the last council assigned witch moved.

You shook your head as if shaking off your thoughts, shelving the book in your hand and heading to the breakroom in the back where your homemade lunch sat in the fridge. 

You ate your lunch with Tracy in relative silence letting her do most of the talking. She was a sweet woman who was a few years older than you, in her early forties married with three rambunctious kids. She was also very talkative, which you didn’t mind despite being more introverted yourself. 

You never liked the quiet anyway, ironically enough even though you had moved out to a cottage in the woods, you always had music or something playing. You’d even gotten a fluffy pet cat a week before who moved out here who you dubbed Lady Arson the III. 

You’d actually grown fond of this little town despite being a city girl, this town had its own unique charm. Even though you had to chase some gnomes out and renew the old wards on the old cottage. (Thank the stars you had a magical ingredients supplier for the unicorn hair you needed. Unicorns are such stuck up assholes and if you never had to interact with one again it’d be too soon) You had redecorated the cottage and made it your own. You also found a nearby lake to go swimming in relative peace during the spring and summer.  

You talked for a while with Tracy as you found yourself having a bit of fun. While you missed the city there were plenty of things and people that made it worth it. Like your crush on your friend Ford Pines. . . 

He came to the library every other day or so in the afternoon sitting in the back alcove reading and writing in a journal with weathered pages. You’d actually managed to strike up a rapport with the man instead of hopelessly pining after him in silence. (Which you still did but you felt less pathetic when your hands would wander late at night when you couldn’t sleep)  

And, speaking of the devil, Ford was present with his teenage niece and nephew Mabel and Dipper. You found them in the back of the library searching the shelves for a book as you came around the corner to reshelve the last of the book on your cart. 

“Good afternoon Y/n!” Mabel excitedly stated, having noticed you first as her brother and grunkle were absorbed in searching the shelves. 

“Afternoon Pines family, what trouble have you gotten into today?” You greeted and asked, taking in their disheveled appearances as you raised a brow. 

“We were exercising a category five ghost in the woods near Fiddleford’s mansion when we encountered a hostile gremloblin!” Mable replied as her and Dipper shuddered in unison. 

You scanned them for injuries upon hearing this, before asking if they were okay. They nodded their assent before Mabel leaned in and whispered “But I’m pretty sure Grunkle Ford has a concussion or something.” 

Your eyebrows raise as you release your hold on the cart you’d been pushing. You tap Ford’s shoulder and he turns around, rather quickly almost stumbling. As he does you notice the gash on his forehead covered in Hello Kitty bandaids, that are clearly Mable’s work. But despite that you still see some red on the gauze the two bandaids are holding down. 

“Hello, beaut—I mean Y/n!” clears throat, while rubbing his head with his free hand, “How are you doing today?” Ford asks awkwardly, blushing. 

“Certainly better than you, you’re bleeding! Come with me.” You say, grabbing Ford’s hand after seeing the slightly dazed and unfocused look in his eyes and the bloody gauze on his hand. 

You pull him to the breakroom, the twins following. Ford huffing and blushing even harder at you holding his hand. You sit him at the table as the twins walk over to the vending machine drawn to the candy and chips in it respectively. 

You wash your hands quickly before going to bend and look under the sink and after a minute or two of rummaging around, pull out the new first aid kit that you’d brought to replace the old barely full one. Ford’s head tilts and his eyebrows raise as he mentally thanks the infinite cosmos for pencil skirts and the fact that you seem to love to wear them. 

When you stand straight he guiltily turns his head to the side, finding interest in the fake foliage and book themed posters hanging about. You raise a brow at his odd behavior, chalking it up to his concussion and head over after smoothing out your black pencil skirt. You walk over, heels clicking on the linoleum floor as you take off your colorful blazer before rolling up your white blouse sleeves.  

You open up the first aid kit with practiced efficiency after laying out a piece of paper towel from the roll in the middle of the table. You sanitize your hands quickly with an alcohol wipe before you gently pull the Hello Kitty bandages and gauze off his forehead. Apologizing quietly as Ford winces still, you move to grab the alcohol. You end up muttering another apology as he winces whilst you dab at the slightly deep cut with a soaked cotton ball.  

Ford’s face stays flushed as he realizes how close your chest is to his face. Trying his best to not make it obvious that he’s staring at you in that way. His eyes flicker to your face, focusing on how cute you look with your face scrunched up in concentration as you gently dab.   

While Ford struggles to be covert about his feelings you seem to be fairing slightly better with a barely there flush to your face. You place butterfly bandages on his forehead after dropping the alcohol soaked cotton ball onto the paper towel. 

You then gently grab his hand before unraveling the gauze, and dabbing at the cut with another alcohol soaked cotton ball. 

Mabel looks over, noticing the look in each other's eyes and Ford’s blushing face. A smirk falling over her face as she realizes what is happening, nodding to herself.

“Matchmaking time!” she whispers under breath before choking on a gummy kola. 

Dipper rolls his eyes as he slaps her back, the gummy kola flying out her mouth. Of which, she promptly picks up off the floor and eats much to Dipper's disgust. 

“So…Y/n huh? Do you. . .like her?” Mabel asks Ford as they leave the library, raising her eyebrows and smirking. 

Ford chuckles nervously, blushing furiously “What? I, I uh. . I have no idea what you’re talking about!!” He says, eyes shifting about nervously. 

“ Oh my gosh! Yes you do!! You love her! Love, love, love her!!” Mabel yelled, jumping up and down around him as the trio walked back to the Mystery Shack.   

“And I thought I sucked at hiding my feelings.” Dipper nudged Ford, laughing. 

Ford sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he nodded in defeat before telling Mabel to quiet herself despite no one being near. 

“Yes, I am very fond of Y/n. I find her to be endearing and enchanting in everything she does,” Ford muttered as he nervously laughed. 

“Well then Grunkle Ford, you should ask her out!! All the other blind dates I've tried to set her up on went nowhere!!” Mabel said as she skipped backwards in front of him and Dipper.  

“I don't know, I mean, aren't I too old for her? And I haven't really had any sort of  relationship in a while.” Ford muttered as the Mystery Shack came into view.  

“Trust me, Grunkle Ford! You got this! She's into nerd stuff like DD&MD! She's a librarian and she’s a historian!! And she likes listening to you rant about your research! Plus she's beautiful! It doesn't get any better than her!!” Mabel yelled as they sat on the couch outside the shack. 

“Yeah, in fact I know just what I need to do!!” Ford declared as he grabbed a graph journal full of blueprints for inventions out of one of his trenchcoat inner pockets.  

****** 

“This was a terrible idea,” Ford whispered as he hid from Flirt B0t 3000.  

“Wow, really who would've thought a robot built for romance would've been a terrible idea? Let's see, uh everyone!” Dipper harshly whispered back. 

“This is Giffany all over again,” Mabel sighs as she hands Ford her compact so he can check around the corner for Flirt B0t 3000. 

As he did so, the robot's half melted face snapped in their direction, its intact eye rolling to look at him through the mirror. 

“When I say run, you run as far and fast as your legs can take you and don’t look back,” Ford harshly whispers, tightening his grip on his gun. 

“But Grunkle Ford!! We can help!” Dipper responds as he clutches a crossbow in his hand. After Weirdmageddon, he’d asked Wendy to teach him how to use one. 

Before Ford could argue further, Stan came around the corner baseball bat in hand. “Take this you stupid robot!!” He screamed swinging his baseball bat, just as Flirt B0t 3000’s head turned to face him. 

It’s head flies clear off, Dipper shooting it with his crossbow as it flies in front of him. Stan beat the headless body repeatedly until it stopped twitching and was nothing but a pile of mangled metal and wires. 

“Grunkle Stan!! How’d you know we needed help?” Mabel asked as she ran up to him, hugging him. 

Stan let out a small “oof” upon impact before explaining “Well, when Ford mentioned making a robot to practice asking out Y/n with and then none of you picked up the phone when I called, I figured it went horribly wrong. And would you look at that, I was right!” Stan kicked the robot's remains once more.   

“Thank you Grunkle Stan!! But did you see that shot!?” Dipper asked, laughing. 

“Sure did kid! Wendy's one hel-heck of a teacher ain't she?” He asked, giving Dipper a noogie. 

“Yeah!” Dipper agreed, grunting as he tried to get out of his head lock.

Stan released him before walking over to Ford and popping him upside the head. 

“What was that for Stanley?” Ford cried out rubbing the back of his head. 

“You know for someone so smart you sure can be a real dumbass sometimes. I may not be the best at romance or reading signals but even I can tell that you and her like each other. So for God's sake just ask her out already!” Stan harshly whispered to Ford as he gave him a hug. 

“Yeah, you're right. I mean the worst she can say is no right? Oh God what if she says no? I don't think I can do this!” Ford panicked, pacing. 

“Look Poindexter! You got this, you're the total package, even with those sideburns! Just take a deep breath and go ask her out before you lose your nerve,” Stan said, nudging Ford.

Ford ran out of his laboratory in the basement and headed for the library. 

“Ten bucks says he chickens out,” Stan says, waving at Ford's retreating figure. 

The young twins sigh in unison, shaking their heads at Stan's antics. 

******

Since Ford had awkwardly asked you out that first time a little over a month ago, you’d been spending almost all of your time together. Flowers from Ford littered your cottage and desk at work, and Ford would often have smudges of your dark red lipstick on his face. Even Lady Arson the III approved of him, and she never seemed to like any of your dates. You were both falling hard and fast for one another. 

But you still hadn’t told him about the whole you being a witch thing. Afraid of losing him, even if he was a lover of the supernatural you didn’t know if he still would, once you tell him the truth. You haven’t felt this way about someone since college. But every time you thought about telling him, you chickened out. 

