#side note... how do think each one of them would respond to being asked to pick up feminine hygiene products?

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

Grocery shopping with Limp Bizkit. Need them to pick anything up for you?

[sectumsempraaa]

Send Him My Regards

Pairing: fem!reader x idk they’re all in love with you LOL, but Draco's down bad

Summary: You aren’t one to provoke the aggressive nature of your closest friend group (a bunch of reckless Slytherin boys) but when the new hire at your favorite bookstore makes you uncomfortable, you’re forced to ask for their… “help.”

Word Count: 2.5k

Featuring: The whole damn crew. Draco, Theo, Mattheo, Pansy, Blaise, Lorenzo

TW: Implied non-consensual touching/comments, implied violence, panic/mental distress, cursing, disgustingly fluffy

Notes: This is based on something I recently experienced, as many of you have, too. I tried my best to convey my very real thoughts on this matter. Avoiding threatening men is a constant, everyday struggle. If you can relate, this is for you.

“Love, you already own every book in the world.” Draco proclaims, staggering behind you with his pack of Slytherin watch dogs.

Whenever you go anywhere as a group, they always let you lead so they can keep an eye on your surroundings. You think it’s silly, but it’s their thing, and you secretly appreciate the protection, so you let them be. It makes them feel important, and you find it endearing.

“I most certainly do not! Only like… two hundred.” You respond, muttering the number under your breath.

“Then I’ll buy you every book in the world. Must we come here every weekend?” he groans. Of course, Mattheo interrupts, shooting Draco a furrowed brow.

“Mate, for the love of god, either stop coming on these trips, or use some of that fancy cash you love to go on about to take us elsewhere. Pick one.” Mattheo sneers. Naturally, he’s carrying your bag and coat, making sure you never lift a finger. His response earns a smirk from you.

You’re not really listening though, more so taking in the beauty of Hogsmeade. You love escaping the castle for the little town on perfect, brisk days like this one, hitting everyone’s favorite shops and downing a couple of butterbeers.

The boys continue arguing in the background as you make your way down the cobblestone street, your hair blowing softly in the chill of the November breeze. Blaise and Theo share an eye roll with each other before coming to your side, leaving the two to bicker as they trail behind. Theo steps in, heaving a dramatic sigh and throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. His words drip with that rich Italian accent.

“Ignore them, bella. We’ll wait for you outside.” You smile at him and he gives you a wink. A man of few words, but oozing with charm. He will occasionally act as a grounding force when the others get rowdy. You hear Draco drag on about how he “earned” his money or whatever.

“Oh wow, a real rags to riches story!” Mattheo shouts, lunging at Draco. You shake your head laughing with Blaise, sending you a look that reads as “I’ll take care of them.” You enter the bookshop, making the bell ring as the door opens.

The first thing you notice is the shiny new display of fantasy books you’ve been dying to get your hands on. You make your way towards it, not being able to contain the thrill on your face. You’ve been waiting for this series to restock and here they are, all of them, ready to be yours. You touch the smooth covers, tracing your fingers over the author’s name on each one.

The second thing you notice is… him. Your heart drops as your sheer excitement instantly morphs into dread.

Please, not again. 

The new hire at this bookstore has ruined the last couple of trips for you. You were hoping he would stop working weekends but… there he is. And he eyes you right away, like you’re on his radar.

The first time you came in, it was the comments. Calling you pet names, pointing out his favorite features on you, and it was relentless. You somehow got through it and attempted to shake it off, praying he would quit or just get fired before your next trip.

The second time, it was the touching. Brushing against your back when trying to “get through”, his hand grabbing your arm too tightly while he led you down an aisle. You tripped on your way out while trying to make a swift escape, and of course he was there to “catch you”, only giving him an excuse to grip both hands around your waist, hesitant to release you.

Your eyes go between the book display and his movements as he starts creeping his way out from behind the counter. You have to make a split-second decision to either stay and endure, or leave safely and empty handed. It pains you but your nerves heighten as he gets closer. Panic sets in as colors blur and sounds become muffled. Your brain and your body and your heart scream together in unison: “danger.”

You burst through the door back outside with a speed and force that could only be conjured by your anxiety. Facing the door, you stumble backwards and let out a gasp when you land in someone’s familiar arms. You recognize the brown suede material of Theo’s jacket as you attempt to catch your breath. It seems no amount of oxygen could suffice at the moment.

“Bella, bella, what’s wrong?” He asks urgently, hoisting you back up to your feet. The others notice the incident and immediately stride their way over. Draco, always leading the pack, puts his hands on your shoulders and lowers his eyes to your level.

“Hey, look at me,” he coos, forcing you out of your episode. He speaks with a tenderness that is almost heartbreaking. “What happened, love? Are you quite alright?”

There’s too many thoughts and feelings swimming around in your head to give an honest answer. Everything is moving in slow motion and you need time to regroup. Swallowing your fear, you decide to lie, at least for now. The last thing you want to do is impulsively encourage their hostility.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you respond, avoiding his gaze. He looks at you, deciding whether to believe you. “Really, I am.” You add. He glances down to your empty hands.

“You left without a book. You always buy a book.” He says, speaking with suspicion in his voice. The others stay back, knowing when to give Draco his space. They all adore you, but Draco would do things you’d rather not think about in order to keep you happy and safe. And he has. It’s been like this since you can remember. 

“Just didn’t have what I wanted, is all.” You explained. The doubt on his face is evident. He speaks just above a whisper.

“Y/N, you know we would take care of anyone that so much as breathes near you wrong, yeah? It’s important to me that you know this.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mattheo ditching his cigarette and cracking his knuckles. You give a small nod and a shrug, releasing yourself from his hands and walking back in the direction of the castle. Your head is still reeling, but not enough to block out the boys’ debriefing behind you.

First, Mattheo. “She rarely ever gets like that.”

Then Theo. “Only when she panics.” And Blaise. “Her face was almost as pale as Malfoy’s.”

And Draco, but with a tinge of hurt in his voice. “She barely looked at me.” He glances in your direction, contemplating. “Give her time. We’ll look after her tonight. Someone tell Pansy.”

The rest you don’t hear, feeling embarrassment creeping in. You wish they’d just let it go and forget about it, cowering from the attention it’s bringing to you. Your pace quickens as the heat spreads across your cheeks, eager to be alone in your hideout at the castle.

Too focused on your path, you slam into someone’s chest as they’re coming out of the bakery you’re passing.

“Ugh, Lorenzo, I’m so sorry,” you say frantically, smoothing out his jacket and moving past him, never meeting his gaze. His face contorts with confusion and concern. He watches you take off then turns back to the group.

“Something off with that one...” The boys give him a knowing look.

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo sneers.

—

After what felt like an eternity, you had reached the castle and darted to your hideout: a corner balcony high up in one of the towers facing the pitch. Leaning your elbows on the edge of the balcony, you watch the sun slowly descend into its eventual bed of twilight. Then, the spiraling begins.

Thinking back, you’ve never really dealt with something like this because of who your friends were. No one dared to even step too close to you, aware of what the consequences would be. But you weren’t on school grounds this time. You felt… unprepared. Lost. Violated. Guilty.

Does running away make me weak?

Why can’t I stand up for myself?

How did he gain control so quickly?

Did I ask for it? Did I do something wrong?

This is too much. It feels ridiculous and quite frankly enraging that you considered this being your fault. The stress is exhausting.

You let yourself relax, laying down on a stone bench and staring up at the black night sky. You start to mentally identify the stars in view, something Draco taught you to do when you’d get anxious. It always worked, as evident by the many hours you fell asleep. Upon awakening, you gasp as your watch reads 1AM.

You hear footsteps rustling around nearby, and echoing voices calling your name. Shit. They’re looking for me.

Sneaking around corners, you tiptoe around, trying not to get yourself noticed. Maybe, just maybe you can get back to the dungeons without getting caught. Until you hear the voice of your best friend, who admittedly, you could really use right now.

“Pans?” You whisper, catching a glimpse of her shadow down the corridor. Her head whips around before running to you urgently.

“Where the hell have you been?! The boys are going mad looking for-” She stops abruptly when you force yourself into her arms, hugging her tight and burying your face in her shoulder. Her tone softens to that of an older sister. “Oh, Y/N,” She rubs your back while your eyes well up.

“Fuck, Pans, I don’t know what to do.” You say through subtle sobs, holding back as much as you can for her sake. She looks at you with a questioning look before your words stumble out, caked in distress.

“There’s a boy at the bookstore, MY bookstore, and-and, and he’s there all the time now, following me around, and…”

“Y/N, calm down. You’re okay. It’s just me, sweetie.” She says, running a hand through your hair as her eyes shift to someone behind you; their voice deep, slow, and filled with angst.

“There’s… a… what?” He asks, the voice you recognize as Draco’s ringing off the walls. Mattheo, Theo, and Blaise walk into frame behind him when they realize he found you. The sight of them strikes you; your fiercely loyal group of friends that would go to the ends of the earth for you. To your surprise, you are relieved to see them.

But their anger is palpable. Draco’s jaws clenched tight. Theo’s heavy eyes claiming the darkness. Blaise’s hands rolled into fists. Lorenzo steps forward, eyes soft, holding out a gentle hand. 

“Let’s get you to the common room, and you can tell us-” he turns to the other boys before emphasizing his next words, “-what you’re comfortable with, if you want to talk at all.”

You nod in agreement, taking his hand while Pansy takes your other one. In your head, you’re thanking whatever higher power put Lorenzo on this planet. The voice of reason amidst all chaos.

—

It’s nearly 2AM now. You’re sat on the common room couch in front of the blazing fireplace under a mess of blankets, warming up after your frigid nap. Theo on your left, Lorenzo on your right holding your tea, Draco and Mattheo sitting on the coffee table facing you, with Blaise and Pansy on the floor. All with mixed looks of curiosity, empathy, and sheer rage.

After thinking it over, you decided to prioritize yourself for once. A lot of people don’t realize how hard a decision that can be. This is a risky favor to ask for. But there’s only a couple truly precious things in the world you can’t live without, and this is one of them. You want your fucking bookstore back.

So, you tell them. Everything.

As you recall the events of the last few weeks, you feel the air become tense. Blaise looks like he’s about to combust. Theo reaches for your hand, letting you fiddle with the bracelet on his wrist. You hear Pansy call this boy every name in the book under her breath, your favorite being “bastardly filth”. Draco and Mattheo listen, periodically looking at each other with knowing stares, having their own wordless conversation. You know those looks. Plotting looks.

When you finish, you’re briefly met with silence, temporarily paralyzing you. Do they believe me?

You break the stillness. “I suppose I’m making a big deal out of something quite trivial.” You say to them, diminishing your story, and for what?

Mattheo stands up, ushering Blaise and Pansy out of the way as he kneels in front of you. He rests a comforting hand on your knee, his eyes glowing with brutal honesty.

“It’s really very simple, little dove. You’re in danger, we take down the threat. I can assure you we all agree that your safety is anything but trivial.” He states. He gives your knee a squeeze. “Gonna be honest though, Y/N. It’s going to be ugly for him when he meets us.”

You look up to Draco, who’s been oddly quiet since you all got back. You hold his gaze as you respond.

“Good. Send him my regards.” You reply, earning a wicked grin from him, his eyes suddenly crinkled and brimming with pride. Everyone shifts a bit in their seats, wrapping up the late night discussion.

Draco strides over to you, taking the teacup from your hands and setting it down on a side table. He looks so handsome like this, facing you on the couch with his hair disheveled and the top of his shirt buttons undone. The glow from the fire accenting his features, so sharp yet yearning for sleep. He takes your face in his warm hands.

“I need you to hear me right now. Listening?” he asks. You give an unconvincing nod as his thumb caresses your cheek. Yes, but damn you make it hard to.

His stare intensifies, pulling you from your trance and forcing you to dial in to his statement.

“Never feel bad for wanting them to pay for the pain and discomfort they inflict on you. Their reasons were senseless, yours are justified.”

For the first time tonight, just for a moment, you feel sure of yourself. You wrap your arms around him, pulling yourself closer, his body becoming your safe haven. His hands nestle you to his chest as you feel him place a kiss on the top of your head.

He loves you and you know it. He’ll wait for this to pass, for things to be right. He’ll wait for you to feel whole and secure again. And he’ll do whatever it takes to help you get you there, even if that means giving you space.

As Pansy sees the two of you off to bed, you repeat his sentiment to her. “My god, that bloody boy is down bad, and I mean bad, for you Y/N.”

Ascending the staircase to your dorm, you faintly hear Draco informing the boys of the plan.

“Tomorrow. Noon.” He demands. The boys nod. He pauses before adding another instruction.

“Oh, and we’re gonna need a bag. We’ve got books to bring home.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[mystellenia]

ellie's reaction to big boobs ୨ৎ

summary: you come over to ellie's late at night, your intentions clear as day in your eyes.

content: answer to this req!! established relationship but yall havent done the freaky yet. a little bit of sub!ellie kinda, also kinda needy!ellie, fingering, nipple sucking, groping, basically it

notes: here's the small boob version!! i have never dragged on a fic like i did for this. pissing me off fr. bedtime now yayy honkkkk mimimimimimi

(wc 1.5k)

okay so having big boobs isn't exactly something that goes unnoticed, and trust me, ellie NOTICED. she is such a tits girl. you always noticed how her gaze lingered in, honestly, any top you wore. fitted, loose, tight, baggy, low cut—she dont give af 😇 always thinks she's so sly with it, too, just to be caught every single time. she's so silly. 

obviously, she didn't wanna rush your first time together, but boy did she want to. whenever you guys cuddled, she so badly wanted to palm one, just to hold it or work it under her fingers. and don't get me started on when you guys were chest to chest??? it's all she would think about: her tits being so close to yours, your nipples just two layers away from kissing hers. 

so when you both were on the phone getting ready for bed and you asked her if you could come over, she said yes with HASTEEEEE. it was 11 pm—why else would you come over? i mean, she didn't wanna get her hopes up, but she did take a quick shower while you were on the way over. 

and then she heard three knocks from the front door. 

you stood at the top step to ellie's apartment, the slight chill prickling your arms, but it didn't affect you much because of the heat that ran through your body. 

your arm fell back to your side after knocking, checking your phone for the time. 11:11 pm, it read. you laughed to yourself about the lucky time, with it being 11:11. maybe you would get lucky. 

ellie approached the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole—she was expecting you, anyway. what she was not expecting was to open the door and see you standing in what you were in: black sweatpants and a grey spaghetti strap tank top, looking molded to your body. she felt lightheaded at the outline of your breasts in the tank top, so tight to your skin she swore she could see the print of each hair on your body through it. 

she then looked up to find you staring at her with low lids, the faintest of smiles playing your lips.  

"you gonna let me in, or just keep staring at me?" you teased, pushing past her when she couldn't respond out of surprise. 

ellie came back to her senses and shut the door, locking it behind her back to finally address you. "hi, baby," she says, walking over to you on the couch to kiss your head. 

in place of a response, you hum, lacing your fingers with hers. 

ellie soon grows suspicious of your quietude, smiling and squinting her eyes at you. 

"baby, are you okay?" she prods, her eyebrows drawn together in playful skepticism. "you're so quiet right now." 

you ignore her and lean into her chest, wrapping your arms around her neck and brushing your lips over hers. her smile drops quickly, her lips parting and eyes moving down to your lips. 

