#right at the height of the bathroom doorknob

[bunny-1111]

Whoopsie - Theo Nott x clumsy!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Fluff + slight angst

Description: You can't help your clumsiness, but when you land with a bruise on your face, you're reminded that your boyfriend Theo really hates to see you hurt.

...

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridors of the Slytherin dungeons, each step clumsy and uneven. You weren’t exactly the most graceful of creatures, but today had reached new heights of disaster. It was one of those days when the universe seemed to be playing tricks on you—making every doorframe, stair step, and corridor seem like an obstacle course designed specifically for you to fail.

And fail, you did.

It had started innocently enough. You had forgotten your Charms textbook in the dormitory, and in your haste to retrieve it before your next class. The last thing you needed was detention from McGonagall for being late or forgetting your book, and you were sprinting down the corridor. Too fast, too distracted, and—

BAM.

Your face met the hard, unyielding brass of the doorknob. Pain radiated through your skull, and you stumbled back, clutching your nose. "Ow, ow, ow," you hissed under your breath, blinking back the sudden tears that sprang to your eyes.

By the time you had made it to the mirror in the girls’ bathroom, a glorious bruise was already blossoming across your cheekbone and the area around your eye, swelling quickly and turning an alarming shade of purple. You groaned. Great. How were you going to explain this to anyone? Even worse, how the hell are you going to explain this to Theo?

You decided to skip class altogether and carefully make your way to Madam Pomfrey.

You managed to slip into the common room unnoticed at first, pulling your hood up in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of your clumsiness. But, of course, it didn’t take long for someone to notice. It was Theo, he always noticed everything about you, no matter how much you tried to downplay it.

“Baby, why weren’t you in class, Enzo ended up taking the seat I saved for you and Merlin he chewed my ear off about Quidditch being fixed last Saturday,” he rambled on.

Don’t reply, don’t look up, you thought to yourself. It was impossible; this was happening right now.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, voice low and alarmed as he crossed the room in quick strides, his hand gently lifting your chin. You felt the warmth of his fingertips against your skin, but his expression was anything but warm. His brow furrowed in concern, soft brown eyes locking on the bruise that marred your face.

"I’m fine!" you blurted, though the words came out far too high-pitched to be convincing. You tried to pull away, but Theo wasn’t having it. His grip on your chin tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing against the edge of the bruise with a gentleness that made your chest tighten.

“Who hurt you?” His voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but the intensity in his tone made your stomach flip. His eyes searched yours, dark and stormy. Theo wasn’t the type to raise his voice in anger. No, his was the kind of quiet fury that built up slowly, seeping into the air like a cold, creeping fog.

"I did," you confessed, trying to laugh it off, but the tension in the room was suffocating. You could feel his anger brewing, and you knew what was coming next.

“I’m fucking serious, don’t lie to me!” Theo snapped, taking a step back as if putting some distance between the two of you would help him calm down. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he began pacing, his jaw tight. “There’s no way you did that to yourself.”

“I did!” you repeated, trying to sound more convincing this time. Rubbing your hand quickly against your bruise. Not a good idea, as you instinctively winced at the touch. “I ran into a door. A doorknob, to be exact. It’s not that serious, Theo,” you try convincing.

Theo froze mid-step, staring at you like you had just said something utterly ridiculous. Which, to be fair, you probably had.

“A doorknob?” he repeated slowly, his eyes narrowing as if he was waiting for you to take it back, like it was some kind of joke. But when you just nodded, Theo let out a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re telling me… you smashed your face into a doorknob?”

“Yes,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment. God, you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

“It's embarrassing already, alright? Leave me alone,” you huff.

Theo stared at you for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to believe you. Eventually, he sighed and dragged a hand down his face, turning away abruptly. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath before storming off, leaving you standing there with a gnawing pit in your stomach.

Theo didn’t go far. He was in the common room, pacing like a caged animal, still visibly agitated. His eyes flickered over the other Slytherins lounging nearby, most of whom had noticed his outburst but said nothing. That didn’t last long.

“Oi, what’s got you in a twist, Nott?” Blaise called from the couch, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. Beside him, Draco looked equally intrigued, lounging back with his arms crossed.

Theo glared at them but didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to look at you again, his jaw still set in that hard, unyielding way. The others followed his gaze, and it wasn’t long before the topic of conversation turned toward your rapidly bruising face.

“Wha- what the hell happened to her eye?” Blaise was the first to ask, looking genuinely confused as he gestured toward you.

“She said she ran into a door,” Theo growled, clearly still not convinced.

Draco, who had been staring at you with a mixture of concern and amusement, furrowed his brows. “Wait, what happened to who’s ey-?”

Before he could finish his question, Mattheo, who had just entered the common room, cut in with a dramatic, “Holy shit! What happened to your eye?” His tone was a mix of shock and humour, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of your injury.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you now. Heat rushed to your face as you tried to explain yourself once again. “I fell,” you say quickly, raising your hands in a placating gesture, as if that would make everyone drop it and move on.

But of course, they didn’t.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You fell? Into what, a troll?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I ran into a doorknob, okay? I wasn’t paying attention, and it just… happened.”

Blaise let out a low whistle, his smirk widening. “You really need to work on your coordination, love.”

You rolled your eyes, though the action hurt more than you expected, causing you to wince. Theo, noticing the movement, shot Blaise a glare that could have frozen over the entire Black Lake. “It’s not funny, Zabini.”

“Hey, I’m just saying��” Blaise shrugged, holding up his hands in mock defence. “You know, we could get you a helmet or something, just to be safe.”

"We should wrap you in bubble wrap", Pansy joins in laughing

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m fine, really.”

But the conversation was far from over. Despite your protests, the teasing continued—though most of it was good-natured. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Theo’s eyes on you, watching every movement, every wince. He hadn’t said much since his initial outburst, but you could feel his worry like a tangible weight in the air.

Eventually, the others got bored of the topic, and the common room returned to its usual low buzz of chatter. You took a deep breath, thankful for the reprieve, but when you glanced toward Theo, you saw that he was still tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he watched you.

“I’m going for a smoke,” he stated as he stormed out of the common room. Well, we’ve done it, stressed him to the point of smoking. You thought he’ll be back soon, sinking deeper into the couch.

Later that night, when everyone had dispersed to their dorms, Theo found you sitting by the fire, absentmindedly poking at the flames with a poker. He sat down beside you without a word, the warmth of his presence instantly comforting. For a while, neither of you spoke, the crackling of the fire filling the silence between you.

Finally, Theo broke the quiet, his voice low and careful. “You really need to be more careful.”

You looked at him, your heart giving a small, traitorous flutter at the concern etched into his features. “I know.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

There was something in his voice that made your chest tighten. You smiled softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “It’s not that serious, Theo. It was just a stupid accident.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the fire. Then, after what felt like forever, he turned to look at you, his expression softening. “Promise me you’ll be more careful next time.”

You chuckled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I promise.”

Theo wrapped an arm around you, pulling you

closer. “Good. Because I don’t think I could handle seeing you like that again, seriously.”

You gently kiss him, as you make your way towards his dorm, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, everything seeming good again.

That is until you tumble over your own feet, almost meeting the floor, but this time, Theo was there, tightening his grip on you, catching you before disaster could strike for the second time today.

You laugh as he stares at you, eyes widening. He cannot believe you actually fall over your own feet. He softens with a deep sigh.

“What am I going to do with you, my clumsy girl?” he laughs himself, kissing your head.

Author note: um like 4 theo fics posted in the last 24 hours.... getting that grind LMFAO

[cripplecharacters]

Do you have any tips (or previous posts) about how to write a young person who’s first-time cane user? This one is for a character who escapes a lifetime of being experimented on, and learns in the aftermath of being rescued that this rather compromised her ability to walk well again. I’ve written characters with other mobility devices for getting around. But never canes. I myself am physically disabled but have never needed anything like these before. I’m always eager to learn.

Hi!

If your character is a first time cane user, here's some things that could happen:

She will need to learn how to walk with the cane first. When you're starting, it's easy to mess up (though it could be my dyspraxia speaking) and overfocus on how you should walk because you're just getting used to it. She could randomly stop and correct her gait, or look down a lot to check if she's still doing the motion (left arm and right leg forward, or the other way around).

She's probably gonna drop that thing a lot. Especially if she has a weaker grip in the cane hand - now, I don't have this problem (the opposite, rather) - but the overall thing is a really common occurrence for most of us. Walking and hit the smallest pebble imaginable? Cane on the ground, somehow. Tried putting it against the wall or table? It's on the ground. And then you need to reach for it... it's a struggle sometimes.

If she's not helped in picking the cane, she will spend some time figuring out what grip and height are comfortable for her. (Grip depends on personal preference, no one's preference has ever been the doorknob handle, height is generally to the person's wrist from the ground up.) I think that this could be an interesting opportunity to talk about disabled communities - maybe she's frustrated with the process and goes to an older (more experienced) cane user to help her?

If it's during the winter, her hand is gonna be freezing - and the opposite in the summer - and she might not be prepared for it. The handle can get HOT and it can be an issue. Depending on what her actual disability is, she might try switching which hand to hold it in. If she's able to do that, another character could warm up her cold hand :)

The first couple of times walking with a cane are an Experience. You feel way better, but also everyone is suddenly staring. Some people care about that, some don't. But it can be somewhat overwhelming either way.

Spatial awareness is gonna suck at first. She will bump into what feels like everything with the cane. Especially doorframes. It's always doorframes for some reason. Or mess up and have her cane slip down because she hasn't realized how close to the curb she was.

She will hit her shin. It will hurt.

She's probably going to be speedy with that thing! Getting a cane is like getting a speed boost. Without it, I have episodes where I'm extremely slow (my highest, extreme-pain speed would be slower than a person walking very casually) and with it, I'm faster than a lot of able-bodied people! It's fun and she would have fun with it.

She will not know what to do with the cane when she doesn't need it. For me, using backpacks always cause issues because I don't know how to hold it without dropping it, but I also need to swap hands, something gets stuck on the handle... it's a whole process that takes a comical amount of time at first. Same when going to the public bathroom, where are you putting it when you aren't using it...? It's a lot of trial and error and a lot of "eww, my cane just touched the dirtiest surface humanly imaginable".

In the real world, people are (overly) interested in young cane user's business and tend to stare a lot. Now, it doesn't have to be like this in your story, but it's often just an annoying part of life. Your character might feel awkward and feel like she needs to explain herself, but this goes away after some time. You just get desensitized after a while.

In the real world, people are sometimes interested and nice about it! For example, a lot of older people can be insecure about using a cane, exactly like younger people. I've heard stories about older people asking younger users where they got their cane from, how are they so confident with it, etc. Another opportunity for a disabled community moment!

I hope that my suggestions were helpful, it's been a while since I was a first-time cane user so I wrote down what I still remember, haha.

Mod Sasza

Hi!

I agree with Sasza on pretty much every point and wanted to add some things from my own experience.

It's really, really hard to hold both a cane and an umbrella at the same time. Sometimes I'll give up and get wet. Sometimes I'll give up and store the cane. She might do either of those, depending on what she hates more: being wet or walking without the cane. Or she could get a raincoat if that works for her.

Speaking of umbrellas, sometimes you need your umbrella and you need your cane and you also need a free hand. This Sucks. What I do for this sometimes (and maybe she or other people have better, smarter, more useful solutions than this) is shove my umbrella into my shirt or backpack strap or something, so the umbrella is Held Up by it. This is not very effective, and will not last long. But if I need to look up a map on my phone or adjust something on my clothes or get my keys, it can work. Sort of.