Tonight though, you were going to have a picnic on the hill near your cottage and Ford was going to bring a telescope so you could stargaze. After mentioning to him how you loved astronomy but only ever got to see the stars in textbooks and online since you grew up in New York.  

You hoped nothing paranormal would interrupt your date, seeing as you were planning on finally telling him about your powers maybe. But of course, you just had to say it out loud. 

And well, now here you are in your cute floral sundress and cardigan fighting a very hostile spirit after it had attacked you and Ford while you were skipping stones at the nearby lake. Ford almost cracked his head on the rocks when he stumbled back in shock, at hearing the haunting childlike laughter reaching into his trench coat for holy water.  The category four spirit took this as an opportunity to attack, its cute face morphing into that of horror as it rushed towards the two of you.   

But then much to his surprise, you shoved him behind you before raising your hands and suddenly it slammed against a forcefield you had seemingly created if your glowing hands were any indication. Then a blast of blue light emanated from your open raised palms and the spirit froze before evaporating into thin air.

You sighed in relief before lowering your hands and wiping your brow. You then turned and began kissing Ford's face, pecking all about after you checked him over for injuries.You finally pull away when you feel satisfied with Ford’s blushing disposition. 

“Thank the stars you're okay! I can't believe we stumbled upon a hostile spirit all the way out here. My wards and presence usually keep stuff like this from happening,” you said sighing deeply. 

Ford stuttered his brain attempting to reboot after seeing you use your powers and you kissing his face so much,”Your wards, as in magic? Magic that I just saw you use. Why didn’t you tell me?” he questioned as she paced in front of him, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Well, I—” you cut yourself off sighing deeply. “My being a witch isn’t exactly an ice breaker that I bring up on dates. You know how I haven’t had a serious relationship since college? It ended when she found out I was a witch and since then I just have gotten used to hiding that side of myself from anyone that didn’t already know. So yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I just didn’t want to scare you off because I’m falling for you and I think I might actually even be in love with yo—” Ford cuts you off, grabbing you by the back of your neck and kissing you passionately. 

You stutter, before humming into the kiss. Cupping his face in your hands as one of his hands makes its way to your waist.  You have matching goofy smiles as you pull away for breath resting your foreheads against one another. 

“You could never scare me off because in case you couldn’t tell, I’m in love with you too, darling.” he whispered softly to you, staring into your eyes as you bit your lip bashfully. 

You could feel the heat flushing your face as you felt him pull you closer. In the moonlight, you could see that he was blushing fiercely. You kiss him deeply, opening a portal behind you as you pull him backwards. 

You trip and fall right onto your bed at the cottage, much to Ford’s shock as he pulls away from you. He looks around baffled. 

“Fascinating! You can create portals? I knew that witches existed but I didn't know you could do that!! What else can you do?” Ford asked excitedly as he began to sit up reaching for his journal.  

You followed, grabbing his trench coat lapels, kissing him and flipping him to his back. Ford’s hands went slack, his focus recentered on you as you pulled away with a self satisfied smirk.   

“We can have a Q & A later, right now I’m more interested in other things,” Y/n breathed out before grinding on Ford's lap, feeling his hardness grow underneath you. 

Ford blinked, swallowing as he let out a whine at your continued movement. You kissed his lips again before muttering a soft “Off,” lifting the hem of his turtleneck. He eagerly obliged–almost knocking you in the face if not for your quick reflexes–practically ripping off his trench coat and turtleneck and flinging them across the room. You pulled your cardigan off as you admired his slightly pudgy and hairy physique before running your hands up his hairy yet muscular arms.  

He moaned as you ground down on him again, gripping the back of his neck as you clung to him. You giggled into his mouth, kissing him before standing to remove your sundress and flats. Ford followed suit, kicking off his combat boots and damn near ripping his pants and underwear as he pulled them off. Almost tumbling to the ground as he did so, causing you to both giggle. Until he looked up at you, breath catching at the sight of you still in your matching black lace bra and panty set.

He surges forward, kissing you like a man possessed and kneading your ass. You moan into his mouth, as you feel your panties dampen with your arousal. You feel his hard cock standing at attention, smearing precum onto your stomach. 

Before you know it, Ford has you lying on the bed kissing a trail down to the apex of your thighs. He lingers at your chest, sucking at your nipples through the lace before removing the barrier entirely. You shudder at the attention he gives your nipples, sucking one and rolling the other in his hand. 

You whine as he releases his grip on your chest and his mouth moves south. He teasingly kisses your aching clit and nips at your thighs before slowly pulling down your underwear. 

You buck your hips slightly at the feeling of his breath on your now exposed cunt. 

“Gorgeous,” you hear him whisper before diving in and eating you out like you were his last meal.  

You mewl as he laps at your folds before latching onto your clit and sucking. You buck your hips and whimper as you attempt to shut your legs. Ford pins your right thigh with one hand before moving to open you up with his other. 

You gasp and grasp at his hair roughly when you feel his index finger at your entrance before slowly sinking into you. You moan loudly, whining as he thrusts his finger in and out before adding another. Your eyes slam shut as your back arches at the feeling. 

He scissors his fingers briefly before he makes a come hither motion with his fingers. You begin to shake, your heels digging into his back from where your legs have been perched over Ford's shoulders. 

You whimper out a soft “oh fuck,” the only warning Ford receives before you're cumming all over his face. Whining and moaning as he fingers you and sucks at your clit through your high, moaning into your cunt. Which triggers another harsher orgasm as you sob out, pushing Ford's face away. 

You look down at him between your thighs, his face flushed and glasses askew as he kisses your thighs. As if to apologize for the accidental overstimulation, your chest heaving and thighs twitching still as you smooth out his messy hair. 

You sit up and pull Ford's mouth to yours by the nape of his neck. Kissing and licking into his mouth roughly, tasting yourself on his tongue. He moans into your mouth cupping your face gently. 

You both pull away to breathe, foreheads pressed together. “Are you sure you're up for more?” Ford questions against your lips. 

You smirk as you reach down to grab his cock, stroking its ruddy head. “Oh, I'm just getting started baby boy” you whisper in his ear as he whimpers in yours. 

You flip your positions again, spreading your thighs over his as you position yourself over his cock. Grasping his cock and guiding it towards your entrance, your other hand gripping the sheets by Ford's head. You moan in unison as you sink down his thick cock, gasping when you're fully seated. 

Ford whines as you begin to ride him, slowly at first before gaining a rough rhythm. You pin his hands above his head as he gasps at the sudden move.  Moaning loudly as you nip and lick at his neck, his eyes rolling back. 

You giggle sinfully in his ear, before moaning as he flips you onto your back. Ford grips your hips “My turn,” he growls out before beginning a punishing rhythm that has you crying out once more, tears streaming down your face. 

Your hands grip the sheets before clawing at Ford's back, causing him to moan, and move a hand to grip at the bedspread. 

“Fuck!! I'm close, are you there yet darling?” Ford pants out. 

It takes you a minute to speak coherently, gasping out “Inside, cum inside me! I need it, please” you manage to babble out through your tears.  

“Shit,” Ford hisses, moving to rub at your clit in rough circles. 

You whine and cry out Ford’s name as you writhe, your grip on Ford adjusts as you pull him in for a rough kiss. 

You both moan into the kiss as your walls flutter around his twitching cock. He groans at the feeling, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. You pant into each other's mouths as he breathes out “Cum for me, darling.” 

You let out a silent scream as you cum for a third time, Ford groans as he feels your wetness drench yours and his thighs as you squirt on his cock. His head drops to your neck as he bites your shoulder, shuddering as he thrusts deeply, his spend coating your walls as you pant and sigh. 

You lock your feet together around his waist as he collapses onto you. You play with his hair as the smell of sex and sweat permeates the air in the afterglow. 

You wince as you feel his softening cock slowly pull out. He groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of your wet cunt. You feel your combined cum drip down to the crack of your ass as you sit up. 

“So, I'm a mess. Wanna help me clean up?” You smirk up at him, eyes glinting deviously. 

He laughs before pulling you up, “I thought you'd never ask,” you both smile into the kiss you share as you grab his hand, kissing it and leading him to your bathroom.  

You might just send the council a thank you basket for sending you to Gravity Falls after all. . . 

******

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I had fun writing this!

[rotworld]

A Bird in the Hand

you've been "partnered" with the nightbound who betrayed you for weeks now and neither of you are happy with how things are going.

->virgilio/reader. explicit; contains hypnosis, blood drinking, mild gore, power imbalance, aphrodisiacs, food control, mentions of conditioning.

.

.

.

Every day, there’s a notebook open on the kitchen counter. You can’t miss it because it sits right next to an enormous breakfast feast, already made, plated and waiting by the time you drag yourself out in hungry desperation. Everything is artfully arranged like it came right out of an upscale restaurant’s kitchen from lightly sprinkled garnish to elegant, swirling sauce patterns. Even the fucking cereal looks like a mouthwatering food blog photo, a row of sliced fruit ringing one side of the bowl. 

There’s a pen tucked into the notebook’s spiral binding. At the top of the page, a single question is scrawled in neat cursive: What is your favorite movie?

It’s late. The sun shields are open and you can see the city skyline glittering through the windows. The only light in the room comes from a lamp perched on the counter, the thick dome shade softening the light to sunset orange. You uncap the pen, watching clouds drift across the moon. 

Fuck you, you write.

*

Some nights are spent at Cassowary Tattoo. 

It’s that or stew in your own misery for long, silent hours, because you’re not allowed to leave the house on your own yet. You claim your spot in the waiting area, stretched out on the sofa by the front windows with a stack of books on the coffee table beside you. It’s so cozy it makes you suspicious, the comforting and non-confrontational vibe almost smothering—lots of plants and pottery on the wooden wall shelves and muted rugs to soften the hardwood floor, some slow-tempo jazz playing over the speakers. Was it already like this or did they do some hasty redecorating? It feels more like a coffee shop than a tattoo parlor.

