#peel and stick countertop

[jamesandcolors]

9 Wallpaper Ideas That Will Fill Your Room With Color And Texture

Wallpaper is one of the most versatile home decor elements you can have. You can use them to decorate every single room in your house. To read more about the blog click here

[queenerdloser]

i picked an apartment (NOT the church remodel one lmao) and signed my lease and i have a car now so most of what was stressing me out this month is now wrapped up, which explains why my body decided i had Done Enough and gave me a head cold to force me to rest in bed.

[sugarstainzz]

IMPATIENCE KILLS - HAN JISUNG // warnings beneath break 

genre. smut pairing. han jisung x gn!afab reader  sum. your poor, needy boyfriend is desperate for a bit of relief, and it’s impossible to ignore him word count. 1.3k

tags. kinda sub!jisung, soft dom!reader, needy sex, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), ruined orgasm, implied oral at the end, a bit of biting, “mama” is used quite a bit, pt.2

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

han jisung is a needy little bitch. 

obviously you know this. you’ve known it for a while. even before you were dating you could tell. the way he stared at you for a bit too long, how he never even joked about attempting nnn, how he hated sleepovers because he “needs privacy at night.” and this neediness only became more obvious after you got with him. 

the stares escalated to groping, squeezes and caresses instead of gazes and knuckle brushing. the ass grabbing, the voice notes begging you to come home faster, jumping between your thighs when he was so sure- and dead wrong - that you were sleeping. 

it’s not that he wants to cum all the time. he just kinda needs to. his thick cock has a mind of its own, always hard and leaking over anything and everything. 

this is especially obvious right now. 

you were working on making some dinner for the two of you. nothing fancy, it’s movie night food. instant noodles with a bit of bacon and egg to liven it up. the alcoholic horse on your screen is the most important thing. or at least, you thought it was. 

jisung coming up behind you wasn’t anything to pay attention to. neither were his arms around your waist or the gentle brush of his lips on your neck. but as the gentle kisses deepen and you feel his groin press against the soft form of your ass, it becomes a bit clearer. 

the hard-on rubbing against you makes it quite obvious. 

“you want something?” you ask him, your voice a quiet hum. he doesn’t say anything back. he just whines and grinds into you. his dick is getting harder in his sweats and it’s even harder not to fantasize about it. 

“sungie.” you start again, managing to keep your composure. “do you want something, baby?”

“wan’ you…” he whines. “wanna put it in. needa put it in.”

“you gotta wait a bit.” you say, patting his hand. “i’m still cooking.” he shakes his head, nose brushing against the back of your neck. 

“don’t make me waittttt.” he cries. “please y/nnnn. i’m so hard it hurts i need it so bad please.”

you sigh, setting the noodles to the side. they need to steep for a couple more minutes anyways.

“you need it?” you ask him.

“mhm~”

“you neeeeed it?”

“so bad. please~”

you can’t help but giggle. he’s so whiny, it’s perfect. damn near crying and you haven’t even done anything. it’s already getting you wet.

“please what?” you whisper. 

he squirms a little bit behind you, desperate for relief. you can feel where the head of his cock poking his thigh- the fabric before it is already soaked in precum. you shiver a bit, your sopping cunt clenching around nothing. god, he’s so leaky. 

“please lemme put it in~” he starts. “i want you so badly, y/n. i promise i’ll make you feel good too. just lemme fuck you please.” fuck, he’s so good at begging. 

you don’t say anything, afraid your tone will give away your own desperation. instead, you gently break out of his hug and bend over, resting your torso on the cool countertop. 

jisung immediately drops down behind you, fingertips rubbing against your cloth-covered pussy. the black fabric of your panties is soaked with arousal, sticking uncomfortably to your skin. 

“so pretty…” he whines to himself. he gently peels your underwear off, letting it fall down your thighs and pool at your ankles. he plants a kiss on your entrance, licking a fat stripe up the length of your cunt. you lock your knees, ready to get some needy, pussy-drunk head, but he pulls away. you’ve hardly a second to think before he pushes his cock in, bottoming out inside of you. 

white stars of shock twinkle across your vision for a split second. he isn’t the largest in the world, but his long enough that you like a bit of warning beforehand. and even though it’s nothing special you feel so full. Ugh…

“jisung- ugh- what the fu-”

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes. “i’m sorry i know i should’ve eaten you out but you’re so wet and i want- needed- i- i- i’ll- i’ll just wait a moment, ‘kay?” it’s a generous offer. he’s already twitching inside of you. you can feel his cock in your stomach, pressed between your plush walls and the marble countertops. it takes a moment of heavy breathing, but eventually you give him the okay to start thrusting.

and start thrusting he does.

he bunny-fucks into you, each thrust making your brain go a bit fuzzier. each snap of his hips is punctuated with the head of his cock kissing a deeper spot inside of you. even though you’re wet and relaxed, you still normally need prep, and because you didn’t get any, his cock feels even bigger than normal. it’s pressing against your g-spot so hard, and every stroke past it makes you feel ready to cum. 

“m’sorry i didn’t eat you out,” he whines again. “I know I messed up m’sorry,”

“it’s okay, baby-” you sigh between moans. “fuck- feels s’good.”

“feels good? ‘m doin’ good?”

“so- fuck- just keep fucking me sungie oh my god…” 

somewhere in his mindless haze, he remembers to give your throbbing clit a bit of attention. his slender fingers tease you, your slick making his hand slide around sloppily. he rests against your back, whining in frustration as he tries to make you cum. 

“y’needa cum, baby…” he mutters. “please cum i know this pretty pussy can come for me please cum…” he’s not even teasing or coaxing. so soon he’s desperate for you to climax so he can feel the spasming of your cunt around him. he needs to feel the rush of it, hear the moaning when your orgasm hits you. and you need it even more. it’s as though his desperation has rubbed off on you. each whine, each moan, each spasm of his fingers and stutter of his hips behind you pushes you further into madness. 

you’re so close. so so close to the edge. you’re shuddering with it, with the tightness building in your belly. your skin tingles and burns in the best way, his slick-coated fingers pushing you to the abyss. but his movements are becoming erratic and choppy again. he just can’t hold on any longer.

“fuck- ‘m gonna cum~!” he whines loudly. 

“ya g’na cum?” you ask him. “sungie’s gon-gonna cum?”

“mhm~”

“you sure you can’t hold on a sec-second longer?”

“no mama ‘m sorry sung-sungie’s gotta cum i can’t hold it ‘nymore i jus’ gotta please-” 

your mind goes so fuzzy. you wanna be mean so bad. you wanna tell him to hold on, to cum before him, to have him fuck into you until he’s crying and begging but he just sounds so so sweet…

“mama?”

“you can cum, sungie,” you pant

he keens.

he unloads inside of you and bites into your shoulder so damn hard you think it’s bleeding. jisung finishes hard, and his warm cum is building up inside of you, coating your walls. he pants against your body, teeth still clamped on as his softening cock slips out with a wet pop. semen spatters against the tile floor, sticky against your thighs and ankles. your elbows shake with pleasure and your ruined orgasm. he’s mumbling nothing into your skin, you can’t understand a single thing he says.

gingerly, he grabs your shoulder and turns you around. you’re still trying to catch your breath and don’t fully register him sinking to his knees until his fingers are squeezing your thighs, beckoning them to open. 

“jisung?” you ask, going a bit rigid as he kisses your throbbing clit, ignoring the cum dripping onto his chin.

“‘m not g’na jus’ let you not cum..."

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n. helloooo my loves! thanks sm for reading- i haven't written anything in a super long time, so soz for anything choppy or nonsensical. stick around if u wanna see more, and always feel free to shoot me a req or drabble or what have you. mwah mwah mwah -sugar🤍

[eiightysixbaby]

begging for some more older! eddie maybe us out late at a bar let’s have him be jealous and mean😈😈

ohhhhh bestie I can do that 👀

18+ only!!! allusions to smut, mean eddie but he’s just worried about you, jealous eddie, mentions of reader drinking alcohol

Eddie spots you the second he enters the bar. The whole place is sleazy, shitty music blaring in his ears as he pushes through the inebriated crowds. He can feel his boots sticking to the floor as he walks and the air feels thick with the heat radiating off of these strangers’ bodies.

You’re leaning against the bar, your elbows propped up on the probably-filthy countertop as you chat with the bartender. You flip your hair slightly, shifting your weight where you stand and wobbling slightly in your high heels. Definitely tipsy.

Your skirt is obscenely short, and the problem Eddie has with this is that you’re wearing it now, in front of these other men, when you blew him off.

Unable to get ahold of you, he’d been an anxious mess at home. He knew you were going out with friends but you’d promised you’d be at his place by 10. It’s 12:15.

His jaw clenches when he doesn’t see a single one of your friends around, and the way the bartender keeps smiling at you makes him want to punch the guy’s teeth in. He stomps up behind you, a firm hand gripping your arm and turning you to face him. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him, the anger in his face. You’d fucked up, letting your phone die and not getting in touch with him. Staying out later than you’d said you would.

“I think you’re done here,” he says, and it’s not a question or a request or a joke. It’s a command, an order. You are done here, and we’re going the fuck home.

“Eddie-ee,” you hiccup, trying to keep some composure but failing with the alcohol in your system.

“You’re fucking wasted. Are you fucking kidding me, honey? It’s nearly half past midnight and I haven’t heard a thing from you.” His voice is firm, gruff as he tightens his grip on your arm.

“Is there a problem here?” the bartender asks, and Eddie seriously contemplates the consequences of beating this guy’s ass.

“Yeah, you. She’s not interested, pal. And she’s certainly not going home with you tonight,” he barks, yanking you away before the nuisance can respond.

“I’m sorry, Ed, my phone—”

“It died, right? Because you didn’t charge it even though I asked you to fucking charge it before you left,” he grits, and you look down at the floor in shame. He asked you one simple thing, and you neglected to do it. You won’t say it, but he has every right to be upset.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was!? When I couldn’t get ahold of you? Knowing you were out drinking?” Eddie asks, guilt clawing at your insides.

He shoves open the door to the bar, ushering you out into the parking lot. You shiver at the chill in the air, far colder out than it had been when you’d arrived.

“Nothing bad happened, Ed, I’m fine,” you stress, but he’s having none of it.

“But it could have!” he barks, his voice stern and louder than he usually ever speaks to you. “Sure looked like you were having fun entertaining that bartender,” he scoffs.

You grimace, suddenly sobering up rapidly. You hadn’t been flirting with the guy, but it couldn’t have looked good from Eddie’s perspective. You do tend to get overly friendly when you drink, talkative and chipper.

“We were just talking, I had ordered a drink!” is what comes out of your mouth, for reasons unbeknownst to you. You’d meant to quell his suspicions, but instead you sound petulant and defensive.

“Just fucking talking,” he chuckles, albeit humorlessly. “Don’t think he thought you were just talking, sweets.”

He opens the passenger door of his vehicle, slamming it behind you after you get in. The way he forces the key into the ignition and peels out of the parking lot makes your stomach churn. You make it to his place in record timing, the entire ride silent. He doesn’t open the door this time, or help you out of the car. Your feet ache in your heels and your hands wring together as you walk to his front door.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” you say meekly, standing helplessly in his living room as he regards you out of his peripheral.

You see the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, and he brings one hand up to rub at his chin, the gray and brown scruff that litters the skin.

“You had me worried fucking sick,” he says, emphasizing this. He walks toward you until the backs of your thighs are hitting the arm of the couch. “I need you to follow rules, baby. All I asked was that you charge your phone,” his eyes don’t look away from yours for even a second, making sure you’re listening.

You nod, feeling the heat that radiates off of his body. He smells like his cologne and a hint of tobacco, a scent so familiar and comforting to you. You wonder why you’d wanted to go out tonight at all, when he’s been here all along.

He steps even closer, resting a hand on your hip possessively. “And don’t even think about chatting up anymore bartenders,” he warns, his mouth hovering beside your ear. “Got it?” His voice is gruff, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I won’t,” you agree, knees nearly buckling when an index finger reaches out to stroke your cheek.

“That’s a good girl,” he says. “Now why don’t you take these clothes off and go get on the bed for me, pretty girl. Gotta remind you who you belong to.”

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: a little fic inspired by a convo @youunravelme and i had a couple of days ago! couldn’t stop thinking about this little idea and just had to write it ☺️ a little bit more lore in the squeaks’ verse added here and lots more to come! enjoy!!

tw: a little innuendo, domestic fluff

word count: 4.3k

summary: it’s talia’s first day of kindergarten and neither you nor mat is handling it particularly well

mat and t’s first day of kindergarten

You lean forward on the counter and smile at Talia, who’s looking at you skeptically. “How about we pick some snacks for your lunch tomorrow?” You ask chirpily.

“How about no?” Talia looks back at you with wide hazel eyes and a nervous tilt to her lips. Her fingers twist together and she kicks the heels of her feet against the legs of the stool she’s sitting on.

“You’re going to be hungry if we don’t pack any snacks,” you reply reasonably, unzipping the brand new Disney Princess lunchbox you’d picked up a few weeks ago at Target. The rush of back to school shopping, even if it wasn’t for you, was a high like nothing else. You’d gone slightly overboard on the supplies and in a burst of excitement, had bought yourself a new planner and half a dozen packs of various styles of pen. You can’t help but get excited about stationary.

“If I was home I wouldn’t be hungry and I could have snacks whenever I want,” Talia points out, tugging at the end of her dark braid. She twists her fingers in the hair below the tie and you reach over the counter to gently untangle her fingers.

You prop your chin on your palm and nod. “You could. But you’re not going to be home. It’s your first day of kindergarten and you’re going to have so many new experiences,” your tone is infused with excitement and you’re relieved to see that the nervousness in Talia’s expression fades a little. Her mouth twists to the side, eyebrows drawing together over her nose.

“Am I gonna see Tulsa?” She asks, hopeful.

“Tulsa’s in the next school, remember, baby?” You reply carefully, hating to burst her bubble. “She moved to a new school too.”

Talia’s lower lip quivers and she sounds impossibly sad when she says, “I thought me and Tulsa were gonna be in school together?”

“Not this year,” you reply sympathetically, but then perk up to continue, “we’re still getting first day of school ice cream with Tulsa and Gunnar and Aunt Holly and Uncle Bo. That’s exciting, right?”

Talia’s eyes light up at the promise of ice cream and you knew that would work. She’s her father’s daughter when it comes to her sweet tooth.

“And you and Daddy, right?” She asks, leaning up in her knees on the stool, little palms pressed flat against the countertop.

“And me and Daddy,” you confirm. “We’re even bringing you to school in the morning, before Daddy goes to work.”

“Okay,” Talia nods once, decisive, and her mood about starting kindergarten is all but gone. “Mommy, can I have fishies for a snack tomorrow?”

You move around the kitchen, gathering up the components for her lunch, “sure, love bug, you can have fishies.” The snack-sized packet of Goldfish get tossed into her lunchbox, along with a handful of raspberries, a peeled Cutie, exactly five pretzel twists, a Nutella and peanut butter sandwich cut into stars, and a small water bottle. Now that she’s into it, Talia’s definitely got opinions on what should be included with her lunch.

“No, you can’t take seven cheese sticks,” you sigh, pulling the bag out of her hands and replacing it in the fridge before shutting the door. “I’ll give you one.”

“But I want six!” She yelps, hanging from the fridge handle. “I want six!”

“Six what?” Mat’s voice echoes through the kitchen, the back door closing behind him.

“Daddy!” Talia squeals and makes a beeline for his knees, crashing into them with a muffled grunt from Mat. He holds the pizza box high over her head in one hand and rubs at her head with the other. “Mommy won’t let me have six cheese sticks.”

Mat grins at you over Talia’s head and you roll your eyes back, crossing your arms and leaning a hip against the counter. You wait to see how he’ll handle it.

He slides the pizza box onto the counter and hoists Talia up next to it, leaning his palms on the counter and kissing her cheeks until she giggles. “Mommy is always right, Talia Bee,” he says seriously. “Especially when it comes to knowing how many string cheeses you can eat.”

You smile to yourself, turning to the cabinets to get out plates and glasses for dinner. Mat keeps talking to Talia behind you. “Besides, the last time you ate three string cheeses you puked on my sneakers, what do you think six would do?”

“Uhhh,” Talia’s eyes go wide and she cradles Mat’s face in her little hands, “puke six times?”

You and Mat wrinkle your faces into matching expressions of disgust. “Yeah, we don’t want to do that, right?” Mat laughs, tickling Talia until she shrieks for him to stop.