Just like mod Sasza said, people will take interest in your cane, younger and older alike. I've had people of all ages compliment my cane (it has flowers) as well as people of all ages tell me I'm too young to need a cane or ask what's wrong with me. An older woman once asked me where I got my cane as she had been wanting a 'pretty' one, and that was a nice moment.

She might develop a new awareness of mobility aid users. When you're new at using one and trying to figure it out, you're probably going to be frustrated, because it's a new skill like any other. But it might make her (like it made me) notice more people using canes. It's not that I never saw them before, but that they were more common than I ever thought, and I never would have noticed how common it was if I hadn't had to slow down and practice my skill.

Cane tips get dirty, and cane tips wear out. These both depend on where your character is using her cane (outdoors vs indoors, scratchy asphalt vs smooth wood) as well as how often. A cane with a worn-out rubber tip really sucks and is more unstable and if the cane is made of aluminum and the tip is worn out and you hit the cane the wrong way, you can damage the cane. Ask me how I know.

That's all I can think of right now that I had to learn to deal with when I started! As you can see I still don't have a solution to the rain thing and it's been like two and a half years...

- mod Sparrow

[gurugirl]

how is our hot tutor coming along? i know u said ur busy bestie but just so excited! maybe a sneak peek?

OUR HOT TUTOR 🤭 Well he's definitely coming along. I think I'm nearly 8k words into part 2 and it's nearly nearly done! But I'm about to come to a stopping point with writing today (there's dishes to do and a man and a dog to feed 🙄) so I'm still holding out hope it'll be ready for y'all tomorrow since I'm so close. I just need to finish it off and write what's in my head. Sometimes it take a bit to sort out the chaos that's up there lol!

But I'll offer you this small sneaky! Something to tide you over 👀 ENJOY!! (not proofread)

Context: Y/n is at a house party

. . .

You turned to make your way to the kitchen for a refill when you saw something that made your heart drop and your stomach bubble in gross shock. It was Harry Styles dancing slowly behind some cute girl, his arms wrapped around her front, leaning down to her shorter height and he was kissing the side of her neck.

Your Harry. The one who had you all gooey and giddy after that “session”. The one who kissed your neck not that long ago. You wished he was dancing behind you like that. You wished you hadn’t been so sensitive and that you could throw caution to the wind and not care that he was sleeping with others. You wished you could have just given in that night at the bar and gone back to his… But you said no to him. And now here he was with someone else.

You gulped and turned to go to the bathroom instead, Gunther still eyeing you up from the spot where you’d left him.

You stayed in the bathroom for a bit. Not wanting to go out and see Harry and the cute brunette dancing. You knew she was in for a treat later on. But that should have been you. Pouting at yourself in the mirror you felt ridiculous. You knew what it was with Harry. That he was a free and single man and could do as he pleased. You really had no right to feel upset over what you’d seen. He’d done nothing wrong.

Dumping out the last bit of your drink in the sink you figured maybe it was just time to leave. You didn’t want to have to deal with Gunther nor did you feel like seeing Harry all over someone else. Perhaps tonight was just not going to be your night.

As you opened the bathroom door a figure stood in the way and your immediate thought was that Gunther had followed you but as you trailed your eyes upward it was clear the man was taller and you didn’t miss the nail polish on his fingers when he gripped the door. Everything stopped. The music, the air around your body, your heart…

“Y/n…” That deep voice spoke your name like it belonged on his tongue.

You looked up at him, removing your hand from the doorknob, and gave him a confused smile, “Hi Harry. What are you doing?”

He seemed off. Not drunk but maybe not quite sober either? You weren’t sure what to make of his behavior as he pulled the door open and stepped into the bathroom, closing it behind himself.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he stepped in toward you, your bottom hitting the edge of the porcelain sink, “Nothing makes sense lately. Just want to go back to how things were but I can’t. S’like I’ve got some kind of block. Something’s missing…”

sex tutor!harry tags: @gem1712 @cherrylovers-world @sophthearthoe @jerseygirlinca @violet2022

@uniquellyme @bluesart13 @hypnotizedsturn @lomlolivia @brittanyzelazno

@megobrah @kissfromadove

@thereadefofsmut @hsonlyangelxo @triski73 @vashapnin

@sialexia @dirtytissuebox @softxhariana @psicostyles

@ghayda0 @palestudentcalzonepony

WHAT DO YOU THINK IS GOING TO HAPPEN??

[smolmakerel]

Warning: slight vomit in 1 early paragraph

■■■■■

Teeth chattering filled the bathroom space followed by ragged gasps. Then the chattering continued.

Tara was sick. She couldn't get sick. Being sick was a weakness, and she needed to get to school. She couldn't risk her mamá finding out she took a day off to recover.

She blinked her eyes opened and blinked away the film of exhaustion glazing over her irises. She took in a deep, chilly breath from the bathroom's freezing temperature. She coughed suddenly, unable to handle the biting frost in her airway.

She needed to - She needed to get warmer. That should get rid of the fever bashing into her skull.

Her weak arms moved and her torso twisted. She reached for the shower from the closed toilet seat, fell, and halfway caught herself on the side of the tub. The solid wall hugged the soft of her stomach and the bottom of her ribs. She gasped for air, trying to take the pressure off of her stomach.

A low, wet belch erupted from her mouth and acid rose. All of what she had earlier - Sammy insisted on chicken broth - was dripping from her mouth and rushing down the dry tub to the drain. Tara watched in a strange fascination.

"Okay... Okay, you got this, Tara, ev'rythin's gonna be alright," Tara drunkenly reassured herself. "Todo va... Mhm, 'M okay. Just gotta..."

Tara pushed all of her weight up onto her hands. Her stomach rolled at the change in height. Vertigo set in. She wobbled and tipped until she somehow was crumpled into a ball of body pain and misery. Groaning, she reached blindly up and turned the shower handle to the right.

She nearly shrieked as ice pelted her face. She froze up, teeth chattering harder than before. Her clothes were soaked already. They needed to come off. She had to feel all of the heat. She needed to warm up.

Hands shaking, Tara peeled her shirt off of her body before following with her sweatpants. They were supposed to go on the mat on the other side of the tub, but Tara's aim was off and it landed behind her.

Her hands fidget with the clasp of her bra, determined to also take it off but not precise enough to grab and unhook it. She briefly contemplated shucking it off like a shirt, but she thought if she raised her arms again more liquid would come out.

She grimaced as she remembered the shrinking streak of her own vomit she was sitting in. It was all she could smell now, all she could focus on.

'Mamá is gonna kill me.'

Fear.

Tara gasped for breath, turned her body so she could feel an equal spray on her clammy skin. She had to get better quickly.

The bathroom was foggy, and Tara's skin tingled. She glanced down at her body and was surprised at the bright red on a little less than half of her body.

Her fear combined with confusion.

Wasn't this supposed to work? Why didn't she feel better? Mamá was gonna be so mad at her.

Tears started to cascade down her face. She was embarrassed for herself. How did she manage to do nothing for the past...

She was pathetic. She was weak.

Her soft cries turned to hyperventilating. Her blubbering was childish and was going to get her into even more trouble.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. Tara's cries grew choked from terror.

She could hear her name being called. The doorknob was rapidly twisting and the door shook in the frame.

She was trying to get inside. She can't get inside, not yet, Tara wasn't ready yet she couldn't do it, she couldn't come in yet, no no no no!

The door finally opened, the door just barely hanging on its hinges.

A woman was standing in the doorframe. She looked like mamá but... kinder? Softer?

Tara didn't trust it. She can't be burned again, she won't allow it.

The woman came closer, and Tara braced herself.

The water turned off.

"Tara, that water's too hot for you," the woman gently scolded her, but she didn't sound angry at all. Of all the emotions Tara thought would be experienced in the bathroom, concern was not one. It threw the girl through a loop. "What are you doing up? You're supposed to be sleeping, mija."

Tara didn't get a chance to frantically apologize to the woman before she was lifted up in a towel. Her knees wobbled once her feet were back on the ground. The woman had her hands on the towel, dutifully drying Tara as best as she could.

"Stop it." Tara weakly pushed the hands away. The woman faltered before her face set. Tara flinched. "'M sorry."

The woman eyed her, but Tara was already losing herself mentally. Her vision was blurring enough for her to go to her safe space. Sammy was there. She always was.

She was quite literally shaken into awareness. She slowly blinked, taking in the new environment of her bedroom. In New York. Sam.

"Where's... Sam?" Tara rasped weakly to the woman.

"You're sick, Tara, you need to rest -"

"No! No, I need Sam! Sam! Sam!" Tara stood. The towel pooled around her ankles. "Sam!"

The woman bent down and grabbed the towel and put it back around her shoulders. Tara hissed and tried to knock the fussy hands away from her, overwhelmed and heartbroken.

Sam left. She's alone with the woman who looks like mamá.

It's only when the short adrenaline rush wears off that the woman is able to sit Tara back down on the foot of the bed, Tara was sobbing. She wasn't even hiding it. She was worthless.

"Work with me, okay? Come on, I got you, I got you. Shh shh shh," the woman cooed and it was calming the girl's erratic breathing. "That's it, you got it. Focus of me and we'll get through this."

Tara was in disbelief. Surely this couldn't be her mamá. Instead of getting kinder with age and growing wisdom, mamá grew bitter and fast to anger. Why do a total 180? To trick Tara?

"Arms up, cariño."

Tara lifted her arms. The towel fell again, but a familiar smell washed over her. She grabbed the collar of her new shirt and brought it up to her nose, sniffing it without shame. Her throat burned and she began to cry.

Hands gently stroked the hair out of her face. Tara hated how quickly she leaned into the warm touch.

"What's wrong?" The woman checked in.

Tara shook her head. "Sa-Sam - She's not comin' back..!" She wailed. Her shoulders shook and her chest heaved, panic was beginning to set in. "I drove 'er off, I did it, I know it! She left me again, I ne-eed her - please, I-I need Sam! Sam!"

Her broken breathing was interrupted as the woman pressed their foreheads together. Tara sharply cut her head to the side. That was only for her and Sam! Not a mamá lookalike.

The woman pressed her hand to the side of Tara's face and neck. Slowly, like a kitten learning how to trust the hand feeding it, Tara turned to the palm and accepted it.

The woman starts, "We don't have much left to do, okay? Just some comfortable pants and -"

"Sam."

The woman stopped, more focused on Tara than ever. "Yes?"

Tara flinched, she looked away. "I want Sam. Nothin' else."

"Not even some pants?"

Shaking her head, Tara stood up and lost her balance. She fell on the woman and grabbed onto her shoulders.

"S-sorry," Tara whimpered.

The woman simply reached down and urged her to step into new sweatpants. Tara's favorite pair - Sam bought them for her - they have Lilo and Stitch on one of the legs. The sudden thought of her missing sister slammed into her.

She was lifted into the air, hugged tightly. Tara squeezed the woman's shoulders with her arms, and her nose nuzzled into her neck.

Her back was laid against the bed. She clung to the woman when she tried to leave. The woman eased her down each time a frisson of nervousness for her sister hit her aching body.

"You're okay, you're okay, I'm not going anywhere," she assured Tara who, in relief, went limp on the bed. The woman knelt by the bed, fingers carding through Tara's damp hair.

The action soothed Tara more than she liked to admit. She shuffled on the bed to lay on her side, trying to soak up the affection better.

Her eyes were heavy, weighed down by sickness and exhaustion. As soon as her eyelids closed, she snapped them back open.

The woman frowned. Her thumb brushed across the dust of freckles on her cheeks.

"Don't leave me," Tara whispered.