Your name is called with slow reluctance. “Hey, uh…” It’s the guy working the desk—nightbound. You saw him sipping from a blood pouch earlier. He knows what you are, too. That’s why he watches you like a hawk. He looks young but that doesn’t mean anything. What does is how nervous he is around you, anxiously vigilant whenever you shift around to get comfortable or exhale just a little sharply. Not like he’s scared of you, but scared of potentially having to handle you, like he’s watching a priceless vase wobble precariously on its stand. A lot of fledglings are like that because the older nightbound teach them that witches are some kind of endangered species, rare and skittish, necessitating firm but gentle handling.

He’ll chase you if you try to run. He doesn’t want to. He’s afraid he might hurt you by accident and then Virgilio will be mad at him, and he would sooner chop off his own hand than risk one of his superiors, his elders, being mad at him.

“Yeah?” you say. 

He flinches whether you soften your tone or not. “Are you, uh. Are you hungry? Sergeant—uh, Virgilio wants to know.” 

“I’m fine.” You pretend to be interested in the books you brought along, propped up on your side with one of the musty tomes open in front of you. It’s all dry, boring shit, leatherbound antiques on loan from the Dusk Council’s extensive library. Nightbound biology, nightbound psychology, nightbound history—there’s a lot here that you don’t know despite how they’ve been breathing down your neck your whole life. 

“Oh. Okay.” He fidgets nervously with his phone. “Well, uh. I think he ordered you something anyway.” 

He did, of course, and it shows up just a few minutes later in the hands of a delivery driver. Virgilio appears at the same moment, pushing through the curtain dividing the shop. There’s no doorbell or chime or anything. Every nightbound in the shop can hear it when somebody parks on the street right outside, or when the front door opens with a wheezy creak. Virgilio exchanges pleasantries and leaves a nice tip. He places the takeout bag on the coffee table right next to your books and then he pulls up one of the armchairs. His hair’s up in a ponytail. He’s wearing a black tank top so his tattoo sleeves are on full display—a moon and clouds, raven wings, a skull hidden among full-bloom flowers and half-melted candles. 

His smile makes your stomach twist up in angry, sickened knots. “Hey. Got you something.” 

You don’t answer and you don’t meet his gaze. Undeterred, he pulls a container out of the bag and opens it for you, steam and a garlicky scent wafting out. It’s some kind of spinach dish, sauteed leafy greens topped with crunchy garnish. 

“Smells pretty good,” he says, stirring it with a plastic fork. “Let me know if you like it and I’ll make it at home sometime. Just need some garlic and olive oil. Maybe a little amaretto if you want it fancy.” He slides the bowl across the table, closer to you. “Come on. You must be hungry. You barely touched breakfast.” You still don’t take it and his smile wanes, all that cheerful enthusiasm souring into weary resignation. “I don’t want to put you under but I will if I have to. It’s for your own good.”

“Stop saying that.” The threat of hypnosis makes you sit up, but you still don’t reach for the bowl. You don’t want it. You don’t want any of this. “‘For my own good?’ This is all for you, so you can feed as much as you want.” 

“It’s for you,” Virgilio insists. “So you don’t end up anemic or worse.” 

The wounded look on his face makes your blood boil, soft eyes and furrowed brows like he thought this would go any other way. He wants to talk? Fine. You can talk. “I wouldn’t need to worry about that if you fed from anyone or anything else sometimes. But I’m here, so you might as well take as much as you want, right? Why bother with a donor who actually likes getting fed on? Is that not as fun? You can’t get off if your blood bag is having a good time, too?” 

Virgilio catches your chin between his fingers and jerks your gaze up to meet his eyes. He’s got your mind in a vice-grip before you can even blink and for a blissful moment, there are no thoughts in your head. No anger. No fear. Nothing. Just fuzzy warmth and gentle drifting. His eyes are glittering gold and you’re sinking, all the tension leaking out of your body, all your worries evaporating—and then he lets go, slowly, like a fist loosening. He maintains just enough control that you can’t muster the energy to yell at him or tear yourself away. 

“Eat the fucking food,” he says, his voice low and ragged. You can only think clearly when he stops touching you, and even then, you find yourself picking up the bowl and spearing spinach on your fork. Virgilio leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you mutter between bites. “I didn’t choose to be what I am.” 

Virgilio takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Yeah. Me, neither.” 

*

Every three days, your breakfast comes with roseblood. Virgilio brews it himself on the stove and the delicate garden-fresh aroma fills the whole house by the time you wake up. He pours the first dose into a black mug with a golden bird silhouette stamped on the side, and then he drops in a few colorful crystals that gently fizzle, making little prismatic bubbles at the surface. That’s nectar, condensed and edible magic. The sweet scent makes your mouth water. He sprinkles a couple leftover rosebuds on top and slides the mug over to join the rest of the trays, plates and bowls he painstakingly prepared. 

“Buon appetito,” he says with a grin. He usually makes himself scarce when you show up for food but today he’s decided to stick around. He stays on the other side of the counter, at least, a newspaper unfolded in front of him so he can pretend he isn’t watching you intently. You eat begrudgingly. Virgilio is such a talented chef that it makes you angry. His plating is immaculate and his dishes are perfect whether he’s baking, boiling or braising something—a sharp contrast to the single small plate at his elbow with nothing but a piece of toast smeared with marmalade. 

You watch him. He watches you. Neither of you speak to each other and the only sounds are the clink of your silverware and the whisper of turning paper, the occasional muted crunch when Virgilio nibbles on his toast. The roseblood is delicious, sweet like honey. You catch him smiling when you hold up the mug, enjoying the soft floral scent and the warmth against your palms, but he quickly averts his eyes back down to the newspaper. 

You think about those videos of animal shelters and people who sit with nervous dogs until they stop shaking. That’s how he sees this, you think. A selfless act. Doing you a favor. Coaxing you to him with food and gentle words, like he doesn’t already have the leash around your neck. 

Today, the notebook asks, What do you like to do in your spare time? 

Virgilio’s gaze is drawn by the scratch of the pen across the paper. You scribble quickly and furiously, then shove it aside. He doesn’t have to look to know you’ve written the same words you always do. He gathers up his newspaper and toast and finally gives you some privacy.

*

Some nights are spent in Dr. Griffiths’ office. The two of you look like a couple on the verge of divorce. Virgilio hunches like a man in a confessional booth and you’re scrunched up against the armrest of the big Victorian sofa, keeping one full cushion between the two of you. Your gaze travels across the room in careful avoidance of Virgilio, wandering from the bookshelves to the hanging paintings to the swinging pendulum of a grandfather clock. Candles flicker atop ornate brass stands. It smells like leather, parchment and incense. 

“I just don’t know what else to do,” Virgilio says. “It’s not like I don’t get it. I do. But you have to understand that the second you became active…look, you weren’t leaving that dinner party without the rug getting pulled out from under you, okay? That’s just how it is. If I didn’t do it, someone else would’ve. And I know you hate me for it, you feel like I took advantage—” 

“Let’s not assume,” Dr. Griffiths says gently. “It would benefit you both to ask each other how you feel, rather than jumping to conclusions. Even in situations where you’re certain you already know, is it not better to ask? To have the opportunity to voice those thoughts and feelings?” He’s nightbound, of course, because why would the Council send you to any other kind of therapist? His eyes glint like an animal’s and he has the uncanny, fluid grace of an elder. He dresses somewhat eccentrically for his profession, stylish and formal in a black blouse with translucent sleeves and fitted slacks, his high heels glossy like obsidian. He looks the way people expect nightbound to look, sickly pale and ghostly as though carved from marble. 

Virgilio glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “They don’t talk to me if they can help it.” 

Dr. Griffiths tilts his head, regarding you with a pensive frown. “You’re still not speaking to your partner?” 

“No,” you mutter.

“Why not?” 

“You can’t guess?” 

He smiles and pushes away from the desk. You watch him warily as he comes to stand beside you, resting his palm on the armrest of the sofa. He looks down at you, tilting his head in that odd, bird-like motion the nightbound all share, like an owl tracking a scurrying mouse. “No assumptions, remember?” he asks.

“It’s really not that hard to figure out,” you insist. He hums, urging you to continue. You don’t look at Virgilio but you can feel the weight of his stare. “My life doesn’t belong to me. I’m like his pet or something.”

“That’s not true—” Virgilio starts to say. Dr. Griffiths cuts him off with a sharp glance. 

“Go on,” he says patiently. 

There’s a lump in your throat, the burning sensation of tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You swallow hard. “And my time, that’s not mine anymore. I’m basically nocturnal now because I have to be. Even if I get up early, I can’t see the sun because of the stupid shields on the windows. It’s so dark everywhere, all the time. And my bedroom isn’t mine, it’s just the guestroom in his house. Some of my stuff’s there but it doesn’t matter. He can come in whenever he wants.”

“I would never—”

“Virgilio,” Dr. Griffiths says, firm but gentle. 

“And,” your voice cracks, “and the food, too. He picks that. And I know why, I know about roseblood and the risks and all that stuff, I know that. But it just reminds me that I don’t have anything anymore. I don’t even have myself. And…and…” Your words unravel into sobs. The sofa creaks under Virgilio’s shifting weight and you see him in your periphery looking sick with guilt. 

His hand trespasses onto the cushion between you. You hear him come closer. You know what he’s going to do and it makes you feel even worse, but you don’t try to stop him from touching your shoulder and turning you towards him. You don’t fight the gentle pressure of his fingers on your chin. You don’t squeeze your eyes shut or try to look away. Your eyes meet and Virgilio’s calming presence fills your mind, quieting your sobs to sniffles and numbing the ache in your chest.