"do you still want me to talk now?" you murmur against her mouth, her eyes now almost fully closed. 

it's ellie who leans forward and connects your lips, immediately moaning into your mouth. you swing your leg over hers, moving on top to straddle her. her hands swiftly find your lower back and push your tank top up a little, sprawling her hands against the freed skin. your skin prickles with goosebumps as she brushes it, her cold hands making you shiver and arch into her to escape them. 

ellie abruptly pulls back and rests her forehead against your cheekbone, looking down at your boobs squished up against hers and the cleavage coming from the action. 

you notice where her eyes rest and nudge her head with your nose, grabbing her attention. "el," you breathe, "you know you can touch them." 

she glances up at you. "what?" she pants. 

you place your hand over hers and guide it to your chest, palming your hand over hers on your left boob. "like this," you guide. 

her eyes watch your skin under her hand, slightly unfocused and glazed over. you make her hand squeeze your boob, leaning into her neck to place wet, open-mouthed kisses near her ear, hearing her contently sigh. 

you lean back, causing ellie to promptly pull her hand into her lap. your hands move to roll your tank top up to your sternum and reveal your braless chest, your tits bouncing slightly at the freedom. she almost starts salivating, her throat bobbing as she thickly swallows and then exhales heavily through her mouth. 

she lifts her hand to palm your right breast and pulls back, simply watching your flesh move under her fingers with a slack jaw and eyes nearly closed. your head lulls to the side, and you close your eyes and bite your lip to try and stay quiet. 

she suddenly gains confidence, licking her lips and moving her free hand out of her lap. she traces the waistband of your sweatpants, asking you a quiet "can i?" in permission. she does not, however, give you any time to prepare—she only grants the time it takes for her to quickly swipe her fingers through you to get them wet before smoothly plunging them into you, taking you by surprise and making you scoot back a little to escape the initial intrusion. she looks up at you, smiling evilly at your little gasps and whines. 

your reactions make her cocky, and while she starts to thrust her fingers in you, she asks, "how does that feel?" keeping her eyes on you. while she normally would be nervous about her inexperience, she doesn't care much for your response in this moment—she knows she's making you feel good, so instead she gives a smug smile when you rapidly nod your head. 

she abruptly pulls her fingers out and sits back on her haunches, her sticky fingers resting on her thigh. "take your underwear off. i wanna see." 

you obey, lifting your hips to push your underwear down your thighs. she just watches, her eyes locking onto the string of arousal connecting your puffy core to your underwear. the second it's fully off, she returns her hand to your cunt and reinserts her fingers, groaning at the feel of you clenching around her. 

"ellie..." you moan, your eyes threatening to close. "wait, let me- i wanna make you feel good, too," you breathe, thumbing the drawstring of her sleep shorts between your thumb and index fingers. 

her eyes snap up to yours, pupils blown with lust as she nods. "yeah- yes." 

her movements slow down as she watches you untie the bow of her shorts, slipping them off her legs all while her fingers remain inside you. pushing her boy shorts over her butt and off her legs, you examine her pussy, soaked and glistening for you. 

despite your own weakness from her fingers working in between your legs, you trace small circles on her clit and push one finger in her, watching as her mouth opens more as you speed up. 

ellie's free hand loops around your back, pushing you close to her as her lips unexpectedly wrap around your peaked nipple, making you arch deeper into her mouth. you moan at the sensation, and ellie clamps around your finger, the only noises heard in the bedroom being lewd. 

you both grow closer to your climaxes, her continuing to lick and suck at your nipples as you begin jackhammering into her core. while her thighs tighten around your wrist, your hips buck and grind into her fingers, both of you greedily following the pleasure. 

ellie's movements get sloppy, her lips starting to drift from your nipple to your sternum. she cums around your fingers with a breathy cry of your name, the sound and sight alone enough to make you cum with her.

ellie sloppily lunges towards you and locks your lips in a messy kiss. you thrash against each other, a symphony of pleas and moans ending in the other's mouth. 

taking a moment to regain your senses, you both lay motionless with your chests heaving, fingers still swallowed up. 

you pull your fingers out, ellie soon following suit and wincing at the loss. you pull your tank top back down, and ellie climbs up next to you and lays on her side, looking at your profile.  

"jesus christ," she pants, throwing her arm over her eyes and laughing wearily. you laugh with her, rolling onto your side to face her. 

"i'm so tired. can we just sleep?" you ask. 

"god, yes." 

ellie pulls you into her chest, pulling the blanket up and over your bodies, your naked legs tangling under the sheets. 

just when you thought ellie had fallen asleep, you feel her chest vibrate with words.  

"i wanted to taste you so bad that whole time," she murmurs, sighing dramatically. "wasted opportunity." 

"just do it tomorrow," you reply. 

"oh, hell yeah." 

@picklesarenice69

I’M FREE I FINISHED THIS HOORAYYYY

her slutty little behind an that slutty little shirt and those slutty little ears (hiiii) and her slutty little wrists she needs to be arrested

fun fact the little frog stuffy divider yeah i have the frog her name is Margaret and she has a pink scarf 🧣

---

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

[gabseyoo]

WASTE OF LIPSTICK — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: female reader, established relationship, fluff. word count: 0,7k.

note: soft sakusa is my religion.

Sakusa Kiyoomi had a reputation for being serious, collected, competitive, honest and even a little intimidating— well, too intimidating. 

Many say he’s even scary. 

You couldn’t agree more, indeed, he was all that. Your boyfriend’s reputation doesn’t come from nowhere, right?

But that’s the Kiyoomi that the public knew. The Kiyoomi you knew was nothing like what they thought he was, in fact, he was someone completely different.

Your Kiyoomi was someone kind, funny and even somewhat corny. He was someone who planned the most memorable dates, was always spoiling you, had a picture of you as his wallpaper, wore his promise ring every day, gave you lots of cute petnames and—believe it or not—sent kisses at the end of every phone call when he’s away. 

It’s not like he hid how he acted with his girlfriend, which is why so many of his acquaintances were surprised by how much he softened when it came to you, and honestly, that’s one of the many things you loved about him.

You didn’t know why those kinds of thoughts about your boyfriend’s not-so-hidden sweet side were going through your head right now, maybe it was because if someone when you first met the intimidating Sakusa Kiyoomi had told you that someday he’d be your boyfriend and you’d be here, straddling his lap with him lying in the comfort of your bed and he would have a face full of red lipstick stains that you had spread on his smooth skin, you wouldn’t have believed them.

“This is a waste of lipstick.” 

You chuckled at your boyfriend’s sudden words that broke the comfortable silence. 

“I know.” You pushed aside a strand of hair on his forehead to leave a kiss there and smiled before leaving another on his temple, decorating his skin with new red marks. “But it’s worth it, you look pretty.” 

Kiyoomi smiled.

“Do I?” He placed his hand behind your head, stroking your skin in a soothing manner as he looked lovingly into your eyes, and you swore that at that moment it was as if you fell in love with him all over again for the thousandth time. 

A sincere smile appeared on your lips and you responded with a small mhm as you brought your face close to his until your noses brushed.

“I think you look pretty too.” Kiyoomi whispered before joining your lips in a kiss.

With his hand on the back of your neck he put a little more pressure to deepen the kiss and the other did the same on your lower back, you buried yours in his dark curls. It was romantically slow, you both just enjoyed the feel of each other’s lips. 

It wasn’t until you needed a breath of air that you broke away, but not before giving him a little peck.

You supported yourself on your hands on either side of his head and looked down at your boyfriend, letting out a giggle when you saw that his mouth was completely smeared with red. You thought about commenting on it, but he beat you to it.  

“Your mouth is all messy now.” He gently took you by the chin and his thumb wiped under your lips, you knew that this action had surely smeared the lipstick more instead of cleaning it, but you didn’t mind in the least. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You kissed his finger in reassurance before asking, “Ready for round two, Omi?” 

“I’m all yours, baby.” He stated, putting his hands behind his head to make himself comfortable on your pillow. 

“I like that.” You sat up straight again on his lap and picked up the red lipstick you had left on your nightstand. 

Kiyoomi watched with a smitten smile how you applied more lipstick on your lips, getting ready for another round of kisses that he was more than willing to receive.

“You still think this is a waste of lipstick?” You questioned as you leaned in to leave a kiss on his jaw 

“Maybe.”

You gasped dramatically and Kiyoomi let out a chuckle. 

“But I always can buy you more, you know.” He added and took your hand in his to leave a kiss on your knuckles. “As long as you waste it on me.” 

[keerysfreckles]

enough for you — MV1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: max finds himself at the losing end of a bar fight, and he has no where else to go but your own apartment.

warnings: she/her pronouns, google translated dutch, slight swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

a/n: idk how i feel abt this one..

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

you haven't heard from max in years. the two of you had an awful falling out. years of you being best friends, turned into a budding relationship. only for it to be thrown away when you caught max with another girl in your apartment.

you hated him for it. you still do. since then you haven't spoken a single word to each other, and you were hoping to keep it that way.

nothing changed in your nightly routine as you re-heated left overs from lunch, and put on a classic romcom you found on netflix.

your life definitely changed when you and max stopped talking. charles and carlos stopped going to your apartment. you didn't hang out with lando or pierre as much anymore. most of the grid completely ghosted you, besides checo. he knew how hard it was for you to move on after max, he was there for you every step of the way.

your routine however was interrupted by a loud knock on your apartment door. you paused the movie, just as jane was about to show kevin all 27 bridesmaids dresses.

you look over your appearance quickly in your small hallway mirror before opening the door.

"what the hell are you doing here?" you snap.

max fucking verstappen was on the other side of the doorway. his knuckles dark red, stained with blood. his hair was messy, also containing remnants of blood. as if he wes running his fingers through it on the way here. a small bruise started to form underneath his eye, only going to grow in the next hour.

his shuddered breathing took over as he spoke, "i had no where else to go liefje." darling.

you immediately shook your head, "don't call me that."

all max did was look down, another thing seeming to go wrong for him tonight.

you open the door wider and step to the side, silently letting him in your apartment. all of the memories come flooding back with every step he takes, in the space he used to live.

you ordered him to wait in your bedroom while you went in the opposite direction, torwards your bathroom.

you grabbed everything you could; wipes, bandaids, disinfectant. you quickly went back to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for his growing bruise.

"het spijt me, liefje," i'm sorry darling his voice is raspy when you sit beside him on your bed.

you don't respond at first, thinking of the right words to say. you simply hand him the icepack as you start cleaning his left hand.

after moments of silence, your curiosity gets the best of you. "what happened?" you ask.

his adams apple bobs, before he takes a deep breath. "these guys at the bar i was at were talking about you."

your eyebrows furrorw, "me? why would strangers be talking about me?"

max turns to face you more snd shrugged, "one of them mentioned being on a date with you, and all they could think about was," he pauses. you stop your movements and look max in the eyes, encouraging him to go on. "he kept saying how much of a bang you'd be."

you and max both grimace. you knew what he was reffering to though. you were planning on going on a date later in the week with a guy you met from one of your friends. you make a mental note to yourself to stand up the asshole.

"so why did you get into a fight?" you continue wiping the blood from his knuckles, hearing him hiss before he spoke again.

"i couldn't just sit there while he was talking so badly of you. so i asked to talk to him outside, and i tried defending you. i really did."

you run your fingers over his hand, calming him before he starts to ramble.

he continues, "it was no use though. he obviously won," he sighs, his shoulders dropping.

you still couldn't believe the words that came out of max's mouth. even after years of silence between you two, he proved he would still do anything for you. you couldn't help but let your heart beat for him.

his eyes land on your intertwined hands. "i've missed you liefje." his voice is quiet, and you think you've heard him incorrectly at first.

you chuckle drly. "don't. don't do that max."

he brings his hand away from yours. "what? i can't be honest with you anymore?"

you shake your head for the second time tonight, starting to get tired of max's moodswings again.

you don't know why you let max in again in the first place. in your apartment, and in your heart. maybe you thought he changed, but that wasn't the case.

you throw the supplies down in your bathroom, not caring where they land in the process.

"get out," you storm into your room.

silently, max stands and heads in the direction of your front door.

"glad to know you haven't changed," he mumbles, probably thinking you dont hear him.

"excuse me?"

he turns, right before he was about to leave from your life again.

"you were never one to deal with change. when my feelings started changing about you, you threw me out."

you can't help but laugh, "no, no! that is not what happened. you cheated on me after i told you i wasn't ready to move to monaco with you."

max rolls his eyes, only irritating you more.

you move around him to open the door, "get out," you demand again.

he does as you say, rubbing his hands over his face and sighs.

"i've never stopped loving you," he states, just before you slam the door in his face.

you shake your head once again, but he continues.

"i still care about you, and i know you still care about me. you wouldn't have let me in tonight if you didn't."

"just leave max," the irritation starts making it's way to your throat, making your words tight.

max shakes his head, "i can't leave knowing damn well i want you in my life again."

"what if i don't want you in mine?"

max places his hands on his hips, "we both know that's a lie."

"wha–"

max points behind you, "you still have the tv stand you and i put together right after we started dating."

you're about to tell him to leave again, but he continues.

"in your room, you still had the paintings we made on our third date after we both got drunk. your shoes are still organized by color, thanks to my doing. you still have the ice pack i gave you when you hit your head at my place trying to cheer me up after a bad race."

you're at a loss for words, speechless because of max's confession.

"i still love you liefje, and i don't think i can ever stop." his voice cracks. once you don't answer his shoulders drop again. you watch him finally leave your doorway, walking into the rain that started to drop from dark clouds.

you cover your face, contemplating what you should do. part of you wants to close your door. to let max out of your life once and for all. but the other part of you wants to run to him. to hold him again.

you run out of your apartment, without shoes and without a jacket. you weren't entirely sure what you were doing, or what you were going to say. but you couldn't turn around now, you were already grabbing on his arm.

"you remember those things?"

max is quiet, looking down at you. you wonder what he could be thinking. but right now you can't help but make a fool of yourself.

you start to ramble, as your words come out rushed.

"max you know i can't leave you. i– i just can't. you cross my mind more times than i want to admit. i don't hate you, and i don't want you to leave. sometimes i turn on a race just to know if you're still doing okay. i haven't lived my life properly since you left. and yes max, i know i'm supposed to be mad at you, but truth is i can't."

you finally stop to take a full breath, and you make eye contact with max again. you see the small smirk resting on his face. his now wet hair was causing water droplets to drip down his forehead and onto his nose.

"are you just gonna stand there and make me continue rambling?" you wipe the rain from your eyes.

max shrugs with a playfulness hidden behind his words, "yeah, it's kind of cute seeing you flustered."

a blush rises to your cheeks, at his next words.

"it just makes me want to kiss you more."

within 2 seconds, max's hands cup your cheeks before he connects his lips to yours. you grab onto his wrists gently, stabilizing yourself. you've missed his lips more than you want to admit. the softness of his lips is contradicting to your own chapped ones.

you move your hands to his hair, gripping at the short strands towards the back of his neck. a beautiful throaty groan fills your mouth, and god you've never wanted to be closer to him than you are right now.

[arminsumi]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING OMG ITS SOO GOOD !! 🤍🤍

i wanted to req doing a skincare routine w gojo, like asking him to lay down so you could do it. if that makes sense 😭😭

(i thought it would be so cutee !! pref a fem reader)

NIGHTS LIKE THESE

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Satoru just enjoying getting pampered by his wife.

[ Note ] : ahhh u are so very kind 😖💗 i lovee the idea of skincare w gojo sm!! he deserves to be pampered like a royal puppy

He's all for it when you suggest doing a skincare routine on him. I mean, laying down and letting your soft hands work out the tension in his face with some nice smelling products? Yes, please. That's exactly what he needs on a Friday night after teaching martial arts to his students all day.