Before Talia can knock into it, you slide the pizza box out of her reach, warmth filling your stomach at how adorable Mat and Talia are together. Every time you see them, with their dark heads bent together conspiring, your heart lurches with love. Having a family with Mat is all you’ve wanted since you’d seen him around his teammates’ kids.

“Daddy?” Talia pipes up a few minutes later, half-chewed pizza in her mouth.

“Swallow first, please,” you remind her, snagging the green peppers off of Mat’s slice. You have no idea when he even orders with green peppers when you’re the only one who likes them.

Talia chews and quickly swallows while Mat waits with a soft smile on his face. “Can I wear my helmet to school?” She props her chin on her fists and grins charmingly at you both. Her hockey helmet is covered in stickers and glitter, a project with Mat that you hadn’t been privy to before it happened. She’s really easy to spot on the ice during her skating lessons though.

Mat grins at your daughter, clearly delighted at the prospect of her walking into her classroom with the decorated helmet on, but he shakes his head a little. “I think your helmet is better left on the rink, TB. Didn’t you and Mommy pick out a dress?”

You casually slide a few carrot sticks on her plate, mentally fist pumping when she grabs one and absently starts chewing on it. “Yeah, baby,” you chime in, “I thought you liked the dress we picked? With the blue stripes and your fancy heels?”

Talia’s fancy heels are a regular old pair of sandals with a twisted knot over the toes and an ankle strap, but they also have a quarter of an inch thick sole by the heel and so, they’re “fancy heels.”

“Oh yeah,” Talia nods. “I forgot. Can I bring Sparky?”

“Sure you can,” you agree. “But he has to stay in your backpack, okay? We don’t want him getting lost.”

“And maybe,” she plucks her fingers at the crust of her pizza, “maybe I can take Daddy’s hat. And maybe my sparkle jacket?” Nerves creep into her voice and it wavers a bit, making your heart clench painfully. You just want to protect her from all the bad feelings.

Mat reaches out to tug at the end of her braid, “you can take my hat in your backpack too.” His lips twist up to the side a little, concerned about Talia’s nerves.

“And you can wear your sparkle jacket over your dress,” you promise. Mat’s Stanley Cup Champion hat and Talia’s customised playoff denim jacket had been staples in her wardrobe all summer and you’re not surprised that she wants to bring both with her to school as comfort items.

Talia beams and Mat slings his arm over the back of your chair, relaxing now that Talia’s happy again. “How about you finish that pizza and we get in a little park time?” He suggests, laugh echoing around the kitchen when Talia jumps up on her chair to start chanting about the park.

After clearing up dinner and wrapping the leftover pizza up, the three of you head out to the park, Talia zipping ahead of you on her little pink bike. Mat links his fingers with yours and you squeeze his hand gently.

“She’s getting so big,” he comments sadly, his lips turning down in a frown. You look up at his side profile, studying the way his eyes never leave Talia for a second. Your heart flips in your chest, a painful lurch when you think about how you should be holding another baby right now, how you want so badly to give Talia younger siblings. Mat looks down at you and squeezes your hand tightly, drawing you away from the negative thought spiral. His lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile and you know he’s about to say something out of pocket to lift your mood. You wait and sure enough, he says, with a little twinkle in his eye, “maybe we should homeschool her?”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest, the absurdity of his question slash suggestion easing the knot in your chest.

“Mat, baby,” you giggle at him, “you have a high school education and I can’t do math. It took all of my brain power and patience to teach her how to read and write.”

“Okay, homeschooling is out,” he replies, leaning in to give you a quick peck before running off to the swings, where Talia is calling for him to push her. She still has her helmet on and it’s tipping just a little bit over her eyes. Mat’s behind her in an instant, sending the swing higher and higher into the air. You reach Talia’s bike and set it upright, sitting on the seat and watching your two favorite people in the whole world laugh together.

A warm early September breeze ruffles your hair and you wave when Talia shrieks for you to watch how high she’s going. You want to live in this moment forever and commit every detail to memory.

Mat spends the next forty-five minutes chasing Talia around the park, wearing her out enough that bath time is a breeze and she slips under her covers with little argument. You and Mat pile into her bed too and Talia curls up against your side, yawning widely. Mat reads Madeline, voice getting quieter and quieter as Talia nods off, until he’s stopped reading altogether and her mouth hangs open, face slack in sleep.

“Sleep tight, love bug,” you whisper, kissing the top of her head before easing out from under her arm. Mat helps, holding your waist and keeping you steady as you get to your feet. He plants his own kiss on Talia’s forehead and clicks off the bedside lamp and turns on the nightlight before following you out of the room.

A sort of bittersweet mood traps you and Mat while you get ready for bed later. You know she’s ready for school, ready to make new friends and learn, but it’s hard to know that your tiny best friend is going to be out of your sight for eight hours a day now.

“She’s going to kill it,” Mat says, opening his arms for you to cuddle close. You rest your cheek over his heart, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I know,” you sigh. Your legs tangle with Mat’s under the covers. “What am I going to do with my day now?”

“Bottomless brunches and window shopping at the Americana,” Mat teases, kissing the crown of your head.

You tuck yourself even closer to him, soaking up his body warmth. “Oh ha,” you drawl. “Very funny.”

“It’s why you married me,” Mat chirps and you know he’s grinning without even having to look at him.

“Mhm,” you hum. “Definitely not for your big….wallet.”

You giggle and Mat groans, training his fingers up and down your spine, making you shiver. “That was even worse than mine, Squeaks,” he mutters.

“Guess your terrible sense of humor is rubbing off on me,” you snark, kissing Mat’s chest and closing your eyes. He mutters something under his breath, but his heartbeat is steady in your ear and you’re asleep before you know it.

The next morning is harder than you expected, emotion clogging your throat as you get a special breakfast - Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes, bacon, and fruit cut into different shapes - ready for Talia while Mat helps her get dressed.

He’s surprisingly adept at doing her hair, a high ponytail braided and tied off. There’s a big white bow at the top of her ponytail and her smile is huge as she spins in the little blue and white striped sundress.

“I love this dress, Mommy,” she beams, wiggling excitedly while you tuck a napkin into her collar to keep her clean.

“You look like a princess,” you compliment her. “Daddy did a really good job with your hair.”

“Thank you,” Mat wiggles his eyebrows and sits down to his own plate of Mickey pancakes.

Talia looks at you with wide eyes and covers her mouth with both hands while she tries to whisper, “Daddy messed up soooo many times.”

Mat’s lips flatten into a straight line and he looks at Talia with sarcasm written plainly on his features. “Gee, thanks, TB. I thought we agreed not to tell Mommy that?”

Talia shrugs at him and returns to her breakfast, humming happily under her breath. You smile at Mat and lean over the counter to kiss him gently, darting your tongue out to lick up a drop of maple syrup on his lower lip. “I still think you’re pretty impressive,” you whisper against his lips.

Mat grins against your lips and Talia makes a fake gagging sound, “kissing’s gross!”

You pull back from Mat with a laugh and point your fork at your daughter. “You won’t always think that, now finish breakfast. You don’t want to be late for your first day, do you?”

Talia shovels another bite of pancake into her mouth, slightly less enthusiastic, and you kiss the top of her head before going into the front hall to find her backpack to make sure everything is packed up. It’s heavy, full of fresh supplies (including a 64-pack of Crayola crayons with Talia’s initials Sharpied onto each individual crayon, a fit of mania from Mat, because “no one is going to try and snake my baby’s crayons from her!”), the Disney Princess beach towel that’ll be used for nap time, and one of Mat’s old button downs that’ll be used for a smock during art class.

You zip the backpack and settle it back against the wall, swallowing the emotion clogging your throat. Seeing all of Talia’s gear packed up is making everything so much more real.

Mat’s hands on your hips startle you a little, and you jolt back against his chest. “Penny for your thoughts?” He mutters, kissing your cheek. His palms are warm on your sides, fingers splayed towards your belly button.

“Just thinking about how it seems like time is moving so fast,” you sigh.

Mat nods against your neck and mumbles into your skin, “can we get serious about trying for another again? I miss the baby years.”

Your heart beats in triple speed in your chest, anxiety flooding your veins, but you nod, whisper, “yes, definitely. I want another baby, Mat.”

The conversation is halted when Talia comes stampeding into the hallway, twirling around. “Mommy! Can I wear your lipstick?” She clasps her hands under her chin and pouts adorably. You should resist, tell her no and swipe on a little of the Pink Sugar Summer Fridays lip balm that she loves instead, but you find yourself nodding and pulling away from Mat to grab your purse off the hook.

“Sure, baby,” you squat in front of her, digging out the well-loved tube of Black Honey from the bottom of your purse. Talia puckers her lips out in a kiss and you swipe on a little bit of the sheer balm.

Twenty minutes later and running slightly behind schedule, after you make Talia pose for a few pictures with her Back to School board and she insists on Mat sitting on the step next to her for a picture, you’re all buckled into Mat’s car for the quick drive to the primary school. Talia’s swinging her feet in her booster seat, smiling happily now that she’s wearing the red cowboy boots Aunt Liana had brought back as a souvenir from her trip to Nashville over the summer instead of the sandals you initially wanted her to wear.

“Mommy,” Talia sing-songs, “I’m hot.”

“The air conditioning is on, T,” you sigh, rubbing at your temple. You know she’s probably hot because of the boots and the denim jacket she’d insisted on wearing. Her sandals are in your tote bag and all she has to do is ask for them, but a stubborn streak runs through your daughter, inherited directly from both you and Mat.

You can see the side of Mat’s lips tick up out of the corner of your eye, his fingers tapping along on the steering wheel as Justin Bieber plays on the radio - the old-school throwback station, which makes you feel ancient. He looks at Talia in the rear view mirror and says casually, “I bet you’d feel better if you let Mommy give you the sandals.”

Talia’s face crinkles up in disgust. “I don’t want the sandals. I wanna wear my Mashpill boots.”

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, it’s getting rarer that Talia mispronounces a word, so you’re living for the Nashville/Mashpill mistake.

“The sandals won’t be as hot,” Mat says, and then, laughing, adds, “plus your feet won’t stink!”

“My feet don’t stink!” Talia gasps, outraged. She shoots back, shouting, “your feet stink!”

You laugh and Mat mock-glares at you. You give him an innocent smile, teasing, “keep your eyes on the road, dear.”

Mat scoffs at you, rolling his eyes even as a full smile graces his lips. Talia’s still chanting in the back about stinky feet, at the right age for the silly humor. Mat reaches out and rests his hand on your thigh, letting his fingertips drift up under the hem of the linen dress you’re wearing. The pads of his fingers dance lightly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you shiver a little, goosebumps rising on your arms. Mat’s smile turns smug and he taps the volume button on the steering wheel with his other hand, singing along loudly to the Billy Joel song now playing. Talia’s little voice chimes in from the back seat with her made up lyrics, and by the second verse, you’ve joined in for the three-part harmony.

Mat pulls the car up to the curb outside of the school, parking behind a line of SUVs before turning the car off and pocketing his keys.

“Ready, T?” You turn around in your seat, smiling widely at her.

She sighs and kicks her feet up at you. “Mommy, can I have my sandals?”

Your smile softens and you nod, reaching behind you for the tote resting at your feet. “Sure can, baby. I think you’ll be more comfortable this way,” you reply, getting out of the front seat so you can open Talia’s door and change out her shoes before she hops out of her booster seat. Mat’s already out on the sidewalk, holding her little pink backpack in one hand.

He looks like such a stereotypical dad in his dark jeans and navy polo, hair scraped back off his forehead and slightly beat up sneakers. The little pink backpack just makes him even hotter and you can’t help but stare. When Mat catches you looking, he gives you a slow smirk and a quick wink, holding his hand out for Talia to take.

She grabs his hand with her free one and lifts her feet off the ground without warning, swinging between you and Mat. Your arm nearly pulls out of its socket and your heart skips a quick beat, but Talia giggles and you love that she feels safe enough to do that. Mat swings his arm, sending Talia forward and eliciting even more giggles.

“Maybe we can just skip school and go to the park?” Talia asks, planting her feet back on the ground and squinting up at the school. It’s a cute little square brick building, kindergarten and first grade classrooms on the outside of the hallways and glass windows looking in on a courtyard. The ceilings are lower inside to make it more welcoming to the kids and Mat can brush the ceiling tiles with his fingertips when he stretches his arm over his head - something he had learned during the open house a few weeks ago.

But from the way Talia’s looking at the building now you’d think she was standing in front of Hogwarts.

At the same time you open your mouth to suggest going to the park after school, Mat pipes up and says, “that’s a good idea, TB. You don’t need to go to school, you can just stay home with Mommy.”

“Mat!” You hiss at him over Talia’s head and he cocks his head at you, barely looking apologetic.

“What?” He mutters back. “It’s an option.”

“It’s not!” You say, at the same time Talia says, “I wanna stay with Mommy.”

You glare at him, hoping your expression conveys the exact levels of ‘see what you did?’ that you’re feeling. Mat’s mouth curls in a sheepish expression and you can see his hand tighten around Talia’s, like he’s not going to let her into the school. Before any of the three of you can say anything, you spot a tall older woman striding down the path towards your little group. You recognize her as the principal and are bracing yourself for the absolute hysterics that Talia is sometimes prone to.

“Hi Talia,” she smiles, bending a little at the waist so she can be at eye level with your daughter, “I’m Mrs. Seaver, the principal. Do you remember meeting me at open house?”

Talia nods, totally mute, her fingers tightening around yours. Your hear squeezes a little for her, nearly ready to break down and bring her home, like Mat had suggested.

“Why don’t you come with me and we can get you settled in your classroom?” Mrs. Seaver continues, somehow managing to get Talia’s hand and backpack away from Mat and starts walking her back up the path to the school. “Your mom and dad will be so excited to hear all about what exciting things you got up to today.”

Talia looks back at you over her shoulder, an apprehensive look on her face. Mat makes a move to step forward and follow them, but you reach out to lace your fingers with his, tugging him back gently. “We literally cannot keep her from going to school,” you whisper, pasting a bright smile on your face and waving at her with your free hand.

Mat looks constipated and you nudge him with the back of your hand, muttering, “smile,” until he manages something halfway decent.

“She’s just a baby,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, waving like a robot. “She shouldn’t be old enough for school.”

You sniffle a little, watching the door shut behind Talia and the principal, your hand dropping from the air. “I don’t understand how time went so fast,” you hiccup, tears building at your lash line. Anxiety starts to churn in your stomach. “Maybe you’re right, maybe we should keep her home another year.”

“Oh, whoa,” Mat wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his chest so he can hug you tightly. “We definitely need to distract you, if you’re starting to agree with me.”

He laughs and you manage a weak giggle against his shoulder. Mat’s hands are warm against your back and you melt into him. “I’m going to miss having my little sidekick around,” you confess, suddenly exhausted from holding it together. Other than a few hours a week at pre-k, Talia’s been by your side practically every second since birth.

Mat drops a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to hit the gym, why don’t we go home and make you a new sidekick?”

You can hear the grin in his voice and you pull back from his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tease me, Mat,” you murmur, heart pounding wildly. He’d said about trying again earlier, but you weren’t really sure if he was serious.

“Not teasing you, Squeaks,” he replies, the familiar nickname falling from his lips warmly. At this point, he uses it more than your given name, the curse of those damn Nikes. Mat grips your chin in between his thumb and index finger and tilts it up a little more so he can bend his head and kiss you sweetly. “Let’s give it another try and if…well, if not, we can look more into surrogacy again.”

Your head bobbles a nod and your heart swoops a little in your chest, the excited/nervous fizz of Mat’s words making you feel a little dizzy. Baby making is a land mine sometimes for your brain, but right now all you know is that everything in your body is screaming for your husband to give you another baby.

Mat’s grip on your chin tightens briefly and he kisses you again, lacing your fingers with his to drag you back to the car. You skip along behind him, laughter fighting to escape your lips.

“Should we make this one in the bedroom?” Mat teases, holding open the door for you. His hazel eyes twinkle with mischief. “Or in the shower like T?”

A flush works its way up over your chest and face, your entire body going hot. Mat laughs at the expression on your face and you mutter, “we don’t know it was the shower.”

“Right, could’ve been the back seat of the car or the couch or in Bo’s bathroom,” Mat’s eyes dance, his smile wide and shit-eating.