Everything is okay for a while. Everything is light and airy, soft and sweet. You’re freed from thought and fear and worry, left with nothing but peace. When you surface, it happens slowly. You feel an arm wrapped around you, a gentle hand stroking your head. You smell chewing gum on his breath. Virgilio holds you against his chest, idly stroking your back and pressing kisses to your tear-dampened cheeks. 

Dr. Griffiths is back by his desk, frowning thoughtfully. “You have a problem with control, Virgilio,” he says. “Understandably, you crave it. You exert it however and whenever you can. Losing it makes you lash out and act impulsively. I would hope, then, that you might have some sympathy for someone who has none.”

Virgilio wraps around you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling to pieces. He knows this will end badly once you get home; more tears, more distance, days of agonizing silence and refusing to meet his eye. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, you’re right.” He holds on tight while he still can. 

*

There are indents in the notebook paper, like someone scribbled furiously on the page before it. You turn back and find line after line written and then hastily crossed out. A handful are still legible:

What is your favorite breakfast food? What is your favorite food? What foods do you like? What would you like me to make you? I will make you anything you want if you ask for it. I didn’t know it upset you so much. I thought maybe it upset you, but I didn’t know what to do. I’m trying to make the best of a difficult situation. I know it’s not fair. I’m not good at this. I can’t let you go but I will do anything else, just name it and I will do it. I’m going to put a better lock on your door. Do you want a better lock on your door? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry.

On the next page, Virgilio’s handwriting reverts to its usual neatness. It simply says, List some foods that you like. 

*

Some nights are spent at home. Virgilio’s coworkers say he’s allergic to time off, which is news to you. It feels like he’s around more than he isn’t. Usually you stay in the guest room and only venture out for food but tonight, you reluctantly join him on the living room sectional. Virgilio is hunched over and doodling in a sketchbook, so shocked by your sudden appearance that you hear his pencil lead snap. You flick on the lamp and unceremoniously drop your entire stack of books on the coffee table, picking one from the pile at random to start with. 

You peek over the edge of the book. Virgilio is frozen for a moment like he thinks the slightest twitch might scare you off. You don’t think he’s even breathing. He watches you carefully, assessing you with cold focus like he’s sizing up a threat. The intensity in his stare frightens you. You don’t know what gives you away—quickening pulse? Hitched breath? Some subtle scent? He blinks and his gaze softens. He sets his sketchbook down and turns to give you his full attention. His casual lean, the way he drapes his arm over the backrest, reminds you of the night you met. 

“How about a truce?” he offers. 

You stare at him suspiciously. “What kind of truce?” 

“Less mesmerism.” 

“How about no mesmerism?” 

“Less,” he stresses with finality. The way your expression crumples with disappointment makes him sigh and rub the back of his neck. “What else do you want? Within reason.” 

You almost scoff at that but Virgilio’s anxious stare makes you reconsider. He’s trying, at least. It’s the smallest of consolations, but he’s giving it to you. “Could you talk to me the way you used to?” 

“The way I used to?” 

“Like at the party. Before…” Before he ruined your life. Betrayed your trust. Claimed you in front of the whole Council. Your heart is in your throat. “Like before,” you say quietly. 

The hoarseness of your voice makes him restless. He drums his fingers along the back of the couch and his gaze wanders. “I tried that,” he says. “When you first came here—” 

“When I was brought here,” you correct him. He clenches his jaw. “I didn’t choose to come here. You know that.” 

“The point is I tried that already. I acted like nothing was different. You still wouldn’t talk to me.” 

“Because I was angry. I still am,” you tell him. “I know I didn’t have much of a choice. I know somebody else would’ve done it if you didn’t. But it hurt. I’m allowed to be hurt. You can’t just snap your fingers and make me forgive you—”

“I could,” Virgilio says. He turns towards the kitchen windows where the moon is just a curled sliver. “I could make you. Probably not in one session. I’d need to reinforce it a few times. But I could.” He says it so plainly. Soft and contemplative, like something he’s spent long nights turning over in his mind. “Hm. That sounds extra fucked up when I say it out loud.” You flinch when he gives you a sidelong glance. “I really am sorry. About the way I did it, anyway. If we’d been anywhere else, I would’ve taken you home and talked it over first. I would’ve made you comfortable first. Been gentler about the claiming mark.” 

The reminder makes you pick at the turtleneck collar of your shirt. The scars on your neck are crescents of bumpy, gnarled tissue like the prints left by a vicious mauling. Virgilio follows the movement of your fingers intently, hoping you might peel the fabric down and show him the proof of his claim, but you won’t. You keep it covered as much as possible. The way he looks at it even through your clothing, the voyeuristic hunger in his eyes, unsettles you. 

“And yeah,” he says wryly, “I know you would’ve agreed to it. I would’ve laid out your options, and you would’ve picked me. That’s not a brag. The bar is real low and I know that. I’m perfectly happy being the lesser evil.”

He’s lying. You can’t usually tell. Before he started covering everything up with cloying, overindulgent sweetness, he hid all of his feelings behind a veneer of deadpan sarcasm. But that last part, you’re certain, was a lie. He doesn’t look at you when he says it. His voice gets small and timid, almost ashamed. You set your book down on the table slowly and take a steadying breath. 

“Do you want to feed on me?” you ask him. 

Virgilio blinks a couple times, like he’s trying to wake himself up. “Are you fucking with me?” 

You were really hoping he wouldn’t make a big deal out of this. “Remember what I said at the therapist’s? About how I’m basically your dog?” 

He frowns. “You’re not—” 

“Not looking to argue,” you cut him off tiredly. “Sometimes it feels like you’re trying to train me. Rewarding me for good behavior, punishing me for bad, all that stuff. Well, we’re trying to make things fair with a truce, right? So now I’m going to train you, too.” You lean back against the couch cushions and hook your fingers into the turtleneck, rolling down the collar until your throat is exposed. Virgilio’s pupils dilate. “If you’re good, you get extra.” 

He drags his gaze up from your neck to your face and your heart races. You don’t see him like this very often. Virgilio is old enough to control his appetite, normally unfazed by the sight or scent of bare human skin. The temptation of your blood when he didn’t expect it seems to have caught him off guard. He looks at you like a starving wolf looks at a lone deer, how the same wolf looks at a mate in heat, lust and hunger a single entity. Virgilio prowls closer on all fours, crawling towards you on the couch. You both know he’s the one in control here. He can take what he wants, when he wants. 

But he stops just short of you, one hand landing on the cushion beside your feet, and looks at you with that animalistic tilt of the head. “Have I been good?” he asks, his voice low and eager. 

Heat rushes through your body. “Yes,” you say. “You’ve been very good.” 

There’s something ritualistic about the way Virgilio feeds. You don’t know if all nightbound are like this or if it’s unique to him, but he goes slow. There’s foreplay before the bite. The approach is a dance, graceful and gradual. He caresses your leg as he shifts closer and he presses kisses everywhere, even over your clothes. To your ankle. To your knee. To your hip. They’re chaste but they linger and they feel reverential. He slides into place beside you and pulls you into his lap, hand wandering. He rubs your shoulders and strokes your sides. You see desire in his eyes but also sadness and solemn determination. This is about more than blood. 

His fingers slip beneath the hem of your turtleneck but he doesn’t take it off right away. He feels you first, his palms sliding up and down your chest. It feels good—not just the stroke of his fingers against your hardening nipples but also the undivided attention, the focus on your body and your pleasure, the weight and wanting of his stare. To Virgilio, nothing exists but you right now, you and your warmth and your pulse thudding beneath his fingertips. His lips move hungrily against yours, coaxing you to tangle your tongue with his. He makes small sounds, contented sighs and soft moans. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmurs, nipping at your lower lip. Your heart flutters at the teasing prick of his fangs, his venom fizzling pleasantly on your skin. “I swear I will. Someday I’ll be worthy of this partnership.” He pulls your turtleneck off and buries his face against the side of your neck, inhaling deeply with a shudder. His hips move involuntarily, short, needy thrusts that grind his clothed, hardening cock against your ass. He presses his lips against your neck, teasing you. He knows exactly where you’re most sensitive. The marks from the last time he fed still haven’t faded. But he likes to feign ignorance, enjoying your quiet moans until he reaches the spot that really makes you squirm.

For all his protests about you not being a pet, he really does have you trained. You don’t flinch anymore when he prepares, stroking the back of his fangs with his tongue until his mouth is full of venom. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses leave tingling numbness in their wake. Testing nips make you shiver in pleasure rather than pain. You wrap your arms around him and hold on tight, not out of fear but in anticipation. Virgilio savors you, dragging his tongue over your pulse. His hand cradles the back of your head as you turn and bare your neck to him. 

“Two and a half centuries in this shitty world,” he whispers, “and nothing has ever been as precious to me as you are.” 

Virgilio’s bite is ecstasy. The moment his venom floods your veins, your toes curl, your back arches, and you cum. If he didn’t hold onto you so tightly and keep your head still, you would thrash and flail wildly. You know he feels just as good, maybe even better, because his hips buck like he’s fucking you, rolling, languid thrusts that lightly bounce you in his lap. You’re aware, dimly and distantly, that the bite is shallow. He’s keeping it light and controlled, sucking the blood that beads to the surface rather than widening the wound, and in a state of pure instinctual want, it infuriates you. You want more, deeper, harder, everything he has filling you. He keeps a firm, steady grip on the back of your head to make sure you don’t try and impale yourself on him further. You whine when his fangs retract and he laps at the punctures left behind. 