"What's this?" he asks for each product in your hands. He doesn't eye them out suspiciously, he just accepts whatever you're putting on his face.

He's in this love-ditzy state tonight... oh, maybe it's just the strong blossom scent flooding in through the windows putting him in that state.

"This is a face mask... I'll put it on, then peel it off in fifteen minutes..." you're murmuring slowly, voice soft as you focus on smearing the sparkly gelatinous liquid over the curve of his cheek."

"Mmm..." he hums in acknowledgement to what you said, eyes closing.

His hair is put out of the way by a pink makeup headband; it's the one he bought for you at the beginning of the year, that Sailor Moon one. It just has a crescent moon on the center.

Satoru wiggles his feet and rests his finger-locked hands on his stomach, relishing in the attention you're giving him.

There's a serene silence as you apply the face mask with carefulness — you're trying to make it that perfectly rounded mask.

"... you're so gentle." Satoru comments, smiling to himself. "It's nice... getting pampered by my pretty wife. I think this is the meaning of life." he says in a low rasp. You can hear how tired he is after teaching all day in the hot sun.

"What, the meaning of life is... getting a face mask put on you?" you chuckle.

"Being with you." he replies.

You soften your brows and look down at him with love. He's still got his eyes closed so he can't see your loving look. It's okay. He can feel your love radiating.

"Well aren't you sappy..." you tease. He smiles.

He knows he's sappy, but you like it, don't you? And he means it. His meaning of life is being with you.

"I'm done, by the way."

"OOH let me see."

He checks his reflection in his phone camera, and you know snaps a picture with you while he's at it. You complain that he's gotten your bad side, and that he has to take it again, but he's giggling like a mischievous kid.

You sigh and look at him. "Of course... of course you look good in a face mask."

"Uhhh yeah duh I look good in everything." he responds cockily, then adds, "... you look good in everything, too."

"Ah shut it!" you giggle, and the sound makes his heart lurch.

"Mmm, it's true." he leans in, giving you a lopsided kiss, "Thank you, baby. Anyways... this stuff smells so good... is it edible?"

"No, it's not. So don't eat it."

He eats a little to mess with you. Then scrunches his whole face at the chemical taste.

"Satoru why are you like this." you shake your head. "Anyways... I'll cut some cucumbers for your eyes." you say, turning to the tiny cutting board that you put on top of a pillow.

"Yay, cucumber time." he says like a five-year-old. "It's not bigger than mine, is it?" he eyes out the cucumber you're taking into your hands.

"Satoru!" you laugh scoldingly.

He lets you cut the cucumber in peace, not wanting to talk in case he distracts you. But the way he stares at you, with his fists tucked under his chin and that star-struck look in his eyes, he distracts you anyways, and you nearly slice your finger.

Satoru's a different kind of beautiful. That's apparent from the first time you meet him, but you realize it during times like this; when you're snuggled up in your dim-lit bedroom. The clear face mask glitters a bit, you can see it drying.

"Don't touch it. It's drying."

"Sorryyy."

You shake your head at him. Then you catch him trying to touch his face again.

"Ooh, I can feel the little stars in it."

"Satoru, let it dry. Lay back. I'm covering your eyes..."

"... ooh, kinky."

You sigh, he smiles — he's so happy that he can be an absolute idiot around you and yet you still love him. How'd an obnoxious idiot like him get a tender, loving woman like you? I guess, 'cause he's god's favorite, I mean... with the Six Eyes and Limitless bestowed on him, of course he'd be sent an earth angel too, just to protect his sanity. You're very much his sanctuary, the refuge he seeks when responsibility whips his back.

The soothing cucumber slices cover his eyes now.

Laying and letting you pamper him like this makes him feel so at peace, he's becomes drowsy, and soon falls asleep. Soft snores sound from him. He's so utterly soft and gentle while he sleeps, you wouldn't think he's the strongest.

You decide to not wake him, and just peel the face mask off him gently once the fifteen minutes passes.

He just sleeps like a baby while you finish the routine. A soft, radiant glow adorns his cheekbones. His chest rises and falls like a calm tide.

That's your husband; a hyper, sleep-deprived, overworked and overburdened man who lives for the nights you do these sweet things with him.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hi!! Could you write the gang(separately) with a reader who's “weird” or just odd? Like socially awkward and quiet. She's very into like finding strange looking rocks or something that'll remind her of anyone and gift it to them. Maybe the reader's also a crybaby?

Summary: The gang with an 'odd' reader Warnings: slight mentions of bullying Author's note: once i was standing next to my crush to do a presentation and i was stuttering and stammering so hard i wanted to pass away. ill never forget that day. PONYBOY hasn't ever really noticed you until you had to do a presentation. It wasn't bad, but he could tell you were stressed out because of it. He thinks you're very beautiful though, and tries to hang out with you after that. He's sometimes discouraged when you don't get that he wants to actually be your friend instead of make fun of you, but he eventually gets past your barriers. He keeps every rock and crystal you get him in a little box next to his bed. JOHNNY is also a little socially awkward too, he hates talking in front of people he's not comfortable with, and he'll just down right refuse to do a presentation or speech. He finds your prescense comforting, because you don't always talk so he can zone out for a little. He trades rocks with you whenever he finds some that you'd like. He tries to keep the ones you give him, but his mom throws them out when she finds them, so he asks you to get him more. SODAPOP actually thinks that you're adorable. He likes your uniqueness, it's a breath of fresh air for him so he loves spending time with you even if you guys don't talk that much. He's always been little curious about your rock collection, and he likes to admire them, so you ended up just givng him his favorite. From then on, he gives you little rocks that match your eye color, or hair color etc. He doesn't mind the fact that he has to talk for you when others are around, it makes him feel important to you. STEVE is so extroverted that he gernerally doesn't understand 'social awkwardness'. He's always talking to you, and in a way, you both grow on each other. He likes how he can talk to you without being interrupted, which is a stark contrast to the gang, and you like how you don't have to respond back. There's been some times that he's touched a nerve and accidentally made you cry, but he's very apologetic and buys you ice cream. TWO BIT is similar to Steve, he loves to just talk your ear off. However, he expects a bit more back and forth conversation, so he always pausesin case you want to speak up. He's secretly very excited when you respond, and tries to steer the conversation more in that direction to hear you talk more. He's very careful about your likes and dislikes, you wont catch him dead saying something that would make you cry. DARRY can be a little brash, especially because of his short childhood. He tries his hardest to be a lot gentler when it comes to you, never talking about touchy subjects or things that would force you to talk to him. In the back of his mind, he's always watching out for things that could potentially make you upset. He really enjoys your company, sometimes he just needs a cup of coffee with out the rest of the gangs chatter in his ear. DALLAS is always going to be a bit of a jerk to you. He likes to tease you for picking up rocks off the side of the road, but immedietly stops when you give it to him. He'll pocket the rock and put it in a drawer later on for safe keeping. He's made you cry a lot of times, at first he'll just brush it off by rolling his eyes, but then after a while, he'll start up Buck's car and drive you around to where ever you want as his secret way of saying 'sorry'.

[dekariosclan]

First of all, thanks for your sweet, informative and entertaining thoughts on Gale you keep sharing with us! I love reading them!

Sooooo... how do you think Gale would handle jealousy between spouse-Tav and Tara? After all, not every Tav felt instant love for Tara and vice versa, as can be seen at the Epilogue Party (which I found hilarious personally!)

Thank you!! I’m delighted to get to answer an ask about Taaaaarraaaaaaa! 🥹

I’m assuming everyone is aware of what happens during the rooftop meeting if Tav rudely decides to take the missing letters from Tara without asking?

I’m mentioning this not to throw any shade on Tara (I’m on her side—you want to act rude and steal from Tara?! Get burnt) but because Gale’s response is, I think, a perfect summary of how he would respond to any jealousy between the two:

(side note—as a cat owner myself, I can also confirm this is 1000% the most cat tressym owner thing to say, ever 😂)

I think that Gale, upon seeing a hint of jealousy from either one, would be desperate to not take sides and would try his utmost to cheerfully smooth out any tension between them. After all, he cherishes these two! His best friend since he was a child, and the love of his life. Surely he can help them see eye-to-eye?!

There might be more than one discussion over dinner, in which Gale mentions how “Tav was admiring your wings yesterday, Tara,” or “Tara was saying you did an excellent job organizing some of my rather scattered potion bottles, Tav.” Of course all of these discussions, productive or not, will end with: “And for the last time, Tara, no, I will not be shaving this beard, no it’s not because Tav likes it, its because I myself like it—”

But I also think any Tav that truly deserves to be with Gale would be decent and good-hearted enough that they wouldn’t be jealous of Tara—or at least, not for very long. Because it takes very little for Tara to be accepting of Tav! At the epilogue party, if Tav invites Tara for some tea and reassures her that she will still get to be in Gale’s life, Tara warms up immediately. Gale is her “little love,” after all. How could any Tav that loves Gale deny him that? 💜

It’s actually my personal HC that Tav and Tara are not only not jealous of each other, but actually become fast friends and bond over something that I think Gale would be somewhat chagrined about: their shared dislike of Mystra.

Imagine the commentary. The sly digs against the Goddess anytime she’s mentioned in conversation. Tara flatly stating she finds Mystra’s style ‘gaudy’. The snickering. The way that the small Mystra statue in Gale’s study mysteriously ends up broken on the floor. Gale suspiciously asking “What are you two whispering about?” and being assured it’s nothing, merely discussing the weather!

…Gale’s earring then somehow disappearing from his nightstand—where he’d placed it for just an instant!—and ending up in Tara’s litterbox.

“Oh dear, Mister Dekarios!” The delight obvious in Tara’s voice. “However did that happen? Well, we’ll simply have to get you a new one, dear.”

“Yes indeed!” Tav nodding vigorously. Smiling widely. “Clearly this was an accident, of course, so you can’t be mad at Tara, Gale. Shall we go shopping for one now?”

And Gale, his gaze bouncing suspiciously between the two of them, both looking absolutely delighted with each other, thinking that perhaps it would have been better if they’d remained enemies.

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Turning Point (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - (Y/n) has always dealt with harsh criticism when it came to her work, but that never meant she was immune.

Notes - Sorry for the wait for a new post! I decided that weekends will be my off days from writing to preserve my sanity 💀

Word Count - 2,031

Warning(s) - Bullying, violence, mild gore

Song Inspiration -

Acsida - Privet Privet 2009

(Y/n)’s small living room was dimly lit by soft, flickering candlelight, casting shadows across the walls that seemed to stretch and twist in strange patterns as her TV hummed in the background. She sat on the floor, legs outstretched as her back leaned against the couch, absentmindedly working on a small canvas resting on her lap. 

Art lounged on the couch behind her, his head tilted as he silently browsed through channels, glancing down at (Y/n) and her work occasionally. His now pristine hand played with her hair mindlessly, combing his fingers through it as he found the texture satisfying. 

(Y/n) didn’t mind, though. It made her aware of his otherwise silent presence, which she had come to call home. It soothed her and kept her relaxed as she worked. 

Through their time together, they soon found that regardless of nearly being polar opposites, her more calm and reserved demeanor greatly complimented his boldness and chaos. Their shared interest in death was what drew them to each other, but everything else just seemed to perfectly fall into place for them. 

Art surprisingly came to respect her personality as she respected his. It was refreshing for him, in a way, which he never thought was even possible until she proved him otherwise. 

It started out as curiosity, wanting to understand how someone with such interests could be so tame. That curiosity then grew into an obsession, taking note of her smallest behaviors. Whether it was the way her nose twitched when she didn’t like something, or simply her breathing patterns. He knew everything there was to know about her. 

She dabbed her brush into a deep crimson, dragging it across the canvas in harsh, deliberate strokes. (Y/n) could feel Art’s gaze lingering on the piece, and for a moment, she wondered what ran through his head when he saw her art. 

“You like it?” She asked, her voice soft and curious. 

Art didn’t respond with words, as usual. Instead, he sat up, his silent movements almost ghostly as he leaned over her shoulder. His head cocked from one side to the other as he carefully observed the piece. He then grinned with a thumbs up, patting her shoulder in approval. She placed her free hand over his.

“Thanks.” (Y/n) giggled.

“I just don’t understand how someone would  think it’s appropriate to ever publicize something like that.” 

The laughter stopped, both of them looking up to the TV screen settled on a talk show. 

“I mean, think of the children! They could run into it on the internet and be traumatized and need therapy.” 

(Y/n)’s gaze hardened, heart beginning to race as she took in their insults. She chewed her lip as she watched, nearly drawing blood.

“Trust me, I don’t think they’re the only ones who need therapy -“ 

The channel suddenly changed, remote in Art’s hand as he frowned at the screen and waved it off in distaste. He then looked down at (Y/n) who began to calmly clean up her area. 

Too calmly. 

She stood up, taking her supplies with her as she made her way to the sink to clean everything off. His eyes followed her carefully, paying attention to every minor difference or change. As soon as he caught her mouth twitch he rose from the couch. 

He walked over to her, or rather stalked, and slapped a hand on the counter beside the sink as he faced her, leaning against it. She didn’t look at him until she was finished cleaning, drying her hands and giving him her best smile, albeit fake. 

His grin was wide, encouraging, and he motioned for her to do the same with his fingers. When she didn’t and simply giggled half heartedly, his smile dropped and he tapped his chin in thought. 

Art’s expression then turned mischievous, baring his teeth again with a Cheshire smile as his hands slowly reached for her, his fingers wiggling menacingly. 

“No.” (Y/n) pleaded at first, taking a hesitant step back. “No - Art!”

She shrieked when he snatched her, holding her against him as he tickled her relentlessly. He laughed silently as she squirmed and cackled, using all of her strength to try and worm her way out of his grip, but they both knew he was far too strong for such a feat. 

“Okay! Art, I’m fine - I’m okay now!” The clown stopped tickling, but still held her. He peeked his head from around her to watch her face to determine if she was lying or not. 

As (Y/n) caught her breath, she looked up at Art with the usual glimmer in her eye that he so adored and he firmly nodded before letting her go. 

She sighed dramatically and he wiped his hands off together proudly, giving her an ‘ok’ symbol with a wink and heading back to the couch with a pep in his step. 

(Y/n) shook her head in exasperation, rubbing at her temple before following him. 

The following day, they both worked in silence at their hideout. Art sat at his workbench, tinkering away while (Y/n) sat on the floor against the stove beside the desk, filtering through her photos on her camera. A small radio played in the background, (Y/n) humming to a familiar song every now and then while Art nodded along with her. 

It was one of their calmer nights, the two of them deciding not to go out and to simply spend time with each other, even if it was just sitting in the other’s company. 

(Y/n) saw Art’s hand motion for her in her peripherals, looking up at him finally. He pointed to her then to the stool left unused, then to the floor and flung his hand out as an exasperated question. 

“I’m comfortable, Art, I promise.” 

(Y/n) giggled when his head ticked at her stubbornness. He then pointed back at the stool aggressively, and then next to the edge of the desk with a determined expression. 

“You want me to be closer to you?” Art nodded and she laughed. “Well why didn’t you just say that?” 

She nearly snorted as she stood up when Art threw out it arms, silently telling her ‘what the fuck?’. She brought the stool over to his desk and sat on top of it, camera in hand for her to resume what she had previously been doing. 