You can’t help but smile back at him, electric delight working its way through your veins.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hungry for you

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 6

Prompt: Cooking together

Rated: M

CW: sexually explicit language

Tags: No UD AU; modern AU (if you squint); record shop owner!Eddie; restaurant owner!Steve; sexual tension; seriously, it's so thick you could cut it with a knife; top Steve; bottom Eddie

Notes: This is actually taken from a waaay longer AU that I've been rotating in my head for a while but haven't had time to expand on yet. So this was actually the perfect opportunity to get some of it out.

Eddie is in danger. 

Mortal peril, in fact. The cold-sweat-beading-on-skin, heart-in-your-throat, limbs-heavy-with-dread kind of danger. He's minutes away from sneaking to the bathroom and calling Gareth, ask him to bail him out under some pretense. 

Only he'd probably laugh at him, the fucker. 

Because, granted, being trapped in your hot neighbor's fancy kitchen with a glass of wine beside you and candles burning on the windowsill does not sound like a dangerous situation. 

But it is.

Oh God, it so is.

Eddie's an idiot. 

Should've known this was a Bad Idea (capital letters, TM) the second Steve said he wanted to invite him to dinner. 

"Sure," Eddie had stammered. (No, answered. He's a grown-ass adult with his own record store, he does not stammer over the sexy restaurant owner from across the street suggesting dinner.) "I'll swing by the restaurant tomorrow, or-" 

"Not at the restaurant," Steve's eyes had lit up with that fond glint, voice dropping into a low timbre. "My place. I wanna take my time with you." 

The alarm signs were all there. Wailing sirens, big fat neon letters spelling DANGER and ABORT and STOP. 

But Eddie's sense of self-preservation has always been a bit skewed. 

So here they are.

"I hope you like pasta?" Steve asked a few minutes ago. "We're making Tagliatelle al Limone with green asparagus." 

"Sounds great," Eddie said, when in all honesty, he hadn’t processed much beyond the word pasta. Too distracted by the way Steve’s shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing trim arms dotted in flour. "I make SpaghettiOs for dinner all the time." 

Steve makes his own pasta. He's currently rolling golden dough into an even layer to cut it into stripes. Eddie forces himself to quit staring at the flexing muscles in his arms and returns to his own task. Namely, peeling the asparagus. With a potato peeler. 

He's peeling asparagus with a fucking potato peeler like a ten-year-old who can't be trusted to not cut himself. Which is a frustratingly adequate assessment, in all honesty, so he didn't complain when Steve handed him the thing. Only now he's feeling like an idiot, standing at this hardwood counter between all these pans and pots and shiny appliances. Christ, his own kitchen is two cabinets with lopsided doors, an electric hotplate, and an ancient microwave pulling double-duty as an oven.

What the fuck is he even doing here?  

The answer to that, apparently, is fucking up his one task, because his hand slips and he almost manages to cut himself on the potato peeler. The stem - or stick or whatever the fuck it is you call them - of asparagus in his hand snaps and the tip flops to the countertop. Eddie swears, which causes Steve to turn and arch an eyebrow. 

"Everything okay?" 

"Oh, I'm peachy," Eddie brandishes the mutilated asparagus at him. "Unlike this little fella here, but y’know… collateral damage or whatever." 

Steve eyes the battlefield of fallen and mangled asparagus brethren on the counter and smiles. 

"That's alright," he shrugs. "We're cutting them into pieces anyhow." 

"Oh," Eddie just says, because one, if it's okay, why didn't Steve tell him before, and two, if it's okay, then why is Steve sauntering over with that ever-so-slight, blink-and-you-miss-it sway of his hips? 

Which Eddie definitely isn't doing. Blink, that is. He thinks he may have lost the ability to.

Before he can recover, Steve is already slotting into place behind him - an entirely unnecessary move in the spacious kitchen - sliding his arms around his waist and covering Eddie’s hands with his own. They're large and lean and graceful, those hands, all long, skilled fingers and soft, tan skin. Eddie has a very unhelpful mental image of those hands on his naked skin. Those fingers in his mouth, that honeyed voice ordering him to suckle, get them nice and slick for-

"You know," says Steve, right by his ear. His hands have started guiding Eddie’s, holding a stem of asparagus on the countertop, slicing the outer layer away with gentle but firm strokes. Eddie can feel his body heat through their clothes, feel Steve's breath leaving a hot trail on his skin. "Asparagus is rumored to have a very special effect on the human body…" 

"Wha-?" Eddie starts. His blood can't decide whether to rush to his face or his cock. It makes him all woozy - which will forever be the excuse he tells himself for what next comes out of his mouth. "Oh, I know! It makes your piss stink." 

Steve's hands freeze. Eddie considers killing himself with the potato peeler. 

And then Steve laughs. Rumbly noises from deep in his chest that send vibrations all through Eddie’s body. 

"No, silly," he says, voice dripping with that gentle condescension that should make Eddie livid but somehow only serves to kindle the coiling heat in his abdomen. "It's an aphrodisiac."

Eddie blinks.

"So it … makes you horny?" 

Steve hums. "Allegedly." 

Eddie gulps. Stares down at the potato peeler lying limply in his hand. Steve's hands have migrated to his hips at some point during their exchange, thumbs pushing up the hem of his shirt just the tiniest bit. 

"Crazy," he hears himself say. "Haven’t even eaten any yet." 

Steve presses his lips to his neck in a not-quite-kiss, just a coy smile touching skin. 

"So it's working?" 

Eddie wants those lips and hands on his skin, wants Steve's tongue and teeth all over his body, voice and touch and warmth seeping into him until he forgets how to think, forgets his own name, until all he knows is Steve and this burning, all-consuming want, want, want-

Steve laughs, pats his ass lightly. Eddie yelps as if slapped. 

"All in due time, baby. Can't have dessert before dinner." Steve winks. "Better continue with that asparagus." 

Eddie is not going to survive.

Part 2

All of my holiday drabbles

[darkgodcomplex]

Home Sweet Home

Wally Darling X Reader

CW: Manipulation, Obsession, Horror, Psychological Horror, Violence

Word Count: 11,754

AO3 Link

Wattpad Link

Here's the story:

You stand with hands on your hips, the sleeves of your baggy old college sweatshirt rolled up as you admire your new house. This is it... a new start.

Tying your hair back into a ponytail, you get to work. This might be your dream, but it doesn't come easy. The house you've chosen was cheap and definitely a fixer-upper. You leave the U-Haul with all your boxes parked in the driveway while you head up to the door.

You step inside, which immediately brings you to a dimly lit mudroom. The wood paneling is rotting. It's going to have to be replaced.  You kick off your shoes onto the dirt-encrusted floor, leaning your hand on the doorframe. When you peel it away, it comes back filthy.

Ugh. You need a sink.

Going further into the house, you head into the kitchen. The outdated orange shag carpet alone makes you groan. Plus, who puts carpet in the kitchen?

You head over to the large metal sink set up on the bright yellow countertops to wash your hand of the dirt. You turn the handle of the faucet.

Nothing.

You turn it more. Then off again and then on again. Still, no water comes out. You sigh, wondering if the water was shut off or if the sink is just another of the busted household items this house will provide.

The living room offshoots the kitchen. What was once probably beautiful white and flowered wallpaper has now yellowed and peels off the walls in large stripes. Several windows are cracked, but it doesn't look like it's from force. You guess it's probably from improper care in the cold.

There's a bathroom. As you creak open the door, you see something dash out. You shriek, scrambling back wildly as you watch the mouse slip away into a crack in the wall. You breathe heavy. You're definitely going to have to go buy some mouse traps tonight. Still, you cautiously enter the bathroom. When you turn on the sink, you're relieved to find that it runs.

You wash the dirt away, then flick your wet hands at the sink. Even if there were towels in the bathroom, you wouldn't trust them to dry your hands.

There's an upstairs, which you expect that you'll set up your bedroom up there. The stairs themselves though are awfully steep and seem to be littered with staples that stick out from the floorboards. You opt to avoid that for now and continue to explore the ground floor. There's a small closet filled with spiderwebs and a door that leads to the basement, though when you flick the lightswitch no light turns on down there.

You sigh, leaning your head against the door to the basement. Can you really do this? This is going to be so much hard work. You've scraped together all of your savings for this?

There's one more door at the end of the hall. You discover it's an office. It's still rough around the edges like the rest of the house, but it has a large window that takes up almost the whole wall. It looks out into the neighborhood.

You stand in front of it, admiring the view. You can see many houses, each one brightly painted with jolly colors, their lawns perfect. Butterflies and hummingbirds float near the bushes of flowers that are planted under the window. The sky is a brilliant blue, clearer than you've ever seen it before. This place truly is paradise.

One thing the realtor really sold you on was the neighborhood. She said that the community bands together in a way that she's never seen before. Seeing it now, you can already tell that these people are special. How can they not be when they create such a beautiful environment?

Yes, this will be your painting room. Just standing here now you feel a rush of inspiration. You want to paint this moment. You rush to the front door, eager to grab your painting supplies before the mood runs out.

As you open the door, you jolt back, you had not been expecting any visitors. You have an entire welcome crew at your front door.

"Hello neighbor!" A man with a stunning blue pompadour steps forward, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Wally Darling."

You gingerly take his hand, face flushing. He's clearly a charmer. His grip is firm but delicate.

"It's nice to meet you too."

"These are our other neighbors here, we have Julie, Eddie, Frank, Barnaby, Poppy, Howdy, and Sally!" Each one waves as he says their name.

"We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!" Poppy raises up a cake she's been holding. In fancy cursive font, it reads:

Welcome Home.

"Poppy is our resident baker." Wally grins. "She's who you want to cater all your events!"

"Oh, Poppy, will you do my birthday!" Julie chimes in.

"Of course." Poppy laughs at Julie, then turns back to you. "Here you are, dear." She hands you the cake.

You smile, this is so sweet of them! It truly makes this miserable house better. "Thank you! Um, my place is a wreck right now, but please, come in."

They all shuffle into your kitchen. Luckily the previous owners left you a kitchen table and some chairs so that your guests can sit. You set the cake on the table.

"So where are you from?" Frank asks, taking a seat.

"I actually came a long way." You give a nervous chuckle. "Wanted to start fresh... I'm from a little town in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh that's where I'm from too!" Eddie bursts out excitedly, then hesitates. "Wait, no." Frank pats Eddie on the back.

"This place seems like it needs a bit of work." Wally notices, hands in pockets as he leans on the counter.

Howdy nods along with him. "I have a bunch of supplies in my shop if you ever need anything." He says. "On the house for a new neighbor."

"Oh, I can help too!" Sally says. "I work on my sets all the time!"

"That would be awesome!" You suddenly have a bit more hope for this place. "Only if it's not an inconvenience for you guys of course."

"It's no issue." Wally promises, looking down at you with his half lidded eyes. "It's all a part of being in the neighborhood."

"When are we having cake?" Barnaby suddenly asks, eyeing it.

"Oh, um-" You glance around the kitchen. "All my kitchen utensils are still packed in the car..."

Everyone puzzles over this for a minute. Then, Barnaby reaches out and takes a handful of cake. His paws smear with frosting and he brings it up to his mouth to take a bite.

"What are you doing!" Frank demands.

"No plates and no utensils." Barnaby shrugs.

There's another pause. Then, you reach out and grab a handful too. The cake is squishy and messy between your fingers, but when you bring it to your mouth, it's delicious. Slowly, everyone is scooping up the cake, laughing as they play with it in their palms.

"This is ridiculous." Frank says, crossing his arms. "I refuse to act so childish!"

"Aw, come on, Frank." Barnaby says, leaning over. "Oh, you got something on your face."

"What? Where-"

"Right... there." Barnaby smushes some cake onto Franks face, smearing it down. Frank sits in shock for a second, then reaches a finger up to wipe the frosting at his cheek. He sticks the finger in his mouth, sucking at the frosting.

"Well... at least the cake is delicious." He admits. Everyone laughs, but soon it devolves into everyone tossing the cake. Julie and Frank team up to get Barnaby, Sally tosses the cake in the air while Eddie tries to catch it in his mouth, and Howdy and Poppy try to down as much cake as they can. Wally still leans on the counter, watching the chaos with a small smirk.

You slide next to him, cake still in hand.

"Sure you don't want a bite?" You grin, intending to smash it on his face. Before you can though, he takes his index finger and swipes it through the frosting, bringing it to your face and gently smearing the frosting onto the tip of your nose. He brings his finger back to suck on the small bit of leftovers.

"You can have it all, my dear." He says, returning to his casual, laidback position.

Eventually, all the cake the gone. Whether more is in your bellies or streaked along your floor, table, and walls, you're unsure. It's a mess, but somehow it makes the old house feel less dreary than before. Your guests head home, promising to come help with the house.

"Oh!" Julie turns back as she leaves, grasping at your hands. "We're having a barbeque tomorrow. You simply have to come!"

"I don't know." You chuckle. "I still have to unpack."

"Well, please keep us in mind." She lets go, giving a warm smile. "I had a lot of fun today." With that, she turns and scurries down the steps.

It's Wally's turn next. He gives you another one of his signature warm smiles. It makes your stomach flutter.

"I'm just in the Home over there." He says, pointing towards a peppy little red house down the street. "Come down whenever you need me."

"Thank you again." You say. He gives a polite nod before stepping away.

When everyone is out of sight, you sigh. It's already sunset and you haven't done any unpacking. One by one you bring the boxes in. Then, you puzzle over how you're going to get your larger furniture inside. In the end, you decide you don't need to bring in the couch, the desk, or the TV in tonight and that you can ask for help tomorrow, but you have to bring the mattress in now. It's a struggle, but eventually you manage.

That's it. That's all the work you're doing today. You can take all your stuff out of the boxes tomorrow.

However, there is one box that you unpack, labeled painting supplies. You set up in your new office, putting the easel in front of the window. It's pitch black out now, so you decide to paint the quiet calmness of the neighborhood at night. It seems as if everyone is already asleep, there's not a single window light on down the street. You throw a canvas on the easel, digging through your oil paints to find the right ones.

You notice Wally's house is right near your window, you have a perfect view of it. It only adds to your inspiration, using the darkness as a metaphor in your painting. It's the mystery... the curiosity... the intimacy. Despite being in two separate homes, you can't help but feel like you're glimpsing into his soul by painting his house.

It's nearly three in the morning when you finally finish your painting. It's crude and hastily done, but you enjoy it's charm. As you lay it on the floor to dry, you notice an odd detail that you don't remember adding.

There's a single light on in Wally's attic.

_____

Despite promising yourself that you'll get completely unpacked today, by midmorning you're already exhausted. You take a break, steaming yourself a cup of tea. So far in your packing, you've only uncovered one of your coffee mugs, so you're left sipping out of a chipped mug that reads: I DESTROYED THE UNIVERSE AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID MUG.

In the very least, a couple of things are coming along nicely. You hesitate to unpack everything right away, since you'll surely soon be tearing up carpet and painting over walls, but the essentials are out. Still, there is work to do.

Although...

You glance at the time. The barbeque is going to be soon... should you go? While they were all very king to you yesterday, you really don't know any of them.

Maybe this is your chance though. You'd particularly like to know that Wally fellow a little more.

You've decided it. You're going.

You glance down at your work clothes, a ragged old sweatshirt and worn out jeans with paint splattered all over. You're going to need to dress better than this. 

Which box are your clothes in?

You spend another while digging through boxes. While you don't find dress clothes, you do find your stash of mugs. You set them in the kitchen. Eventually, you opt to just wear your paint splattered jeans but with a hole-free tee shirt. 

You make your way outside. As you exit the house, the warm summer air hits you and you take a deep breath in, enjoying the season. It's absolutely beautiful in this town. You're surprised no one outbid on the house in a place like this.

Walking along the street, you spot a picnic spot set up in Wally's backyard. It seems you're the last one to arrive. The delectable smell of fresh meat cooking on the grill catches your nose. 

"Yay, you came!" Julie practically jumps into your arms. 

You laugh, "I figured I could take a lunch break." 

Two picnic tables are set up next to the large grill where Poppy and Barnaby flip meat patties and turn hot dogs. At one table is Sally, Howdy, and Wally while the other is Frank and Eddie. Julie leads you over, taking a seat next to Frank.

"Hello neighbor!" Wally pats the seat next to him. "Come sit with us." 

You take your seat, giving a polite smile.

"How was your first night at your new home?" Sally squeals excitedly, leaning over the table. 

"It was fine." You shrug. "A little uncomfortable since my mattress was on the floor because I haven't set up my bedframe yet."

"Oh dear!" Howdy exclaims.

"What?" Eddie asks from the other table.