"Never," the woman responded quickly. Her eyes softened. "Go to sleep, Tara. I'll be here when you wake up."

A low whine of relief escaped her. With the permission to fall asleep, Tara relaxed. Her vision went black and she was sucked into a decent sleep.

When she groggily woke up, she could hear Sam talking in a hushed whisper on the phone. At first she was curious, but theen she just barely heard to oh-so familiar voice of Danny calling Sam "princess" and wanted to levitate to another plane of existence. It was always so cringy.

Sam noticed Tara blearily watching her and quickly ended the conversation without saying bye. Danny was going to pout over that, Tara knew it.

"Go back to sleep, cariño." Sam fixed the cool cloth on Tara's forehead and brushed her knuckles down her cheek.

Tara floated into unconsciousness once again. She was safe. Sam was here.

[nullsleepy]

RE-RE-REPEAT THAT, for me?

“A hundred? One thousand? A million? How many lives will it take for Marinette to go insane? Personally, she thinks she officially went insane during her 35th time, but she’s still kicking!

But wait… something is different this time? After this many times reliving the past, Marinette is certain this wasn’t supposed to happen. No. She’s certain of it. Who are-?”

Chapter 1: Greeeeeeen

Ao3

“ADRIEN!” A hoarse, painful scream rang out as the boy turned to her, giving the small girl a bitter smile. His eyes shared a feeling of hopelessness with the girl as he stepped back, right into a ravine of complete and utter darkness. Tears streamed down the girl’s face as she watched her world, in shades of black and white, disappear.

“This is your loss, Ladybug.” The ear screeching, headache inducing voice taunted her from behind as she crawled forward to the ravine, reaching her hand out to nothing. “But you know that, don’t you?”

She didn’t respond, crying her voice out to the darkness, unable to do anything but hope it was all a dream- a nightmare beyond any nightmare she ever had.

“It’s a pity, but this is goodbye.” A small weight found itself on her back, pushing her closer to the ravine. She couldn’t find it in herself to resist.

“Adrien…” She mumbled one last time as she clutched her chest, the weight kicking her over the edge and into the ravine- into the darkness. Tears and blood flew off her face as she felt nothing, once again.

Once again.

Nothing.

Again.

————-

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open as her hand shot out to turn off her phone. A groan escaped her lips as she checked the date, one she knew very well.

September 2, 2045

The date burned itself into her eyes, taunting her. Her least favorite day of this year, her reset day. The day school started, the day she met Adrien and Alya, and the day it all began. Her senior year. The terminale.

Marinette shrugged out of bed, grabbing some nearby clothes and found her way to the bathroom. She let out a sigh as she stared at herself in the mirror, noticing her bright, freckled skin that stood without many blemishes, her blue eyes that sang stories of innocence, and her forever unchanging height of 5'4. Perfect.

Her hand stung as she put it under the burning water of the shower, but she bit back the pain and headed into the bath. She watched her porcelain skin turn red and angry as she stood underneath the shower head. She barely had it in herself to wash her hair and body before slugging out of the shower. She collapsed onto the ground, hugging herself as her skin screamed in pain.

“Are you alright, Marinette?” Her mother’s sweet voice rang into the room as Marinette cried. They would go to doctors, therapists, and hospitals to find out what’s wrong with her. None of them would give the right answer.

“Are you alright, Marinette?” Her mother’s sweet voice rang into the room after giving a small knock on the door.

“Just fine, maman!” Marinette responded, voice just as sweet and kind as it was any other day. Her mother could feel the smile in the girl’s voice.

“Alright then, dear. Check on your papa for me before you head out. He has a surprise for you!” Marinette listened to her mom’s footsteps leave before hesitantly standing up, tugging on her clothes. The red had begun to fade from her skin as she stood there, looking in the mirror.

A small bluenette stood in the mirror in front of her, wearing a short sleeved, stylish white top underneath a pink dress with a built-in apron and bow. She put on some plain stalkings before putting her hair in its signature pigtails. She then grabbed a small locket and slid it over her head. She gave the image a small smile before dropping all emotion from her face.

Why was this all so hard? Why did she have to do this all again? Marinette leaned against the door, just breathing as she pondered her difficult life- lives. All of her miserable, unfortunate lives.

Her hand reached for the doorknob as she began to hear commotion in the bakery below, signaling its life. She forced on a smile before leaving the bathroom and heading downstairs.

“Papa!” Marinette grinned as she saw her father kneading some dough, before he turned towards her and wrapped her in a hug.

“No, I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She just- she woke up and hasn’t moved since. Please, save my daughter.”

“Marinette!” Tom picked her up, twirling her around. “How’s my big girl today? It’s your final year! Aren’t you excited?”

“As ever! But maman said you have a surprise for me?” One for me to squish when I save an old man.

“Of course, of course! Here you go, dear. Make some new friends, you hear me?” He smiled at her as he gave her a box of macarons before going to wash his hands. “Make me proud!”

“Of course, Papa! Love you both!” Marinette raced out of the bakery, before stopping, looking around her. She quickly found Fu and pushed him out of the way of a moving car.

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry- but you were about to be run over!” Marinette helped the man up, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“It’s fine, young lady. Thank you.” He gave her a small smile before disappearing in the crowd, but not before Marinette felt a weight be added to her bag. Kwami secured.

Marinette quickly checked her phone, 8:26 on the dot. 4 minutes to get to school, just like every other time. Marinette stuffed her phone back into her bag, making her way across the street and up the stairs leading to her school.

“I’m late, I’m late- oh Kwami I’m late!” Marinette made sure the people around her heard her cries as she made her way to the classroom.

“I’m sorry Miss Bustier! There was a-” Marinette was bent over, catching her breath as she looked up and noticed she wasn’t there. But she was always there?

Suddenly, Marinette’s expression fell as she looked around the room, not seeing her teacher among the groups of students. Her eyes landed back on the door as suddenly-

Blue met Green.

Notes: IF ANYONE HAS ANY IDEA FOR LITERALLY ANY BIT OF THIS FIC, PLEASEEEEEE TELL ME! I WROTE IT OUT OF BOREDOM AND NOW IT EXISTS! 😭😭😭 But seriously, any ideas or comments are appreciated. Thank you!

[rose-and-thorn-fanfics]

“A Far Fall From The Heights Of Heaven” A Dio Brando x Self Insert Fanfic (PART 2)

The last month was a whirlwind of sex and more sex and oh my god the amount of things I’d learned to do sexually. It felt like Lord Dio was giving me a crash course in fucking. I was exhausted but pretty much content to go on doing this forever. Still… there was one thing. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to my relationship with him that didn’t involve that sort of thing. I felt guilty wanting more from our time together, but the more we fucked the more I needed emotionally from him. And I just wasn’t getting it. Depressed, separated from my family in a strange cult like environment, I started to spiral, relying heavily on the wine and other alcoholic drinks offered to me for solace. I wanted to be loved, more than physically, but my gut told me that wasn’t in any of Lord Dio’s plans. It was especially hard because I felt that I’d gotten to know Dio and understand him. The way he hated how his abusive father had treated him and his mother. I could relate. Part of the reason I didn’t want to return to the world outside of this mansion in Cairo was the sheer fact my father still walked the face of this earth. I hated that man, and had every right to… the way he had abused me and my siblings and mom.

I had locked myself in the bathroom, wasted and sitting on the edge of the marble bathtub: wondering what I was doing with my life. Tears welled up in my eyes. I searched under the sink, amd found five travel sized bottles of vodka. I downed one. Then another. This wasn’t good, and wasn’t like me. But then again, who was I? I hadn’t even tried escaping to see my family. My sister Denise was probably worried sick. I had no experience in this area of life. Whatever the hell this area was!

The doorknob rattled and twisted as someone attempted to open it. I knew deep down it was Dio but I pretended not to notice. It could be my imagination. Even if it was him, what did he care? He might dispose of me if he saw the state I was in. It certainly wasn’t a very sexy look, crying off my mascara and downing absurd amounts of alcohol.

“You’ve been in the bathroom for two hours, my pet. Do you need something?” Dio’s low, chocolatey voice came through the door. I was unable to read his tone, and whether it was teasing or faux concern.

“I’mfineeeeeijust need-uh…. Break.” I slurred, downing the final mini bottle of vodka.

There was silence, then the door rattled intensely. I jumped back, scared. The door burst open, swinging with a creaky groan.

Dio Brando stood there, arms crossed, a towering powerful figure. Upon seeing the empty vodka bottles lined up on the counter, what was going on seemed to register. He snatched the bottles off the counter and tossed them into the trash. “No more of that.” He said, grabbing my jaw and lifting my chin so my gaze met his.

My mind felt slow and foggy from the sheer volume of alcohol I’d consumed. Substance abuse ran in my family (thanks dad) so unfortunately I felt those genetic instincts. I just stared up at Dio, crying tears of shame. I hated how weak I was. Why couldn’t I just stop? Why did I have to be so needy and want more from a perfectly good relationship dynamic. “I’m…. So…. Sorry.” I said, sniffling.

“Sorry? No. Not enough.” Dio said firmly. “I spent this last month breeding you so you’d be the mother of my heirs. Silly girl. Now I’m questioning if you even want that?”

My eyes widened. “You want to get me… pregnant? I…..” my lips quivered with emotion.

“Well, I thought it was obvious? With the amount of unprotected sex we’ve been having, after all.” Dio said, frowning. He seemed caught off guard.

“I’d love to have babies with you… but… Why me? Aren’t there other older, stronger, more responsible women you’d rather have do that for you? You’d have no problem getting them….” I said, feeling insecure.

Dio flashed me a look of pity. Scooping me up from my seat at the side of the tub, he carried me to the bedroom. He sat down in an armchair and had me sit in his lap. “You’re a sweet girl, so let me explain this for you.” He began coolly. “There have only been two women I’ve actually…” he hesitated, then continued: “loved.”

I couldn’t believe he’d actually said that word. He didn’t strike me as a very sentimental or sappy type. I knew he loved his deceased mother. I had been certain that was it. I had assumed that his heart had hardened after that, and for good reason.

“I’d be a fool to let you slip through my fingers and get lost to the poisonous habits I’ve caught you engaging in.” Lord Dio elaborated sternly. His grip around me tightened. It was like a threat and yet reassuring simultaneously. He wasn’t going to let go in any sense. I melted into his arms, breathing in his comforting scent. I felt ashamed of my behavior, so I silently promised I’d try my best to quit drinking. Honestly? I’d do anything to change. I owed it to myself and to Dio. I hated not feeling like me. Alcoholism was a dreadful reminder of my father and I was surprised Lord Dio was handling it so well, considering his past and how it probably brought back memories of his father too.

“You’ve been silent for quite a while, my little rose.” He observed.

“I’m sorry. Im just really ashamed of my mistake. Please forgive me! I’ll do anything to make it up to you! Please….” I whispered shakily.

Dio repositioned me in his lap to face him. “Anything…. Hmmmm.” He smirked. “You’ll be a good girl and get help. I know some excellent ways to replace your drinking habit, and I’ll be holding you accountable.” He paused, considering something. “As for making things up to me for this instance….” Dio leaned in and kissed me, then pulled away. “You’ll be getting a lesson in giving head tonight. No excuses. You will swallow this time.”

I felt a shiver go down my spine, imagining trying to fit all of his length into my mouth and throat. “Ok…. Just… you know how to revive me if I choke or pass out, right?”

Dio laughed deviously. “Of course I do, don’t worry, pet. I’ll revive you as many times as needed. Eventually you will be successful.”

A confusing combo of fear and excitement coursed through my body. Lord Dio seemed to notice because I felt the hardness of his erection pressing right up against me where I was seated on his lap.