Her laughter died down to a chuckle. “You know I love teasing you, I hardly ever get to.” (Y/n) reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze. Art rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her before turning back to continue modifying one of his weapons. 

“I personally think she’s just trying to use shock value to get some traction on her work.”

Their ears caught as they continued to work, however Art glanced over at (Y/n) every now and then. 

“She’s trying so hard to shove it down our throats for attention when it’s nothing more than glorified gore.”

“Be glad I don’t shove something else down your throats…” (Y/n) grumbled to herself, the initial pain of their insults gradually seeping through into anger and irritability. 

The clown’s movements froze at her words as he stared at the desk in front of him with parted lips. 

With however long they had been together, not once had he heard her threaten another person, regardless if it was empty or not. She had always kept quiet and to herself when met with confrontation while he was the one who dealt with it accordingly. At least, what he considered to be accordingly. 

Art slowly shifted his eyes over to look at her, seeing her click the buttons on her camera casually as if she never said anything. 

And for once, he wondered if he was going crazy. 

He then looked back at the weapon in front of him, glanced at her once more, then slowly went back to working. 

One night, however, they decided to go out once they began to feel a sense of boredom, something they both passionately detested. 

Feeling particularly clingy, (Y/n) took to latching herself onto Art’s arm rather than just holding his hand. He gladly accepted it, throwing her a giddy smile and practically shaking with excitement. 

As they walked, (Y/n) noticed how much more comfortable she had become walking out in public. Art fed into her confidence, deliberately or not, and she held her head higher. He made her feel appreciated, feel important in a world where all she had before him was herself and the captious stares of those around her.

On the more rare occasions where she walked out on the town by herself to grab a bite to eat or restock on supplies, she crawled back into herself ever so slightly. Regardless, she was still more self-assured than she previously had been. 

“Maybe something with feet? I feel like I don’t focus on feet enough.” (Y/n) thought out. 

Art simply listened from beside her, genuinely intrigued and in his own thoughts about what he could do with his next victim - or victims - for her. 

She gasped suddenly and Art, ever the dramatic, jumped with a surprised expression. “A mouth!” (Y/n) looked over at him with an animated expression. 

Art tilted his head at her with his eyebrows raised, letting her know that he agreed. 

“Mouth it is tonight.” The clown wiggled his eyebrows at her perversely and she lightly backhanded his chest. 

“Oh shit, are you (Y/n)?” They heard a somewhat distant voice express. Ahead of them, a woman leaned against a wall, phone in hand as she waited beside a small food joint. 

Art and (Y/n) shared a suspicious look, continuing to walk until they were close enough to decently communicate. “Yes?” She answered with caution. 

Art made a simple decision from beside her, accepting the woman’s unwilling offer that was too easy to pass as he set down his bag while they talked. “This is so weird seeing you in person. I always hear about you but never thought I’d actually meet you!” 

(Y/n)’s eyes squinted with confusion, unsure of where the interaction was going to lead to. “Thanks? Like is that supposed to be a compliment?” She replied warily, almost irritably. 

“Oh no, I’m not a fan or anything, it’s just weird finally seeing someone you hear about a lot.” (Y/n) deadpanned, a familiar feeling of distaste building in her abdomen. 

Art, however, rather than growing defensive and upset, looked over at her curiously, letting the conversation work itself out with underlying mischief.

“It’s like if you met Jeffrey Dahmer in person, you’d just look at them like what the fuck, because of the shit they’ve done, y’know?” 

(Y/n)’s tongue ran along the inside of her cheek, casually looking over at the clown’s bag on the ground. As the woman continued to ramble, (Y/n) stepped over to it and began to search through its contents.

Art’s eyes widened, a grin spreading wide across his painted face in anticipation. “Like if the word edgy was a person -“ 

The woman was cut off as a shot echoed through the town. 

Art watched as the woman slid off of the wall and thumped onto the ground, then eased his eyes to look over at (Y/n). 

Arm straight out, the gun in her hand pointed at the bleeding woman with an indifferent expression, then lowered with a heavy sigh as she turned to toss it back into his bag after turning on the safety.

“I’m tired of this shit.” She mumbled to herself and rubbed at her forehead then looked up at Art. “Sorry. Let’s go find someone else for you.” 

Art was rigid where he stood, staring at her with an intensity that began to pull her out of her vexed state. He took a step towards her with predatory intent, grabbing the back of her neck and tugging her into him, their lips crashing together unexpectedly. 

(Y/n) froze at first, caught off guard by his behavior before she slowly began to melt into it, cupping his jaw in her hands. She gasped breathlessly for air when they parted as he silently heaved. 

“Does that mean I’m next?” She whispered. He flashed his teeth sadistically, leaning in once more.

Tag list: @callsignwidow

[sjsmith56]

Still Friends

Summary: One shot. Two years after breaking up, the OFC calls her ex-boyfriend, Bucky, for help after her current boyfriend assaults her.

Length: 4.5 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, OFC (unnamed and undescribed), OMC (named, undescribed)

Warnings: Contains description of abusive behaviour and physical assault. OFC experiences angst after realizing leaving Bucky was a mistake.

Author notes: This is nurturing Bucky, who also shows some restraint by accepting his ex-girlfriend needed to work out her issues without pressure from him.

📱 🍨 ❤️‍🩹

As far as breakups go it wasn’t a bad one. There were still tears on both sides but there were also hugs after I told Bucky that I didn’t think we had a future together. Between my job as a travelling sales representative and his work an Avenger we didn’t see each other much. The sex was great, but it wasn’t enough to base a real relationship on. He was sad about my decision, but he helped me pack my things that I had left at his place, and we talked about where we went sideways. There was no blame; it was just how it went. As I stood at the door and hugged him again, he bent his head down and whispered in my ear.

“If you ever need me, I’ll be there for you. We’re still friends, sweetheart. That will never change.”

That was almost two years ago. A few months later, I accepted a job as a regional sales manager, in another city. There was less travel and I had time to date. Nothing serious developed but I was okay with that. Bucky was in the news every so often, only now the news stories were about the Avenger Bucky Barnes and not the former Winter Soldier. I was so proud of him and occasionally sent him a text message congratulating him on a job well done. He would send back pictures of him and Sam with the team they had assembled. He looked happy and I was glad for him.

Then I met a guy, Bryce Andrews, a very charming pharmaceutical sales manager. We hit it off quickly. Looking back now, maybe it was a bit too quickly, but at the time it just seemed like things were falling into place at the right moment. It wasn’t until Bucky and Sam were on a publicity tour of various cities and contacted me to arrange to meet up that things with Bryce took a turn.

We were at dinner in a restaurant. During the time between our plates being cleared and our desserts arriving I received a text message, and several more in a row.

“Excuse me,” I said, grabbing my phone. “Someone must need me.”

I looked. They started from Bucky: Going to be in your city next week for some publicity. Can we get together? That was followed by a text from Sam with the same message. Then texts from both asking if now was a bad time to call, since I hadn’t responded.

“Who is it?” asked Bryce, seeming curious, but good natured about the interruption.

“Oh, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes,” I replied. “They’re coming on a publicity tour and wanted to get together. Do you mind if I call them?”

He blinked his eyes, then narrowed them. Now, in our line of work, especially considering how much networking we did outside of normal office hours, it wasn’t unusual for either of us to make or receive calls to and from other representatives. It was part of the job. Even though this would be a personal call, I didn’t think he would mind.

“We’re eating,” he said.

“Well, then let me text them that I’ll call them later,” I said, eager to please him.

A grunt was his answer, but I sent them a text message that I couldn’t talk at the moment, but I would phone later. I put my phone away, our dessert was served, and we ate, talking about all manner of things, except it seemed I was doing most of the talking. He was quieter than normal but not in a way that alarmed me. Since we met at the restaurant, after driving our own cars there, we said our good nights and I started my car up, then set up a conference call with Sam and Bucky so we could talk as I drove. It was great hearing from them, and we decided to see each other that following week. I really wanted them to meet Bryce, hoping they would get along. It was all set by the time I got home, parked my car, and locked it before I walked to my building, where I was surprised to see Bryce waiting for me.

“What’s up?” I asked, puzzled.

“Show me your phone,” he said, holding his hand out.

“Why?”

“Did you talk to them?”

Just the way he asked, set me off. “Yeah, I told you I was.”

“Are you cheating on me?”

“What?” I couldn’t believe he would ask something like that. “I haven’t seen them in two years. How could I cheat on you with friends I haven’t seen in that long?”

Suddenly, his hand was on my throat as he pushed me against the wall. “I always knew you weren’t over him. You’re going back to him, aren’t you? You’re going back to that killer?”

I struggled against Bryce, trying to push him off me. This was bizarre behaviour, and I was getting scared.

“No, I just set up meeting them for drinks, you, me, and them. That’s all. What’s got into you?”

“You’re mine! Do you hear me? You text them back and cancel it.”

“No, they’re my friends. I want to see them.”

The next thing I knew I was on the ground, my head ringing from where he struck me. A neighbour came out of the security door then, quickly assessing the situation. He gave me enough time to get through the door and close it before Bryce could follow. My now ex-boyfriend banged on the glass, his face full of unrestrained fury so I called the police and reported that he hit me, and I was afraid for my safety. They came within minutes, arrested him and I went up to my apartment, packed a bag and got in my car. As I drove, I phoned Bucky back. It took several rings before he answered, sounding like he had been sleeping.

“Sweetheart? Why are you phoning so late?”

“Do you still have access to a quinjet?”

Immediately, his voice changed, not sounding so sleepy anymore. “What’s wrong?”

“My boyfriend. He went off the deep end about us meeting next week. He hit me, Bucky. I had to call the police on him. I’m scared to stay home. I’m in my car right now but it’s too far to drive to where you are so I was hoping you could come and get me.”

“Where are you?” he asked.

I told him and he was quiet for a moment. He must have been looking it up on a tablet because he told me the name of a private airport about 15 minutes drive away. Told me to go there, stay in the car with the doors locked and wait for him. He would be there as soon as he could. When I arrived, I parked away from the other vehicles, figuring he would need room to land the quinjet. As I sat there in the dark my phone began to sound and I could see text after text from Bryce.

I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.

Please, call me or send me a text.

I’m being charged with assault. You sure you want to lay that on me?

Why don’t you answer?

Listen, if I say I’m sorry and promise to go for counselling can you drop the charges? I might lose my job over this.

There was nothing after that and I realized they had probably taken his phone away. I received another text, this one from Sam.

Almost there. Where are you?

In the parking lot, away from the other vehicles. Red Lexus SUV. I’ll flash the lights.

When I saw the lights of the quinjet approaching I flashed my brights and stepped out of the vehicle. Bucky was at the controls and landed right beside me. The back ramp came down and both stepped out immediately. As soon as I saw them, I began to cry. All I remember at that moment, was feeling their arms surround me, hugging me, and murmuring that I was alright. Sam stepped back, took my car keys and went to the trunk for my bag while Bucky led me into the quinjet. As he buckled me into a seat, he looked carefully at my face, gently touching it. It hurt and I winced.

“He did this to you?”

There was no anger in his voice as he asked, but I knew he was angry, just by the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes. I nodded. Sam strode on with my bag and his phone at his ear.

“Red Lexus SUV, at the location I told you. I have the keys, so you’ll have to transport the vehicle with a tow truck or flatbed trailer. I want it picked up and taken to a secure location within 24 hours.”

He was quiet while they repeated it back to him, then he hung up and kneeled in front of me, doing the same thing Bucky did, except from the mindset of his former para-rescue occupation, asking me if I blacked out, or greyed out, and if my head or neck hurt. When I winced at his touch he shook his head, obviously angry. Then he had me follow his upright finger with my eyes without moving my head. Gently, he cupped my cheek with his palm then stood up and looked meaningfully at Bucky.

“He doesn’t get away with it,” he said to his partner. “You know that type of reaction is jealousy, and it will just get worse now that he’s let his façade slip. I wish we had done something sooner.”

“What do you mean, sooner?” I didn’t quite understand what Sam meant.

Bucky let out a deep breath. “When you first told us about him, we checked him out. I know, that was technically spying but we still care about you and weren’t going to let just anyone be your boyfriend.”

“You’ve been interfering in my love life?” I could feel the anger in me ratcheting up to 100. “You had no right!”

“You’re right,” agreed Bucky. “But we just wanted you to be safe and happy with a good guy. Bryce seemed to be alright but there were moments in his past that made us wonder if he was as nice as he presented himself to be. What happened tonight, proved he wasn’t.”

Even though they were right, I was still angry, and I sat there with my arms folded, fuming. Bucky returned to the quinjet controls while Sam sat next to me and buckled in. To his credit, he didn’t try to talk me out of being upset at them. Half an hour later we were at the airport in the city where they were appearing. Sam called for an Uber. As we waited for it to arrive, he and Bucky stood closely together, murmuring, looking at me every so often. Sighing, I went over to them.

“If you’re going to talk about me, at least do it to my face,” I said, irritated.

“Just discussing the sleeping arrangements,” said Bucky. “We have a double King room. You can have one bed; Sam will take the other and I’ll take the floor.”

“I can pay for my own room,” I replied.

“No, what if he finds out you’re here?” asked Sam. “You’re staying with us. You can take a few days off of work, can’t you?”

“Possibly, if my boss is okay with it. Where do you go next?”

Sam rattled off the next three towns they were in before they got to where I lived. They both promised to help me deal with Bryce if he showed up. By the time we got to their hotel I was beat. Bucky went into the bathroom and came out several minutes later.

“I’ve run a bath for you,” he said gently. “Take your time and relax. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

I would have argued but he seemed so sincere that I grabbed my pyjamas and went into the bathroom. When I came out, the TV was on, and Sam was on top of the other bed, in sweatpants and a T-shirt. The other king-sized bed had been turned down, but Bucky wasn’t in the room.

“He went to grab some snacks,” explained Sam. “Get comfortable. Anything you want to watch?”

I shook my head as I dropped my clothes off on my suitcase and climbed into the other bed, with my phone in hand. There were no other messages from Bryce. Hopefully, that meant he was in custody and not plotting his revenge. The sound of the door being unlocked made both of us look at it and we watched as Bucky came in, carrying a bag and a covered paper cup. He toed his boots off and approached the beds. He placed the paper cup on the nightstand nearest me then reached inside the bag, pulling out a wrapped package, and handing it to Sam.

“Po’ Boy, with lots of hot sauce,” he said. He smiled at me, pulling out a small carton of rocky road ice cream and a spoon. “Comfort food, if I remember correctly.”

“Thanks,” I smiled, taking it from him. “It is.”

He pulled out a submarine sandwich for himself, then two bottles of beer, handing one to Sam. I looked at the paper cup which he had placed on the nightstand nearest me.

“Hot chocolate for you, to warm you up between brain freezes.”

“You still remember?”

“Of course.” He gestured to the space on the bed next to me and I patted it. “I would never forget that.”

Bryce never remembered my love of rocky road ice cream and hot chocolate. In fact, he thought it was stupid that I needed to warm up between bites of ice cream whenever I was feeling stressed. My mouth started to tremble and before I knew it the tears started to fall. Both men placed their food down and sat so they were on either side of me. Sam took my ice cream and put it on the nightstand then put his arm around my shoulders while Bucky held my hands.

“Why did I ever break up with you?” I whimpered, feeling pretty sorry for myself. “You both came out late to get me, then you make a special trip to get my comfort foods and act like its no big deal that you remember it two years after we broke up.”

“Hey, I told you that we’re still friends,” said Bucky, in a voice that was so kind. “I still love you and care about you. Sam still cares. It was our phone call that made Bryce react so poorly.”