"It's nothing, Eddie." Sally rolls her eyes at him. "So when do we get to come help! Oh! What colors do you want to paint your walls? I was thinking bright! We can magenta or chartreuse or turquoise or-"

"Easy there." Howdy laughs, patting Sally on the shoulder. "I think we'll need to do some repairs before we can get into the decor aspect." 

"What needs to be fixed?" Wally asks you in his usual chill manner. "So that we can help."

You raise your eyebrows, mind scanning through the plethora of problems in that house. "The sink doesn't run, there are staples in the stairs, the basement light doesn't work, there are mice and god knows what else, and some of my windows are broken." 

Those are just the ones you've discovered so far.

Howdy runs his hand along his chin, "Some of those don't sound too bad. We can take some pliers to the stairs, then hopefully the light just needs replacing and isn't an electrical issue..." He trails off in thought.

"Food is ready!" Barnaby announces. Poppy sets down plates while Barnaby hands out the food. 

"Hotdog or hamburger?" Barnaby asks when he gets to you.

"Hotdog please."

Barnaby loads up your plate, "Say, how does the enthusiastic man eat his hotdog?"

"Huh?" You ask, staring up at him.

With a large grin, Barnaby leans in and whispers, "With relish."

You blink, taking a minute to process the joke. Then, you laugh.

"Thank you, I'll be here all week." Barnaby prides himself while sliding Wally a burger.

"When can I get you on stage with me, Barnaby?" Sally bites into her hotdog.

Barnaby shrugs, "Alas, my stardom is meant for small crowds."

Sally shakes her head, "One day I'll convince you."

"I'd love to see it." 

You bite down on your hotdog. It's probably the most delicious you've ever had. Does everything in this town taste amazing or are it's residents just master chefs?

"We have to go play lawn games!" Sally yells as she finishes her food. "Wally, you're on my team!"

"What are we playing-"

Sally grabs Wally by the arm, dragging him out to the field before he can protest. 

"Want to team up?" Howdy wipes his mouth with a napkin. 

"I think I need to digest my food first." You tell him, patting your belly. "Sorry."

"All good." Howdy leans over to the other table. "Hey Edds, you and me?"

"You know it!" Eddie says through a mouthful of burger. He shoves the rest in his mouth, hurrying to stand up. Barnaby and Poppy team up as well, heading over to the group.

That leaves Julie and Frank. Neither seem interested in joining the games. You move over to their table.

"Why don't you just ask him, Frank!" Julie whispers as you sit down. 

Frank looks at you nervously, "Julie! There's someone else here!"

Julie sighs, looking over at you. "You can keep a secret, right?"

You nod.

Julie looks at Frank expectedly. He sighs, hands fiddling with a book he keeps in his lap. "Fine."

"Frank likes Eddie!" Julie giggles excitedly. "And Eddie SO likes him back!"

"You can't say that for sure." Frank fidgets. "I was reading a study where they found that people are very unreliable in determining if they are being flirted with or not!" 

"But it's so obvious!" Julie groans. 

You glance over at the game being played. It seems to be some weird hybrid of croquet and tennis. Your eyes can't help but wander over to Wally, who is holding his mallet like he's never played a sport before. His hooded eyes meet yours, giving you a dazed smile. You quickly look away. 

"I just want to wait." Frank shifts uncomfortably. "Just to make sure that he likes me."

"How many signs do you need?" Julie shakes her head. 

Frank doesn't answer, he's too busy staring. You look over at where his gaze lands. It seems as if Howdy and Eddie won, as Eddie is jumping up and down in excitement and Howdy is doing an awkward victory dance. They lock arms, swinging around happily. 

Eddie trots over to the picnic table, breath heavy from all the jumping. "Did you see that winning shot?" He taps his foot happily, eyes glancing around the table. 

"Oh, I missed it!" Julie complains.

"It was a good shot." Frank looks up at Eddie. "Are you good at geometry? The angle on that shot was quite amazing to see."

Eddie gives him a goofy grin. "Angels? No, I'm not really religious." He pauses. "But if you want to talk about it more I'd listen."

Frank perks up, then starts on a long winded explanation about math. You take the opportunity to slip away.

Wally waves you over, making your stomach do a somersault. It seems Frank isn't the only one with a stupid little crush. The way you're practically drooling over him has you embarrassed, it's like you're a middle schooler again. You jog over.

"Want to play?" He asks, holding up a mallet.

"I thought you were in a team with Sally?" You glance over to see Sally standing with Howdy.

"She didn't want to be on my team anymore." He says casually, looking up at the sky. "Apparently I couldn't hit a brick wall even if I ran into it."

You can't help but laugh. Upon seeing you laugh, he laughs along too.

"Well I don't know how to play either, so we'll be quite the team."

"You two ready?" Sally swings her mallet over her shoulder. Howdy has his baseball cap on backwards.

You and Wally line up. What ensues is the most pathetic beatdown you've ever seen. Not only are Sally and Howdy more acquainted with the game, they're also just quicker and more agile than you and Wally. The two of you also have absolutely no coordination skills, constantly bumping into each other and dropping the ball. Wally just plainly face plants several times. Somehow, he always manages to laugh it off though. 

When Sally scores the winning point, she leaps into the air, grabbing Howdy by the arms. 

"Yay!" She squeals.

"Two victories!" Howdy grins. 

Wally dusts the dirt off his clothes. He had tripped again. "I'm afraid I dragged us down." He says, tilting his head as he looks down at you. 

You shake your head, "Did you see me out there? I think we're a perfect match." You blush, realizing what you've said. "I mean... perfect match as a team, of course."

"Yes." He echoes. "Perfect match." There's a hidden smile in his words. 

You glance over to see Howdy and Sally still celebrating. 

"I want to show you something." Wally diverts your attention back to him. 

"Oh, should I get the others?" You turn, but Wally grabs your wrist.

"No, I want it to be the two of us."

You and Wally slip away. You feel slightly bad that you're abandoning everyone, but Wally assures you that it won't be for long.

"Right through here." Wally ducks through a small passage in the bushes. The greenery is absolutely stunning here. Are plants usually this green? 

As you step from the shrubs, you're greeted with more stunning scenery. Before you are acres and acres of beautiful apple trees. The bright red apples dangle from each tree while fallen ones scatter the ground. It feels like something out of a storybook.

"I like to come here." Wally reaches up, picking you a nice plump apple and gingerly setting it in his hands. "I thought you'd like it too."

"This is so pretty." You stroll through the trees, fingers rubbing over the apple in your palm. This is something you'd like to paint.

"So you're a painter too?"

You pause for a second, wondering if Wally can read your mind. "Huh?"

"Your pants." He points and you follow his gaze. Ah, that's right, you're wearing your shitty painting jeans. 

"Yes, I paint." You tell him, turning. He follows behind you as you walk, hands tucked respectfully behind his back. You feel like a fancy Victorian woman and he your eager suitor. "You do too?"

"I do."

"What do you paint?"

He ponders on this. "Still life, mostly." He shrugs. "Apples." He picks one up from the ground, then tosses it. "They're my muse, one could say."

"Oh I see, a muse." You tease him. "Most artists' muses are pretty women or handsome men, you know."

"Does a handsome apple count?"

You laugh, "No."

"Since you clearly have a strict idea of what a muse should be," He trots to catch up so that he walks by your side. "Who is the lucky fellow that is occupying your thoughts and paintings?"

"I don't have one." You tell him very matter-of-factly. 

He shakes his head, smiling. "Perhaps you just haven't met someone handsome enough to be your muse."

"Perhaps." You smile back and finally take a bite of the apple. It's ripe and juicy.

"We should paint together." Wally shoves his hands in his pockets. 

"Apples?" You ask, raising a brow.

He laughs, "No, not apples... well, unless you want to." 

You hold your half eaten apple in front of you, pretending to study it like it's a piece of modern art. "I don't know... maybe I'm starting to see the complexity of it."

"Look a little harder." Wally nudges you playfully. "Maybe you'll finally find your muse."

"This apple is starting to look a little handsome."

"I knew you would eventually see my side of things." He watches as you take another bite.

"Tomorrow for painting then?" You ask. "Apples as our muse?" 

"Sounds like a plan." 

_____

Beautiful emerald green paint rolls onto the wall as you work. Somehow, it's even more stunning than the sample paint swatch. Your living room is going to look positively royal.

Beside you, Sally leans up, jabbering away, "-And then Julie had to come rescue me from out of the dumpster! Not only that, but the lawnmower was nowhere to be found!" She finishes her story, shaking her head as she applies more paint. "I still wonder what happened to it."

Howdy is on the floor, removing staples from where the ugly shag carpet once was. When he peeled it up, you were thrilled to find out that there were beautiful hardwood floors underneath. 

"Do these crazy things happen to everyone in Home, or just you?" You ask with a smile. It's still funny to you how the town is named Home, just another example of how perfect the place is. 

"Oh you should see all the trouble some of them get into." Howdy rolls his eyes. "It's only if you're looking for it."

"Have a little adventure, Howdy!" Sally teases. 

Howdy pulls out a particularly difficult staple with a grunt, "I've had enough adventure, particularly from that Wally fellow."

You perk up.

Sally laughs, "Do you remember that time he tried to sew his own clothes and got caught in the sewing machine?"

"How did he do that?" You laugh along with her.

"The idiot thought that he had to sew them right onto his body." The corners of Howdy's mouth twitch up. 

Sally continues chatting, "There's also this weird thing about Wally, be warned he-"

Howdy cuts her off with a cough, communicating something with his eyes that you don't quite understand.

"Err, I mean, he's just so naïve sometimes." Sally says. 

"That's true." Howdy adds. 

A silence falls over the room, the only sound being the occasional splash as you and Sally dip your rollers into the paint. It gives you time to wonder what Sally was going to say. Wally just gets so... what?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud thud, making you jump. Then comes more thudding. You blink, processing the noise for a second before realizing that it's knocking. 

"Oh!" You set down your paint roller. "I'll go get it!"

You rush over to the door, slipping through the kitchen. You fling open the door, out of breath from your jog over. 

It's Wally, dressed just as dapper as usual. No, he seems more dapper today. His necktie a little straighter and his hair more precisely groomed. The minute his eyes lock on yours he smiles, glancing down at your clothes.

"Painting without me?"

"Well, only my living room." You say, slightly flustered to find yourself in indecent clothes around him once more. You wish you would've been able to change into something nicer. "I wasn't expecting you so soon-" You glance at the clock you had hastily hung in the mudroom. "Oh wait, it's already noon? I'm so sorry, I meant to be ready-"

"It's no worry." Wally assures you, as casual as ever. 

"Are you coming back?" Sally yells from the other room. 

Wally tilts his head, eyes casting towards the noise. "Oh? There's someone else here?"

"Yeah." You feel bad about losing track of time. You sincerely were looking forward to painting with Wally! "Sally and Howdy are just helping me paint." 

"Let me just step in and say hi." 

You invite Wally in, leading him to the living room. It's nearly finished. 

"Oh, hi Wally." Howdy plucks out another staple. 

"You should've invited me, I would've done quite a nice job with the paint." Wally says casually. "It looks nice though, you all did a good job."

"It was kind of a last minute thing." You explain. 

Sally sets down her roller, "We had fun doing it! You would've been more help by assisting Howdy with the staples."

"Hey! I can do it by myself-"

You laugh, "I really appreciate the help, guys."

"That being said, I think I have her claimed for the afternoon." Wally slides in. "We're going painting."

 Howdy and Sally both take the hint. 

"Oh! We can come back later and help." Howdy stands, stretching out his back.

"Bye!" Sally gives a cheerful wave as they exit. "We gotta hang out again!" 

You wave back eagerly and they leave through the front door. You turn back to see Wally leaning on the doorframe to the living room, watching you with his relaxed eyes. 

"You really did you a nice job on this living room." His voice is ever so soft. 

You sigh, placing your hands on your hips. "This place still needs a lot more work."

"I know you can breathe some life into this place." Wally's eyes seem to sparkle. "Homes are very special, you know."

You shake your head, "Are we painting at the orchard?"

"Best place to find apples."

It's not long after that you and Wally have your easels set up in the orchard, plenty of fresh apples on display for references. Wally stands across from you, paint at the ready. 

"I'm still not so sure that I understand apples as a muse." You tease, reaching up to tree to grasp an apple. It's just out of your reach. "I bet you think they're complex or something." You mock like you're some kind philosopher, " Apples... the thing that made Newton discover gravity, the so called forbidden fruit."

"Or maybe they're not." Wally reaches up and grabs the apple for you, placing it in your palm. "Maybe they're just apples. Simple."

You take a bite of it.

"I guess I'm getting too deep about apples." You say in between bites, smiling. 

He smiles along with you, "Perhaps we should just paint."

"Let's."

You pour over your canvas, examining the half eaten apple with rigor. They are surprisingly difficult to get right. The small spots and stripes make the work tedious. 

"How are you doing the shading?" You ask, trying to peek at Wally's work. He shies away, turning his canvas so that you can't see.

"You'll see." Wally smiles. "I want to see your own interpretation, no outside influences."

"Is my work going to professionally assessed?" You tease, still struggling over the shading. "Should I be nervous?"

"Oh, very nervous." Wally replies. After a brief pause, he speaks up again. "What do you think of Home so far?"

"I really like it." You tell him enthusiastically. "I love the views, I love the weather, I love the people."

"I'm glad you like it." He says. 

"It's quite lucky I got that house too." You say. "It's insane that there were no other bidders when it's such a lovely place. I'm sure that someone with more money than me could've easily fixed it up and loved it here."

Wally merely smiles and the two of you fall into concentrated silence once again.

You fall into the trance of painting. It's not a feeling you're unused to. There's something about concentrating on the details that just makes you lose track of time. Eventually, you tune back in, taking a step back as you finish your painting. 

You're proud of it, you think. You've painted a small, half eaten apple resting in the grass, the field of orchards sprawled out behind it. It's a simple but elegant painting.

"I'm done." You say with a breath, looking up to see Wally watching you carefully. "How much do you have left?"

"Oh, I've been done for a while." Wally beams at you. "I'm very curious to see what you've produced."

Wally saunters over to look at your canvas. His eyes scan the painting, noticing the small efforts you put in. There is truly something amazing about another artist studying your work.

"It feels... happy." He says. "A simple kind of happy."

You pause, then slowly nod. "That's how I feel here in Home, I think." You chew at your lip. "I like it."

Wally takes your arm, leading you over to his painting. 

It's... you. You're leaning over a canvas, paintbrush in one hand and apple in the other. Your hair spills in your face and paint covers your clothes. It's clear where he put the most effort in though, in your face. Your expression is one of focus and concentration as you're hunched over, eyebrows scrunched and mouth slightly agape. 

It feels happy.

_____

Wally walks you home after you finish painting. He gifted you his painting and you gifted yours to him. He seems quite proud to own your artwork, even if it inferior to his. You're in awe at his skill honestly. 

"I had fun today, Wally." You tell him as you reach your house. 

Wally lights up, "I had fun too." He lingers at the door for a second, hands shoved into his pockets and painting tucked neatly under his arm. "I'll see you again tomorrow?" He asks. "I'll even help with house, if you want." 

You laugh, "That sounds great."

He flashes you a charming smile, "Goodnight, then." He does a half bow, turning and trotting away. You watch him go, heart pumping in your chest. 

As you close the door behind you, you can't help but jump and squeal excitedly. This neighborhood is truly everything you dreamed it would be. Your house is coming together nicely, you've got wonderful new friends, and now you've got the attention of a handsome guy! 

Nothing could ruin this.

You walk further into your house, stepping into the living room. It's a perfect start, you feel a sense of pride. 

Picking up a hammer, you head to a free space on the wall, pounding in a nail. You hang your new painting up, stepping back to admire it. 

You turn around, patting the doorframe of the living room before heading upstairs to bed. You've had a long day today and you're sure that tomorrow is going to be just as busy. Your bedroom is less put together than the living room, but the fact that you've made progress prevents you from feeling bad. 

As you slip into bed, you hear an odd noise. 

You perk up, pausing and listening for the noise again. 

It almost sounds like footsteps. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you peek out from your room. The sound echoes up the stairs. It sounds like it's coming from either the kitchen or the living room. You grab the nearest heavy object, which just so happens to be a leg of an easel that you had taken apart for the move. It's a strong wooden beam. You hold it up high on your shoulder.

"Hello?" You call.

The only answer you get is more footsteps. 

Your hands tremble as you make your way down, placing your steps carefully. Your mind races through a million scenarios of robbery, kidnapping, and murder. 

When you reach the bottom of the steps, you decide to make sure you surprise this intruder. You come into the living room swinging. 

There's nothing. 

You stop and listen for a minute.