Thanks for reading! Reblog if you want a part three, or you liked this at all! 💜🌹💜

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[promptthebear]

Kissmass Day 5

Prompt: Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

CW: Angst with a fluffy ending. Unplanned pregnancy and conversations surrounding that. Swearing. Billy is a wee bit possessive

This can’t be happening

That thought echoed through your mind over and over, traipsing in seasick circles as you sat on the edge of the tub with your knees pulled up to your chest.

Across from you, on the lip of the sink, sat the thing that caused this mess in the first place. A pregnancy test, with its screen ominously reflecting back two pink lines like a flashing neon sign.

This can’t be happening

“Babe?”

The sound of Billy’s voice, half muffled by the bathroom door, involuntarily made you flinch. For the past hour you’d been hiding in here, trying your hardest to keep reality and the consequences you had to face firmly shut out. But it was no use. Billy wouldn’t wait forever.

“Are you okay in there?”

“I’m fine” you replied, trying to keep your voice even so he couldn’t tell you’d been crying.

“Do you…need any help?”

“I can pee on a stick, Billy!” that had come out a little sharper than you’d intended.

“Alright, alright. Look, can you come out, please? I wanna talk to you.”

You took a deep breath, then another, though they did nothing to keep your legs from shaking as you stood. It took six steps to get from the tub to the bathroom door, but it felt like a lifetime. You paused before reaching for the doorknob, the sound of the lock popping open almost deafening in the otherwise silence of your apartment.

Billy was waiting right outside the door, his body almost filling up the entire frame. One look at your red, puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, and wobbly lips was all it took. He knew.

“Shit.”

You reached for him, your fingers just brushing the sleeve of his sweatshirt before he pulled away. A fresh round of tears began, and you let them fall freely down your cheeks, no longer caring if Billy saw you crying. The time for keeping up appearances had long since passed.

“Are you going to keep it?”

The question hung between you, resounding like the first shot fired in battle. You stared at Billy, who was now sitting on your couch, head in his hands. His sweatshirt was creased, his jeans stained from where he’d spilt coffee on them after you’d announced your fears to him earlier this morning. If he was anyone else, you wouldn’t think twice about them looking slightly dishevelled, but for Billy this was a glaring testament to just how unsettled he was.

“I don’t know.” that wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was the only one you had to give. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well, it’s not exactly up to me, now is it?” he was looking at you now, his eyes as wet and red rimmed as your own “You’re the one who has to…to…”

You turned your face away from him, thumb in your mouth as you gnawed on a nail. It was a nervous habit left over from your childhood, one you were sure you’d broken yourself of until today.

“How did this happen?”

The look you gave Billy must have made your thoughts on the matter clear enough, because he held up his hands in supplication.

“Yeah, alright, stupid question. But you’re on the pill, aren’t you?”

You nodded, taking another shaky breath before replying

“Since high school. But it’s not reliable, you know? And I was on those antibiotics last month and sometimes that can…interfere.”

It was Billy’s turn to nod. His expression was unchanging, but the slight clench of his jaw and the way he kept tugging at his collar gave him away. He was just as scared as you were, maybe even more so.

“Are you sure it’s mine?”

“The fuck kind of question is that?!”

Your response exploded out of you, fuelled by all the sadness and fear you’d kept bottled up until now. Like Billy, you were trying to be strong, to deal with it like a grown up and remain objective. But this? Betrayal and rage twisted in your gut like a knife.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” Billy was reaching for you, but you twisted away from his grasp “But we never said we were going to be exclusive and I just wanted to be certain that-”

“No.” you pushed past him, going to gather up your jacket, phone and shoes “Fuck that. Fuck you.”

Whatever Billy said next was drowned out by your front door slamming. You stormed into the hall, heading for the stairwell, not sure where you were going next and not caring, so long as it was away from here. Your eyes burned with tears and you roughly brushed them away with the back of your hand. Under normal circumstances, you almost never cried. It just wasn’t who you were. But clearly, your hormones didn’t give a shit.

You were almost to the landing of the next floor up when the sound of your name and the feeling of someone’s fingers closing around your wrist made you turn around. You weren’t sure why seeing Billy standing there, two steps below you, wild eyed and frantic, surprised you so much, but it did.

“Let go of me, you asshole. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

Billy’s grip on your wrist tightened and he pulled on your arm, trying to bring you closer. You fought him, digging your heels in and gripping onto the railing with your free hand as though your life depended on it.

“No. I’m not going to lose you like this. And if you don’t wanna talk to me, that’s fine, but the least you can do is listen.”

It would’ve been easy enough to get free of Billy’s grasp, a well placed knee between his legs and you’d be gone. But there was something about the slight tremor in his voice and kicked puppy look on his face that gave you pause.

“I know this isn’t what either of us wanted” he said, his tone dropping low enough so that only you could hear “But we’ll work it out. If you want to go to the clinic and take care of it, I’ll give you the money. If you want to keep it then fine, but not without me. No way I’m letting my kid grow up the way I did.”

You all but melted into Billy’s arms, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude. He caught you easily, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his chin over your shoulder. You could smell his aftershave and the faint hint of coffee that still clung to the fabric of his sweatshirt.

There normally wasn’t much of a height difference between you two, Billy was only six foot after all, but your position on the stairs gave you a few more extra inches than usual. This meant that when you looked up, you were staring directly into his eyes, which were now wet with fresh tears and begging for your love.

Kissing him was as effortless as it had always been, your mouths fitting together as though they had been made for each other. You brought a hand up to cradle the back of Billy’s head, threading your fingers through his hair and circling your thumb over the sensitive spot where his neck and skull connected.

He made an appreciative hum in response, before breaking the kiss and coming up those two steps to close the distance between you. With your normal heights restored, you buried your face in Billy’s chest like you always did, reassured by the sound of his heartbeat in your ears and the feeling of his breath against the crown of your head.

It was going to take more than one kiss to make things okay again, you two were in for a long conversation when you went back inside. But for now, safe in the arms of the man who loved you, the father of your child who would do anything for you, it was enough.

[dollfxcx]

hey!! could I ask for a pennywise smut where he just... fucks reader's mouth? and moving them around like a ragdoll and shit? (only if you're comfortable with that!!!)

[this was honestly so fun to write (him moving me around like a fucking toy is my biggest dream so I was happy to fulfill your wishes🙌🏻). I used she/her pronouns only once (literally), I hope it's okay, if not lemme know and I'll fix it right away<3]

TW: nsfw, emotional manipulation, food gore (? does that even exist), hate sex.

context: reader tried to leave neibolt house dozens of times yet she always comes back. yet this time penny's a little pissed at how long it took you. oh shucks what is he gon do😔🤭

word count: (1.7k +)

The house no longer looks like the one you left a few months ago. It's ruined, decadent, dead. It slopes perilously to one side and the once gleaming wood is now rotten and dusty. The lawn around has no longer been taken care of, tall blades of grass reach about a meter in height, yet they are not of a beautiful bright green, but yellow and dry, with curled and sharp edges. There is no trace of the hammock, as well as the small vases of flowers that used to rest on the balconies next to the main door. You place the heavy backpack on the ground, in front of the entrance, and take out the set of house keys. You try to insert them in the lock, but the door is already open. It invites you in, subtly, as if it wants you there. You place your hand on the handle, a shaking grip just begging you to step back and run. Yet you don't, perhaps stupidly, you keep your feet firmly on the ground. You lower the doorknob, the palm of your hand wet from the raindrops that were resting there, and you enter the house. Against all odds, everything is as you left it, in total contrast to the conditions outside. Everything is almost too tidy, to be honest.

"Is that you, Y/n, darling?" Your heart begins to beat almost spasmodically when you hear his voice, it seems like a gentle singsong that caresses your ear, sweet and familiar timbre. It comes from the kitchen, so you walk towards it, almost stealthily. He's facing the counter, tinkering with a steaming baking tray, but when he turns around, he is exactly as your best memories depict him, no claws or abominable razor-sharp teeth, just his sweet painted nose and buck teeth peeking through his full lips. Your legs feel feeble when he turns to look at you, sky blue eyes you've dreamed of seeing again for too long and an almost feline smile on your face.

"I made you lasagna." he points out to you as he places two plates on the dining table, his hands, beautifully gloved, comically undoing his apron. With still a shroud of suspicion, you sit down at the table, watching his every move. Pennywise grabs the baking tray where the lasagna should be, but, for a second, you can swear you saw something else altogether, something mushy, something throbbing. Something red, slimy. Alive. You blink and everything is as before, the lasagna gives off a hot and inviting steam and Pennywise looks happier than when you set foot in the house. He sits across from you and serves you a piece of lunch, a watchful and expectant gaze as he watches the movement of your fork as it approaches your lips. And when the first bite tickles your taste buds, you feel like puking, the rotting taste of raw 

(human)

meat coating your tongue. You jump up, not even noticing the slight smile on his lips, and run to the bathroom.

***

"Doll, is everything okay?" You hear him speaking through the thick bathroom door, but you can't take your eyes off the mirror, your reflection, your (blood) red-stained lips, a metallic taste on them. You turn on the tap grudgingly and moisten the towel to clean yourself, but when you're about to bring it to your face, the stain is gone in the blink of an eye. Pennywise knocks on the door again, an insistence typical of him and, with an exasperated snort, you open it, the vision that appears in front of you makes your legs feel weak. His chest rises and falls slowly, straining the fabric of the silk grey costume he's wearing, a tuft of ginger hair dangles merrily in front of his eyes, very cheekily, full and plump lips slightly parted, and he's handsome as hell.

(The eyes cannot see what the heart sees

The mind cannot know what the heart knows

The ears cannot hear what the heart hears

The hands cannot give what the heart gives

There's a storm coming

There's a storm coming, feel the electricity

There is a storm coming to my city

It brings novelty, it brings novelty)

One of his hands gently grips your hair, tilting your head back so his lips, warm and slightly moist, like wax, can rest on the skin of your throat, the other grips your side, fingertips digging into your flesh.

"What took you so long?" he hums, sucking at the skin of your neck, tugging at your hair harshly for more access. You recoil from the jerk against the wall, one of his knees makes room between your legs for you to grind against it, his breath tickling the shell of your ear in a soothing tone.

"But you're back now, yes! Beautiful, beautiful

(fear)

Y/n, she always comes back to me, mh?" Pennywise bites your earlobe, his finger caresses your collarbone with butterfly-like lightness. You melt at his words and sigh, trying to convince yourself that this is the real him, that everything that has happened in the previous months has been all imagination, that maybe you are just schizophrenic, or that you dreamed it all up.

(And my mind is split inside one body)

His lips barely touch yours, you feel a slight smirk on your skin.

“You could be so good for me…” he comments, as if he's sorry that, until now, you haven't been able to be like that, yet. His hands move to your shoulders, yanking you down harshly, and it should hurt to land so hard on the floor, but you can't even feel it, too focused on his eyes gleaming golden when they meet yours. He gently takes your chin between his fingers, stroking your lips with his thumb, a little smile peers down at you.

"Can you be good for me now? You can give ol' Pennywise a reason why he should keep you, yes?" You don't quite understand why he said keep you, but you honestly don't care right now, you can only nod slightly under his light caresses. He hums appreciatively and spreads his legs slightly as his hand reluctantly leaves your face to fly to the hem of his pantaloons.