“No, don’t blame yourselves,” I said emphatically. “If it wasn’t this, it would have been something else that set him off. I look back now at what attracted me to him and it’s obvious that he wasn’t sincere. It was all an act and I bought into it because maybe I was still trying to convince myself that breaking up with you was the right thing to do. The fact that you two were still watching out for me means that you saw through him long before I did.”

They glanced at each other in the way that good friends do when they need to say something unpleasant to another friend. Sam cleared his throat first.

“We didn’t have anything concrete on him when you two first started to go out. On the surface, everything seemed good and as long as he treated you right, we respected your privacy.”

“But?” I looked at him, then at Bucky. “There is a but, right?”

Bucky let his breath out. “There was a complaint laid against him about twelve years ago, when he was in college. Another student, a woman, said he wouldn’t leave her alone. Always sending her gifts, calling her and checking on her location. It came to a head at a function where her brother hugged her, and Bryce punched him, apparently thinking he was a rival for her affections. He went for anger management counselling and since then his behaviour was acceptable. Because he didn’t seem to be obsessive about you, we figured whatever his issues were then were no longer a concern. We were wrong.” Gently, he pushed some hair over my ear. “You got hurt because we gave him the benefit of the doubt. We’re both so sorry.”

I looked at the ice cream and reached for it, jamming a spoonful into my mouth. After the third spoonful I started to cry again and this time Sam took the ice cream, put the lid back on and stuck it in the freezer portion of the mini bar. He grabbed his jacket, his Po’ Boy, and left me there with Bucky.

“Come here,” he said gently, leaning back against the headboard and pulling me into his lap. “Don’t blame yourself for him being abusive. We should have paid attention to our first instincts about him.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that.” He felt so warm and secure as I snuggled deeper into his arms. “I’m upset with myself for thinking that what we had wasn’t enough. Being with you here right now, it’s obvious that I was fooling myself.”

“Sweetheart, at the time, you had valid concerns about us,” he answered. “If you recall, I didn’t try very hard to change your mind. What you were feeling obviously resonated with me.”

“And now? Do you miss me?”

“All the time.” He kissed my head. “But I knew it was important for you to find yourself again, so I let you go.”

I hesitated before asking my next question. “Are you seeing anyone?”

I could see his smile begin. “No, haven’t been looking, either.”

“Are we still just friends?”

“We’ll always be friends, I hope. Do you want it to be more?”

His right hand was rubbing my left arm as I contemplated his question. Had I missed him? Honestly, yes. He was always good at this, comforting me and validating my feelings whenever I felt insecure. How had I not considered this emotional aspect of our previous relationship when I ended it? Was I so wrapped up in my career at that time that I overlooked how good he could make me feel, not just with this type of intimacy but with our sexual relationship? Bryce didn’t even come close to Bucky in those aspects, nor in any other aspect that counted.

“Yes, I want it to be more.”

“What about your work? I don’t want you choosing between your career and me.”

“My career ….” I sighed. “It’s okay but I think I would like a change, especially since I don’t want to be in the same town as Bryce anymore. I’d rather be closer to you.”

“You’re sure?” His blue eyes were focused on me. “Is this what you really want? I’m not a rebound, am I?”

“No, you were the one that got away. I’m sorry I ever broke up with you. You gave me the time and distance to work it out and it just took me this long to realize that you’re the one I want to be with.”

He caressed the side of my head, as he gazed into my eyes. This is what I had really missed, having someone making me feel like I was the most important person in their life. Even when I ended it before he didn’t stop liking me, constantly reassuring me that we were still friends. Our lips met and for the first time in two years I felt another part of what I had been missing. His kiss was gentle and loving. When I winced after he touched the part of my jaw that still hurt, he stopped and hugged me again. Then he made sure that I was looking directly at him.

“I never stopped loving you and wanting you back,” he said quietly. “We’ll make it work this time. I promise.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered.

Bucky’s phone sounded and he picked it up, reading the text. “Sam wants to know if we’ve kissed and made up.”

“Yeah, let him come back,” I replied. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, either. But it’s just cuddling tonight.”

He smiled in that sexy, lopsided way that I missed so much, as he texted Sam.

“I’ll get us our own room for the other nights, if you want.”

I was definitely okay with that. Sam returned, immediately noticing we were both happier. He offered to get a different room but we both told him it was late, and we would wait until the following night. Bucky quickly ate his sub, I finished my hot chocolate, leaving the ice cream for another time. We all brushed our teeth then got into bed, Sam on his own and Bucky sharing his bed with me. It felt great to have him spoon behind me again, and I slept well.

I gave my notice to my boss the next morning, who was sorry to lose me but when I told him what happened he offered to kick Bryce’s ass. Apparently, he also thought my ex-boyfriend had some issues with jealousy, explaining how Bryce had threatened several guys at the staff Christmas party about being overly friendly with me. Just like Bucky and Sam, he felt guilty about not taking it more seriously.

Three days later, on our return to the town where I lived, there had been no word from Bryce, although I was called in by a detective to answer some questions. It seemed that Bryce claimed he lost his temper after finding out I was cheating on him. Both Bucky and Sam, who accompanied me, showed the detective their text messages as proof that they only asked about meeting up with both of us. My text messages were also taken as evidence. My neighbour had already given his statement which verified that he witnessed Bryce hitting me hard enough to knock me down. They had security camera footage of that and of him grabbing me by the throat. His excuse wasn’t enough to justify the extreme use of force he displayed. From the police station I went with Bucky and Sam to the hospital where they were doing a PR visit in several wards, visiting sick kids and veterans with health issues.

Instead of staying at a hotel I offered my apartment to both Bucky and Sam, as I had two bedrooms. Since it was the last stop of the tour, they offered to help me pack up my possessions and arrange for movers to clear me out of the apartment. When we pulled up in the Uber, after the hospital visit, I was disturbed but not surprised to see Bryce waiting for me. He scowled when Bucky and Sam got out of the vehicle with me.

“Where the hell have you been? I want to talk to you.”

“Haven’t had any messages since you were first arrested but that could be because you were ordered not to contact me,” I replied, attempting to walk past him. He grabbed my elbow and immediately, Bucky and Sam grabbed him. I glared at Bryce. “Take your hands off me.”

“Not until you tell me where you’ve been.”

Bucky started to speak but I interrupted him. “Don’t, he’s trying to goad you two into hitting him. Notice how he’s in position in front of the security cameras? That’s why the charges I filed against him will stick because they caught everything he did to me.” They both let him go and I pulled my arm out of his grip. “Get this through your thick head. The moment you accused me of cheating we were done. You made a bad situation worse by grabbing me around the neck and then hitting me hard enough to knock me down. Compounding that is the fact that I found out you threatened some of my work colleagues not to be friendly with me. I also found out about the woman you harassed in college and how you hit her brother for hugging her. There is something seriously wrong with you, Bryce, if you think I’m going to overlook all that and allow you into my life again.”

“But I love you,” he said. “I thought we were going to get married and have a family someday.”

“No, we’re not and you don’t love me. You don’t even know my favourite colour or my comfort food.”

He stared blankly at me. With a sound of disgust, I pushed past him, and he tried to grab me again. I turned and kicked him in the groin, making him fall to his knees while he held what was left of his dignity, which wasn’t much to begin with. As he gasped for air, Bucky held the door open for me and Sam as we entered the building. Then I closed the security door, shaking my head at the sight of Bryce, still on his knees. I phoned the detective and told him about the encounter, knowing that Bryce had been warned about contacting me. Assured that a unit was coming to pick him up, I left him there and the three of us took the elevator to my floor. Bucky put his arm around me and kissed me on the head.

“I’m sure glad we stayed friends after we broke up,” he said. “You got a mean streak in you.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “Baby, that was sexy as hell.”

He kissed me again, and squeezed me against his side, a big grin on his face. Sam was also quite impressed. By the time we got up to the apartment we were in a good mood, and we enjoyed ourselves that evening with pizza, beer and a movie. Sam stayed for a couple of days before being called for a mission. He flew the quinjet back while Bucky took some personal leave to help me pack up.

If ever there was proof that he was committing to us, that action alone proved it. By the end of the week, my furniture had been picked up, my car was packed, and we prepared to drive back to the Avengers compound, where some new personnel quarters had been built. The individual units, complete with patios and yards, were just what we needed to begin living together again. I got a job on the compound, heading up the purchasing department, sourcing vendors, negotiating prices, and arranging for delivery of all sorts of materials needed for the Avengers. The best part was that with living there, I saw Bucky a lot more, as he followed through on his promise to make it work. We were still friends, of the best kind.

One Shots Masterlist

Please share this story by reblogging.

[starryluminary]

♪ Jane Doe - Alicia Keys

The EX Files finally!! The episode where Cody and Noah face the consequences of their actions (the consequences they frankly don't deserve)

I hope this is coherent. I had to add and change some things last second to tie it together and I reeeeally hope I managed to have it read well

Notes about this episode under the cut! (There’s extra detail I couldn’t fit in the doodles and needed context for future episodes, so skimming them is recommended!)

* (It’d be funny if Noah had a black eye this episode from Sierra’s backhand.)

* It starts off with Sierra crying and Courtney and Heather making Cody comfort her, which he does reluctantly.

* Cody's not entirely sure what to say to try and calm her down, but she retorts with “Whatever… it’s not like you're in love with him.”

* Sierra looks back at him… and he’s frozen. He doesn’t know how to respond.

* Sierra can take a guess, though. “…No you aren't.” She harshly grabs him by the arms and yells at him, desperately, “NO YOU AREN'T!!”

* Heather grabs Sierra and Courtney grabs Cody to separate them. Cody promptly runs away and Sierra promptly gets yelled at by Heather (not because she cares, but because Cody being injured would make him a liability.)

* On Team Chris’s side, Alejandro, Owen, Duncan and Tyler are huddled discussing the incident. Owen tries his best to be on Noah's side, defending him, but Alejandro twists the story to paint Noah as the one in the wrong. Owen doesn’t want to admit he’s making sense. Duncan is completely against Noah, backing up Alejandro. Tyler however doesn’t participate until Noah gets fed up of the not-so whispering and storms out of first class.

* Cast regroups for the challenge rules and Noah joins Cody's side, quipping something I can’t remember. Cody quips back. Sierra pushes Noah to the ground in response, pretending to be in on the joke.

* The “Courtney throwing challenges” bit is replaced by Tyler watching/paying extremely close attention to Noah to determine if Noah’s situation is sympathetic or immoral. Noah gets more mad the longer the episode goes on cause Tyler isn’t exactly subtle.

* Cody finds the cloning pod and makes Alien Cody like in canon. [I’m making him a bit more curious and a bit less initially threatening, like he has Cody’s thoughts and opinions and feelings.] Alien Cody approaches the real Cody slowly, and Sierra finds them. She’s shocked at first: “Two Codys?” Then she starts wondering, and asks the Alien Cody a question. “Do… you love me?” Alien Cody sticks its tongue out at her and scurries away.

* Once Sierra and Cody are alone together, Sierra tells him she’ll forgive him. Cody is confused. Sierra explains. “Obviously Noah got into your soft, easily manipulated mind, and that was wrong of him!” She grabs Cody’s face. “But don’t worry.” She leans in and puckers her lips. Cody looks at her horrified. “I can fix it.”

* Before Noah and Cody find each other, Noah finds Alien Cody. He thinks it’s the real one at first, approaching it casually. He then notices the messy hair, green tinted skin and the eyes (which I’m making entirely black cause these are pencil drawings with no color) and becomes more cautious towards it. “You’re not Cody. What… are you?” ET finger touch.

* Duncan sees this from afar and yells at Noah: “Are you *seriously* messing with Cody right now?!” Noah tries to respond: “I’m not! This isn’t-“ Alien Cody interrupts him with a growl directed at Duncan. He charges towards him with malicious intent and Duncan punches him, making him explode into goop. Noah does not falter. “Way to kill our winning ticket, idiot.” Duncan does not hesitate. “I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you.”

~ *[Events of the comic]* ~

* Team Amazon makes it back to Chris with an artifact first and win the challenge. Cody looks back at Noah (whose team was only slightly behind his own) sympathetically. Noah looks back with understanding. I want to say Sierra’s slightly too loud and exited about NOT the Amazons winning, but of team Chris losing. Tyler (who’s paying way too much attention now) notices and comes to a conclusion.

* Owen gets voted off this episode for being dead weight, and he and Noah hug before he jumps. Owen tells Noah to “win for him” and Noah replies that he makes no promises… but he’ll try.

Sorry that’s. Like a lot. The story kinda got away from me

[angelickisscs]

poolside autographs ~ jude bellingham series (ongoing)

‧₊˚ ୨ ୧ ˚₊ masterlist ~ forgotten paradise (part 1)

summary: Two hearts once intertwined find one another during a family holiday but will the ever-growing distance that they set continue to grow or will one arise to the challenge that is keeping them together?

authors note ~ this is way too long to proofread ngl so i am very sorry if there are any mistakes 😭😭

THE GOLDEN SUN shone brightly in the crisp summer sky as it casted its warmth across your bare shoulders in a gentle, comforting breath. A cerulean blue washed against the vast canvas above, puffs of clouds slowly disappearing inwards.

“And we can take a nice, deep breath.” Your dad announced as though it were an achievement to even make it to the resort, his body rising and falling rhythmically.

 You stood and watched him as the bag you had packed earlier that morning weighed down your arm. It reprimanded you harshly, allowing you no breaks between the minutes that you had already been holding it.

“Dad, can we just go inside?” Your brother asked, his voice the living embodiment of boring. In response, your dad could only laugh. He beckoned you all forward, leading the way towards the vast glass doors that stood only a mere two feet away.

They opened hastily, letting out a small ring as you all entered through them. The cooling air-con that sat strategically placed above the door hit you in the face, sliding down throughout the rest of your body.

The lobby was mostly empty despite the number of plants that were growing throughout. It was a battle to lead your uncooperative suitcase past them. Somehow, it always managed to end up gripped to a vase or pot that held the greenery, refusing to let go as though the two objects had managed to befriend one another in a matter of seconds.

Your family allowed you to struggle, each wandering up to the desk in front so they could gather the room cards. A brief conversation with the receptionist about how ‘wonderfully beautiful’ the resort was, allowed you to catch up to them in time to politely take yours from the unfortunate woman.

She had managed to strike up the more talkative side of your father. The conversation ranged from the beginning sentence to surrounding activities to undoable work hours. Your mother seemed to have enough as she excused him from the conversation, slowly but surely dragging him away by his closest shoulder.

“How many ‘friends’ do you think he’s going to make on this trip?” Your brother, Oliver, asked with a cheeky grin coating his lips. “I’ll bet you a fiver it’ll be four.”

“Four? I’ll go with seven.” You responded as you stepped into the lift, sneakily shaking one another’s hands in an abrupt agreement to the bet you had just made.

Your mum leaned back from where she was standing so her head could land up in between the pair of you.

“Too high. Bound to only be two.”

Her voice could hardly consider itself as a whisper, its noise level exceeding the limit as to how loud it could be. Though your dad’s humming to the music that surrounded the death-trap of a mechanism seemed to be able to drown it out enough.

You scoffed in response. She had a history of underestimating her own husband in these kinds of circumstances and you could only hope that this would be another instance to add to the failure of a streak.

With a ping, you were all ushered out of the lift. There was a very brief conversation on where you all would next meet, Oliver’s hurry to get into his room being the main reason for that. Your dad did not want you roaming around an unfamiliar environment by yourself, no matter how peaceful it was, so you instead opted to meet back outside the lift.