The noises are gone. No more footsteps.

You breathe a sigh of relief, running your hand through your hair. It wasn't even footsteps at all, must just be the old house settling. You laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you prepare yourself to go back to bed. Before you do though, you notice something amiss.

Wally's painting had fallen off the wall.

The next morning you're awoken by the sound of loud, unrelenting knocking. You groan, startled and tired. After the incident last night you hadn't gotten much quality of sleep. You know you're just being paranoid, but for some reason it really stuck with you. 

You roll out of bed, quickly throwing on clothes and heading downstairs. You wonder if Wally has come to help you fix the house up more. 

"Oh my god, hey!" Julie throws her arms around you, giving you a big hug. "I was worried you might not be home!" 

"Well, here I am."

"It's break time!" Julie tells you. "No more working on the house, you and I are going out."

You laugh, "Well, I would have to start working for it to be considered a break-"

Julie tugs on your arm, "Pleaseee go out with me?" She blinks up at you with wide eyes. "We'll have so much fun!" 

You glance back at your unfinished house, still reluctant to leave. Yet, you grab your coat anyways, stepping out into the sunshine. "Where are we going?"

Julie lights up, "You'll see."

You're lead through the neighborhood. As you walk, you're given the full tour by Julie.

"There's the supermarket." She points. "Oh and that there is Barnaby's house. He's still sleeping at this time of day."

You check your watch. It's nearly noon already.

"That's my house!" She points at a lovely flowered red house. "You're invited anytime, just so you know."

"How long did it take you to fix that up?" You ask, marveling at how elegant yet simple it is.

Julie thinks on it for a second, "Fix it up?" She asks. "It's just... always been that way."

You scrunch your face up, "You bought it like that?" 

"Bought it...?" Julie looks up, considering this. "I think... I've always lived here."

She seems confused, so you decide not to press it any further. Has Julie lived here her whole life? Where is her family?

That's when another odd thing strikes you. The entire town consists of single individuals that live alone in homes. You've never heard of such a thing. Sure, a few individuals here and there in homes is normal, but an entire town?

You notice Julie has gone quiet. It's an unusual change from her normally peppy self. You fear that maybe you pressed into something personal.

"This is the post office." Julie gestures, suddenly speaking up again. Her previous demeanor is forgotten now and her lively energy is returned. "That's where Eddie works."

You notice another familiar face poking about.

"Frank!" Julie bounces up and down excitedly, waving her hand. 

Frank jumps from the sudden noise, head swiveling to find the source. He relaxes slightly when he sees it's only Julie. 

You and Julie trot over to him.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, chin raised pompously. 

"What are you doing here is the real question." Julie teases. "Have you come to see Eddie?"

"No!" Frank tenses, eyes looking around nervously. "I just have a letter to send and wanted to make sure that it got here. Mailboxes and so unreliable-"

"Uh huh." Julie can't control her grin. "Sure, Frank."

Frank opens his mouth to say something else, but Eddie comes around the corner just as he does. You thought that Frank already looked nervous, but that is nothing compared to how he looks as he and Eddie make eye contact.

"Oh hey Frank!" Eddie gives a toothy grin, cheeks scrunched up and head tilting to the side. 

"Eddie!" Frank holds his envelope to his chest. "I-I've been looking for you!"

Eddie seems to perk up, "You have?"

"Yes!" Frank shoves out the letter. "I just needed to mail this."

"Oh." Eddie takes the letter. "Frank, you know I could've picked it up at your house, right?" 

"Well, he wanted to hand deliver it." Julie nudges Frank playfully and receives a glare in return.

"I'll take good care it, Frank, I promise." Eddie tucks the letter into his pouch. 

Julie coughs, "Well, we better get going, right?" She looks at you.

"Uh, right." You echo.

"You know, Eddie, I think Frank was talking about lunch?" Julie says. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he was hungry! You two should go eat somewhere!"

"Julie!" Frank hisses.

"That sounds fun!" Eddie inputs.

"Perfect!" Julie grabs your arm. "Have fun guys! Bye-"

The two of you quickly stumble away. You can't help but laugh at Julie's blatant matchmaking attempt, Eddie's innocent obliviousness, and Frank's adorable embarrassment. Julie giggles along with you, leaning on you for support. 

When you're both far enough away, Julie speaks up, "Do you think Eddie will ever take the hint?"

You shrug, "Only if Frank tells him directly."

"Like that'll ever happen." She lets go of your arm, standing up straighter. "Oh! We're almost there?"

"There?" 

"The reason I brought you out!"

"Oh." You reply, following behind her as she picks up speed. "I thought the tour was why you brought me out here."

"Don't be silly!" Julie suddenly stops. "I brought you out here for this!" 

You're not quite sure what you're looking at. The bright summer colors of Home are here. They are present in the brilliant green trees with fresh fruit and in the yellow dandelions and white daises and baby blue forget me nots. You've always adored the vividness of the neighborhood, but here...

It just stops.

It's like there's a line drawn in the forest. The fresh flora wilts and dies along it, the line marking there on out as dead. 

"Was there... a fire?" You ask.

"No fire."

Even the sky looks bleaker on the other side.

You step back, "Some sort of parasite?"

"No parasites. No fires. No droughts, floods, locusts, or diseases."

You step forward again, gaining a bit of courage. Slowly, you reach out, sticking it beyond the line.

Nothing happens. You feel normal.

"Why?" You finally ask. "Why is this here?"

"I can't say."

When you finally return to your house, it's later than you would've liked. It's past dinnertime and you haven't even eaten yet. As you approach, you notice a familiar face sitting on your porch.

"Hey!" Wally stands quickly, brushing off his pants. "I've been waiting for you!" He adds with a playful tease.

"I like to play hard to get." You prod him back, unlocking the door and welcoming him in.

His large eyes flick over you. You feel like you're being examined. "Where have you been?" 

"I'm sorry, Julie took me out on a tour of the town." You tell him. "I saw the market, the post office, Barnaby's house-"

"And you stayed in town the whole time?" He presses. "I looked for you, I didn't see you."

You chuckle, "You didn't have to come searching for me, I'm sure you have more important things to do." You avoid the original question. You're not sure why, but you feel like the forest is a secret between you and Julie. 

"You are the important thing." Wally follows behind you as you clean up the kitchen. 

You pause, then quickly resume your work. "Am I?" 

As you reach up to tuck a mug into the cupboard, Wally takes the mug from you, reaching up with ease to place it for you, "I would've imagined that you would've taken the hint by now, but it seems that I must take the liberties myself." 

Wally leans on the counter and faces you, "Do you find me attractive?" 

You're not sure what to say to that, you sputter out nonsense, "Well, err-"

"I find you attractive. Every part. I find your quips and teasing attractive, your laugh and the way your cheeks scrunch up when you smile, the curve of your lips and the paint droplets on your pants." He takes a second to breathe. "And honestly, there's nothing more in the world that I would like to do right now than to help you paint your house or whatever else you would ask of me." 

You wait a moment, processing his words. 

"Whatever I ask of you?"

He looks earnest, "Whatever."

You tug him into a kiss, closing your eyes. He seems surprised at first and the kiss is slow and hesitant, each of you too afraid to do much. You're slightly surprised, for such a smooth talker, Wally doesn't really seem to know what to do. Has he kissed someone before? 

You decide to take the lead. His lips are soft and gentle as you mouth over his bottom lip, tongue sticking out to play around. 

Wally's hands find their way to your waist, gripping you tight as if he's checking that you're real. His thumb rubs small circles at the small of your back.

He seems to mimic you, tongue poking out to prod at yours, eventually making it's way into your mouth to feel around. He's gentle, but he is slowly growing more confident by the second. Wally tugs your waist in tighter and tongue going deeper into your mouth almost possessively. 

The intensity of the kiss escalates quickly and you find yourself having to pull away to catch a breath. You open your eyes to find him staring down at you, his normally half lidded eyes wide open and exhilarated, a faint blush scattering his cheeks.

"I liked that." Wally says quietly. "We should do that more often."

_____

Life is great.

You've gotten quite a bit done on the house, mostly with the help of all the neighbors. The living room, kitchen, and bedroom are all finished and you've honestly never felt more at home. When you go to the supermarket, Howdy always greets you with a warm hello and a free sample of whatever the special of the day is. In the mornings, Eddie stops by for idle chat as he brings the mail. Whenever Poppy makes a new treat she comes over to give you some. Even with just a stroll through the neighborhood you're always greeted and smiled at by the other neighbors. 

 You sit in your backyard, cross-legged in the grass with your canvas propped up awkwardly on your legs. Your brush glides along the canvas, curving around to get the details just right. You bring the brush up to your face for a moment, biting on the wooden end as you think. 

"You look cute when you're concentrating."

You blink up in surprise to see Wally leaning on the side of your house, arms crossed. 

"How long have you been there?" You smile at him, setting down your canvas and standing up.

Wally merely shrugs with a grin. You run over to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He grips onto your waist, lifting you up and spinning around once before setting you back down and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. You hug him, taking a moment to enjoy his masculine cologne scent before pulling away. 

Yes, life is great. Wally Darling is yours.

“I was thinking you and I could spent the day together.” He hums.

You nod, “Let me just clean up my painting supplies-“

“Let me help.” Wally follows, carefully taking your paintbrushes as you grab your wet canvas. He trails behind you as you go inside, setting up your canvas to dry in your art room as Wally washes the brushes in the kitchen sink. 

When you return, you find Wally with his head tilted and eyes cast towards the ceiling, frozen at the kitchen sink. He doesn’t seem to notice your presence.

“Is… something wrong?”

Wally blinks, snapping out of it and turning his head to smile at you warmly. “No, of course not.” He replies. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh?” You ask, walking up beside him as he finishes washing the last brush.

“You haven’t been to my Home yet.” His half lidded eyes cast towards you. 

“No, I suppose I haven’t.” You say. “Odd, considering you’re over here all the time.

Wally chuckles, “Well, would you like to go?”

Before you know it, you’re inside Wally Darling’s house. It’s somehow exactly how you expected it to be. Everything is neat and tidy, carefully placed and well maintained. There’s an old charm to the house, as if it stepped out of the 60’s. 

“It’s weird being in here.” You say, wandering through his living room. There’s framed photos on the walls of Wally and his friends. You take the time to examine them.

“Why so?” Wally watches you with warm amusement.

“It just feels so…” You stare at a picture of Barnaby holding Wally in a tight hug. Wally looks like he’s being squished. “Personal.”

Wally laughs, “Well, it is personal.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you continue to stare at his pictures. 

“No, it’s different.” You tell him. “Somehow it feels like I’m getting a glimpse into your soul.”

There’s a pause.

“Well maybe you are.”

Wally lets go, turning and heading up a set of stairs. “Let me show you my painting room.” You follow after him.

He leads you to a large, beautiful room. With the high ceiling and long window sill big enough to lounge on, the room looks elegant. Coupled with the mass amount of paintings lining the walls and easels of the room, it looks like a modern art gallery.

“Wow, Wally.” You stare at his work, secretly jealous of his technique. 

He seems proud of himself. “I think-“

There’s a sudden loud crash from downstairs. You jump.

Whipping your head around, you turn back towards the door. “Did something fall?”

Wally merely frowns. “Yeah. Something fell.” He says, turning his eyes up.

“Oh.” You say. Clearly Wally seems to not be concerned with it, so you won’t be either.

“Why don’t we go back downstairs.” Wally suggests, taking your hand.

The two of you settle down on the couch. You giggle and tease Wally for his old school television. You swear that thing probably is still in black and white.

As you chat, you both slowly inch closer together. It starts with a simple finger brushing at your thigh, then an arm is popped around your neck, and then finally Wally is leaning in and kissing you. 

You let yourself be taken by the kiss, planting your hand at the back of his neck and brushing your finger along the base of his soft hair. Wally places his hand on your cheek and you press into it, tilting your head more into the kiss. 

Your chest flutters, eyes blinking open for half a second so that you can stare at him. To your surprise, his eyes are already open and watching you. He squints happily at you, smiling into the kiss as he deepens it, tongue pressing further into your mouth.

Wally’s other hand trails down your arm, causing goosebumps all the way. He flicks his tongue against the sensitive roof of your mouth before retreating back. 

You feel words pressed against your lips but you can’t hear them. They’re hardly even a whisper, more like he is just mouthing words. 

No, he’s repeating something. You try to understand him.

“I love you.”

You blink, pulling away from him.

“I love you too.” You whisper.

Yes, life is great.

Until it isn’t.

_____

Lightning cracks, illuminating the room as you finish up moving some furniture around. You stand with your hands on your hips, staring out at the freshly decorated art room. Finally, the work on your house is all done.

You could hear the wind beat about outside and the hard rain hit your windows. There was something odd about it all, though you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Storms are natural, after all.

Though, there hadn't been a single storm since you moved in.

Walking through the finished halls of your house gives you a sense of accomplishment. Patting the wall, you glance at the clock.

It's nearing time for you to meet up with Wally. The two of you had planned a date out to the pond to feed ducks, though you suppose that the rain ruined those plans.

You near the window, watching the dreary sky. It's midafternoon, but it looks like it's the middle of the night. Your eyes sweep over the neighborhood, making eye contact with Wally's house.

Wait, no, not eye contact. It's a house, it doesn't have eyes.

Still, the lights are on and now you have this odd feeling in your stomach.

As you look back up at the sky, you think the clouds don't look like regular rainclouds. They seem a sickly black color and you remember the forest that Julie had showed you. The dark clouds remind you of the baren land.

Is this a sign it's spreading? The lump in your stomach grows heavier. You feel dumb for forgetting about it.

You glance at the clock again. Perhaps there's enough time to check before Wally arrives. You rush to your mudroom, tugging on your rain coat and rubber boots.

As you trek through the rain, you wonder if you should've just stayed in your house. The wind moves you about, making you stumble over your heavy boots. The rain blows sideways, rendering your raincoat nearly useless as you're soaked anyways.

It's never rained this bad in the neighborhood. Actually, now that you think about it, it's never rained at all in the neighborhood.

Soon enough you reach the edge of the neighborhood, where the rot stretches as far as you can see. You were right, it seems to be spreading. The rot has crept forward, consuming what was once a small woodsy park path. 

You stare down at where the sidewalk ends and the forest starts. Why does the sidewalk stop?

Where is the road to lea-

"What are you doing out here?"

You startle, flipping around quickly. Wally stands in his usual attire, his navy hair and knitted overcoat soaked from the rain.

"I just wanted to explore in the rain." You lie. You don't even know why you lie. You trust Wally.

Right?

Wally glances towards the forest, scrunching his brows, "Did somebody tell you something?"

You quickly shake your head, "No, I was just walking around and... I found this." You gesture toward the forest. "What is this, Wally?"

Wally frowns, looking at you, not the forest. "It's been so warm lately, there was a small fire that lit up the grass around here." He looks up. "We really needed this rain."

It's a lie. Your stomach turns in knots. Wally is lying to you. This rot has been here a while. If it had been a fire, new green growth would've sprang up ages ago.

"We should get out of this rain." Wally says, water dripping down his face and arms. "So much for feeding ducks, huh?" He extends his hand.

You take it, though hesitantly. Before, you hadn't suspected that he would be a part of this, but now nothing makes sense.

"Wally, how did you find me out here?" You ask as you walk with him. "We were supposed to meet up at my house."

"Hm?" His eyes cast upwards as he thinks for a moment. "I suppose I just... had a feeling."

This makes you even more wary and you feel bad for it. You love Wally, and yet you're now doubting his motivations. You don't even know how he would have anything to do with the forest's color. 

You and Wally arrive back at your house. You grab a towel for him to dry off with and he rubs it over his plush skin. 

Plush skin?

You hadn't thought about it before, but isn't that weird? You look at your own hands. You are definitely not plush.

Wally throws the towel over his head, wringing out his hair. You stare at him and the more you look, the more unsettled you get. He has no nose, is that normal? Something in the back of your mind is telling you it isn't.

Wally's intense eyes peek from behind the towel. "Everything okay?"

"Yes." You shake your head, turning away. "I was just watching you."

He gives a lazy smile, eyes relaxing. "Well, I like watching you too."

You give a laugh, "Thanks, Wally." 

He stands, walking over and hugging you from behind. Before, it used to feel gentle and safe, but now it feels like entrapment. He nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft kisses. 

"What shall we do now that our plans have been ruined?" He smiles, hot breath on your neck. 

You pull away from him, "Actually, I'm feeling a little tired. Maybe rain check?"