(Life is much broader than a definition

And everyone's waiting for something to happen

That will remove the veil of dust from reality)

You don't realize you breathe a sigh of relief when, pants around his ankles, his cock is freed from the garment's grip. The last time you dealt with it, you didn't get a chance to see it, it all happened too fast and the way you felt it inside you didn't seem human at all. What you are facing now, indeed, isn't human in the slightest, it's hard and it wriggles with tentacle-like enthusiasm, tip flushed and somehow already wet, eager. One of his hands is on his hip, the other is leaning against the wall behind you for support.

"Come on" he smiles, accommodating, reassuring, so loving you can't help but obey. You part your lips, palm open to grab his cock and lift it slightly, tongue flattened to caress the entire length. You hear him hissing above you, his hand moves from the wall to run through your hair, pulling it lightly, as if he's trying to hold back.

(And everything we know is not true

The origins are lost in the void of time

But everything is preserved in the depths)

You take it in your mouth slowly, without going too deep, teasing the tip to make soft pleased moans come out of his mouth. The taste is unexpectedly sweet, like 

(rotten meat)

cotton candy, so you suck on it harder, tongue concentrated in passing through each slick crease to savor the sweetness of its pre-cum. He moans softly, you look up to see how his eyes have rolled into his skull in pleasure, slightly parted lips quivering, Adam's apple rising and falling as he swallows, a slight streak of drool dripping from his corner of the mouth.

"Yeah, like that..." he murmurs softly, his hand pressing against the back of your neck to push himself deeper. The feeling of gagging that starts building up in your throat can't be helped, even if you try to back away there's the wall behind you, so, with tears starting to sting your eyes, you allow him to fuck your mouth, his cock so deep that your nose presses, at one point, against his crotch. His movements go from rhythmic to spasmodic, carelessly thrusting in your mouth like an rabid animal and while it's not entirely pleasant, you hope it doesn't end. May this be what awaits you tomorrow too. And the next day. And the one after that. Pennywise cums in your mouth with an intensity you didn't expect, but his hand doesn't release from your hair, preventing you from moving, as if not even a drop could be wasted.

"Swallow." he orders hoarsely, voice not his

(I have found memories that are not mine

I have only one name but at least a hundred identities)

but you do it anyway, as it's the only solution for you to be able to breathe normally again. You hear him giggling almost maniacally, but it doesn't last long because then he lowers himself to your height, stroking the skin of your cheek with

(hunger)

sweetness, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"Bet you liked it, huh? Sooooo greedy, my Y/n." he takes your chin between his fingers again, this time squeezing harder than before, with less care, the tip of his tongue, which for a moment seems you strangely pointed, emerges between his lips when he moistens them in anticipation.

"You're gonna try to be loyal to me, yeah? You can do it, doll. I will give you all that you need, just say you'll serve me. Say you will sell your soul to me and I won't leave you alone... Do you like the idea? Yes?" he gets up, tugging his pants up and leaving you on the floor like a wet and used rag. Without even giving you time to speak. The both of you already know what your answer would have been. You realize only now that, since when have you set foot in the house, you still haven't said a single word to him.

—

feedbacks always appreciated

[requests open for headcanons too!!]

[tariqsyedbradford]

Tariq Syed of Bradford Shares How to Renovate Your Home for Aging in Place

As we grow older, our homes must evolve to meet our changing needs. Aging in place—remaining in one's own home safely, independently, and comfortably—has become an increasingly popular goal for many seniors. Tariq Syed Bradford, a renowned home renovator from Bradford, shares his expert advice on how to successfully renovate your home for aging in place, ensuring it remains a safe, functional, and welcoming environment for years to come.

Understanding the Concept of Aging in Place

Aging in place involves making thoughtful modifications to your home to accommodate the physical changes that come with aging. This proactive approach not only enhances safety but also promotes independence and improves quality of life. Key considerations include accessibility, ease of use, and safety enhancements.

Key Areas to Focus On

1. Entrances and Exits

The first step in renovating for aging in place is to ensure that entrances and exits are easily accessible. Tariq Syed recommends:

Ramps and Zero-Step Entries: Installing ramps or zero-step entries to eliminate tripping hazards posed by stairs. This is particularly important for those using wheelchairs or walkers.

Widened Doorways: Expanding doorways to a minimum of 36 inches to accommodate mobility devices.

Lever-Style Door Handles: Replacing traditional doorknobs with lever-style handles, which are easier to operate for those with arthritis or limited grip strength.

2. Bathroom Modifications

Bathrooms are often the most hazardous rooms for seniors. Key upgrades include:

Walk-In Showers: Replacing traditional bathtubs with walk-in showers that have low or no thresholds.

Grab Bars and Handrails: Installing grab bars and handrails in showers and near toilets to provide support and prevent falls.

Non-Slip Flooring: Using non-slip tiles or mats to reduce the risk of slipping.

Raised Toilet Seats: Adding raised toilet seats or installing comfort-height toilets to make sitting and standing easier.

3. Kitchen Accessibility

The kitchen is another critical area to consider. Tariq suggests the following renovations:

Pull-Out Shelves and Drawers: Installing pull-out shelves and drawers in cabinets to make items more accessible without bending or reaching.

Side-by-Side Refrigerators: Using side-by-side refrigerators to keep frequently used items within easy reach.

Lever-Style Faucets: Just like with door handles, lever-style faucets are easier to use than traditional knobs.

Lowered Countertops: Modifying countertop heights to accommodate wheelchair users or those who prefer to sit while cooking.

4. Lighting Enhancements

Good lighting is essential for visibility and safety. Key improvements include:

Task Lighting: Adding task lighting in areas like the kitchen, bathroom, and stairways to reduce shadows and enhance visibility.

Motion-Sensor Lights: Installing motion-sensor lights in hallways, staircases, and entryways to ensure lights turn on automatically when needed.

Rocker Light Switches: Replacing traditional light switches with rocker switches, which are easier to operate.

5. Flooring Choices

Choosing the right flooring can significantly impact safety and comfort:

Non-Slip Surfaces: Opting for non-slip flooring materials such as cork, rubber, or certain types of vinyl.

Low-Pile Carpets: Using low-pile carpets to minimize tripping hazards while providing a softer surface.

Implementing Smart Home Technology

Smart home technology can further enhance safety and convenience. Tariq Syed recommends integrating:

Voice-Controlled Assistants: Devices like Amazon Alexa or Google Home to control lights, thermostats, and security systems with voice commands.

Automated Systems: Smart thermostats, lighting, and security systems that can be controlled remotely or set to operate on schedules.

Medical Alert Systems: Wearable devices that can call for help in case of an emergency.

Planning and Professional Help

Successfully renovating for aging in place requires careful planning and, often, professional assistance. Tariq advises working with a contractor experienced in universal design principles and aging-in-place modifications. An occupational therapist can also provide valuable insights into specific needs and safety enhancements.

Conclusion

Renovating your home for aging in place is a wise investment in your future well-being and independence. By focusing on accessibility, safety, and comfort, you can create a living environment that supports you through all stages of life. With expert guidance from professionals like Tariq Syed of Bradford, you can navigate this process smoothly and confidently, ensuring your home remains a sanctuary for years to come.

[translations-dark-matter]

Living as an Extra in an Omegaverse novel

Chapter 53

Shin Tae-oh was soaked. At first, it was mostly sweat, but after Se-hyeon added water, it became mostly water.

Se-hyeon waited to see how Shin Tae-oh would react. If he showed discomfort, Se-hyeon would apologize immediately, but if not, he was willing to add more water when needed.

After a short while, Shin Tae-oh ruffled my hair.

"So that's why my secretary was in the bathroom."

"Yes, I was caught off guard too."

Even when the heatwave was brought forward by a day, it was the same. I suddenly felt an unbearable thirst, just like Shin Tae-oh. So I crawled to the bathroom. Adding water provided some relief from the heat, and I occasionally stuck out my tongue to catch some water.

It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was the best under the circumstances.

"Are you feeling better now?"

"To some extent."

As Shin Tae-oh shook his head, some strands of hair fell off his face. Just that alone made his face look cooler and brighter. Shin Tae-oh slowly stood up from his seat, and it seemed that he was not weakly trembling anymore. Was he really feeling somewhat better?

"Can you continue to endure it? If you think you can hold on a little longer, maybe we should go to the hospital and get a prescription quickly..."

Before waiting for Jeon Ho-jin, I suggested going to the hospital to get treatment sooner. But suddenly, my shoulder was grabbed.

It wasn't just one shoulder; Shin Tae-oh placed his hand on both shoulders and bowed deeply. If there had been a significant height difference between us, maybe I could have seen his face, but there was only a mere five-centimeter gap.

"Boss?"

So, I called out to Shin Tae-oh, but my hand on his shoulder felt a force.

"I think it has to be now."

He expressed his thoughts not through conversation but as if talking to himself. So, it was even more incomprehensible. But then, Shin Tae-oh raised his head and our eyes met.

I couldn't tell if it was sweat or water, but his eyebrows were soaked. Whether it was blinking or moistening them with water, his damp pupils reflected me.

I shouldn't have looked. My heart started pounding like crazy from the moment I met Shin Tae-oh's eyes, especially when I was already dizzy from his pheromones.

Ignoring my racing heart, I raised my trembling hand. I was trying to push Shin Tae-oh away.

As I placed my hand on the edge of his collar, instead of pushing him away, I had an impulse to wrap my fingers around the fabric. I wanted to hold onto Shin Tae-oh. I felt a desire to stay here, without leaving, when my body suddenly turned around.

"Huh?"

I was facing Shin Tae-oh, but in an instant, I found myself facing the wall, feeling bewildered. Why did this happen?

"When I can endure it, go."

"Boss? Just wait a moment."

While being manipulated by Shin Tae-oh's hands, Se-hyeon walked forward, trying to turn around, but their body wouldn't budge.

Shin Tae-oh kindly opened the door and pushed Se-hyeon into the corridor. Only then was Se-hyeon able to turn around and look at Shin Tae-oh. His breath, holding onto the doorknob, was once again faltering.

"Go home."

"But your condition isn't good right now."

"Still, there's nothing else my secretary can do, right?"

Shin Tae-oh forced a smile.

"One hour will pass quickly. Let's see each other tomorrow."

Shin Tae-oh delivered the final farewell and closed the door.

Se-hyeon, who ended up facing the door, blinked silently.

"You're... kicking me out?"

Did you actually send me away?

Did you pretend to close the front door last time?

***

"Yeah, being kicked out is probably right."

He murmured to himself, expressing his troubled thoughts as he walked back the way he came.

"What am I..."

He was just Shin Tae-oh's secretary. His dream and goal were to lead a stable life by sticking by the side of a sub-gong... That's why he wanted to remain just as a secretary, an extra.

So, even if someone confesses their love to Shin Tae-oh, I would understand and handle it. It was a role that ended with the same response every time.

"I can comprehend it in my head, but why does my heart want to rebel and go crazy like this?"

Even though the distance I walked wasn't that far, and even when I tried to shake off his pheromones from my body, Shin Tae-oh's scent wouldn't fade away.

"Why is it clinging to me like this?"

Annoyed by the invisible pheromones, I extended my arms in frustration.

All of this is just because of my unsettled heart, yet I'm trying to brush off his strong pheromones.

"Mr. Ahn Se-hyeon?"

It was Park Ha-seong.

"I'll see you off here."

"That's right. Oh, wait, are you attending this party here?"

"Not me, but the boss."

Se-hyeon lightly retorted while tidying up his disheveled hair. He didn't have the luxury to engage with anyone at the moment. His focus was entirely on being in the same room as Shin Tae-oh, as his nerves revolved around him.

"Well then, I'll..."

As Se-hyeon lowered his head, Park Ha-seong greeted him and stepped aside. He knew that Se-hyeon's state of mind wasn't good as he allowed him to pass.