It was a stronger relief than you had expected when you had finally pushed the keycard against the slot in the door, pushing the door open with your free shoulder. You abandoned your carry on and suitcase in an instance, banishing them to the corner of the room. The comfiness of the bed was loudly calling your name and you weren’t one to ignore someone nor something so in need of your approval.

You allowed yourself few moments of rest to gather whatever energy you had left over. There was not a multitude of it, but it would have to do. Kicking your legs into the air, you threw yourself upwards into a standing position so you could approach your suitcase, making the silly decision to unpack later when you came upstairs to get ready for dinner.

A bikini lead folded neatly atop of multiple towels, its burgundy colouring having to do for now. You quickly removed the clothes you had worn during the flight, replacing them with said bikini and a coverup just in time to answer the sound of a fist pounding against the unfortunate slab of wood that was your door.

“Hurry up then!” Said Oliver when you had made it to your door, his impatient eyes following you as you scrambled to collect everything you may need for those hours around the pool.

Your parents were both ready, dressed in a matching colour of swimwear, the same pair of sunglasses resting atop of their heads. They had managed to time the arrival of the lift perfectly, leaving no more waiting for your brother and you than necessary.

Everyone stayed slightly throughout the short ride. There was no reason for any form of conversation, each saving that for later in the day when the need placed itself in front of you.

Unsurprisingly, the lift had not lengthened its short arrival on the ground floor. You were the first to exit, a game of follow the leader ensuing so you could arrive at the poolside in one piece.

The foreign sun was soon to introduce itself to your skin, the heat that radiated off it being unlike any that you had previously felt. It snaked through your coverup, surpassing any defence that your sunscreen had placed, with ease. You all chose a row of five with your mother on the farthest end so she could be next to you.

Your dad was the one who lost the coin-toss, swiftly forced to collect you each a drink. Though, Oliver opted out of having one instead b-lining straight towards the pool just like he did when he was only eight years younger.

A certain peace encapsulated all of you, the sound of laughter carrying from the families around as the wind passed through all of them, dancing within the palm trees that sat firmly in their allocated areas.

“Well, that’s number one.” Your mum commented, turning her head just in time to catch your confused eyes so she could point to what she was referring too.

You laughed lightly at the sight that met you, your social dad already managing to abandon his prior mission and instead talking to a man he had sat next to at the open bar.

“Only one more to go for you then.” You reminded her before shuffling around slightly to get more comfortable.

She sighed lightly at what you said, “Is it too late to change my bet?”

You didn’t bother to use your words but rather to just slowly nod. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could make out her lightly hitting her leg in a makeshift punishment.

Whispering to herself, your mother lead back down on the sun lounger, feigning a disinterest at what was happening around her. She had pushed her sunglasses up over her eyes, the black coating making it so you could not see where she was looking, no matter how close you were to her.

There was an interest as to what she had managed to notice now so you began your own investigation. Dragging your eyes across the pool area to look for the suspect that had caught her attention, you questioning did not linger for a long time. A familiar set of brunette hair emerged out of the pool, his previously worn cap in hand.

He approached you with swift and sure movements, “I need you to protect this with your life.”

Your mother, who had become attuned to his antics, took the cap from his hands, placing it at her side. Oliver threw her a thumbs up before he went back to whatever he was doing beforehand.

The time passed by quickly, your body succumbing to exhaustion not soon after your brothers confusing request. Your mum had not fully given up when she woke you up, trying to ask you once again what she had prior to catch you out but it wasn’t anything she hadn’t tried before.

She had collected each of you one by one, your dad being the first victim and you the last. Both the men in your small group had become surprisingly hungry during the activities they had decided to do. It left you to realise you had never received that diet coke you had requested, leaving a slight resentment in your dry mouth.

“Have fun with your friend?” Your mum asked her husband, leaving a suggestion for him to add his name into the last slot of the sentence.

“Mark.” Your dad corrected, placing an arm over her shoulder. “And yes, he is genuinely nice. He has two kids as well, same age and everything.”

The doors once again opened with a loud ping, allowing everyone to leave with slow and light steps, the heat draining whatever you all had left.

You each excused yourselves to your rooms, a time limit still managing to be set at how long you had to get ready. Shaking your head as you unlocked your door, gathering your shower supplies from your suitcases before heading straight for the bathroom. You stripped off out of your bikini, making sure to throw your freshly washed hair into a bun as you turned the water onto cold, allowing it to fall over your body and wake you up slightly.

It was only a brief shower, doing all the necessary hygiene routines before reaching out to turn off the shower and grab a towel.

Having made the silly decision not to unpack earlier on, a mess slowly gathered in your room as you attempted to neatly sift through to find an acceptable outfit. It conveniently led at the very bottom of the suitcase; a strategy you had previously used that had ended up not going in your favour despite your efforts for it too. You had a longer than average history of being a bad packer that overestimated the amount of energy you would have upon arriving at your location. An unideal duo.

You sat at your desk chair with your outfit on, a small beauty blender in hand as you applied the concealer in the necessary places. There wasn’t a need to do makeup at once due to the one easy activity that you were doing so you chose to keep it light and easy.

For once, you seemed to get your time keeping in check. No one had come banging on your door by the time you were ready, leaving you to dawdle as you went through your bag to check you needed anything.

Your brother leant against the wall beside your room when you exited, phone in hand.

“This holiday is awesome. I met my idol today.” He whispered to you when he noticed your presence.

“Oh yeah? Did you fangirl?” You asked with a mischievous tone that was meant to mock him, but he was too much of a way through cloud nine to have the ability to notice that.

Oliver moved his head from side to side, deciding on his answer. “Slightly. Didn’t recognise him at first but when I did, I built up the courage to talk to him and it was great. Played a bit of water-polo with them and everything.”

“Is that the Alexander guy?”

His face dropped at your words, not one attempt to hide the strong snarl on his face succeeding, “Alexander guy? Seriously?”

“I don’t know football.” You defended with a shoulder raise leaving him to roll his eyes.

“No. It was someone else you wouldn’t know.” Oliver corrected. “We can count mum out of the bet, right?”

He fiddled around with putting his phone away in his pocket as he spoke, lowering his tone at the small chance that you dad had decided on hiding out to scare the pair of you.

“Of course.” You responded with an ‘obviously’ look which this time he had managed to notice though you did lay it on thicker than what you would usually prefer to do.

Oliver was about to give you a rude response when your parents called the both of you over, blissfully ignorant as to whatever was going on. They pressed the button to wait for the lift, striking up a conversation as to what might be best to do tomorrow.

The restaurant was a larger walk away than you all had anticipated when you had finally gotten downstairs. You walked what felt like all the hotel’s property before you finally arrived at the desired location. The sound of multiple conversations happening at one echoing throughout your ears. Though it was beginning to step back from its leading position, the sun’s heat lingered throughout the air, latching to your bare flesh as you walked through it in attempt to find a free table. The artificial light waved towards you, reflecting off every window that you passed, its brightness making you feel as though you would need sunglasses to get through this dinner.

A table of six was clear in front of you, allowing you to get off your feet, the pain beginning to get worse the more you walked. Despite being busy, the restaurant was yet to be full to its capacity, though the way people scattered themselves all over the place gave the image that it was.

Taking your seats, everyone picked up their own menu, decisively dragging their eyes across the busy piece of laminated paper. Discussions ensued about if anyone would be willing to share anything, everyone taking turns to list out their options. Your mum and you decided upon getting a sharing platter, neither of you particularly hungry.

The waiter soon made his rounds to your table, politely introducing himself being writing down your orders in his black, tarnished notepad.

Steady conversation ensued for the rest of the night, someone always having an opinion to share or a new topic to branch of off.

It was dark by the time you left on full stomachs; the majority of the restaurant’s guests having emptied out as well. The walkway lit with more soothing lighting, the yellow tone inciting tranquillity as birds sung their final song of the day.

Heels moved in harmony with one another, whispered conversations shared between one another as you all walked.

“Mark invited us to join him for a couple drinks at the pool, who feels like coming?” Your dad offered up, a chorus of agreement coming from the rest of your family. It wasn’t ideal for you to be doing this but since everyone else had already decided upon going, you left yourself with no choice but to go.

You allowed him to show you the way around once everyone had got going again. Your strides were steady, passing people with a friendly smile as you began to approach the pool once again. It was completely empty, towels still lead on sun loungers, most simply thrown on top and others folded.

The moon shone brightly, the almost full appearance it boasted being far too beautiful to not take a second to appreciate. A gentle wind still blew past your shoulders, forcing the heat that claimed its position in the air, into your already boiling body.

Flowers surrounded the edge of the resort in unity, insignificant amounts beginning to bloom and other having reached their time but all managing to stay equally as beautiful. Healthy grass filled every gap needed, helping to make the walkway look fuller.

Each one of you expressed your confusion as to where this supposed planned meet up was taking place though a short walk soon answered your silent questioning.

Music spilled out from speakers that positioned themselves perfectly around the bar to cause the least disturbance. Table came in few though most came empty. Instead, people gathered around the barrels that had barstools pushed up against them. Most opted not to use the provided branded coasters, their cold pints of beer placed rebelliously against the wooden top.

“There you are!” The man that was supposedly Mark walked up to your dad, a fist-bump taking place between the pair. “Thought you might have opted out of coming.”

“Never mate. I don’t turn down an enjoyable time.” Your dad laughed along with him. “This is the family.”

He introduced you all one by one, pointing to make it certain as to who he was talking about. You waved when it was your turn to, a small smile formed of regret making its way onto your face.

“Nice to meet you all.” Mark said, turning his body over to where his wife and sons sat. Or at least that’s what he said, your vision unable to do its only job due to your mum standing directly in front of you.

Not that you minded, the quicker you could get out of there the better.

There was no other chance given, however. Your mothers firm grip that enclosed your wrist always keeping you right by her side. She had dragged you over to the table before you could count to ten to complete the first deep breath you were having to take.

Your brother and his newly made friend recognised one another in an instance, taking themselves elsewhere to your and his mum’s displeasure. They called out a demand of ‘staying close’ though it was to no usage, the effort to do that wasting itself within a matter of seconds.

That seemed to make you mum far more hyperaware of your presence, her hand that held your wrist dragging you down into the seat next to her as everyone got acquainted.

“Sweetheart, do you want anything to drink?” Your dad asked you, taking a break from his walking away. Mark was steps ahead, not realising your fathers lack of presence.

You shook your head, “I’m not going to stay long so no thank you.”

Feeling your mums’ eyes linger on you in question, you turned to look at Denise. Her and your mum were partway through a conversation, your parent’s ability to be social being a skill you had not inherited nor developed.

“My Jude was just the same but if you look at him now, you would never be able to tell.” Denise stated, her hands moving around everywhere to emphasise her unknown point.

The singular usage of his name was enough for you heart to begin working harder, oxygen catching itself inside of your throat. It was a conditioned response that you had picked up many months ago, but it was hard not to feel silly at the mere coincidence that managed to weasel itself to directly in your eyeline.

“Sorry, forgive me. Is that your oldest?” Your mum questioned, familiarising herself with the bloodline of this new family.

Denise cracked a smile, “Yes. He should be here any minute now, he just had to take a call.”

Words seemed to blur around the edge of your consciousness for the minutes that passed, none of your interest managing to fixate onto the new topic the conversation had taken on.

Yet again, your father was yet to make a return. Though when you heard a loud roar travel through the crowd, it seemed to follow with hours before in the fact that it was no surprise. He had managed to find a television with the latest rugby match on and there was no method of drawing him away from it that any of your family had learned.

“Sorry about that. Oh.”

That voice. That same voice that was so deeply connected to the name.

No choices other than paralysing any movement your body could make could be handed to you, your eyes not daring to look up from their decided position whilst your arms seized with every muscle grabbing a hold of their closest friend.

It was an indescribable feeling that injected itself into your icy veins. One that you had never been subjected to. Your body seemed to become unfamiliar with the very organs that had been inside of you your whole life, disconnecting your brain from everything it could.

“Ah, Jude! There you are.” Denice began, the sound of wood creaking crawling throughout the bones that sat in your body. “This is Debbie and her daughter y/n.”

There wasn’t anything to shock you more that the fact that months of demanding work to just move on from him and his featherlight touch could undo itself with such little effort. A quick release knot that hadn’t even been pulled on before it began unravelling.

A short jab to the flesh that sat on the arm to your right brought you out of the tsunami wreaking havoc onto your mind.

“Nice to meet you.” He had a small voice crack, clearing it with a short cough of his throat. “Both.”

Looking up through the hoods of your eyelids, the skin around your nail falling victim to your painful habit, you mustered a miniature lifting of the sides of your lips to seem polite enough.

His eyes firmly watched you, for once not a care in the world as to who could possibly see.

The final word he spoke encouraged itself to hold the power of erasing your history, at least to your families. The same ones that both of you had sworn to meet countless times. Though, unfortunately for Jude, nothing nor no one, not even him, could ever deal with the weight of magically pushing away the indifference that lingered heavily between the pair of you.

Re-finding your words, you pushed yourself up from the chair that you sat him, your eyeline cutting out the man that stood on the side of the table.

“I’m going to head up.”

A panic set through Jude. That very same emotion bearing the power of his next actions. He could offer to walk you up to your room, he wanted to offer that. The words failed at exiting out of his throat, claiming a form of stage fright had developed.

He watched helplessly as everyone but him bid you a goodnight. His skin that concealed him so heavily began to heat up, his eyes being the only part of him that claimed its freedom.

They continued to trail you as you walked down towards the resort though his legs refused to cooperate.

“Are you sitting down?” Denise looked at her son suspiciously, her lips forming a strict straight line.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

[meowzfordayz]

hic-cup

Author’s Note: sending get-well-soon vibes to anyone currently experiencing the hiccups. 😔😂

hic-cup

Hashira x Reader, Kamaboko x Reader

Word Count: ~1,100

CW: dark humor

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Recently work has been very hectic, and I've been a little anxious about personal things...I really would like something cute! If possible, could you either do the Hashira, KNY squad, or the upper moons (you can pick! You write all of them super well!) With a reader who has bad, but very cute, hiccups?

~faqs~

When you have the hiccups…

… Zenitsu thinks you’re dying. Well. Not really, but the way you gasp for air and clutch your chest has him worried and running to get you water nonetheless. If you lie down on the floor, then he will lie down with you and press his ear to your heart, listening for irregularities.

… Inosuke’s overwhelmed by the urge to poke and squish and smoosh and squeeze you. “Stop that!” he growls, arms crossed irritatedly. “Stop wh-*hiccup*-what?” you huff. “THAT!” he shouts, pointing an accusing finger at you, “You sound so, so, so-” “So what?” “SO CUTE.” Eyes widening, your cheeks warm, nose scrunching, “Ino-*hiccup*suke, I-” “It’s like you want me to pop you,” he grumbles. “Pop me?????” “Stop being adorable so I can stop wanting to kill you.”

… Gyomei simply smiles every time you hiccup. Do not ask him to smack them out of you… a broken rib (or three) is much worse than the hiccups. “Pleeease? They won’t go awaaay!” “My love, you really shouldn’t ask me to harm you.” “Harm me?!” you scoff, “Don’t you have control or something?” Affronted, he nods slowly, “I suppose I have control…” “SO HIT ME.” Sighing, he lightly pats your back, whiiich doesn’t help, but it’s the thought that counts!