Wally's face falls, then suddenly lights back up again, "We could nap together-"

"No, no, I mean, I just want to be alone right now." You tell him. "I just... had a rough night's sleep."

Wally stares at you for a long moment, wide eyes peering into your conscience. Finally, he smiles, "Oh, no worries, neighbor." He hands you back your towel. "We'll do something tomorrow when it's less rainy, right?"

"Right." You nod, watching him head to the door.

Wally grasps the doorknob, turning to you at the last second, "Oh, one more thing." He leans towards where you stand in the kitchen doorway. "I wouldn't go exploring in the forest anymore, too many nasty things out there, if you ask me. Wouldn't want anyone getting hurt." He gives a light smile, opening the door and heading out. 

You watch him go, hurrying to the window. You keep your eye on him until he is home. 

Something is not right in the neighborhood. 

You throw your rain attire back on, determined to get to the bottom of this. You take a deep breath, patting the side of your house.

"We got this." You whisper.

As you step outside, you notice that the rain seems to have worsened. You hold onto the hood of your raincoat, pushing past the wind. When you reach the edge of the forest, you don't stop. Instead, you trudge forward into the rot.

It's squishy against your feet, with the occasional odd lump of hardness. Everything is wilted and scorched. You wonder what could possibly be the cause.

As you wonder, you start to really think about the circumstances in the neighborhood. You lift your hand again, staring at it.

Flesh. You have flesh. Not felt or feathers or fur. 

How did you move into a neighborhood with such creatures?

No, wait, how did you move into the neighborhood at all?

You bought the house... but you don't remember any real estate agents or documents.

You... you haven't even been working. What have you been doing? You've just been playing around the neighborhood. In fact, nobody in the neighborhood seemed to have jobs. 

Your brain feels fuzzy. None of this makes sense.

You're still hiking through the decay, finding nothing of note. That is, until you see green in the distance. You perk up, sprinting forward.

Yes, there is green grass ahead. Whatever the decay is, it isn't very big luckily. 

As you get closer, you furrow your brow. 

Somehow, you've ended up on the other side of the neighborhood.

How?

You step onto the grass, realizing you've ended up by the post office. 

That doesn't make sense. You walked away from the neighborhood, there's no possible way you ended up on the other side of it.

Perhaps you got mixed up. You turn around, jogging through the diseased wood. 

This time, you end up near Julie's. 

How do you walk away from something and end up back at it? 

Walk around the world.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Wally wanted you away from the forest for a reason. This is his world, and you're in it. 

You sprint up to Julie's house, pounding on the door. "Julie!" You yell. "Julie!" 

You get no answer, so you move over to the window, shielding your eyes against the glass to see inside.

There's no one there.

You tug your raincoat closer to your body, looking up at the ever blackening clouds. 

You have to confront Wally. 

Back at your house, you prepare to face him. You're not sure what to expect, but you want to be ready for anything. You dig through your belongings, procuring a baseball bat and a box cutter.

Your house whines against the wind, creaking and settling in the powerful storm. You sit for a minute, putting your head in your hands. All this work on your house, all this friendship, and is any of it real? Nothing seems to make sense. Why? Why is any of this happening?

As you leave, you sigh.

"I'll be back." 

The wind catches on your house and it whines louder. 

When you arrive at Wally's house, you go to knock on the door only to find it already open. You press it open, keeping your guard up as you grip the baseball bat. 

"Wally?" Your voice echoes off the walls as you step inside. It seems awfully dark in Wally's house. 

Lightning cracks, illuminating the front windows of Wally's house. For a moment, they are eyes, observing you. The lightning then leaves darkness and you hear the front door slam shut. You turn back towards the door, tugging on the doorknob only to find it locked.

"Caught the snitch."

You turn to see Wally illuminated in the darkness, a figure hanging over his head.

It's Julie. She hangs from strings, her limbs twisted and broken. Her jaw hangs unnaturally slack, face bloodied. 

"In fact, I caught everybody." More lights irradiate from the darkness, casting large shadows on the wall as they illuminate the bodies of the other neighbors, all in similar states. 

Wally walks towards Howdy, "Too much talking lately, really a shame. I wanted to have you willingly."

You stand frozen, hands still on your baseball bat.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He laughs. "Plus, they're fine." He gestures towards the bodies on strings above him. "I just took away their will. Clearly they couldn't be trusted with it on their own." He clicks his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly. 

The edges of your eyes crease up. You still don't understand. 

"Come, let me explain." He gestures to the couch. You don't move. "Please, sit."

You don't.

Wally looks up. "Home?" 

To your amazement, a chair glides over, moving behind you and slamming into your legs, making you tumble down onto it. It slides over to where Wally now sits.

You clutch the edges of the chair in fright. 

"That's Home." Wally explains. "Home is... the source of it all. A manifestation of desire, if you will." 

You swallow, "It's alive?" 

Wally grins. It's wider and realer than any grin you've seen before. "Of course." He crosses one leg over the other. "It's alive just like you and me are alive."

"But you're plush." You tell him.

"I'm built on the desires of thousands of young children across the nation that watched my show." Wally looks nostalgic. "Oh, you were such a dedicated little viewer, you know that?"

"Huh?" Show? What is he talking about.

"You used to sit every night in front of the TV, you know that?" Wally continues. "And you would say, 'Okay, Mr. Wally, show me how to draw!' I taught you everything you know about painting."

 ... Yes, the show. How could you forget? The theme song starts to play in your head. You loved that show as a kid.

"You loved me so much." Wally sighs. "And I loved you, and then you went away."

"I was an adult." Of course you went away, you couldn't sit around watching TV all day. You had a job, you had a family... your family! How long have you been gone? "I had responsibilities." 

"I desired you." Wally looks at you desperately. "You desired a place you belonged! I watched you, how you struggled to fit in, the long hours at work, the family arguments. I made it all go away! You've been so happy-"

"They were struggles, but they were my struggles!" You shout, standing up. "You don't get to decide for me!"

Wally sighs, head falling to the side. "See, this is why I wanted you willingly." He casts his hand up. "Oh well."

You feel tightness tug at your arms. No, it's tugging at your bones. You look, thin wire strings protrude from your arms and spring from your legs, pulling you up towards the ceiling. 

"I'll just take away your free will for a while." Wally runs a hand through his dark hair. "Then you'll want to play along." 

You can feel the strings scraping against your bones under your skin. You struggle against them, getting yourself tangled in the process. 

"What shall we act out first?" Wally stands, pacing around the room. "We did have that pond date-"

You twist, reaching your hand towards your back pocket, where the box cutter is stashed. It's an awkward reach, but you manage to grasp it, pushing it open with your thumb and slashing at your strings. You fall to the floor, grabbing the bat and taking off running for the door.

Wally clicks his tongue, "You were so docile before you knew the truth. I'll have to stamp this disobedience out of you now."

You ram the baseball bat into the door, denting the doorknob until the lock falls apart and you can run out the door.

There's no exit. The forest loops. Surely there must be a way out, right? Where, where...

Wally laughs, "Where are you running to? There's no where to go!"

You don't know, but away from here. You sprint, running towards the only place where you feel safe, your house.

"My little viewer." Wally sounds agitated now. "Enough games. If you come back now, I'll go easy on you."

Over your dead body. You're out of breath by the time you reach your house, slamming the door shut and locking it, back pressed against the door as you pant and Wally begins to bang on the door.

Surely there must be something of use to you. Think, think... where is the exit out of this place? 

You hear Wally start to kick down the door. It cracks and starts to splinter with each kick. 

One of the neighbors' houses? No, they might've said something. 

Wally is stronger than you thought. With a final kick, your door crumbles, swinging open. Wally looks even more deranged now, eyes large and locked on you. 

"My dear," he breathes. "Let's be reasonable, come back with me." 

He extends his hand. When you don't take it, he frowns, moving forward. He grasps you by your face, fingertips digging bruises into your cheeks as he pulls you closer.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" 

You press your hands against his chest, trying to push him away. This only angers him more. Wally lifts his hand, readying it to fall down on your face. You close your eyes, preparing yourself for the eventual hit.

It doesn't come. 

You open your eyes to see Wally's hand still in the air. Except... there's a string attached to it. Wally's expression has changed from anger to fear, he stares at his arm as another string appears on his opposite arm. You back away from him.

Wally looks at you, "Please, don't-" He reaches for you, only to have his hand yanked away before he can. 

It's... your house. It dawns upon you quickly and more strings appear from Wally's skin. He struggles, the strings dragging him.

"Please, please, I can't-"

You look up at your house, reaching and patting the wall. "Take him away."

"Please-" 

Wally screams as the strings scratch against his bones, dragging him kicking and screaming towards your basement. 

_____

"Oh, I have some drinks in the fridge, let me grab you one!"

You weave your way through the bustling party, dodging Barnaby as he throws grapes in the air and catches them in his mouth and sliding past the way-too-handsy Frank and Eddie.

You're celebrating your finished house, and the party is going spectacularly. Two guests still haven't arrived, but you're not too worried.

You snatch up glass bottles of soda that you bought at Howdy's shop earlier that day and toss one to Sally, who gracefully catches it.

"You've put a lot of work into this place." Howdy says with a smile, leaning on the counter.

You glance over, "Yeah, I couldn't have done it without you guys though, thank you all for your help."

"Oh, you did most of it!" Sally waves her hand.

"It's just what neighbors do." Howdy shrugs.

The doorbell rings and you rush to the door, throwing it open to reveal Julie, holding a small present in her hands.

"Sorry I'm so late, I had to wrap your gift!"

"You didn't have to get me a gift!" You laugh, throwing your arms around her for a big hug. She squeezes you tight before you both pull away from each other.

"No, I really had to." She holds out the gift. "After everything you've done for all of us."

You gently take the wrapped gift as she steps into your house, waving at everybody.

"Hello everybody!" Julie squeals, making her way over to nudge Frank playfully. "And hello, Frank and Eddie!"

Frank turns a deep red, shying away. "It's really nothing-"

Eddie gives a wide smile, gripping Franks hand tighter, "Almost losing all your control makes you confess things."

Julie gives a light smile, "Well, we never have to worry about that again."

You politely set the gift on the counter for later, turning back towards everybody. "Then I propose a toast!"

"We'll need bread for that." Barnaby grins, nudging you playfully. You shake your head with a laugh, gently shoving him away.

Everyone raises their sodas, letting you speak.

"To freedom, to free will, to all of us. It's what lets us choose our paths, chase our dreams, and live life to our own terms. To making our choices, learning from our own mistakes, and creating our victories."

Everyone cheers.

"Most importantly, to you." Julie adds in, pointing her raised glass to you. "You've made this neighborhood a wonderful place."

This makes everyone cheer louder. You bump glasses with everyone, letting Barnaby rub your head affectionately and Sally rope you into a side hug.

"Now open the gift!" Julie claps.

You laugh, grabbing the gift and tearing it open. Sitting inside in a beautiful framed picture of everyone in the neighborhood.

Well, everyone except-

The doorbell rings again, and you politely excuse yourself to answer it.

It's Wally. He looks rough. Dark bags underline his eyes and his usually tidy hair is in disarray. He looks up at your house nervously.

"Oh, hello Wally." You watch him carefully. If you look close enough, you can see the strings buried in his arms and neck.

He holds out flowers, which is nice, you guess. You take them, opening the door for him to come inside. He hesitates, then steps in.

You linger, your eyes following him as he greets everyone else. He got what he wanted, you're stuck here. There's no way out.

You can see his stiff movements, the fish line strings tugging at his skin and bones, uncomfortably present at all times.

"Are you coming?" Julie yells. "Poppy's going to bring out the cake!"

"I'm coming!" You shut the door, rushing over.

It's all okay, because he's trapped too.

[evanchantingpeters]

Let me take care of you (Fanfic - Housemate edition)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Fem reader

Genre ─ Smut/fluff

Summary ─ You and Evan are housemates. Dragging yourself downstairs after a day of virtual grind, you stumble on Evan in the kitchen, playing chef. As you pour out your workday struggles to him, he decides to cool you off in his own special way. Just as the steamy vibes start rolling in on the countertop, a plot twist goes down.  

Warnings ─ Swearing, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple teasing, squirting, overstimulation :)

Word count ─ 1724

18+ > If you're a minor, DO NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You peel yourself away from the computer at 6 pm on the dot after what feels like a never-ending virtual meeting marathon. The glow of your computer screen has imprinted on your retinas, and you swear you can see faint outlines of pie charts on the walls. It’s time to free yourself from the shackles of the fintech world and wind down for the night.

“Enough with slaving away,” you huff out and tug at the hem of your dark floral dress, as if shedding the remnants of a tedious remote workday and a thousand mouse clicks. You fetch your black knitted cardigan from the closet and slip through its comforting embrace.

As you lumber down the stairs, visions of spreadsheets and Teams calls still haunt you. But wait, what’s that aroma wafting through the air? It’s not the most pleasant odour, but you’re starving. You follow your nose like a cartoon character floating on the scent waves, only to find Evan in the kitchen.

Evan, decked out in a white apron that’s askew and screams ‘I have no idea what I’m doing, but I swear I’m trying my best,’ is vigorously stirring a saucepan on the stove.

He turns to you with a broad dimpled smile that’s equal parts endearing and suspicious. “Hey there, survivor of the corporate jungle! Look, your housemate’s working up a culinary masterpiece,” he exclaims, a spatula brandished like a knight’s sword.

You eye the chaotic scene in the kitchen with an arched brow. “Culinary masterpiece, you say? Should I be calling 911 just in case?”

He lets out a throaty chuckle. “Fear not, Y/N!” He chirps, winking at you. “I’m trialling a dish that requires minimal skill and maximum faith in the universe.”

You shoot him a tight-lipped smile as you push aside the table cloth and cautiously take a seat at the kitchen counter. You watch as Evan throws a drizzle of something mysterious into the saucepan. “And may I ask what’s on the menu?” you scoff while swooshing your legs that dangle off the counter, your voice laced with curiosity and a hint of survival instinct.

He playfully pinches the tip of your nose, a sly smirk curling up on the corners of his lips. “Instant noodles, but with my own twist. Trust me, you’ll be licking the plate by the end of it,” he says as he begins to slice and dice a colourful bunch of veggies. 

“Only my fingers?” you ponder, and your lips pout slightly as you observe the veins on his calloused and robust hands sticking out with each chopping movement. The sight of those hands always makes you moist down there, let alone the feeling of them on or in you… Proper gush…

“So, how was work? Give me the scoop,” Evan insists, his enthusiasm bursting through the air like confetti, jolting you out of your thoughts.

You shake your head and blink rapidly to regain your composure. “It was…” you wheeze, your voice cracking like a rusty gate, and you immediately clear your throat, “It was a long blooper reel. Most of my team’s on annual leave, so it was pretty much a one-woman show.” 

Evan’s eyes widen with sympathy, as if sensing there’s more to this workplace saga. “Oh, shoot,” he grunts. “Don’t sweat, I’ll take good care of you,” he continues after a brief pause as he massages your legs, your breath catching in your throat. His hands work their magic, though, kneading away the invisible knots of stress that the day has tied. 

“I don’t think noodles could do the trick,” you purr, and a low giggle escapes you. 

A moment of silence ensues, as his eyes flick down to your lips. “There's something that can squirt the tension out of you in no time,” His whisper carries a velvety rasp, his warm breath, tinged with the scent of mint and coffee, delightfully fanning your face.

“And that is?” You snap, and he hums with a cunning grin etched on his face. Your heart begins to throb with heavy thuds as he gently spreads your legs, and his right hand traces a tantalising path from your inner thighs.

“Tell me what you want,” he coos with a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes as he stretches aside the fabric of your soaked panties.

“You,” you gasp when his index finger glides up and down your wet slit, making him groan at the slimy texture. Your head falls back when he starts rubbing your clit in slow circular motions, ragged moans tumbling out of your mouth.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and nibbles on your soft skin, his expertly smooth teasing of your clit persists.

“Don’t stop,” you spill through your pleasure in a hushed tone. Gripping his shirt, you pull him closer and smash your lips against his. Your tongue plunges into his mouth and swirls with his in a passionate rhythm, deepening the kiss. 

His chest is heaving heavily, and you feel an eager finger circling around your vaginal opening. You let out a choked “Evan” as he slowly slides his long, sturdy finger into you, popping in and out, and groaning loudly at the warmth of your insides. 

“You feel so good, baby girl,” he rasps out and tilts his head to the side, a crooked smile is playing on his lips as he watches his finger gliding in you.

Your hands desperately roam along his chiselled chest, trailing down to his hard cock, and you feel his bulge straining under his slacks.