Se-hyeon didn't decline and entered the space Park Ha-seong offered. Right now, going home like this...

"Can I ask you something?"

Se-hyeon grabbed Park Ha-seong.

"Yes? Sure."

Although I asked, Se-hyeon could only bite his lower lip and couldn't speak immediately. Asking a question to Park Ha-seong, whom he coincidentally encountered, felt like an impulsive act.

It was too frustrating to think alone and come up with answers. He wished someone, anyone, would get caught up in it. Even if it was Park Ha-seong, whom he had seen only once before...

"When you receive a gift, should you give something in return?"

"Yes, well..."

"When you receive help, you should repay the favour."

"Usually, that's what people do."

"Usually... Yes, that's right. It's not anything unusual."

Se-hyeon's face brightened.

It wasn't strange at all for him to have the desire to help Shin Tae-oh. He no longer needed to hesitate, solely focusing on Shin Tae-oh and his own situation as portrayed in the original work.

"That's right. I'm just an ordinary person."

Before becoming an extra, he was a secretary who served Shin Tae-oh. It's only natural to repay someone for what they've received.

"People would give me a bowl of rice or buy me coffee that suits my taste at the café I often visit. Ignoring such a person's circumstances would be disrespectful as a colleague, wouldn't it?"

"Well, yeah, that's true."

Park Ha-seong showed a somewhat ambiguous reaction, but Se-hyeon didn't hear anything anymore.

"Actually, it bothered me to leave it alone. What's the point of all those traits? It's easy to ignore when you don't know, but I knew exactly how difficult it was because I went through the same thing. I was truly selfish."

"Is that so? You think you're selfish?"

"What does it matter if the other person is a man? It's not like anything like that will happen now; I just need to help for a little while."

"The other person is a man?"

"The third save was practically synonymous with liking someone the most. I watched that romantic lunatic from the sidelines, and you thought my heart would waver for Yu Jin-hae. Now I get it, now I understand."

"Oh, you know everything?"

"Yes. Thank you. I'll make sure to bring coffee when I come next time."

Se-hyeon bid farewell with a bright smile and turned away. As Park Ha-seong watched him run inside, he scratched his head. He wasn't sure what was happening right now, but he could roughly guess...

"He's involved with someone."

A colleague who gives rice and buys coffee, the third save, a romantic straight guy who's practically a pervert... a man with those traits.

***

Normally, I wouldn't have missed the opportunity, but I stupidly let it slip by. If Lee Jin-ho had seen me, he might have asked where my mind was wandering off to.

"It's my own fault."

So, even if I'm feeling restless and in pain all over, I can't blame anyone else. It was a good thing I sent Se-hyeon away.

Compared to the patience I had in not grabbing his shoulder and pulling him towards me, this is nothing.

"Yeah. This kind of thing..."

Shin Tae-oh let out a long breath with his arm resting on his forehead. The clothes soaked in water were gradually drying, stealing away the heat from his body. It was the only lifeline that kept him rational at the moment.

"Just take the suppressants..."

Shin Tae-oh, who had been muttering that the current situation was nothing, bit his tongue and forcefully pressed his eyes shut. Honestly, he still regretted it. He wanted to hold onto Se-hyeon. It wasn't that he wanted anything from him. He just felt like it would be nice to be together.

"Damn it, I'm selfish. Shin Tae-oh."

It's selfish of me to hope that Se-hyeon would stay by my side, even if he could suffer because of my pheromones. I know that, but...

"I miss you."

If I had known this would happen, I would have at least taken a photo. Even if it made me embarrassed and my ears turned red, having a picture of the blushing kitten would have been a consolation.

Ah, now that I think about it, Ahn Se-hyeon isn't a stiff man. His ears turn red when he's embarrassed, and his eyes flicker when he's flustered. Even without making a face, he showed his own reactions.

The more I think about it, the more I miss Ahn Se-hyeon. Just imagining him makes my heart beat faster. That person who...

"Who is it? Is it me?"

"..."

Shin Tae-oh quickly stood up, moving his arm that was covering his eyes. He blinked when he saw Se-hyeon standing at the entrance. I definitely sent him away. I sent him away so he wouldn't be standing in front of the entrance again like last time. Why is he here again?

Is it an illusion created by my desires? Or did I not close the door properly?

"How did you get in?"

Looking at Shin Tae-oh's bewildered face, Se-hyeon showed what he was holding in his hand.

"Two key cards?"

"Ah, right. This is a hotel."

Prev / Next

[cosmicbash]

Thinking about headcanons for Emgk's different responses to stress...

Colson feels kind of obvious, he smokes. Weed, cigarettes, a fucking vape when he's really low on options, but no matter what it is, when he's at Marshall's house, or in their hotel and something comes up that utterly stresses him out it's his go to move.

He's got writers block? He smokes. The media is being a total cunt and taking his words out of context? He smokes. Him and Marshall got into some stupid petty argument and now his boyfriend has stormed out of the hotel room and he's not sure whether he's going to be enjoying some crazy good makeup sex later or flying home? He smokes a whole fucking packet of cigarettes in one sitting. The complimentary ash tray completely filled up with two dozen mismatch sized butts and ash by the time the door finally beeps and pops open.

Colson doesn't even like cigarettes that much, it just keeps the urges to smash every nearest item in his path or to make a call and snort a line off the table at bay long enough for Marshall to finally come home. Because that's stuff he can't afford to do anymore. Not now that they're in an adult relationship and his partner is the picture of sobriety.

Reacting like a child and trashing their room will only further back Marshall's claims that he's childish or immature.

That doesn't mean the substitute is perfect though. Both he and Marshall hate it, Marsh with the realistic worries about his future lung health, and Colson because every single time it happens he also finds himself standing over the bathroom sink. Toothbrush in hand, scrubbing over his teeth, his tongue, his fucking gums until there's a tiny tint of blood in his mouth and his gag reflex is severely tested. All because the childish part of him refuses to kiss Marshall with that taste on his tongue. Doesn't want his desperately needed makeup kiss to be spoiled by the shitty ghost of nicotine lining his mouth.

Meanwhile for Marshall, when he's the one stressing out he binge eats.

Colson can tell right away whenever something is on his boyfriends mind just by the sight of one two many sucker wrappers or chocolate foils. It's ironic really. Because they both know Marshall developed the habit during his recovery. Sugar being every alcoholic or addicts go to replacement.

It's kind of cute sometimes, seeing Marshall's cheeks stuffed and his eyebrows furrowed. Or when he hears the tell tale crinkle of snack wrappers in the older rappers hoodie hours after the man insists he's unbothered by some stupid thing.

But like with Colson's habit it's nothing but a poor coping skill. Because after comes the running, or the lifting, just excessive extra working out that borders on unhealthy because like the cigarettes Marshall worries over the long term consequences.

Marshall avoids him too at times because of it. Not to go brush his teeth and so he can fret over Colson tasting chocolate and caramel on his tongue, but because of his weight.

Nevermind the fact that Colson can hardly remember a time where he noticed some giant fluctuation in his boyfriends weight due to it.

So on really bad nights, where they've spent what feels like the whole day arguing it's almost guaranteed they'll find themselves standing in the bathroom together. Colson's mouth frothing full of wet foam and Marshall's pulled to the side in a tight line while he feet balance ontop of the electric scale. Too fools, ignoring the hypocrisy in their words as they reassure the other that they're being dramatic.

"You're breath smells fine-"

"You're more in shape than me babe-"

It's stupid. Completely ridiculous but, always still the perfect thing to bring them back together just in time for bed.

[twinklelilstarkey]

I won't drown, Batman - Bruce Wayne

Words: 1.9k+

Type: Fluff

Summary: After a hard and tiring day, Bruce finds you taking a relaxing bath.

Warnings: No Spoilers! Sleepy and exhausted Bruce. Mentions of being naked in front of your significant other, and showering together (very brief).

It has become a routine. Every Friday, to end your week on a good note, you try to relax as much as you can. You do a little bit of everything that you enjoy doing throughout your day. A little bit of reading here and a little baking over there. Anything, really, to get your mood at its highest before the weekend even starts.

Sadly, you don't happen to have much time to spend with your boyfriend these days since Fridays tend to be harder for Bruce. It's where the nights are the busiest. No one wants to go home right after their week's worth of work is done. And a little bit of alcohol later, a group of assholes can become the absolute shitholes of the city.

And, Bruce also doesn't really have an exact time where he gets back to the tower. There are nights where he might come home hours earlier than usual but stay at the cave for the rest of the night, or, sometimes, he might just come up the elevator after the sun rises. Nobody really knows when he's going to be back.

You began to wait for him awake around the time your relationship became more serious, but that only really left you with a really messed up sleep schedule.

And, that might be the reason why you're taking a bath at 2:30 in the morning.

The warm water around you surrounds your body in the coziest of embraces as the foam above the surface hides your body in its entirety from your own eyes. The soft and not-to-fragrant smell of your favorite candle reaches your nose even when it burns away at the top of the counter.

There's no way to be more relaxed than this. Your eyes are closed and you have just your shoulders and face out of the water. The bathroom is naturally warm and your breathing is calm.

But that’s when you hear the soft noise of footsteps in the hallway above all the silence.

It could truly be anyone that shares the ceiling of the tower with you and Bruce, but you highly doubt that either Alfred or Dory would be awake at this time and not trying to walk on their tippy-toes.

Only one person doesn’t care enough to not lift off their heavy boots off the floor when walking.

The absence of noise of the steps just by your bedroom, reassures you more of your assumption, as the room is one that just so happens to have carpeted floors, and who else would get themselves inside it?

There's a soft knock on the door of the bathroom and with a small grin stretched over your lips, you open an eye only to check to see the door slowly opening.

A messy head of dark hair appears before the familiar tall and broad figure of Bruce's body does. His eyes are on the ground but his head is still held high.

You can tell, as he tries to re-close the door and not make too much noise, that his face doesn't have that much of the usual dark paint around his eyes. He must have already washed his face before making his way up.

You open your eyes fully at the same time the door clicks closed. Bruce leans back tiredly to the door for a second, hand behind his back as he holds the doorknob, and then finally leans back forward and starts making his way to you.

His eyes lift from the ground finally and he watches you for a bit. Your head still leaning back on the white porcelain bathtub and gracefully resting under the bubbles of your beloved Friday-late-night bath. You don't look in any way alarmed, already very much used to the way he intrudes himself into your relaxing moments in seek of his own.

Even though he tries to hide it, you notice Bruce favoriting his right side over his left while he walks. You don't say anything, though, not yet at least.

He comes closer to the tub and then he stops a simple step away, to your left. You hide your smile as he, in his still fitted and dark clothing, slowly crouches down to your height in the tub and sits right by you.

"You don't want to get in?" You ask him in a whisper.

He shakes his head. His eyes feel heavy but his body is tense and it aches with every movement that he does. The side of the tub is pretty high so it’s easily comfortable for Bruce to rest his arms over it.

As he holds onto it, his eyes come back, right after he stared at the floor for a little bit.

"You're back early." You tell him, keeping your voice soft but now above a whisper.

"I got too tired." He answers you, and a small smile creases your lips. It's rare to hear Bruce ever admit that, and it never seems to not surprise you when he does it.

Bruce can feel the heat of the water slowly come up and touch his forearms, and he stays silent for a little bit. Enjoying the calmness that surrounds him.

He has a crease over his forehead as he seems to think about something, and you watch him as he squints since his eyes looked too close to a harsher light of the bathroom. He highly regrets looking and for that, he brings his eyes back to you all over again.