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs against your skin, trying to soothe you. The praise goes straight to your sex, heat and arousal making you move your hips against him. “Mm, yes, you are. So sweet and delicious.” His hand dips between your legs. He doesn’t undress you but he loosens the clothes on your lower half enough to get his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, and then he’s mercilessly working your sex with his fingers. “Cum one more time.” He’s growling, so deep in his own primal need that his voice is low and rumbling. He’s not asking. It’s an order, and it makes you whimper. “One more. Come on. Sweet thing, letting me have a taste of you. Let go for me.”

Already raw and right on the edge, you cum with a sob. Virgilio doesn’t let up, still mouthing at your neck and whispering filth. He coos about the mess you made on his fingers while your hips helplessly chase his hand. He doesn’t stop until you sag against him, worn out and oversensitive. The blistering pleasure phase has run its course but his venom will keep you in an extended post-orgasmic bliss for a while longer. He lays down and keeps you tucked against his chest, gently rubbing your back. 

It’s nice, you think deliriously. Every feeding is nice, but usually you shake him off and demand to be left alone once it’s over. It was a mistake to stay. Now that you know what it feels like to be in his arms, you’re not sure you’ll be able to leave.

“You can take a nap, if you want. I’m not going anywhere,” he says softly. Warmly. He sounds happy, you think. Because you fed him without prompting? Because he’s in control again? You don't know if tonight was a step forward or back, but you aren’t going to worry about it right now. Not when the lights are low and Virgilio’s touch is so tender, and everything almost feels alright. 

*

The next night, you're up and moving a little earlier than usual. Viriglio is still cooking. You sit at the counter to watch. He looks back over his shoulder at you briefly, almost shyly, like he doesn't want to scare you into leaving. He nods in greeting. You nod back. He looks a little disappointed but he smiles anyway and returns his attention to the stove. 

You tell him your favorite movie. 

[adreamingofguns]

oooh what do you think people get wrong about hoffman and gordon??

OH BOY. Starting with Hoffman, people who characterize him as a daddy dom miss the character entirely. This man is a sub. Put this man in a dog collar immediately. in all seriousness, I also think the characterization of him being a murder maniac also feels... Wrong. We see him getting rid of everything, id and so on, and that feels... Final, to me. Like his Hoffmanator Murder Spree was not intended to be survivable, and only through sheer dumb luck did he manage to live (and because the cops in Jigsaw City are like. Very bad at their jobs). I also think that Hoffman is an extremely lonely man who WANTS to help people (his volunteers of America mug for sure, but also the fact that he comforted Corbett Denlon with a stuffed animal when he didn't have to, and the fact that out of everyone, he is the Only apprentice to target multiple white supremacists) and who only really sticks around because John was leading him with affection like a horse with a carrot on a string. We see this textually when John is encouraging Mark by touching his shoulder in a parental sort of way. I think Hoffman is passively suicidal throughout most of the series because it's the only thing that makes a Lot of his decisions make sense. Also kinda fucked up to make a suicidal guy go after a suicidal target, John.

ALSO THE WHOLE SLOB HOFFMAN THING. This man redecorated his house, this man has an ART NOOK and tasteful black leather that goes with his dark cherry or mahogany furniture. This man wears suits even when he doesn't have to. This man probably smells amazing. And he's fat. Stop drawing him skinny.

ALSO Lawrence is canonically a misogynist with a criminal record who either a) punches walls or b) fights people. This is in text, in the script and in the video games (which ARE canon). Lawrence kinda sucks and he FROM THE BEGINNING doesnt think John is a murderer, so him disagreeing with jigsaw is ooc because he canonically in the movie says "jigsaw doesnt kill people". I think also Lawrence is convinced of how jigsaw does actually help, which is why he goes to the meetings. ALSO LAWRENCE DID THE BOBBY DAGEN GAMES IN MY HEART WHICH KILLED JOYCE BECAUSE HES A MISOGYNIST. Lawrence sucks SO bad as a person, but as a character he's so compelling.

IN FACT STOP DRAWING LAWRENCE SKINNY TOO

[child-of-the-nights]

Could u please do some domestic Aro Volturi headcanons?🥰 thx

Absolutely! ^^

A/N: The mate is human in this one but let me know if you'd like a vampire mate version.

TW: None

Domestic Aro Volturi Headcanons

~Reader is gender neutral~

Since vampires don't require food, cooking isn't something Aro does. Now, I do believe that The Volturi has some human staff outside the secretaries. In fact, I think that there are some cooks in the palazzo and they serve food for the secretaries (kind of in a 'free lunch' way).

But if Aro's mate insisted on wanting to cook, who was he to deny it? If he had the time, he would even linger around to see what they are making. Aro has seen thousands of minds and has useful information tucked away in his own. That includes some tips and tricks on cooking.

I fully believe he would help them out with something if they asked him to. He would ask for a favor in return of course, but that's a story for another day.

His mate struck gold with this ancient vampire when it comes to domestic stuff. Why? Because Aro is curious about MANY things.

So when it comes to his mate doing something to keep themselves busy while Aro is working, he would be delighted to hear them ramble about it. Crocheting? Oh yes, he had seen some people do that. Redecorating their room? Aro would love to help them with ideas if they cannot decide on something. Whatever it is, he is ready to share his opinion.

Whenever he is free, he likes to take his mate to his private library. Now, I'm not saying Aro is a hoarder, but he kind of is. As a result, his mate should expect to find a wide variety of books on various domestic themes. After all, who wouldn't want to learn about the ancient art of tea-making?

He also loves fashion and had tried out most trends. What I'm saying is that Aro would love to share his clothes with his mate if given the chance. Heck, he would even dress them up himself if they let him.

What Aro would most appreciate is if his mate could provide him with new information. He just wants to know everything, regardless of what it is about. I mean, with his mind reading ability, it's not that difficult for him to find it out, but he just loves hearing them say it.

When it comes to sleeping, he usually stays by their side until they are asleep. If he doesn't have too much work, that is. If he has time, he would read to them or cuddle with them. He finds dreams to be incredibly fascinating and would enjoy watching them like "movies".

Aro would never expect his mate to clean their room because they have staff for that as well, but if they insisted, he would gladly let them. His eyesight is far superior to that of a human, so they can expect some snarky remarks about how they missed a spot. But it's only a joke. Aro actually enjoys listening to his partner singing their favorite song while tidying the room up. He would never make them feel bad about themselves.

Gardening, on the other hand, is bittersweet for Aro. His sister used to garden a lot, and it reminds him of those times. Nevertheless, he offers advice to his partner when they ask for it. While they are working, Aro might even share some interesting tales about his sister. He gently reminds them to respect his sister's work, or more precisely, what's left of it. For everyone's sake.

Overall, I think he's a great mate to have when it comes to domestic things.

[weird-is-life]

Can I request an imagine with either hotch or spencer where reader either works a lot or is in over her head in college? I’m working 7 days a week right now and I could really use some criminal minds boys to comfort me

Hii lovely, ty for this request. I hope this is okay and that you take some time for yourself🥰warnings: angsty, fluff, pet names, mention of dinner? (1k)

Your work is tough and lately, it has been killing you. But for the last few days it's been a literal hell. You've gotten insane amount of work to get done and you didn't even know where to start.

You can't even stay at work longer, because you need to pick up Jack from school, since Aaron has been gone the whole week too. So your only option has been to take the work with you home.

Which you do even today. A big pile of papers is sitting on the table, waiting for you as you prepare the dinner. It's Friday night, so you stay up with Jack to watch a movie after the dinner. You snuggle on the couch until he can no longer keep his eyes open and move him to his bed.

And then you take the haunting pile of papers on the couch with a sigh. Aaron let you know, that he should be home late at night, so you want to get the work done before he arrives.

You somehow underestimated how much work you've actually taken home with you, because you are not even halfway through it, when you hear the door open.

You get up immediately and go greet Aaron with a tired smile. You hug him, giving him no time to react any other way, his only choice is to hug you back.

"Hi," you murmur into his chest, you didn't even realise how much more you missed him then usual until now.

"Hi, sweetheart," he says softly, his voice equally as exhausted as yours," what are doing up?"

"I was waiting for you," you say even if the answer is only half true. Aaron starts to slowly move towards the living room.

"You shouldn't have, it's almost 2 am-" he suddenly stops talking, he goes very still.

You look up at him and follow his gaze. His eyes are wide, but yours are way wider. The big mess of papers is spread all over the couch and the table. It has you embarrassed, cheeks going red.

"What's all this?" he blurts out, but it isn't an unkind question. There's concern all over his face. "Have you and Jack decided to redecorate our living room?" he tries to lighten the mood, when he sees you. You look at the papers in horror.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly and hurry to clean up the mess.

You are stressing over this small thing so much and it has Aaron very worried for you.

He stops your frantic cleaning by cupping your hands in his, "honey...,"he says, "what's wrong, huh? Tell me?" He pleads, his soft eyes on you. He needs to know why you are so anxious right now and he needs to find out how to fix it. Because he can't have his best girl feeling down.

You sigh, before answering," it's just...a lot now. I've got so much work that-that I don't even know what to do first," you voice is thick with frustration and unspilled tears, all the tension from the week coming to the surface," I've bringing the work home, too, working after Jack's gone to sleep. But it's still not enough, it just keep piling and piling. And today, I wanted to get it done before you came."

"W-which as you see I didn't," you sniffle a little, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart," Aaron says quickly, " what is going on at the work? Why the hell do you have this much work suddenly?"

Hotch hates too see you this upset over work, he knows, that your work sucks, but it has never been this bed.

"I-I don't really know. I think, it's b-because a few people recently quit the job," you don't need to explain any further, you both know, it's because the work is a lot, even too much sometimes. " So most of us have more work. The boss even asked me to come in tomorrow."

You frown. And Hotch takes one look at you and knows, there's no way you'll be going to work tomorrow. You look like you have slept less than Aaron this week, which already says a lot, because Aaron barely slept at all.