… Obanai pretends to be annoyed, but is lowkey disappointed when they eventually go away. “Shut up,” he scowls, glaring as you do your best to swallow another hiccup. “Can’t,” you mutter, flicking his shoulder, “They won’t g-*hiccup*-go away.” “Then I’ll make them,” he mutters darkly. “Oh really?” you raise an eyebrow, amused now, “And how exactly will you make them go away?” His mouth opens, closes, and opens again, exhaling loudly in defeat. “Admit it, they’re kinda cute,” you grin, nudging his side, “I’m kinda cute.” He doesn’t respond, opting instead to quickly peck your cheek, blushing profusely even as his glare deepens.

… Tanjirou has a plethora of ideas to ~help you. From having you chug a glass of cold water, finding a paper bag for you to breathe into, slicing a lemon for you to bite into, attempting to jump scare you, and making you hold your breath until you nearly pass out, he’s ultimately sorely defeated by your hiccups’ persistence. Hiccups 1: Tanjirou 0. When they finally disappear, you promptly credit his expertise and efforts, regardless of how delayed their effectiveness was.

… Mitsuri giggles until she also ends up with the hiccups. You’re just so darn beautiful, and your hiccups sound so darn happy! Like yawning near each other, if one of you hiccups, then the other is bound to follow.

… Shinobu offers you a sympathetic, “Oh dear,” paired with a fond smile, and continues about her day. If they’re persistent, then she’ll utilize the placebo effect in an attempt to help aka she’ll give you “medicine” (it’s sugar water, but sometimes it helps). Occasionally, she’ll ~threaten you, “If you hiccup again, then no kisses!” to a lesser degree of success, but it’s mostly endearing to watch you try so hard and fail so miserably (if this actually bothers you, then she only does it once, but it’s really just an inside joke).

… Kyojuro tries to get himself to hiccup too, but the man is Hiccup Proof™. “What’s your secret?!” you whine playfully, pouting as another hiccup jolts your body, “I swear you inhale all your meals, but never experience the hiccups!” “I keep nothing from you,” he frowns slightly, pressing a reassuring kiss to your cheek, “If I could provide better help, then I certainly would!” “Kyo, it was a rhetorical question.” “Rhetorical or not, if I knew a secret, then I would tell you!” “Sooo remind me to never tell you any secrets,” you chuckle, eyebrow raising pointedly. “My love, your secrets are safe with me!” he exclaims earnestly. “Just not anyone else’s?” you drawl teasingly. He pauses to consider your remark, and then shrugs nonchalantly, “Precisely.”

… Sanemi taxes you, and it increases exponentially. “Pay up,” he smirks, palm held upright toward you, “I heard that.” “Y’know, hiccuping isn’t a crime,” you mutter. “And you didn’t have to play along,” he grins smugly, “But you did.” “Well I felt badly about distracting you,” you retort, frowning as a thought occurs to you, “Although, now you’ve changed tasks completely!” “Have I?” he questions lightly, eyes widening innocently. “Yeah, all you’re focusing on is my hiccups and extorting me for spare change!” “If you stop hiccuping, then I could return to my earlier task.” “I can’t just st-*hiccup*-stop!” you whine, still dropping more coins into his hand, “You’re the worst.” “I love you,” he deadpans, winking as he pockets your money, “Maybe I’ll buy you something nice with my extra income.”

… Muichiro says, “Bless you,” after every single one. “But Muichiro, I didn’t snee-*hiccup*-sneeze!” “Bless you.” “Why are you-” “When you sneeze, for a moment, your soul leaves your body, and the blessing is to prevent it from being stolen, yes?” … “Yes?” “When you hiccup, are you not running the same risk?” … “No?” Unperturbed, he shrugs, smiling faintly, “Well, I appreciate you and your hiccups, so I suppose blessing you is my way of expressing my appreciation.”

… Giyuu’s constantly startled, even when you’re occupying the same space. *hiccup* Ah! his eyes widen, a subtle yet observable reaction to your sudden noisiness. *hiccup* Ah! he blinks, another subtle yet observable reaction. *hiccup* “Are you faking it?” he finally mutters, cheeks faintly flushed as he fixes a gentle stare on you. “Faking w-*hiccup*-what?!” “Your hiccups.” “Why would I fake having the hiccups???” “Never mind.” “Am I bothering you?” “Not quite,” he murmurs, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand, “I hope they go away soon.” Smiling fondly, you raise his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles, “Me t-*hiccup*-too!” No way is he admitting they ~frighten him.

… Tengen claps excitedly, enthusiastically celebrating your ~unique sound. “How flashy, my dear!” he exclaims with a grin. “Flashy?” you blink, unimpressed. “Hiccups are so rare and so fun!” he explains, “What an interesting phenomenon!” “You have a thing for hiccups,” you deadpan, eyes rolling. “Not at all! I’m just trying to support you through this unfortunate event.” Scoffing, you poke at his chest, “Sooo are my hiccups flashy or unfortunate?” “Both!”

[j2hoes]

Hopes And Fears - Part Four. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: Y/N’s death was traumatic. So traumatic in fact she can’t even look at Wally without reliving her death.

Word Count: 2.8k

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Mature Language, Themes Of Rape/Sexual Assault

“That was kind of harsh Rhonda.”

Charlie’s voice breaks the uncomfortable silence that has fallen upon the group. Each face holding a different expression. Rhonda full of hatred, Charlie consumed by guilt for not stepping in, Wally a mixture of surprise and discomfort.

“Do you think maybe somebody should go after her?” Dawn questions, speaking for the first time since the group session began.

Rhonda huffs, slumping down into her chair as she realises that nobody is taking sides, and if they are, they’re not taking her’s.

“Off you go then Wally, run after your precious little angel.” The girl spits, lips set in a firm scowl, eyes shooting daggers towards him.

“Rhonda!” Mr Martin snaps, though the teens aren’t listening. After all, despite being a teacher, he holds no position of authority over them in death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Wally asks quietly, shaking his head as he does so.

“Maybe I’ve just had enough. Sixty years I’ve been here Wally! Yet nobody seems to care about how that makes me feel, all of you are just pandering to the new girl.” She shouts, slamming her hands down on the edge of her chair as she does so. Taking everyone by surprise.

“Rhonda, of course we care but you’re being really mean.” Charlie speaks softly, gazing sympathetically at the brunette girl.

“Mean? I don’t think I’ve been mean enough. I mean seriously is nobody questioning why she’s being so secretive? What doesn’t she want us to know?” Rhonda continues to push her argument in an attempt to gain a rise out of the other students. Hoping to get them to question themselves and where they stand in regards to the situation. “If you ask me, I reckon the bitch killed herself and she’s too much of a wuss to tell us.”

“That’s bang out of order Rhonda and you know it!” Wally bellows, leaping out of his chair and stomping straight over to her, hands placed on either side of her legs, caging her between himself and the back of the chair. “Don’t you ever speak about her like that again. Don’t you dare so much as look at her. Or I will make the rest of your eternity a living hell, do you understand me?”

Rhonda has no time to respond, though the frightened look on her face tells Wally all he needs to know. Without a second glance, he’s barging out the room. Launching one of the empty chairs across the gym as he does so, resulting in a large clatter though nobody really notices. All eyes fixed on the loveable jock, dumbfounded at the rage he is exhibiting. This being entirely out of character, never once in the years they had no Wally had he exploded in such a way.

Whilst each of the ghosts sits silently, all contemplating their next move in order to avoid another argument, Charlie is the first to make a move. Giving Rhonda a nervous glance, he slowly exits the gym. Asserting that his decision as to who’s side he is on has been made.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ducking under the police tape, I’m thankful that no officers are around. Granted, I know they can’t see me, I just find it awkward to be stumbling between the living. I’ve come to realise just how much people lack spacial and self awareness.

The room is exactly as it was left, blood stains splattered on the tiled walls and floors. A glistening red in contrast with the mucky white tiles. In fact, the only change within the room is the numbered notes, I can only assume for any evidence the officers may have gathered.

I find myself perched on the end of the splintered wooden bench, lost in thought as I fixate on the scene. I’m amazed at how much blood I truly lost, assuming it would have only been small flecks. When in reality, it is everywhere. Stains from how it pooled mark the floor as well as splashes coating the walls.

My mind flashes back to that moment. Their hands on my body. The beatings I endured as I tried my best to resist. Sharp pain as I tried my hardest to close my legs. Squeals of agony escaping my mouth only to be met with a calloused hand gripping my face tightly prevent anymore noise.

It’s only when I feel a tear drip from my chin to the back of my hand that I realise I’m crying. Nothing to be heard other than my soft sniffles. Despite the memories plaguing my mind, I can’t help but feel proud at myself for returning here. It’s such a small accomplishment and yet for me, it feels as though I’ve taken a huge step forwards into fully processing what I went through. It’s a step closer to healing.

“God, I can’t believe they haven’t cleaned this up yet. I’d have thought they would want to scrub it straight away.”

Charlie’s voice takes me aback and my head spins towards the door. Noticing him shyly stood just outside of the room, almost like he doesn’t actually want to enter. An overwhelming sense of deja vu hits me and I’m reminded of our first interaction right outside.

“I don’t think they’re legally allowed to clean up. Otherwise I’m sure they’d have torn the entire building down by now.”

Shuffling over on the bench slightly, Charlie takes this as an invitation and perches beside me. The two of us staring at the crime scene.

“So I take it you were murdered.” He questions apprehensively, knowing full well what the answer is.

“I’m sorry I haven’t spoke about it yet.” I speak softly, almost afraid of what his reaction could be. I don’t want him to lose his temper like Rhonda, though I get the feeling that he doesn’t have an angry bone in his body. “Charlie, I want to talk. I do. It’s so recent though, I haven’t even been dead a month. I get that it’s shitty but I’m not ready to go into the details of it all.”

“You would think out of all of us that Rhonda would be the most understanding. She’s always been very open about her murder though.” Charlie tells me, seemingly unfazed by my lack of wanting to talk. “I get it though Y/N, you don’t owe us anything. Don’t tell Rhonda this because she’ll think I’m a complete bitch but she was strangled to death, and no offence but judging by the state of this room, your murder was a lot more brutal.”

“Let’s not turn this into a competition of who had a worse death.” I joke, feeling more relaxed due to his words. “But seriously thank you. It means a lot that you’re being so nice.”

“Of course.” The boy smiles brightly, which seems to be contagious because I can’t hold back the beam on my face either. “On a completely separate note, you should probably go and find Wally. He completely lost his shit with Rhonda after you left. Like he went full psycho, I’ve never seen him lose it like that before.”

“Fuck.” I whisper, running a hand through my hair, a habit of mine when I’m under stress. “Thanks again Charlie, I really appreciate it.”

Charlie only nods gently, watching me scurry out the room. Clearly sensing that I’m in a rush to find the footballer. Wandering around the halls of Split River, it’s only then that I realise I have no idea where Wally could be. Worry begins to seep through my pores, knowing there is endless possibilities as to where he could be. If only the school could be ten times smaller. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so challenging.

Thinking back to our previous conversations, I try to remember any hangout spots that Wally may have mentioned. Though these rarely seem to come up in conversation. We spent most of the time sprawled out in the gardens and yet there was no sign of him when I searched back there.

Huffing out of annoyance, I’m fully prepared to give up my hunt for him. At least I was. Out of the corner of my eye I become aware of the sign directing students towards the pool. Wally’s words ring in my head from earlier this morning.

“So I was thinking we could have a pool day.”

With crossed fingers and countless prayers being whispered under my breath, I stride towards the pool. Confidence boosted as I hope that my intuition is right and that he went away with his pool day solo.

My suspicions are confirmed as my eyes lay upon the handsome boy. Lost in his own thoughts as he drifts about on a pool floaty, arms tucked beneath his head and sunglasses on to block out the rest of the world. Loitering at the edge of the pool, I remain silent. Just for a moment. In order to truly appreciate this man’s beauty. He’s the most exposed I’ve ever seen him. Granted he’s only shirtless, but still I can’t help the flutter I feel in my heart (and possibly between my legs). With defined abs and toned body, he reminds me of a Greek statue, carved out of stone.

“Y/N, I’m not really in the mood to talk right now.” Wally states, as my eyes drag up his body, I’m aware that his sunglasses are now placed on his forehead and he most likely just caught me gazing at his physique.

“I know, neither am I.” I admit, sitting down at the edge of the pool, pulling my shoes off and throwing them behind me so that I can dip my feel it in the lukewarm water. “But I do owe you an apology.”

This catches his attention and I see his eyebrows raise, eyes darting over to me. Wally looks sad. There’s no other way for me to describe it. I’ve seen him sulk and upset before. However, he looks worse than I’ve ever seen.

“Rhonda’s words really hit me. I never meant to make you feel like you’d done anything wrong. I’m so sorry for making you feel that way. You don’t need to try to make me feel less threatened. I know you don’t have a cruel heart.” I admit, voice shaky as I genuinely have no idea as to how he will react. “It’s no excuse, but I was struggling a lot those first couple of days and I guess I took it out of you and you didn’t deserve that. So I really hope you’ll forgive me. I also thought I should probably mention that you don’t have to stop wearing your football stuff because of me. You love it, I don’t want you to feel as though you can’t wear it because I’m going to have a breakdown.”

Swinging my feet in the water slowly, I keep myself focused on this rather than Wally who floats a few feet away. His silence scares me slightly and I know that if I even look at him, I may burst into tears. I never meant to hurt him. I really didn’t.

“Rhonda’s full of bullshit.”

I’m shocked when he speaks, purely because I thought he was mad at me. I’m even more shocked when I understand what he’s said. Never once hearing Wally say a bad thing about someone and here he is calling out one of the ghosts he’s known the longest.

“What?” I’m completely puzzled by what he just said, not knowing what he means by it and whether he means that what Rhonda said wasn’t true. My tone reflects this and when I go to look up at him, he’s already slipping off the floaty and swimming towards me.

“I said Rhonda’s full of bullshit.” He’s pretty much beside me now, arms crossed as they rest against the edge of the pool next to me. It’s the closest we’ve ever been to one another and I can’t deny the way my heart races right now. Not even one ounce of fear resides within me despite our close proximity. Maybe I am doing better now? “I like spending time with you Y/N. I wasn’t trying to make you feel less threatened. Yeah, I wanted you to feel welcome and to know I mean no harm but that was it. All the time I’ve spent with you is because I wanted to, I enjoy it.”

“So you’re not mad at me?”

He laughs faintly. “No, I’m not mad at you. Thank you for the apology but you really didn’t have to say anything.”

I cannot even begin to describe how relieved I am that the ghost isn’t mad at me. For a moment back there, I was prepared to spend eternity alone, thinking everybody had turned their backs on me. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case and I potentially let myself overthink without speaking to anybody under less tense circumstances.

Grateful to have resolved things with Charlie and Wally, the only person left is Rhonda. However, something tells me that she might need some time. I doubt seeking her out is the best course of action right now and she probably needs space to cool off. So, for now, I’m happy to sit here and bask in the peace once more.

“So, a pool day for one isn’t exactly the most exciting and fun time.” Wally mentions, splashing a small amount of water at me.

“No I can’t imagine it is.” I reply, he swims backwards, a silent request for me to join him in the water. Which I’m happy to oblige.

Stripping off my clothes, I dump them on one of the seats. Out of the way of the pool edge in the hopes that they remain dry. Left only in my underwear, a lacy red bralette with matching thong, I thank my lucky stars that the day I died was one of the days I wore a decent set.