You move a bit closer to him, making the warm water around you move and collide slightly over the sides, and you turn your head a bit to the side to look at him better. He stares back at you with ease.

You can totally see a bit of paint still at some spots of his face, and you bring your hand up from under the water.

Bruce watches as your hand appears in front of him and your wet fingers smooth over his face. Just by the side of his head, close to his hairline, you scrub softly and the paint comes off effortlessly.

You bring your hand back to the water and scrub away the paint from your own fingers.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" You ask, this time, in a whisper.

"Just bruised."

You nod at him and Bruce quietly studies every inch of your face. He has his arms folded as one hand rests over the other. You look away from your hands, just in time to watch him lay his head over his arms.

His hair, which was already freely cascading down his head, falls over from the top and left side of his head towards the water, and its tips gently touch the bubbles.

You bring your hand up again and try and get the rest of the paint from this side of his face.

When done and with your hand is clean again, you notice how tense his shoulders still look under the fitted shirt. He is now sitting on his knees, much closer to you, and his eyes blink from time to time, possibly dry and tired from all the hours he's been awake.

Your hand lays over his head and your warm and wet fingers work through the messy strands of hair. As your nails softly touch his scalp, you watch as Bruce fights to keep his eyes open.

Your soft digits caress over his forehead and smooth down the skin over his eyebrow, and slowly down to his cheek. Right as your hand lays over the side of his face entirely, you notice how Bruce closes his eyes.

As you pull your hand away, his eyes reopen from this rather long blink and his eyes stare back into yours. You move a bit and lean your head down over his arms as well, just by his right arm while he lays over his left.

You stare back at each other for a little bit and then your hand comes back to the top of his head, working tenderly over his scalp. Bruce closes his eyes and feels his body finally relax as pain doesn't reach him at every shift of his limbs.

"You need to go to bed, Bruce." You whisper to him while snuggling your cheek closer to his arm.

He doesn't answer, but he does reopen his eyes. He stays still for a good few seconds.

"Don't make me have to carry you there." You playfully add.

A soft curve of his lips appears and your heart swells at the sight of a familiar sleepy face. He lifts his head and leans down, closer to you. He lays a simple kiss over your lips, one not too long. When he pulls away, your hand comes down to his cheek as he stares down at you.

"I can wait for you until you're done." He tells you, voice low and soft.

"There's no need."

He doesn't move nor say anything back.

"I won't drown, Batman." You tease him, "You can go sleep."

You lift your head from his arm and take your hand off his cheek. You sit straight as he looks back at you, giving a look over at the shower just a few steps away from you. He still has to shower before going to bed. Even if the night wasn't the busiest, Bruce really didn't want to go to sleep while still smelling like all the smoke and usual smells from Gotham's streets.

His body feels so tired and heavy that he struggles a bit to force himself to even get back into a crouch and stand back up.

"I got to shower, first." He tells you simply.

After you give him a short answer in return, he drags his boots slightly over the tile of the bathroom and walks up to the shower to turn on the water.

It doesn't take him long to get undressed or get into the shower. You, using the foam as a random excuse to get into the spraying water as well, hop out of your tub. You know you wouldn't enjoy the rest of the bath as much now that you finally got his company, so, you unplug the tub and go into the shower.

The shower is quick and not really where you two shared many words. And, after that, it took you almost no time to get Bruce to walk back to the bedroom, and even as he was half dry, yet tired enough, he got himself into the covers with no hesitation.

You joined him not too long after.

As both of you lay on the bed, the silence sets comfortably over you. Bruce stares, as he always does, while you seem to feel tired just by laying on the comfortable bed. His eyelids are heavy and his bruised body is hurtful as he lays on his side and has his arm under your pillow. You face each other as sleep gets the best of the two of you by the second.

Right as your eyes are about to close for a final time for the night, you feel a pair of soft lips press a small kiss over your forehead. Bruce pulls away and lays his head back on his pillow, watching you slowly fall asleep. You snuggle your face closer to his chest and his vacant arm lays over your back, caressing it with his palm.

Your breathing softens and so does Bruce's, as both of you fall peacefully asleep.

I'm not leaving any character soak in their dirtiness, so, yes, I made Bruce take a shower over a bath.

Hope you enjoyed this!! I didn't have much time to correct it, so I hope it's not too bad!

[missmeinyourbones]

gojo satoru x reader

26. “i was supposed to take a shower, alone, but go ahead jump right in” from the 100 different kisses prompt list

Satoru decides that you must have bionic hearing. 

He swears that he’s quiet, silent even, when methodically tip-toeing down the hallway. His hand is barely touching the doorknob to the bathroom as he twists it painfully slow, so it doesn’t creak or click. Once it can turn no more, he begins to gently push on the wooden door, hardly applying any pressure on it as it agonizingly creeps open. After a few seconds, when he decides that the gap is large enough for him to softly sneak through, he does so.

Now fully in the bathroom, he smirks at his own reflection in the mirror. So stealthy. He’s incredibly impressed with his assassin-like slyness when the echo of your voice catches him off guard. 

“Get out.”

He finds himself glancing at his reflection again, almost as if he’s conversing with it, asking is she serious? He half expects his mirror image to shrug its shoulders back and give him a look that reads I know, right? 

“How’d you even know I was in here?” he lets out in a whine. He was so quiet, so careful, and yet you still heard him sneak in over the harsh patter of the water from the shower hitting the curtain. 

“Out,” you repeat, letting the stream of hot water soak your skin. You always liked your water piping hot—Gojo always made it a point to complain about it feeling like “lava” whenever the two of you showered together. 

The bathroom is now filled with steam from the heat and Satoru can no longer look to his reflection for support, as the mirror is covered in condensation. He takes a long slender pointer finger and draws a smiley face in the dew—he can already hear you scolding him about leaving fingerprints later, but that’s a problem for another hour. Right now, he has another challenge to overcome. 

“C’mon, sweet girl,” he pesters, slightly moving the curtain so he can stick his head into your personal bubble within the shower. He does so successfully when he’s met with your rolling eyes and somewhat cold shoulder. 

“What do you want from me?” you provoke him, head directly placed beneath the shower head as you let the water pour onto your face. It feels like it hides you from his intense staring, but you know better than to think that anything could shield you from his eyes. 

“Can’t I just want to be close to my baby?”

“No, you can’t.”

There’s more with Gojo. There’s always more when it comes to him. He can be conniving. Calculated. He’s good at getting what he wants with a simple bat of his eyelashes and flash of a charming smile. While you know you’re not strong enough to deny him, you are strong enough to make him work for it. To make him dig his heels in a little deeper as he stands swaying in place for just a little longer than usual.

“I was supposed to take a shower, alone, but go ahead jump right in,” you speak sarcastically.

You already knew from the moment you sensed him in the bathroom that you were not going to be showering alone. Satoru is annoying and insistent on getting his way, no matter the situation. You make a mental note of teasing him for it later, when you're less tired and more clothed.  

Fully aware of your teasing tone, Gojo couldn't care less as he immediately starts ridding himself of his clothes. 

“Why thank you for the invitation. If you insist,” he coos as his shirt is lifted over his head and his socks are thrown across the room. 

The warm air from inside of the curtain embraces him before you do, still putting up your cold front. Satoru sees past it, as he always does. He inches closer, and places the sweetest kiss onto your lips. It’s far too short and Satoru knows this—he knows it’s just enough to get you to bite, and bite you do.

This time it’s you leaning in, hands on his neck craning it to your height. It’s longer than the last one, more passionate. Yet, it still remains delicate as you feel his tongue prod at the entrance of your mouth. You kiss him twice more before letting him slip it inside.

Make him work for it.

His hands find the small of your back, further pressing you into him. The heat from his kiss is enough to melt your ice. When you pull away to catch your breath, the sight before you is nothing less than beautiful. Satoru is flushed (from the heat of the water or the heat of your kiss, you don’t ask) and smitten, a dreamy look in his eyes as he continues to admire you. You let him because you know him. You know for so long, he was lonely. The strongest, only when he needed to be poked and prodded around like a show pony. You know that he never thought he’d get the chance to do this, to be here, with you, doing something as mundane as making-out in the shower. 

You decide to let him stay, though the two of you both know that it was truly decided long ago. 

You hand him a bottle of your shampoo and turn your back to him, leaving him to stare at the back of your head.

“If you’re gonna be in here, you might as well be of good use,” you mutter as he begins to lather up his hands with the citrus-scented liquid. He likes being of service to you. If it’s the reparations he must pay for his need to be this close to you at all times, he’d wash your hair three times a day. 

He plants a kiss to your wet shoulder before getting to work massaging the shampoo into your scalp, muttering something into your skin as you feel a grin spread across his face. 

“So bossy this morning.”

[luminoustico]

Sherlolly #1 (Soulmates AU) please? Something with a happy ending?

1: soulmates au. Also for @juldooz who wanted the same au.

Mycroft knew his brother was up to something when he walked into his bedroom, because Sherlock shot up to his full height and glared. Mycroft sighed, leaning against the doorknob.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Sherlock said quickly, all hair and height, disappointingly stereotypical for a young teenager. The high of his cheeks went beetroot red.

“Mummy says that dinner’s ready.” 

“Fine,” Sherlock said tightly, hurrying to the door and skirting past Mycroft. He yelped as Mycroft grabbed his arm.

“That hurt!”

“Be quiet,” Mycroft snapped, yanking his little brother to his side. He turned the inside of his brother’s arm upwards, towards the hall light. Marker pen was scrawled across his skin. Mycroft’s smile sagged as he realised what it said.

“Oh Sherlock…”

“I told you, it’s nothing,” his brother spat, wrenching his arm out of his grip. He tugged at his sleeve uselessly. “I was just experimenting.”

There was a horrible silence between them for a moment. As ever, Mycroft was the one who broke it. “It’s okay,” he said slowly. “I won’t tell our parents.”

“Don’t tease me,” Sherlock spat.

“I’m not—” 

It was too late. Sherlock had disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door hard enough to shake the door off its hinges. The sound of running water filtered through.

“Boys!” called up the voice of their mother. “Stop fighting and come downstairs!”

Mycroft squared his shoulders, clearing his throat. He hurried downstairs, greeting his mother with a kiss on the cheek. Their family had suffered enough; it wasn’t his place to create further upset to his brother. He just had to manage it, that was all.

—

SOME YEARS LATER

The rain was pouring down. The London traffic crawled by, sleek saloon cars alongside hatchbacks with dents in every panel. That was something to admire about traffic jams; they could be a wonderful social leveller. Sherlock flipped up his collar as he opened the door, preparing to step out into the rain. 

“Sherlock,” said a soft voice behind him, and he quelled the temptation to roll his eyes. Turning instead on his heel, he faced Anthea. She had only the hint of a smile on her face, peeking out from underneath a large black umbrella.

“Don’t you get tired of being my brother’s gofer?”

Anthea, quite admirably, didn’t dignify his jab with a reply, and instead gestured to the car just pulling up alongside the pavement.

Sherlock eyed it, weighing his options. He could go through with his original plan; get a taxi, buy some takeaway and try to ignore it, as he had been doing for weeks now. On the other hand… the rain really was pouring down, and Mycroft’s drivers did always make sure the heating was ‘just so’.

With a half-hearted grumble, he climbed into the back of the car. Anthea slid in beside him, shaking off her umbrella and fetching her phone from her pocket.

The drive was shorter than he imagined, and didn’t, for once, take him to some dilapidated warehouse or empty office building. Instead, it took him somewhere worse. Far worse.