"Why don't you go to the bedroom and change into something more comfy, we can put a movie on?" he suggests as he gently maneuvers you towards the bedroom.

You want to protest, but he doesn't let you, "you are clearly tired and overwhelmed, honey. You need to take a break or else you can get hurt," he gives you a serious look, it's a look that he sometimes uses to tell off Jack, stern but affectionate.

"How about we both take the weekend off too, hmm?" he asks.

"They won't let me-"

"Whatever, you'll call in sick," he says it so casually.

"B-but I can't, they could fire me," you try to reason.

"Then maybe you should quit, we both know, it's been on your mind for quite some time, sweetheart," if it was up to him, you wouldn't have to work at all, he earns enough money for the three of you. But he knows, you would never let him do that.

"Yes, but I don't know..." you would love to quit immediately, but where would you go? It's not that easy to find another job.

"I understand," he nods and he warmly strokes your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that escaped your eyes," we'll talk about it tomorrow, yeah?"

You nod and he kisses your temple tenderly, he ushers you away with the promise of being right behind you.

He cleans up the papers and hides them out of the sight, like one would with something very tempting.

And as he promised, he is in the bed, pulling you into his embrace in a matter of seconds. He keeps you in a tight hug, his big hands running up and down your back as the movie plays in the background.

But neither of you pay attention to it. Hotch is too busy with doting and loving on you, while you are too busy blushing and trying not to cry over how sweet and caring Aaron is.

It's safe to say, that you definitely won't be leaving Aaron's arms in the morning to go to work. Especially when Jack will be for 100 percent joining your cuddling session in the morning.

[starlight-archer]

1k fic request for @megs-bee Catwin, cute autumn vibes!

Felt very wholesome about this one, I hope you like it! ✨

Edwin hadn't been back to the cannery in a few days and he was starting to get distracted by his want to return. He had mostly been occupied with case work, with Charles, Crystal and Niko, but in his downtime (far and few between as those moments were) his thoughts had, without fail, constantly drifted to Thomas.

Their relationship was still relatively new, and some things felt tentative. They hadn't kissed on the mouth yet; thus far, their kisses had been relegated to the cheek or the forehead. They had a lot left to learn about each other, but Edwin found himself looking forward to those things. The good and the bad. He was utterly captivated.

Thomas was complex and fascinating. He carried himself with such confidence and was so assured in who he was as an individual, and so open about his desires. But there were depths to him that Edwin was eager to explore. It was refreshing. It inspired Edwin to be a bit more comfortable in his own skin as well, and to allow another person to truly see him.

"Edwin... Edwin? Edwin!" Charles' voice cut through his thoughts. "You're daydreaming again, mate. Where did you go?" he had a knowing look on his face that Edwin did not particularly care for.

"I apologise for being distracted. What was it that you were saying?" Edwin asked, hoping to change the subject.

"You were daydreaming about the Cat King again~" Niko teased.

"I-" Edwin cut himself off with a sigh of resignation. "Yes. I haven't seen him in several days and I... miss him."

"You should go and visit him. I'm sure he misses you too!" Niko encouraged.

"Let's be real, he probably misses him every time he he has to blink." Crystal chimed.

The fact that the Cat King was enamoured with Edwin was hardly a secret. Crystal and Niko hadn't hesitated to tell Edwin all about their conversation with him before they went to confront Esther (they had not shied away from teasing about the Cat King's line of "I already hate myself enough for caring about that thin, stuffy little British tease.")

"There is no need for such dramatics... But I do believe that it would be beneficial to perhaps take some time to see him." as soon as the words were out, he knew exactly how all three of them were internally making fun of his phrasing.

Without further ado, he smoothed down his coat, tugged his gloves up and checked his hair one final time before hopping through the mirror to Port Townsend.

He had never really been one to preen or be overly conscious of his appearance, especially as a ghost with no reflection, but he found himself wanting to look nice for Thomas. It was odd. Maybe he should feel conflicted about it, but all he felt was giddy.

When he got through to the other side Thomas was nowhere to be seen.

"Thomas?" he called out, walking further into the cannery to peer around.

Suddenly, there was a thud and a clatter from somewhere deeper inside. "Edwin?" Thomas poked his head out from a doorway at the back of the warehouse. "Give me a minute, gorgeous!" he winked before disappearing back inside.

Edwin blushed and wondered closer, curiously. The clattering continued for a long moment and just before he was about to push the door open and peek inside, Thomas flung it open.

He was wearing a dark green knit jumper, amber jewellery that brought out his eyes, a long monochromatic tartan skirt and his usual boots. He looked incredibly cozy and unspeakably beautiful.

Edwin flushed again at being caught snooping, but he quickly recovered.

"What on earth was all that racket?" he asked.

"You're actually here at the perfect time! I just finished redecorating~" Thomas replied.

"Redecorating?" Edwin tried to peer around him, but Thomas simply stepped aside to let him into the room.

"I've been working on a little pocket dimension, so that it feels a bit more homey in here for when you visit. I usually keep the pocket closed, but it's nicer like this, don't you think?" Thomas was looking very please with himself (if not with a little tinge of nervousness), and for good reason.

Edwin looked around in awe at what Thomas had done.

On the other side of the door was a large living room, all greens and warm oranges, purples and gold. It had hardwood floors that creaked familiarly with each step, with luxurious Turkish carpets placed art fully on top. The walls were papered with a beautiful William Morris print.

There were two sofas that looked as though you could disappear into them, coloured a rich, dark green, and a matching arm chair, each decorated with plush cushions. There were several large, thick blanket throws hanging over the backs of the sofas as well, in varying colours.

In front was a roaring fireplace, where the mantle was decorated with little porcelain cat figurines. There were also a few standing lamps dotted around that looked like slightly fancier versions of the ones that were at the office in London.

At the far end was a wall to wall set of bookshelves. Each wooden panel and edge was delicately hand-craved with vines and lilies. It was a feast for the eyes.

The whole place was so beautifully reminiscent of the time when Edwin had been alive, and yet it felt brand new, mixed with Thomas' unique flare of individuality. It was a perfect blend of the both of them. Elegant, extravagant, timeless.

Edwin ran his fingertips over the book spines and over the ridges of the carvings,and it struck him with Fascination and bewliderment.

"How?" he asked, spinning around to look at Thomas.

"You can feel everything in this room. The same as if you were still alive." Thomas explained as he walked closer. "I made it with my own magic, so there's a little bit of me in everything." He took Edwin's hands in his and pulled his gloves off, tucking them into Edwin's coat pockets. "Enjoy it."

"I assure you, I fully intend to." Edwin smiled.

Rather than going back to the shelves or the books or the sofas, or the warmth of the fire, Edwin reached up and threaded his fingers into Thomas' hair, and pulled him close. Leaning down, Edwin kissed him softly and lovingly, the gesture eagerly returned.

[bippot]

Robert Floyd, Man of the Sky - Chapter 1: Old Lady Grime

Story Summary -> Bob and his best friend from college move into and redecorate her grandmother's lake house, and both come to realise that there is something else between them. But just like the renovation, coming clean to each other takes longer than they'd hoped.

Chapter 1: Old Lady Grime Summary -> Renovating a house is easy, right? Together, Bob and his BFF are faced with truly how much work they have on their hands.

Tags -> Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, House Improvement, Old Friends, Sharing a Bed, Robert "Bob" Floyd is a Good Friend

Would you prefer to read this on AO3? Click here!

This is based on my favourite one shot. I wrote it ages ago so it may seem familiar to anyone who read the previous version. I wanted to update and expand it and, yeah, here is part 1.

Bob knew he was different. He'd been told he had an 'old soul' for his entire life and, if he was being honest, found it kind of offensive. He understood why people assigned that moniker to him, though.

Ever since he was old enough to develop a personality, he'd been quiet and introverted and thoughtful and smart and mild-mannered. Because of that, when he was a kid, the adults around him treated him better than other kids since he seemed far more responsible - and yeah, maybe he was more responsible than most snot nosers - and that was a lot to put onto a kid's shoulders.

More often than not, he sat at the big table at any social meal and completely missed a crucial opportunity to interact with people his age. He was a so-called 'old soul' because he was socialised to be that way, and in doing so, he had never felt that spark of youth, that childish zest that either gives you an insane amount of energy like a toddler zooming around the room or feeling like the grumpy teenager he wished he'd been once upon a time.

To put it as concisely as possible, his entire life had felt tame. He never snuck out, didn't drink before he came of age, never did drugs, and was the designated driver for most - if not all - of the parties he'd been to. Even at college, where there was little to no supervision, he was still the most well behaved 18 year old in the face of possible debauchery.

Maybe that's why he chose such a dangerous career. If he couldn't experience youthful stupidity, he would have to settle for adrenaline, and what's more adrenaline inducing than firing an arsenal of weapons from the backseat of a jet?

Throughout the years, he'd come to some conclusions:

1) Hangman has definitely been lying about the majority of his sexual encounters. Rooster, on the other hand, was not.

2) Most people have that sense of teenage giddiness when they're first in love. Bob did once have a girlfriend in the tail end of high school, and he did like her, but looking back, he didn't love her. She was sweet, and he just didn't want to be seventeen and without a girlfriend.

And 3) He was lonely. And ever since his mama died, he didn't really have anyone to talk to about it anymore. None of his coworkers or friends would want to know, and Bob knew for a fact that he didn't want to tell them.

Whenever he wasn't on a mission, he yearned for something exciting to do. The amount of hobbies he'd taken on in an attempt to keep himself occupied was uncountable, and now he had a bunch of unfinished projects in the corner of his living room. Luckily, during Bob's most recent batch of time off, he'd agreed to help his friend Y/N out with some home improvement. She'd inherited her estranged grandmother's lake house, and with the housing market in such a state, this probably was her only chance to actually own a property. So, she was going to make it count.