Without warning, he climbs on the kitchen counter and slumps on top of you. You lie on your back and feel the knot in your stomach tightening as he settles in between your legs, hovering over you. He shreds your cardigan and dress in an instant, and his tongue momentarily flicks across his lips as he marvels at your beauty.

Balancing his weight on his arms, he crouches down on you and drags sensual yet raw kisses on your lips down your neck, and you throw your head back to give him more room.

He lowers his upper body to come in direct contact with your perked nibbles. Nuzzling his nose on your breasts, he gives them both a soft pull, moaning softly. You release an involuntary squeal, feeling you cunt aching more and more as his kissing journey moves down to your stomach. When he reaches your pussy that’s now pounding for him, he props himself on his elbows and glosses over your baby blue thong with a smirk. He glances up at you, his eyes carrying a lustful glint. 

Pulling your legs closer to him, he adjusts your thighs on his shoulders but refuses to break his stare on your face. His lips brush along your inner thighs and leaves tender love bites, edging closer and closer to where you want him to reach. 

When he presses his mouth over the fabric of your panties right on your sensitive spot, you gasp in his firm hold. You instinctively arch your back once you feel the vibrations of his moans against you. 

“Would you let me taste you?” he asks for your permission with a husky voice. You frantically nod in despair, unable to utter a single syllable. 

He chucks your panties away and peers at your glistening pussy with awe, his hot breath tingling your skin. He licks a long stripe along your delicate bud, and you squeak. He groans loudly at your taste and dives in headfirst. His lips suck on your clit while his tongue glides repeatedly against the rest of your slit, building the momentum of your orgasm. 

You dig your fingers in his hair and squirm in his grasp. He roughly tightens the grasp of your thighs and continues to eat you out like you’re his last meal on death row. 

Not too long after, he gently pushes two fingers in you until he’s knuckle deep. His mouth attaches back on your clit, toppling you off the edge. You cry out and your tug on his hair becomes harsher. His nose nudges your clit ever so slightly as his tongue twirls and twists at your sobbing red cunt, leaving your mind fuzzy. Your moans are getting higher and higher in pitch, as you know you aren’t going to last long.

“Jeez, I can’t get enough of you,” he roars, looking so dedicated to your pleasure. His words facilitate your orgasm to hurl straight at you as his tongue laps in and out of you, rolling against your gummy walls. 

Your release finally washes over you in waves and with a scream, your vision becoming hazy. Your legs tighten around his head as your knees wobble and you squeeze on his biceps. 

Evan eases you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, knowing when to let go and avoid your overstimulation. 

“Oh, shit,” you yelp and find yourself grinning down at him short of breath. He reciprocates the smile, a cute look overtakes his features. He draws comforting circles on your lower belly and leaves pecks on your thighs, giving you a few minutes to regulate your breathing. 

Cupping his chin, you pull him up for a sloppy yet rough kiss. “How does the work tension feel now?” he chuckles softly, stroking your breasts as he rests on top of you. You can feel his hardness pressing against your stomach.

“Work, who? I don’t know her!” you blurt out, and you both burst out laughing. 

As you lean in for another kiss, the sudden jingle of keys interrupts your bliss. Panic flashes in both of your eyes as the front door rattles, and the unmistakable sound of the landlord unlocking the entrance echoes through the room.

In a split second, you hastily disentangle yourselves from one another, scrambling to restore the kitchen counter to its innocent state. Evan wipes his mouth off and adjusts his tousled hair, discreetly holding his erect crotch until it comes to ease. All the while, you straighten your dishevelled clothes and ram panicked legs through your panties, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

You and Evan exchange a quick, sheepish glance just as the landlord swings the door open.

“Hey there! Just wanted to check on the leaky toilet upstairs,” the landlord exclaims, oblivious to your eat-out moment.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated; consider them a warm, fuzzy thank-you hug from yours truly💙

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[babydollmarauders]

AWAKE — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

FAITHLYNN’S 500 CELLY!

prompt: “why are you awake?” 🌷

warnings: pregnancy?

i lay on my side, the weight of Jack’s arm resting on my waist. the room is pitch black, but my eyes are still wide open. the flutters in my stomach keeping me awake, and all i want is nutella. Jack has been asleep for at least an hour now and i’ve been too afraid to get up in worry of waking him. he just got back from a week long roadie and i know he’s exhausted. but the restlessness gets to me and i end up losing my battle to stay in bed.

peeling the blankets off of me, i hold my breath and carefully slide out of Jack’s arms. he stirs slightly and i freeze, my feet dangling over the side of the bed. but when he readjusts his position and starts snoring again, i let out a deep exhale and stand from the mattress. i make my way towards the bedroom door, my arms held out in front of me to make sure i don’t run into anything in the dark. having safely made it out of the bedroom without waking my husband, i take a few seconds to breathe before going to the kitchen. i feel another kick in my stomach and sigh, hoping this snack will calm down the child growing inside of me. grabbing the nutella from the cupboard, i stick a spoon in and immediately pull out a heaping dose. i have the spoon so close to my mouth when i hear a voice come from behind me.

“why are you awake?” Jack’s sudden presence makes me jump and the glob of hazelnut spread that was once perched on my spoon drops to the countertop. i pout down at it before spinning to look at Jack, who bites his lips to hold back an amused grin.

“your son is kicking me. make him stop.” i tell him. he finally lets his smile loose at my words.

“oh he’s just my son now?” he teases.

“when he’s being annoying? yes. he takes after you in that department.” he shakes his head and steps in front of me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“i don’t recall you thinking i was annoying on our wedding night, when our son was made.” he chuckles, bending down to leave kisses on the crook of my neck.

“no, i thought you were annoying then too. i was just much less irritable when i didn’t have a baby whacking up my hormones.” i joke but unfortunately the last part is all too real. i find myself getting upset over the smallest things these days.

“c’mon, let’s get you back to bed.” the sleep is still prominent in his eyes, and the smile he wears is lazily painted on. he starts pulling me towards the kitchen entrance but i stand my ground.

“wait!” i turn back to the counter, scooping a spoon of Nutella and shoving it in my mouth prior to screwing the lid back on the jar. i lick the spoon clean and throw it in the sink before speaking through a mouth full of the chocolate spread. “okay. now we can go.”

Jack barks out a laugh as he leads the way back to our room. he lays down in the bed and i settle in beside him.

“is he calm now?” he asks. i wait a few moments, surveying for a minute before replying.

“yeah, he’s good now. he wanted chocolate. or to hear your voice, in which case-” i look down at my stomach and whisper- “traitor.”

Jack rubs my bump with the hand of the arm that has once again claimed its rightful place draped on my waist.

“go to sleep, baby. and wake me up if he’s moving too much again.”

“but you’re so tired from your trip. i didn’t wanna disrupt you.” i tell him.

“shh i can’t hear you. i’m sleeping.”

-

-

-

“shh i can’t hear you. i’m sleeping.”

-

[jamesandcolors]

White Peel and Stick Wallpaper

Explore the trendy white peel and stick wallpaper at JamesAndColors. We specialise in offering a great range of stick wallpapers at affordable prices. Here you can also find a wide variety of wallpapers such as custom, peel, modern, floral, peony, etc.

[sionisjaune]

Mika/Nico 2004 Arctic Rally flirtation on the occasion of @blorbocedes ‘s birthday!

Mika is stripping down to his thermals when the kid slinks inside his cabin, bundled in a thick winter coat, tufts of blonde hair poking out underneath a knit hat. He bites the inside of his cheek, manufacturing a reason to grimace instead of welcoming Nico into his arms like he used to do when he could still call himself innocent. 

“Not your cabin,” says Mika, tugging off a sweaty glove and tossing it on the countertop.

Nico shuts the door behind him and braces himself against it, nose red from the chill outside. His entire face, or at least the part visible between the collar of his coat and the hem of his hat, is chafed red and blotchy. He licks his lips, and Mika’s gaze lingers on the chapped and wind-bitten skin of his mouth. 

“My dad snores,” Nico mumbles. “Just wanted to get some rest—”

“No,” says Mika, immediately. He knows what Nico’s going to ask of him, and he knows that if Nico asks it outright, he’s going to say yes. 

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” says Nico, pouting rather childishly. Mika wonders what it says about him that he finds Nico’s worst moments attractive.

“No,” says Mika again. “Go back to your room. Cabins are for competitors only.”

Nico tilts his head, still tucked against the door in his coat. Mika watches him shuck his scarf and toss it haphazardly on Mika’s sofa. “I could compete,” says Nico. “I’m good on the ice.” 

“You’re not—” says Mika.

Nico cuts him off, a sparkle in his eye. “Old enough?”

“Used to rally,” Mika finishes. “It’s an entirely different sport.” 

“Really?” says Nico, eyes widening. It’s obvious what he’s doing. Mika strips off his other glove and lets it happen anyway, peeling his racesuit down his chest to hang around his hips. Nico makes a parallel move, drawing the zipper open and shimmying the coat down his arms to reveal a tanned neck and collarbones, the result of a half-Finn unaccustomed to his native climate. Mika doesn’t know why Keke bothered to drag him to Lapland to spectate. “Explain it to me,” says Nico. He drops his jacket on the floor and joins his scarf on Mika’s sofa, curling his legs underneath him.

“First of all, you have a co-driver in the car with you,” says Mika. He tugs the racesuit the rest of the way down, pulling it off his ankles one leg at a time. He was going to make use of the cabin’s meager hot water tank and shower off the sweat sticking to his skin, but with Nico around it’s probably best he keeps his clothing on. 

Nico shrugs, wrapping his arms around himself as if to stave off the cold. “I could handle that. I already have an engineer in F3.”

“It’s a different relationship,” Mika corrects. He can’t help but fall into this avuncular role with Nico, like Keke is still in the room.

“A relationship,” Nico purrs, learning over the edge of the couch. Mika bites the inside of his cheek, wondering where Nico learned this from. He stalls for time by folding his racesuit into a neat little rectangle and setting it on the countertop beside his gloves. It reeks of stale sweat and the ankles are damp with melted snow, but if Nico minds he doesn’t say anything. 

Mika sinks into the armchair opposite Nico and watches Nico furtively scoot towards the end of the sofa closest to Mika. His bare arms are startlingly skinny against the thin fabric of a white singlet. The faded jeans make him look like a ten-euro hooker, even though Mika knows Nico doesn’t wear anything that costs less than a hundred. 

“I bet you disregard your engineer all the time,” says Mika.

“No I don’t,” says Nico. 

Mika gives him a meaningful look. 

“Fine,” says Nico. “Sometimes. But only when he’s wrong.”

“Ah,” says Mika. “The difference is that your co-driver cannot be wrong. You trust him implicitly. If he says full-throttle, you don’t break until the finish line.” 

Nico wrinkles his nose. “I can’t picture you taking orders from anybody.” 

Mika raises a hand to massage his temples. “When I need to,” he says. The hand in front of his eyes conveniently blocks his view of Nico curled up on the corner of the couch, but he can still hear Nico twisting and fidgeting around. 

“Tired?” says Nico. 

“Yes,” says Mika. 

“Me too,” says Nico. He shuffles around on the couch again, and then seems to still. A moment later, Mika feels him plop down on the arm of the chair next to him. He drapes his long legs over Mika’s lap and leans close to his ear. Mika removes his hand from his face just in time for a lock of Nico’s hair to fall in his face while Nico murmurs in his ear. “And I’m cold. It’s fucking freezing in here.” 

Mika bites the inside of his cheek again. The flesh is getting raw, like it always does around Nico. 

“Nico,” he warns. 

“What?” says Nico. He’s completely irreverent. 

Mika shifts to create more space between himself and Nico’s skinny frame. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Doing what?” says Nico.

“You know what,” says Mika. 

“I just want to warm up,” says Nico, curling closer. 

“I have to race tomorrow,” says Mika. He can hear his own voice wavering.

The corners of Nico’s mouth curl like a cat toying with its prey. “Nothing that will make you sore.” 

Mika exhales, rubbing his temples again. “Not even pretending anymore?” 

Hearing his permission, Nico slides into Mika’s lap and surrounds him like his limbs are made of putty. He wraps his arms around Mika’s neck and attaches his mouth to the skin above the collar of Mika’s thermal shirt. “I don’t need to,” he whispers. “Besides, don’t you want to see what I’m wearing under this?”

[wwwritererm]

CLEMENTINE —

— color it gray, until i forget you,

like i never met you, my dearest clementine

IN WHICH, after a few years of dating, Izuku wants to test his boyfriend for no particular reason—he just wants to see if his love is true!

Midoriya Izuku, also known as the Pro-Hero Deku of Japan, has been dating Bakugo Katsuki, Pro-Hero Dynamight, for approximately 4 years now.

It felt like a dream. Just a few years ago, Bakugo had been bullying Midoriya for not having a quirk. A little while after that, the blonde had been helping him use his quirk better. Then when they grew up and started working as adults, Bakugo had given him a gift, which was undeniably the best one he’d ever received in his entire life.

The green haired boy had just finished his work for the week, resting on the couch and scrolling through his phone. He was looking at TikTok videos of girls testing their boyfriends’s love and loyalty for them.

He snickered at a video where the boy got dumped for calling his girlfriend by the wrong name, “Who even does that?” he asked, scrolling down to the next videos below.

After a few more scrolling, his finger paused at a particular video. In it, the girl was sitting on the couch as she called for her boyfriend. A few seconds later, the boy appeared, a big smile on his face. The girl asked him to get her an orange, and the boy nodded his head, leaving off to what Izuku presumed was the kitchen.

Later on, the boy came back with a plate filled with peeled slices of the fruit, arranged into a circular shape. Then the video ended.

Midoriya was confused. He quickly went over to the comments to look for an explanation—until he found one.

@milkandcookies

for context, this person wanted to test her boyfriend’s thoughtfulness. if he gets the orange and gives it to you unpeeled, then supposedly he doesn’t think of your well-being and preferences. however, if he does peel it for you beforehand, then you’re one lucky person.

“Kacchan!” The green haired boy called for his lover, looking at the hallway that led to their bedroom. A few seconds later, the blonde boy’s head popped out from the side, as he leaned his body against the wall, “Hm?” he grunted, rubbing his sleepy eyes lazily.

Izuku smiled at his boyfriend, before remembering what he called him for, “Can you please get me an orange?”

Katsuki paused, before blinking at the boy, “Just an orange?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

“Just an orange.”

To say Katsuki was confused would be an understatement. He positioned himself properly, standing straight, “Are you sure you don’t want a full meal..?” he said slowly, trying to make sure that he got what his lover truly wanted.

The green haired boy let out a small laugh, “No Kacchan, just an orange,” he said. His boyfriend nodded, his brows still furrowed, “Alright then…” he muttered, moving towards the countertop.

Before he even reached the table, he whipped his head to Izuku with his lips pursued, “Just an orange?” he said once more. The other boy let out a playful sigh, “Orange.”

The blonde nodded once and disappeared behind the countertop.

After a few minutes, Katsuki finally finished. He was holding the plate with one hand, as he trudged over to Izuku with a frown, “Here’s your damn orange,” he said, as he placed the plate down.

Izuku didn’t really expect much. Maybe just a still orange which was just unpeeled. But oh no, Katsuki did so much more.

The green haired boy gawked at the sight of the plate before him. There was in fact, an unpeeled orange, but it was decorated nicely, arranged like a flower. That wasn’t all—there were grapes and blueberries surrounding it, and a small piece of lettuce sticking out under the whole masterpiece, serving as a leaf.

Beside him, Katsuki coughed awkwardly, “What’s wrong?”

Izuku turned to him slowly, his face filled with shock, “I just wanted an orange.. this is too much,” he said.

His boyfriend clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Did you seriously think I’d give you an orange by itself?” he spat out, crossing his arms as he situated himself on the spot of the couch beside Izuku.

“You deserve the best—and although I could do much more, this is what you wanted so…” he trailed off, turning his face away slightly to hide the pinkish hue on his cheeks.

Izuku didn’t need to see his face to know he was a bright red. He looked back at the plate on the low table in front of him, before picking up a slice of orange. He raised it to Katsuki’s mouth and smiled sheepishly, “Want one?”

The blonde looked at the piece of fruit in front of his face and looked at his boyfriend, “No, it’s for you.” He said simply, which left Izuku deadpanning at him.

The green haired boy sighed and plopped the slice into his mouth, and Katsuki smiled in triumph—before he was suddenly pushed deeper into the couch by a hand. It didn’t take him to realize the sourness of the orange on his tongue—along with Izuku’s mouth on his.