Molly Hooper’s flat had, in the past, been a place of refuge for him. She had taken him when no-one else had, when everyone else (even his brother) had lost their patience and thought he’d continue to slip down the drain; she’d let him sleep there, among familiarity, when the strangeness of being a dead man walking got a little too much.

Now, it loomed over him, the windows darker than he’d ever seen them, the door an intimidating shade of yellow.

The rain had petered off during the too-short drive, and Mycroft was stood on the pavement, leaning on his cane with his right hand, his left hand tucked into his pocket.

“Hello Sherlock.” In response, Sherlock tugged the collar of his coat up to line his chin. Mycroft stared hard at him. “Don’t hide.”

“I’m not… hiding.” As he spoke, the car door closed and its engine started, easily pulling away. Sherlock looked at the flat again, blowing out his cheeks slightly. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape to. Just as his brother wanted.

“I don’t know if you remember this, Sherlock, but when you were younger…”

“I know what you’re referring to.”

“What, then?”

“I was embarrassed about the fact that I hadn’t got my - mark - yet, so I tried to fool everyone by writing a name on my arm every morning. Until you got wind of it and told our parents.”

“I had to tell them Sherlock.” Mycroft sighed. “Mummy would’ve found out eventually anyway. She always did.”

“Not about everything.”

“That was a low blow. Which I shall ignore. If,” Mycroft added, and he pointed with the tip of his umbrella towards the windows, “you go up to that woman and stop denying reality.”

Our family is very good at denying reality, Sherlock thought bitterly. Against his worst instincts, he followed the line formed by Mycroft’s umbrella and stared up at the window. A lamp had been lit, lighting the curtains in a low sunset hue. A shape, small and obviously upset (going by the hunched shoulders), entered the frame.

“It’s very easy to get scared. You had your mark since you were a boy. Mine came the moment she got engaged. Is it any wonder I think I’m broken?”

“We’re all broken in this family,” Mycroft said softly, after a pause soundtracked by traffic. “The most radical thing we can do is find our piece of happiness and not let go of it. Everything I do is to protect my happiness, and help you find your own. I admit,” Mycroft continued when Sherlock opened his mouth with a retort, “I made bad decisions. Very bad decisions. But you have a chance to be better than me.”

Sherlock felt the temptation to squash his brother’s vulnerability with a cruel barb, but his eyes could only focus on that small silhouette.

He’d hurt her too many times to hurt her again.

Squaring his shoulders, Sherlock stepped forward and knocked on the door.

The silhouette withdrew from the frame. The yellow door swung open. It took some silence, but Molly Hooper carried forgiveness in her eyes as she smiled.

“Took you long enough.”

“Too long,” Sherlock said, glancing to his wrist. The name ‘Molly’ was etched like a delicate scar into his skin. He was still getting used to the itch that came when she came near, but right now, as he stepped forward and embraced her in a gentle kiss, the itch became a warm tingle, casting a fuzzy glow around his eyes. “Far, far too long.”

[moldygreenblue]

she was probably nice, when you got to know her

I once had this large fic plan that was pre-asoue and pre-atwq, focusing on Ellington and Widdershins. However, I scrapped it, keeping only a snippet that was ficlet size. I originally planned on posting the original snippet ficlet, but I eventually rewrote it to make it more of a standalone, which I like a bit more. I hope you enjoy reading this!

With the cold water trickling out from the faucet, he takes time to stare at his reflection. He frowns at the bruise swelling up around his right eye. Looking at the bruise, he thinks how there are worser places to get punch and punt at. Like the stomach. Or the back.

Bang-Bang! “Hey! New Kid!! Hey!” Bang-Bang!

He ignores the voice, and continues to stare at his reflection. Blood is streaming down his nose, past the corners of his mouth and chin. One streams lands into the sink itself, while the other splatter onto his school shirt collar and cuffs.

“I know you’re in there!” The doorknob jiggles. “I saw you enter the bathroom minutes ago!”

Cupping his hands together in a small bowl, he thinks he can wash away the bloodstain when he gets home. Ma wouldn’t be home until he’s ready for bed, if not actually asleep. Ma works the afternoon shift at the textile factory that goes well into nighttime.

“New Kid, I just want to know if you’re okay! I saw your black eye!” Bang-Bang! “It’ll get nasty looking if you leave it alone like that!”

He brings his hands up to his nose, and snorts in the water. The burning sensation hits his nose, and he huffs it out as best as he could. The blood sprays all over the sink at odd angles. But cleaning the sink is better than having to force swallow the disgusting blood glop.

“Uck! New Kid, you know there’s an easier way to stop your bloody nose, right?”

The voice takes him by surprise. He yelps and jump. He then turns around and grabs ahold of the sink behind him. Standing before him is a girl; not a classmate, but he sees her around during lunchtime. The girl’s two braids curls upward, like snakes pulling themselves up to their full height. She raises one of her very curvy eyebrows, and reaches into her jacket pocket, pulling out a white handkerchief with ‘A.F.’ stitch into it in a dark green thread.

---

“Lean a bit forward over the sink, and pinch your nose for about ten minutes,” says Ellington calmly, still holding out her father’s handkerchief. “The bleeding will stop, but be careful when breathing. Do it too hard, and you could start the bleeding all over again.”

New Kid —not a classmate; Ellington calls him ‘New Kid’ because his status as a new student from overseas (an oversea refugee, in fact) is well known throughout the school— stares her with his wide, dark eyes. He slowly outreaches his right hand, before taking the handkerchief quickly as if she has cooties. He then pulls it closer to him, and staring at it with some confusion. New Kid then stares back at her, and tries to give back the handkerchief.

“Oh no! That’s yours to keep, New Kid,” says Ellington, pushing the boy’s hand back. “My father talked to your mother a few times. He knows how difficult you two are settling in, for we went through something similar in the past. Think of this as a late-welcoming gift from us.”

Ellington gives a small wave of goodbye, and leaves. She doesn’t have time to wait around to see if New Kid waves back. She doesn’t care if he does or doesn’t.  A good deed doesn’t need anything in return. That’s what her father always told her.

“I just hope New Kid gets that bruise swelling under control,” mutters Ellington, making her way back to the main hallway, where her father is waiting. “That won’t go away anytime soon if it isn’t tend to in time. I hope he has an icepack or anything frozen at home.”

[twsthellhole]

Midnight Flurry, a Teen and Up Audiences Floyd/Riddle ficlet.

As requested by two different people, here’s a fic featuring Riddle, who’s suffering from his overblot’s collateral damage and a moray eel who’s happy to help. 

WC: 1000+ 

Warnings: Vomitting, crying in the bathroom floor at 3AM, Floyd calling Riddle’s teeth “choppers”. 

☆☆☆

Given how many times it happened, Trey had developed a Pavlovian response to the sound of Riddle throwing up. It was 3 AM and the telltale sound of fluid hitting the toilette porcelain was all that he needed to wake up. 

Trey sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes. It was the fourth time that week. He doubted anyone else besides himself could hear that. He also doubted he could keep up with Riddle’s decreasing health and the aftermath reaction of his overblot incident. He needed help from someone else. Trey was too tired and unable to handle all that by himself. They didn’t need him overbloting as well.

He would’ve expected that after an entire month, the collateral effects would have stopped… but unfortunately, nothing was ever that easy. Riddle was still throwing up, having major headaches and, the worst of them all, sleepwalking. 

The vice housewarden picked up his phone from the bedside stand and sent a message to the only other person he trusted enough to help. 

Riddle was staring at the mess, hard eyes unable to blink away from the inky mess floating on the toilet water. How disgusting, how utterly disgusting.  He hated staring at the black, gooey substance, but couldn’t look anywhere else. 

A small, perverse part of him wanted to remind him of how low he had fallen. That was the part that danced too close to the voices who made him overblot initially. Gripping the porcelain, knuckles white, sitting on the tile floor like a drunk man. Riddle felt the stinging in his eyes. He was about to cry. 

He hated that. He hated that so much. And he was afraid that these feelings would never go away.

The doorknob shifted. 

He turned back, shameful and guilty, expecting to see Trey’s worried face, but ended up facing Floyd.

“…Floyd? What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

The Octavinelle student raised his phone “Sea Turtle sent me a message and I hurried here.”

“But… it’s prohibited for students to be out of their respective dorms after curfew…” 

Trust Riddle to think about the rules when he was literally hugging the toilet.

“Screw them rules, ‘was never one to abide to them, now, right?” smiled Floyd. He was wearing casual clothing, green pajama pants and a tee. While Riddle stared at him, too weak to get up from the floor, Floyd sat down next to him. 

All he had to do was open his arms. Riddle’s eyes widened; Riddle gazed at the sweetness, the warmth burning behind the mismatched moray’s eyes. He was feeling vulnerable, weak and miserable, and yet there was Floyd, with open arms. The subtle smile on Floyd’s lips was so understanding, so compassionate and sweet, that Riddle’s heart skipped a beat. Most would say that the Leech brothers were unable to feel that much compassion and empathy, but those didn’t know what they were saying. 

In a moment like that, Riddle allowed his vulnerability to take over.

With a tiny whine, he launched himself on top of the moray, holding him tightly as the suffocating sensation bloomed heavily inside. The sensation turned into hiccups and then ugly crying. Riddle hated being that vulnerable, but there was no one else there.

Only Floyd.

Floyd, who was a pain in the ass. 

Floyd, who knew how to push all of his buttons. 

Floyd, who woke up in the middle of the night to take care of him.

As Riddle cried, the Octavinelle’s fingers played with his hair, with his back, rubbing the pain away.  Riddle was glad that he didn’t try telling him that everything was going to be alright. In that moment, he didn’t need reassurance, he merely needed a hug. 

And Floyd’s hug was all the more special. Floyd’s height advantage helped in that moment; he was so tall that his entire body enveloped Riddle’s smaller one, acting as a cocoon. Both had forgotten they were sitting on the bathroom floor, too worried with understand and caring for the other. 

After a few minutes, Riddle blinked his tears away as Floyd reached for a piece of toilet paper. He bunched it up on his hands and dried Riddle’s tears, as well as cleaned the leftover inky vomit on his lips. Floyd discreetly pressed the flush button and helped Riddle back onto his feet.

“Are you better now?” 

“I… suppose I am.”

“Awww, that’s good. We can’t have Goldfishie like that!” 

Riddle felt his lips quivering as if he was about to cry again. To his surprise, all crying was forgotten when Floyd made the unthinkable gesture of kissing his lips. Nothing but a soft touch, but enough to fluster Riddle and make him blush from head to toe. 

“What… do you think you’re doing?!”

“Just a little kiss to help you sleep better!”

“But I… I’ve just thrown up!? It’s supposed to be gross!”

“Don’t care~! Goldfishie is Goldfishie in the end, nothing will change that! Anyways, come on, these bathroom tiles are not the deal, man, I’m sure you guys at Heartslabyul have a better place to snooze.”

“Floyd you simply can’t sleep here… it’s against the rules.”

“I don’t care, you hear me? I wanna spend the night with Little Goldfish! And Sea Turle will be very mad at me if I half-ass this job.” 

There was nothing one could to in order to change Floyd Leech’s mind. When he decided what he wanted to do, it was already set in stone. Riddle frowned at him for a second. What else could he do? Letting Floyd have his way was the least he could do after the poor Leech came to his rescue. 

And his arms were so warm and so gentle. Riddle leaned back without really noticing, his head resting on Floyd’s shoulder. That seemed to be all the validation the Octavinelle needed. Floyd chuckled and kissed Riddle’s cheek.

“Whenever you need me… I’ll be around, okay? Just call me.”

“I… yes, thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Now, come on, brush these choppers and let’s get to bed!”