Bob had first met her in college. He was dragged along to a party by his roommate Kenny and finally got the nerve to talk to her when she was calming down the homeowner's dog when a frat boy startled it, and that was history. They'd spent the entire night just petting the dog and talking. From that point on, they had been the best of pals.

"You never met your Meemaw?"

Y/N sighed and glanced across to Bob in the passenger's seat. "No, my mom got herself written out of the will for some argument they had back in the day, so the house skipped a generation," she said, her tone calm and without any kind of hint of hereditary anger.

"Huh," he replied without anything more to add. He didn't know what to say for the most part, but he also knew that he didn't have to come up with anything. Y/N didn't mind if he was quiet. They could drive along in silence if they wanted to, and it would be perfectly comfortable.

Once they finally pulled up at the correct address - she'd be the first to admit she'd taken a few wrong turns on the way so the journey had taken longer than expected - they were greeted with a surprising sight.

"Jesus, I thought it was a bungalow!"

The lake house was three stories tall with a double garage and its own little pier. It was huge. There was so much space, far too much for one person to renovate all by themselves, and it wasn't in the best of shape. That was to be expected, of course. Y/N had been told that the house needed some upkeep, but nowhere near this much. The tiles on the roof were sliding off, the deck was rife with holes and mouldy wood, and the yard was entirely made up of weeds, and all that was just on the outside.

"I think you've hit the jackpot, Y/N."

"I think I've got a lot of work to do."

"We've. We've got a lot of work to do," he corrected with a grin.

She rolled her eyes and lightly pushed on his shoulder, urging, "Come on, let's see how decrepit this place is," so he'd follow her.

It was luck that he did since the first step she took up the stairs to the front door collapsed under her foot, the wood cracking in two and forcing her to grab onto the nearest thing for safety, which was Bob's bicep.

"You good?"

"Oh shit," she cursed, feeling as his palm found its way to the centre of her back, and she let out a laugh to prove that she was fine. "Add that to the to-do list, Robby."

He held out his hand to help her up the broken stairs and only released her from his grip once they were safely at the top. The front door was thankfully still in working order, so Y/N unlocked it and bowed deeply.

"After you, my good fellow.

"Why thank you, fairest maiden."

After tapping his toe on the floorboard right by the door to test if it was stable, Bob walked into the foyer and chuckled, "Yep, we've got a lot of work to do," as his eyes scanned the interior.

Though the inside of the house seemed a lot more stable to the untrained eye, it was far more ugly. The wallpaper was yellowing, and patches had been partially ripped off to reveal the dull splotches of paint underneath. The sofa was extremely outdated and had a pattern that was, frankly, upsetting to look at. And, there was a thick layer of dust and grime littering every surface.

Y/N followed him in and had the exact same reaction, the price estimate in her head increasing with every little imperfection she saw and causing her to completely zone out. She was doing a lot of mental maths as Bob saw one of the most beautiful views he'd ever seen.

His eyeline drifted from Y/N's thinking face to the back door. It was a double plane of sliding glass that allowed them to get a view of the shimmering lake that split the yard in two. The water was perfectly blue and clear, and yeah, he was going to take a dip as soon as possible. Just looking at it made him feel refreshed.

"Wow," he breathed, but Y/N was too busy in her own world to hear.

Bob stood behind her and gently pushed her towards the back door, essentially walking her out of her worries. "It's too pretty not to notice," he urged, placing his head on her shoulder and looking across at her face. "You should paint it sometime."

"I think I should paint the walls before a picture, no matter how pretty it may turn out to be."

She leant back into him, and his reaction was instant. His arms slithered their way around her waist, his hands resting on top of each other on the centre of her stomach, as he'd done so many times in the past. Throughout their friendship, it was only natural when huddling for warmth while standing around a bonfire, trying to keep together at a rowdy concert, or just because it was a nice way to hug. This was a normal amount of platonic touching.

The amount of time the pair spent standing there was unknown. This moment of physical closeness helped hold back the ever increasing to-do list that was piling up with every room they went in.

Eventually, they parted so they could continue checking out the house. It hadn't been remodelled since the 60s, so the bare bones of the place were made of far better quality materials than something built today. Yet, thanks to the fact that a very old lady who popped her hip out of place every time she stretched lived there alone, those bones had a few fractures.

It seemed that grandma had a penchant for gauche animal prints. It was almost as if she purposely sought out the most visually vile patterns ol' nana could find. "That was certainly a choice," Y/N commented as she reached out to peel back a strip of the faded tiger print wallpaper in the master bedroom.

"Yeah, it does look kind of Hefner-like in here."

"Robby!"

"What?! This place screams stone cold fox!"

She went to gently slap him on the shoulder, but he caught her forearm and tugged her closer. He further teased, "I'm sure your meemaw was a total cougar. She was a freak, I know it," and squished her against his chest so she'd have to endure his taunting.

"If there's a mirror on the ceiling, I'm never going to be able to sleep in this room. Tell me there's nothing kinky on the ceiling."

He glanced upwards. At first, he grimaced as if there was a mirror, but once she whined, "Bo," through a barely concealed laugh, he let the truth show.

That was his weakness. That nickname. Whenever he had the pleasure of being called it, he'd give in to whatever she wanted. It was a guaranteed argument winner.

"No mirror. There is a big ass spider, though."

"Can you get it for me, please?"

Sweetly, she batted her eyelashes up at him as if to add the cherry on top. The cherry was a nice addition, but it was unneeded. He was prepared to do just about anything for her and had felt that exact way since he'd met her. 10 minutes into petting that dog with her, and he knew she'd have him wrapped around her pinky finger for the rest of their lives.

So, he swiped at the spider with a broom until it hit the ground and scurried away.

Day one was spent cleaning away all the crap that had been left out. The mass amount of letters and leaves that had accumulated at the front door was the first to go. All of the never been cleaned kitchen appliances were next. Then, once they went into the bathroom, the pair found a pink fur toilet seat cover that must've been absolutely covered in old lady piss.

They were decked out in gloves and dust masks as they scrubbed and scoured every countertop and inch of grime in the hopes of not consuming in years and years of dead wrinkly skin cells and neglect every time they took a breath. The work was disgusting, to say the least. The amount of unknown splotches of something that had used to be a liquid once upon a time was truly uncountable. And Y/N didn't know much about her grandmother, but judging by the yellowish tinge that covered every single piece of furniture, she knew her nana had been a very heavy smoker.

Most of the day was spent cleaning, and it was only when Bob noticed how dark it had gotten outside did he realise how long they'd been on their hands and knees scrubbing. He got to his feet and shook out his limbs before any ache had the chance to appear.

"Do you think this place is so remote that we won't be able to order anything in?" he asked, holding his hand out to Y/N so she'd let herself take a break.

"Let's find out."

Once Bob pulled her up, Y/N patted down her pockets in search of her phone. Without missing a beat, Bob reached towards the coffee table and waved her phone in front of her nose, then proceeded to laugh at the look she gave him when she took it from him.

Luckily, they were just within the delivery radius and could order in whatever cuisine they wanted. Bob whined for Chinese food, and if there was one thing about Y/N, she was always going to give in whenever he asked for anything. Saying no to him was impossible to do and would take so much mental strength that she was certain she wouldn't be able to pull it off even on the best and most energetic of days.

"Food arriving at twenty-two hundred hours, lieutenant. Permission to see if that old ass TV is still operational?" Y/N joked, referring to the chunky old school hunk of a thing opposite the gross couch.

"Permission granted."

He grinned, watching as she knelt on all fours with her head behind the TV in order to get a better look for a plug socket, which gave him the perfect opportunity to totally not check out her ass. Okay, maybe he did check it out once. Or twice. Or three times. Whatever, maybe it was more than three. He sat down on the couch and just stared for a while.

When she returned back into view, Bob wasn't exactly subtle. He coughed and looked around the room awkwardly, pretending that he hadn't been staring like a creep. He really hoped Y/N hadn't noticed, though; because he definitely didn't want to talk about it.

"We've got a dud on our hands."

"So you bring me into the middle of nowhere with no entertainment?" he jeered, taking great satisfaction in the way she jumped on the couch beside him and poked him in the side, which made him laugh and return the favour. "Stop! Stop! I concede! I have a few episodes of Bake Off downloaded on my phone! If you yield - stop poking me, stop - we can watch it."

The poking stopped.

"That's the most on brand thing you've ever said."

So that's exactly what they did.

Bob huddled closer to Y/N so they'd both be able to see the screen. Although he had a big and fancy phone (that had the text size absolutely huge so he'd be able to see whatever popped up on the screen without even needing his glasses on), the screen was not ideal for two people to share, but neither of them complained.

The phone was propped up by a bunch of nana's DVDs on the table and, to be honest, neither of them could see it very well anyway. Y/N leaned to the side so she could rest her cheek against his shoulder, and when she looked back up at him, Bob was grinning to himself.

"This is the height of luxury!" he exclaimed sarcastically, and as soon as he glanced down and made eye contact with the girl squished on his arm, his smile softened into something else entirely. He stretched his arm out to shift her from his uncomfortable, bony shoulder to chest instead. His arm just hovered there for a while as he debated where to put it.

There were two options - the back of the sofa or around Y/N's shoulders - and both of them had their benefits. Eventually, Bob decided to let his elbow rest on the couch and his hand on her shoulder since that was the best of both worlds. Though his hand didn't stay there for long. It was too tempting to rake his fingers through her hair, so he did just that. Y/N hummed and smiled blissfully, and for an hour or so, the pair watched the screen in complete silence as they waited for their food to arrive.