His eyes were blown wide, his hands clutching on the sheets below him. But the warmth of his boyfriend’s lips helped him relax. He closed his eyes and positioned his hands comfortably around Izuku’s waist, pulling him flush to his chest.

When Izuku pulled away, he was breathing heavily and his face was flushed—so was Katsuki. They stared at each other’s eyes for a moment, their breaths intertwining with each other.

“Keugh-“ Then Katsuki coughed.

Izuku’s eyes widened, “Kacchan!” he worriedly exclaimed, as the said boy coughed into his fist. It seems like the orange’s zest went the wrong way down his throat.

“I’m fine,” the blonde managed to wheeze out.

It took a while, but Katsuki finally recovered, and now they’re stuck staring at each other eyes once more. Izuku cracked a smile and giggled, “You’re so cute Kacchan,” he said with adoration, cupping his boyfriend’s cheek with his hand.

The blonde boy stammered, as his face flushed once more, “W-whatever nerd,” he muttered, pushing his face in the crook of Izuku’s neck, hiding his face.

The green haired boy grinned, placing his hand on his boyfriend’s hair, combing through it gently. He closed his eyes as Katsuki leaned into his touch, and Izuku whispered into his ear, “I love you.”

Katsuki didn’t answer right away, but then after a while, he let out a small flustered grumble,

“I love you too.”

END.

Afterthoughts:

What the sigma was that. I actually wrote that? Woah okay, okay…

I was actually supposed to post this tomorrow but i have school by then so… yeah early post.

I hope you enjoyed it!

@detectivekirigirislays told me to post this

[abandoned-anemoia]

Smitten

☯ Pairing: Idol of choice x fem!reader (3rd person) ☯ Genre: fluff (with a little angst) ☯ Word count: 1k ☯ Warnings: mentions of food ☯ A/N: I wrote this while deep in my thoughts about Changkyun of Monsta X but decided it should be a “choose your own character” situation. I greatly appretiate any interaction! Please Let me know if I need to add any warnings! ☯Disclaimer: None of my work represents any of the idols included in any way. This is merely fictional and all based on my opinion as a joke! I have nothing against any of these idols and love them all dearly.

Please do not copy, translate, or post as your own!

After touring, all he wants is to do is see her.

The softness of the blanket wrapped around her keeps her warm on the chilly Friday night. The rain falling outside taps softly on the window. The moon shines brightly in the charcoal sky, slipping through the window and softly illuminating the room. The soothing smell of lavender wafts through the small apartment as the candle sitting on the coffee table burns.

He gazes at her from the doorway. She sits on the couch, peacefully looking out the window. She hadn't even heard him come in. She seems to be lost in thought, staring out the window. He smiles, knowing she was only in the living area this close to midnight to see him when he came home. He almost hated to interrupt and lose sight of her focused look.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He spoke softly so as to not startle her.

She turns her gaze from the window to where the voice came from. How long had he stood there, staring?

"My thoughts cost more than that. I have rent to pay." She teases him, letting out a chuckle.

He laughs. He missed this. He missed her. It had been too long. His schedule barely gives him time to breathe, let alone be home. To be with her—the love of his life. The woman who is so patient with both him and his schedule.

She gets up, tugging the blanket closer to her body, and walks over to him. It's late. She thinks. She assesses the dark rings under his eyes and his wet hair and clothes from the pouring rain outside. She can tell he's trying to hide it but he's shivering slightly.

"Go take a warm shower. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat while you're in the shower. Then we can get some rest." The words rush out of her mouth as she discards the blanket she had wrapped around her. She uses the discarded blanket to wipe the rain drops that littered his face.

He stares at her while she dotes over him. Cute. She's always worried about him. She has never complained, just taken the initiative and cared for him.

"Don't worry about that, I ate on the plane." She nods to acknowledge his words but seems to be in another world.

"You're still going to take a warm shower." Her voice is strong. There was no changing her mind.

"The rain is coming down hard enough to be considered a pressure wash. I have to be clean already." He jokes but the stern look she gives him as she rolls her eyes tells him all he needs to know. Don't try me.

He concedes, knowing she would not allow him to ignore her request. He makes his way through her room and to the attached bathroom. Running the shower at the warmest temperature, he peels off his wet clothing and steps under the tepid spray of water.

While he is showering, she is warming up some food she had kept in her refrigerator. She wasn't sure when he would be home so she had yet to make anything for either of them to eat, but she wouldn't be telling him that.

He saunters into the kitchen, having noticed she wasn't in the bedroom when he exited the shower, hair wet and sticking to his forehead. He didn't bother putting on a shirt, knowing he wouldn't sleep in one anyway. Standing next to the bar, he waits for her to turn around, confused as to what she was doing.

She knows he is there but pays him no mind, continuing to gather food for him despite his assurance from before. Turning towards him and placing the meal on the countertop, she encourages him to sit down by motioning to a stool tucked under the bar.

Taking a seat on the stool, he sends her a tired smile. He had been awake for most of the plane ride, having not quite been on a set sleep schedule. The love he has for her swells inside of him as he realizes just how much she cares—how she missed him as much as he had missed her.

She lays a kiss on his cheek before sitting next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder as she rests her eyes—or at least she thought she would rest her eyes, waiting for him to finish eating. It doesn't take long for him to notice that he breathing has evened out and her body is slumping against his own.

Finishing the last bit of food, he looks down at her, her features are soft and he could see her eyelids twitch as her eyes flick around them. She's gorgeous. He carefully moves his body to lift her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom.

He gently maneuvers her body so he can pull back the sheets and tuck her underneath them. She stirs but does not seem to be awake. Once she is safely tucked in bed, he turns to make his way back out of the room to clean up the dish he left on her bar. He doesn't make it far as she reaches out to grab his hand before mumbling out a soft, "Don't leave again."

His face falls, knowing she was awake enough to catch his arm yet sleepy enough to believe he would leave her immediately after coming home. Home. He has always stayed over at her place, yet never called it home. No. She was home. Not her apartment—not without her.

He slips under the covers and pulls her against him, muted words attempt to come out of his lips, "I won't ever leave you." He can't say that though. He knows he will have to leave on another tour again—knows he will rarely get time to see you between schedules. He feels as if he doesn't deserve you but knows you would tell him otherwise. Sighing, he squeezes her closer and closes his eyes. He feels nothing but content as he holds his entire world in his arms and falls asleep.

[comatosebunny09]

It began as a steady trickle.

Little specks of precipitation patterned the asphalt in the parking lot. You held your hands out to capture them. Smiled youthfully at the inky sky, sticking out your tongue to see if they truly tasted like lemon drops and gumdrops.

Rain was a rarity these days, staved off by the sweltering temperatures of the city.

As Leon ushered you into the passenger seat of his Jeep—a gentle hand at the small of your back and a fond quirk to his lips—a sudden clap of thunder snatched you both from your reveries and piloted in the downpour.

Leon’s apologetic eyes found yours. Neither of you thought of bringing an umbrella. You didn’t complain, considering it a treasure to be caught in the rain. And in the company of your charming bodyguard, no less. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect conclusion to your evening.

You pat Leon on his shoulder, shaking your head to dismiss his worry.

“It’s alright,” you offered, your voice wistful and gaze soft. “Should get home before it gets worse, though. I spent way too much time on my makeup.”

He snorted in response, coupled with an eye roll as he shut the door behind you.

The iron-wrought gates of your home had long since slid into view. And the rain beat harshly against the windowpane, signaling you to get inside as quickly as possible.

Leon throws the passenger door open, offering his forearm to escort you out. You giggle as you take it, peeling yourself from the sticky leather of the seat. Leap down from the sidestep of his Jeep, splashing into a puddle steadily gathering in the gravel. 

He finds your mirth infectious. Chuckles alongside you, the sound of it permeating through the swell of rainfall, setting your nerves afire along with the alcohol coloring your veins. 

Leon cautiously grasps the bend of your elbow. A gesture you’re typically accustomed to. A meaningless exchange between a man and his charge. Yet tonight, it feels different. More intimate.

Everything has, from his warm and heavy jacket around your shoulders to how he clasps your arm, tucking you into his side to ward off the chill. Leon holds his free hand out overhead to shield you from the rain. Forever a gentleman despite being soaked to the bone himself. 

You chance a glance at him as you both trek up the path to your home. Feel like a grade-schooler shyly eyeing her crush, pushing her bashfulness beneath the collar of his jacket.

Eyes the color of steel regard you before quickly veering off. And it’s impossible to miss the subtle skyward twitch of his mouth. A surge of warmth spills into your neck and cheeks at that, and you allow a quiet smile to overtake your lips as you turn away from him. 

He’d been like this for most of the night. Gaze flighty and emotions shrouded. Quietly melded into the background, hovering and staving off any potential threats. Stone-faced and imposing, though he lowered his defenses only for you. Offered a smile, a brief exchange of words, a hand brushing yours on the bar’s countertop every so often.  

The notion makes you smile wider. Makes giddiness rush through your bones, suddenly replaced by disappointment when you reach your front door.

The dream doesn’t have to end yet, does it?

Swathed beneath the soft glow of your porchlight, you both stand. Leon towers above you, radiating heat and the scent of oakwood and muted strength. And then there is you, lost in the idle stir of his irises, resisting the urge to stand on the balls of your feet to caress the stubble speckling his jaw. To wipe away the stream of water coasting down his neck into the cut of his dress shirt.

He briefly studies you with equal interest as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. Glances off to the side with his mouth canted with a smirk. In an attempt to dispel the awkwardness, he clears his throat. His voice crackles like the thunder brewing on the horizon, gently drawing you from your trance.

“You gonna stare at me all night, or…” There’s no harm behind it. Teasing in nature, but you find yourself scrambling for words, nonetheless.

“Y-Yeah! Sorry.”

Remembering yourself, you tear your eyes away from the object of your pining. Take to riffling through your clutch for your keys, your hands shaky, and your nerves exploding like solar flares beneath the surface of your skin. How he smells—the sensations he invokes in you—makes you feel heady. Stupid. Childish—

Leon’s hands suddenly cover yours. Blisteringly hot yet tender as they steady your trembling ones. You peek at him, and the sight above steals the breath from your lungs.

“Hey,” he murmurs, angling himself towards you until his gaze is level with your own. “You alright?”

You can make out the details of his features from your vantage point. His wiry brows knit with concern. The unfair curl of his pretty lashes, curtaining hues of ocean blue. The faint blemishes marring his skin, doing nothing to detract from his allure. The minute twitch of his rose-red lips and the divot taking residence in the middle of his chin.

You don’t really know what compels you. What powers you forward like a train lazily trekking over its tracks. But, then you…

Well, you see…

As if moving on autopilot, you kind of conquer what little space remains between your mouths and you kiss him.

[dollsonmain]

It's weird to me that contact paper has become the standard in home um... actually I don't know what it's called but contact paper is replacing things like wallpaper, wall paint, cabinet refinishing, countertop coatings, floors...

Everything is stickers.

I think that's probably fine for wallpaper but I also think things like floors, countertops, cabinets, etc. should still be finished with something that will last a long time instead of a sticker that will tear or peel up quickly or are difficult to clean without destroying them.

The apartment I was looking at in town has cheap vinyl peel and stick flooring and you can tell someone wet mopped it because every edge of every plank is curling upward.

Also just discovered the $700/mo studio apartment is no longer available making this one for $1400/mo the least expensive place in town right now. That would be hard to manage if I was earning $2k/mo before taxes.

Going to need at least three part-time jobs.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Don't Leave Me Alone: Sebastian Castellanos x Infected!Reader

Contains: Talk of infection, gunshots, trauma, gunshot wounds, and death

It was agonizing seeing you like this. He hadn’t really thought much about it until reality finally smacked him right across the face with a brutal wake-up call.

You were turning.

Despite being infected way after he had been, it was rampaging through your system far faster. As the hours passed by like dripping honey, it became evident that you were starting to turn into one of the infected.

Would it be selfish if he didn’t put you out of your misery?

He’s thought about it multiple times, just ending it for you when it looked like you were either about to turn or drop dead from a quick expiration. He would make it quick: A magnum shot to the back of your head…

If he had the balls.

You looked horribly exhausted. Dark circles around your eyes, it looked like the bags under your reddened eyes had started to sink in. Your cheeks were starting to look a little hollow and you had lost all color and life. He could see the veins sticking out on your body, thick lines protruding from your dirtied skin. They were horribly dark, whatever this fucking virus was had been coursing through you quickly.

You were starting to slow down too. You weren’t able to keep pace with the detective let alone hold up your gun properly to give him much cover fire at a time.

But something still told him to just hold out a little longer. Something inside of his head told him that there was a cure somewhere in this fucked up world. God, he hoped so. Just the occasional glance over his shoulder back to you had his gut churning with sorrow. The way you looked up at him with those eyes, they reminded him of a sick and old dog that needed to be put down. It reminded him of his own dog from years ago.

But you weren’t a dog and he wasn’t a fresh recruit right out of the police academy.

Even now as you both duck into an abandoned clinic, he still held onto some small scrap of hope that you would live. Sebastian barred the door as best as he could as he heard you limp off somewhere behind the counter. He peered through a crack in the door out to the ruined street, his exhausted hazel eyes locking onto a few infected people stumbling around aimlessly in the street, his shoulders dropping in relief knowing that you both were safe for now.

He heard the rattling of pill containers somewhere deeper inside of the clinic. You had been trying to treat the virus with any and all over-the-counter medication. It helped at first, especially any painkillers you found, with staving off headaches and lowering your fever. But now, it’s not doing shit. Hopefully, this clinic wasn’t a waste of time.

He heard you opening drawers and rattling around more pill bottles before he heard you coughing suddenly. It sounded both dry and wet at the same time, horribly painful and hacking. It sounded like you were trying to cough up something before he heard you gag.

He stepped away from the door and rounded the desk of the clinic to find you in the supply room. There were a few small bottles of pills on the dirty countertop and even a needle freshly peeled from its plastic wrapping. You were braced over the sink, hands gripping onto the counter for dear life, your ribs cutting into the hard surface as you pressed your weight against it to keep yourself up. Your legs were absolutely trembling as if they would give at any minute. There were a few white pills that had fallen to the floor, scattered around your feet as you heaved into the sink.

“(Y/n),” he called out as a warning.

He didn’t draw his magnum yet. He didn’t want to stomp out what remained of his hope.

You didn’t respond, you just continued to gag and make horrible noises with your back to him.

“(Y/n), talk to me,” his voice was starting to shake.

‘Don’t make me do this, (Y/n),’ he thought to himself.

His hands trembled as he slowly removed his magnum from his holster. Your shoulders rolled back one after another, your head dipped low as you spat up something horrible into the sink. Some of it had splattered onto the tiled backsplash in front of you; Blood, dark and thick as it dribbled down.

Regret started to sink into his soul. It latched onto him by the shoulders like he was being impaled and tried to make him crumble to his feet.

“(Y/n),” his voice was starting to waver, “look at me.”

‘Please don’t make me kill you.’

A horrifying noise bellowed out of you, solidifying your fate. It hit Sebastian like a ton of bricks knowing that he would have to do something he really did not want to do. The magnum felt so heavy in his hand.

‘Don’t you dare do this.’

You slowly raised your head but didn’t look at him. Just from where he stood, he could tell you had started to fully turn. He could barely see the side of your eye, now cloudy like the rest of the infected that wander what remains of Krimson City. You didn’t look at him still.

“(Y/n), I said look at me.”

‘Don’t leave me.’

Don’t leave him like Joseph and Kidman did. Don’t leave him with nobody else to trust in this fucked up world.

He raised his magnum until the nose of the gun was pointing directly at the back of your skull. It was leveled perfectly for if you turn around so the bullet would go directly between your eyes. He fucked up with Joseph, he wasn’t going to fuck up with you. He already drew this out longer than he should of. He wasn’t anymore of a monster than the ones that roam the streets for what he refused to do to you.

“(Y/n), please,” he begged with his chest.

‘Don’t leave me alone.’

Tears burned at his eyes, a few spilling over and down his cheeks. He was terrified; Terrified of facing the rest of this bullshit alone. He needed you. He couldn’t stand the thought of doing this without you.

You slowly turned, but it wasn’t you anymore, now was it? Sebastian felt a stab in his chest at the sight of your face, an emotion he couldn’t read from the blurring of his vision. What did know was that you were going to kill him if he didn’t put you down, the vicious clicking that came from your throat was a pretty good indicator.

You wound back, but before you could launch yourself at him, he fired a singular round.

He felt the air leave his body as your body slumped to the ground, lifeless.