Y/N's eyes were drooping further and further thanks to the affection she was receiving, but at the exact moment they fully closed, a knock came from the door. Her whole body jolted at the noise as if she'd just heard some sort of siren call. She was pushing herself up and her feet were moving towards the promise of food faster than her brain could process.

Through the door, the delivery boy could be heard saying, "Is this the right place? Fuckin' haunted house looking place," and looked a little apprehensive when Y/N opened the door. The boy handed over the food and drinks as quickly as he could then darted away as fast as possible.

"I'm so hungry. Don't look at me funny if I waterboard myself with noodles or something."

"Gimme," he urged, holding his hands out for her to place what he'd ordered in his grasp.

Bob always ordered something different whenever he was faced with the opportunity to have something professionally made. It was a simple way to broaden his horizons, but he had a tendency to forget that he was an absolute baby when it came to anything remotely spicy. So, when he said the words 'szechuan chicken' out loud, Y/N knew he wouldn't be able to deal with it.

She didn't tell him that, though. Where's the fun in that?

It was so difficult to hide her bubbling excitement as she watched him open the Styrofoam container and take a far too big bite. He was fine for 10 seconds. He placed the food in his mouth, chewed, then let out a loud "AAAAAH!" and stuck his tongue as far as it could go out of his mouth.

"HOT! HOT! TOO HOT!"

He fanned at his bright red face in an attempt to cool his tingly tongue and lips down. It wasn't successful. His eyes began to run, and an oncoming assault of hiccups soon followed. The heat was all consuming. It was even in his brain, he thought. His entire being became a soggy tomato, all flushed and teary.

"It gets worse when I breathe! Should I stop breathing altogether?"

While it had been entertaining to watch, any more suffering at this point would be cruel. Y/N brought out the small carton of milk she'd added to their order and slid it into Bob's hand. He guzzled it down immediately. Most of it was consumed in one big gulp, but the remainder of the carton was held against his forehead.

The biggest sigh ever known was let out as Bob flopped his head back against the couch, showing off his glistening neck and prominent Adam's apple. Admittedly, the glisten was a mix of sweat and saliva, but it was still pretty hot, and Y/N was momentarily frozen at the sight.

Bob was handsome. He'd always been a good-looking guy. In that moment, Y/N was absolutely sure he was the most handsome guy she'd ever had the honour of looking at. It was a 'huh, my best friend is super hot,' kind of moment and was something she'd never be able to forget.

"I think my tongue passed out for a minute." He glanced across at her. "You're evil, you know that, right?"

"You like that about me though." She brought out another container and placed it on his lap. She'd prepared for this exact moment. "It's pure luck that I ordered an extra chow mein, by the way. Kenny is a lover of szechuan chicken. He can eat this tomorrow."

"Thank god," he groaned as he tore open the package and started shovelling the noodles into his mouth.

The meal continued with the pair bantering back and forth, occasionally remarking on the episode they were watching and making snide remarks about whoever had done absolutely terribly in the technical challenge. And once they'd finished their meals, the rubbish was thrown on the floor to deal with later and they got comfy on the couch.

Y/N lay down and plopped her head on his lap, propped on her side with her ear against his thigh as she paid attention to the show. Bob looked down to the hair tickling his skin just under where his shorts ended and sighed happily at the feeling.

The feeling itself was a little bit more difficult to explain. There was a sense of comfort that was overwhelming to him - a feeling so strong that it almost hurt, yet he didn't seem to mind. His head was spinning but that was okay, and judging from his racing heart, it was adrenaline inducing too. A rush of emotion he couldn't quite name coursed through him like fire, lighting up his insides like nothing else in the world mattered.

All the stress he carried around inside of his chest, the anger, the depression, the doubt, the stagnation, all of those things disappeared. All he felt was contentment. True happiness, he supposed.

At first, he rested his hand on her shoulder and gave a light squeeze, then slowly his thumb started tracing small circles on her skin, causing her to close her eyes, sigh contently, and snuggle closer to him.

Bob had to repress a giggle. A giddiness took hold of him for the first time in his life. It seemed almost too good to be true. Was this a dream? Surely this was all just some bizarre domestic fantasy that he had to wake up from and find himself alone in his bunk. Or maybe he was dying and this was his brain's final attempt at bringing him some happiness.

To test out if this was real or not, Bob gently took a small clump of her hair and held it closer to examine the detail of his supposed dream. Each hair on her head was too intricate and vivid to be a figment of his imagination. If this was a dream, the processing power of his brain was truly inhumane if it could render this much detail.

Y/N rolled onto her back. "Are you checking me for split ends?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Something like that, yeah."

With a flourish, Bob swiped at her nose with the edge of her hair and was immensely amused by the way her face crinkled up and she swatted away his hand, only for Bob to link their fingers together and hold tight. This skin on skin contact was even more proof that this was 100% real, and that made Bob smile.

"Thank you, Bo," Y/N whispered, her tone so sincere and honest that Bob swore he melted on the spot.

"For what?"

"I think I would've been far too scared to stay in this place all by myself. It's kinda creepy here."

"Yeah, it kinda is, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh, but with my big, navy man by my side, I know they'll go for you first to take out the biggest threat, and maybe in the time it takes to get you, I'll be able to run away," Y/N replied, her eyes shining with a certain amount of mischief that Bob found to be incredibly attractive.

As much as his mind told him he couldn't fall for this girl - she was his bestie, after all, and messing with that would definitely get awkward - his heart spoke otherwise, and every second he spent with her only reminded him that he only felt alive under 2 circumstances: 1) flying at insane speeds in his jet, and 2) in the quiet moments with Y/N.

"Oh? So I'm the bait?"

"I present this hunk of meat -" She poked at his bicep playfully. "- and all the baddies will be begging to snatch you up."

"What if I used you as a human shield?" He chuckled and squidged at her hip. "I could just pick you up and keep you in front of me, huh? What do you think about that?"

The answer to that was obvious to Y/N. She scoffed, "You're too sweet to do that," then looked as if she'd planned to say more but yawned before another thought could come to her.

"Let's go to bed, yeah? What's the sleeping arrangement?"

Now, Y/N hadn't thought of that. When she'd asked Bob to stay, she'd been under the impression that the house was going to be a little messy, but in its current state, the living room was the only dirt free place available. So, she began thinking out loud, "I'm pretty sure my grandmother died in the bed upstairs so that's a no go... Do you wanna share the couch? I'll try not to kick you off."

"...Sure. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before anyway."

It was settled, then. It was almost like their college days. There had been more than a handful of instances where the pair had gotten drunk, Bob walked Y/N back to her door, then it was impossible for him to decline her offer to come inside - which was more telling of his real feelings that he wanted to confess - and, of course, she wasn't going to let him sleep on the floor.

As they got ready for bed, Bob was excitedly nervous. He was giddy, really giddy, like he was a kid and his mom let him have a sleepover kind of giddy. He was so giddy that there was no way to hide it.

"What's with that smile?" Y/N suddenly asked as she noticed his goofy grin. They were huddled under the same duvet, face to face, trying to stay as warm as possible since the heating system was totally busted like everything else in the house.

"Nothing. Just..." He shrugged nonchalantly. "This is nice."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

They stared at each other and giggled quietly, both of them grinning at one another. It was an endearing scene. One full of soft smiles, giggles, and also of genuine care and warmth.

"Do you remember Connie Langslow?" Y/N asked all of a sudden. The question came out of nowhere and caught Bob completely by surprise.

"Who?"

"Oh, Robby, don't play dumb," Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Connie from our classics class in freshman year. Y'know, the whole reason you signed up for the class? The girl you liked?"

Only half of that was true. He hadn't put the pieces together before she'd said it out loud though. He'd spoken to Connie 3 times in his entire academic career. She was lovely, but, no, he didn't feel that way towards her.

"I didn't have a crush on her."

"What are you talking about? I remember that we used to sit on the left hand side of row H, you on the end, and Connie sat, like, 5 people to our right on the row in front of us. You would spend the entire lesson looking at her every 5 minutes with those puppy dog eyes of yours," she explained, laughing softly to herself.

Bob scratched his cheek awkwardly and tried to avoid her gaze as she continued talking. Y/N teased, "Then, you had the audacity to ask to borrow my notes."

"That's because yours were so much neater than mine!"

"It's cause you were too busy making goo goo eyes at Connie!"

"You're impossible," he laughed, flopping onto his back and smiling fondly at the ceiling as he did so.

The two fell silent for a while after that, listening to the sounds of wind whistling against the walls and howling outside in the empty streets. As the silence stretched out into a comfortable length, Bob couldn't help but glance sideways at Y/N again, who had fallen asleep.

Bob reached over and gently brushed a strand of hair that was falling across her forehead aside, brushing his fingers softly across her face as he did so. With gentle movements and careful eyes, he tugged the duvet up to cover more of her shoulder and was blessed when Y/N unconsciously moved into the space where his arm had been. She pressed herself into his side and burrowed her face into his shoulder, making Bob freeze, wide eyed. He wasn't expecting it, and it felt quite odd.

A good odd, though. A really good odd.

There was one thing he knew for certain, he was in love with his best friend. As cliche as it sounds, it was true, and now that he was looking back on their interactions, Bob realised that this feeling wasn't new. Without realising it, he'd felt this way for quite a while and his brain never bothered to acknowledge it.

Well, now it had.

Gently, he pressed a barely there kiss to her forehead and tried to drift off to sleep with all these thoughts swimming at the forefront of his brain. Bob managed to sleep, eventually, and he had a sweet little smile stuck permanently on his face until morning broke.

Next Chapter ->

*Click here for my Bob Floyd masterlist (including Rhett Abbott and Miles Miller), or here for the entire masterlist*

Wanna be added to a taglist? Either comment on this post or send me a message!