A shaky breath leaves my mouth as I turn around to face Wally. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve felt since getting here and I am anxious. Afraid of any judgement from Wally and afraid of being so exposed. All of these thoughts vanish instantly when Wally’s eyes begin to trail my body. Flashing with desire. He doesn’t think I’ve noticed, though I don’t miss the barely there whistle that escapes under his breath.

“Are you gonna move out of the way or what?” I ask, hands on my hips as I wait for him to move to one side.

He does so with no complaint and I sprint forward, diving straight beneath the water and surfacing with a gasp for air. Pulling my hair out of my face, I find myself only a few inches away from Wally and take the opportunity to splash the water in his direction. After all, it’s only fair that I take my revenge.

“Oh this is war.” Wally yelps after being pelted in the face again by another large splash.

We’re both rocked against the waves that the battle has created. Huge splashes attacking each other alternatively, repeatedly in hopes of taking the other person down. I’m completely unaware that the force of the water is slowly bringing us closer together and before I know it we’re face to face. Noses practically touching one another.

“I think I win.” He whispers, sopping wet hair pushed back off his forehead, small curls beginning to form.

“Never.”

He’s focused on me, chestnut brown eyes piercing into my soul. I daren’t think too much, scared he can read my mind with the force of his gaze. A sudden surge of bravery must overcome him as he gently reaches out, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. His touch is soft, as light as a feather. Like he’s scared I’ll pull away. It’s the first time we’ve ever made physical contact and though the act is so sweet and innocent, my heart flutters at the intimacy of it.

His hand is delicate as it moves from my hair, gliding down my cheek to hold it lovingly. It’s then that I notice his eyes flickering down to my lips, silently asking for permission. As much as my heart desires his touch and his affection, something in my mind can’t let go. It won’t allow me to take that step further and so I reluctantly pull away. The move quick as I break out of his gentle hold.

“I’m gonna go dry off in the sun.” The words spill out of my mouth, faster than I intended. Wally tries his best to hide it but I spot the disappointment clear on his face. Obviously hoping that this could have gone further.

If only I was able to articulate to him just how much I wanted to take things further as well. For now though, we’ll stay friends.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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[paradiseismine]

Finn and his characters tying you up - Headcanons

Pairing: Finn Wolfhard + Finnverse characters x f!reader

Love note from Nina: Yes, all of Finn’s characters would tie their partner up. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

Summary: Headcanons for Finn Wolfhard and his characters, on how each one of them would tie you up sexually.

Warnings: a bit of kinky stuff, but no smut. kinda fluffy I guess (?)

Finn Wolfhard (himself)

How did he bring it up the first time?

Finn said he needed to talk. You got curious and even a bit anxious, he seemed to want to keep a very serious tone to the conversation. His face was absolutely flushed as he grabbed your hands and, looking into your eyes, said:

- Babe, I want you to know that I love you and respect you very much, ok? It’s been such a joy and a privilege to have you in my life… To get to call you mine, to be a part of your life, to kiss you, to make love to you, all of it. It’s just that… I’d like our intimacy to be a bit more, uhm, intense, you know?

- I love you too, babe. You’re my everything. But I don’t think I understand… What do you mean by that? - you asked, fondly. Finn scratched the back of his neck, apprehensive.

- Could we… Maybe… I mean, could I tie you up sometime? Just the hands, if you’re ok with it… - his face was really flushed as he said it.

- No problem, my love - you agreed. - I trust you 100%, you know that. I’m glad you could trust me with your desires. Next time we do it, you can tie me up, ok?

Finn smiled, relieved. He feared being misunderstood, or taken as a creep. Little did he know, now you were dying to be tied up by him.

What does he use to tie you up?

Some fancy “tying bdsm kit” he made his assistant buy while he was out filming, so no one but you would ever know about this side of him without signing an NDA. It’s apparently made out of some special fabric-like material that doesn’t bruise your skin and is very comfortable. Being a celebrity, Finn’s not only afraid of accidentally hurting you, but also of people seeing any sort of scrape or bruise on your body when you go out in public. What if they think he’s violent with you? Well, he only is when you ask him to be.

How/where does he tie you up?

With his busy schedule, the first places you get to be tied up in are hotel rooms, as you guys would meet in between his shootings and band gigs. He ties your hands gently at first, but as you get comfortable, he begins tying your ankles too. Seeing you all tied up feels so private, so intimate… He loves it, and so do you.

Boris Pavlikovsky

How did he bring it up the first time?

Boris was always into “weird” stuff. He liked to drink while fucking you from behind, he’d ask you to spit on his body (just to see what it felt like) and stuff like that. When you two were getting it on and he found something that could be used to tie you up, you pretty much knew what he had in mind. He looked at you in an inquiring way, and all you had to do was nod and put out your wrists for him.

What does he use to tie you up?

He uses pretty much anything he can find at the moment. You’ve been tied up with dish cloths, robe belts, shoe laces and even a measuring tape. If it can be tied around your wrists and you don’t oppose to it, you’re getting tied up with it.

How/where does he tie you up?

Anywhere that tickles his fancy. He’d tie you up in the bedroom, in the kitchen, even in the shower. He keeps the knots simple, but firm. He only ties you hands, though: your legs need to be all spread out for him.

Mike Wheeler

How did he bring it up the first time?

He took you to the basement for the usual make out session - at least that was what it seemed. After some heated kisses, he held your face, making you look into his eyes.

- Do you trust me? - Mike said, gently caressing your cheek, his eyes always as dreamy as ever.

- Of course, angel - you responded, smiling.

- Tell me if you get uncomfortable at any moment, ok?

You simply looked at his hands doing the work. Ugh, he’s so hot.

What does he use to tie you up?

A belt. Specifically, he likes to take off the belt he’s using beforehand and tie you up with it. There’s something about undressing you, then undressing himself and tying you up with his own belt that gets him extra hard.

How/where does he tie you up?

He simply ties your wrists together. You don’t resist in the slightest, of course, completely taken by his dominant energy. He likes to have that kinkier type of sex in the basement, where you guys can make some more noise without getting caught/heard by anyone else in the house.

Miles Fairchild

How does he bring it up the first time?

Very early into the relationship, actually after your first kiss, Miles was already calling you “mine”. And being “his”, you knew what kind of stuff he liked: the freakiest possible. He started tying you up within your first month together, and as time went on, it got more and more sophisticated. You two have a safe word, so if you don’t like something, you can say the word and he’ll stop immediately to check on his precious doll.

What does he use to tie you up?

A rope. The same kind that could be used to tame the horses in the manor’s stable. He finds it animalistic and sexy, like you’re a wild creature he has to tame and take care of - that’s kind of how you feel, too.

How/where does he tie you up?

Miles had read an awful lot about shibari - he has literal books on the subject. Expect to be in his room, tied up in some crazy positions, with very elaborate knots concocted by him. There will be ropes all over your body - if not actual ropes, warm ropes of his cum.

- Slutty princess of mine, how would you like to be all tied up and hanging from the ceiling? - he asked, his eyes darker than ever. - You’d look so pretty like that, like my own little puppet sex doll…

Trevor Spengler

How did he bring it up the first time?

You two were making out, you know, as you usually do. Trev stopped kind of abruptly, and you could tell he had something else in his mind.

- Babe… - he started, his voice raspy with lust. - There’s… There’s something I’ve always wanted to try, I don’t know if you’d be into it, and it’s totally fine if you’re not, but I-

- Trevor - you interrupted, reassuring him with a gentle caress and a loving smile - It’s ok. What is it that you want to try?

- I, uh… Can I tie you up? You know, as like a sex thing?

- Sure - you chuckled. - I think I’m gonna like that too, love.

What does he use to tie you up?

A silky tie. He’s afraid anything rougher would irritate his princess’ delicate skin.

How/where does he tie you up?

Trevor is a sucker for car sex, and loves tying you up in the Ectomobile. He’d usually tie your hands up and ask you to suck his dick with your hands tied. You look so submissive doing that, it drives him crazy - specially when you grab his dick with your tied hands.

Ziggy Katz

How did he bring it up the first time?

He knew he’d feel embarrassed: that was a given. He had finally gotten a pretty girlfriend and didn’t want to scare her off, of course. After a lot of pining and reconsideration, he simply blurted it out while you two were making out on his bed after school.

- Would you let me, like, tie you up? I mean, it would be Tera hot to have you all tied up to the bed frame while we do it, you know?

- Sure - you laughed. - How do you wanna do it?

What does he use to tie you up?

Bedsheets. It had to be something that doesn’t look like it’s gonna be used for sex, ‘cause his lazy ass will totally forget to hide it afterwards, so if it’s just the bedsheets, his mom won’t be suspicious.

Where/how does he tie you up?

He makes sure you can’t “escape”, making firm knots and tying your hands above your head onto the bed frame. Ziggy secretly loves it when you struggle to free yourself and try to touch him, because then he gets to hold you in place and feels even more dominant.

[most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer]

Good Omens: Lockdown and Crowley not mentioning his living situation in S2*

*till S2E6 when he asks if he can have his apartment back bc he's bored of living in his car but Aziraphale doesn’t hear bc mentally he’s in Alpha Centauri.

Having read the 'Crowley doesn't tell him' Neil Gaiman ask close to when I first listened to Lockdown (I lived under a rock until recently), my initial thought was HAS HE BEEN LIVING IN HIS CAR FOR YEARS?! but I think he was still in his apartment in 2020:

as far as Hell knows, Crowley just had a pool party in holy water (the holiest) so the higher-ups are probably willing to give him some space (plus Beelzebub is busy going on pub dates w Gabriel)

while there should be ~8 months between the end of Season 1 events (The Very First Day of the Rest of Their Lives on Sunday, Aug 25, 2019) and the Lockdown phonecall (on or near the 30 year anniversary on May 1, 2020), I can't imagine that's a very long time for Hell, especially if you're understaffed and busy dealing with fallout from Almostgeddon / going on pub dates

Shax dropping off mail and asking about the boiler seems like something one does in the first few months of living somewhere, not ~3 years in (if S2 is in 2023)

That said, I think the phone call underlines why Crowley never directly tells Aziraphale that he is living in the Bentley in S2, and it's just a great conversation (all hail Gaiman) sooo I wrote about it:

***Note: This post analyzes the Lockdown phonecall from Crowley's perspective only. Our heroine is feeling quite emotionally vulnerable at this point in time so things are going to hit him harder than they normally would.

I do not think Aziraphale meant to cause him pain (!!) but Crowley can't see that yet and I've written this post in a way that reflects that missing insight. (I explain in more detail in this reblog if you are interested) I am working on a companion post for Aziraphale's side of this conversation and how I think it affects his behavior in S2 because if we know anything about these two, it's that their exactlys are different exactlys.***

Crowley’s habit of sleeping to skip time like an RPG character by a campfire amuses me to no end, but in this context it feels heavy. Crowley already worries about losing time with what he loves and he probably hoped things would be different between him and Aziraphale after the events of S1. But things don’t change much. Then lockdowns start, and Crowley is trapped in his apartment alone, transcendentally bored, and unable to make his brain shut up. Sleeping a month away starts to sound less awful.

But Crowley hasn’t given up yet; he’s still awake when Aziraphale calls, and he’s even giving it two more days. Was he waiting for Aziraphale to call? Is it even possible not to at least kind of wait for someone’s call when you are cut off from everything and the caller has been your only friend and crush for millennia?

Aziraphale asks why Crowley isn't "out and about" tempting people or setting a bad example and he responds:

C: Everyone's so miserable and cooped up right now anyway, and I just… well… don't have the heart for it. A: *glowing audibly* I'm not miserable~ C: Really?

Crowley sounds genuinely surprised at Aziraphale's happiness and quickly assumes it's because the angel has been around people. He's so lonely/depressed/in his own head that he hadn't even considered someone enjoying being 'cooped up'. *sob*

Aziraphale goes No actually I put the closed sign up in the window and I'm having the Time of My Life, never had so few customers, not in 200 years!, etc. Although, he says:

A: …There were a few young lads a couple of nights ago who broke in through the back and tried to steal the cashbox! But they soon saw the error of their ways~ C: *clearly amused* Did you smite them with your wroth? A: Well I certainly gave them a good talking to, and I sent each of them home with cake~ C: *annoyed, swooning* Cake? A: Quite a lot of cake, actually. C: *physically ill from having such a giant crush on this dumbass baker/security guard* eeeekkkgghhh I'm gonna regret asking but.. ...rrgh.. *30 seconds of Aziraphale joyfully describing his baking while Crowley probably tries very hard not to imagine the angel eating each item in sensual slow motion* I stg you can hear him struggling in the background once or twice

A: …And once I've baked them, I have to eat them all myself, which was why I was so delighted— C: To send your burglars home laden with baked goods, yes, nnyeaayeah I follow…

Crowley interrupts, finishing Aziraphale's sentence in his nervous hurry to say the next bit:

C: *loud inhale* You know, I could.. hunker down at your place. … Slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle--a case of… something… drinkable…?

He's trying to sound so casual about it but this is someone who was rejected/abandoned by actual literal God after asking what he thought were welcome, uncontroversial questions. Asking makes him vulnerable. He's supposed to be the rescuer, not a demon in distress. He does not feel casual about asking.

Crowley knows it's unlikely but he's so miserable and desperate for company that he can't help but ask, just in case. Even the smallest chance of spending time trapped indoors with Aziraphale—with nothing to do but drink, watch him eat, and talk about things they'd normally avoid—is too tempting.

A: *panicking* Oh I— I— I— I— I'm afraid that would be Breaking All The Rules! *nervous breathing* Out of the question! I'll see you… when this is over. C: Right. gnnehh. I'm setting the alarm clock for July. Good night, angel. *dial tone*

And just like that, Crowley doesn't need two days to decide. The depression nap doubles in length. He doesn't hear how badly Aziraphale wants to say yes behind the fear, or maybe he does and it hurts worse because why isn't Crowley enough for him? You can almost hear the spiralling:

SHOCKING, asking made it worse. It always does doesn’t it? Why even bother? you just embarrass yourself.. SLITHER over? why did I say that *grumble grumble* of COURSE His Holy Holiness, your only friend in the universe, would rather eat cake by himself while everything goes to shit than ~deign~ to have you in his presence. "AsK aND yE sHaLl ReCeIvE" bugger this for a lark im going to bed

(a bit dramatic but we've all been there)

I imagine sleep doesn't come right away. Maybe his thoughts drift to when he sat beside the angel at a dark Tadfield bus stop after a rather eventful Saturday. Crowley must've felt a tiny bit hopeful when he invited Aziraphale to stay with him: Heaven had withdrawn its favor and the bookshop was gone; Aziraphale was like him now. Didn't that mean things would change?

"I don't think my side would like that." Apparently not.

In the end, Aziraphale did ride the bus back to Crowley's apartment and stayed till the next morning when he caught a cab, but only to sell the illusion. Crowley understood that as far as sides went, the angel was still on Heaven's, even if Heaven wasn't on his.

And now this: the entire world is shut down; there is nothing for Aziraphale to do but stay in and read and bake in his magically reconstituted bookshop and he still won't invite Crowley in. Burglars and un-fallen angels only—nobody who asks questions.

So... of course Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale when he loses his apartment. He already knows what answer he would get; the angel has told him so many times. Aziraphale is a company man first, a companion to one very sad owl when convenient.

If Crowley works up the courage to say 'please take me in, I have nowhere else to go' and Aziraphale goes 'sorry, no, far too political, but I WILL risk being erased from the Book of Life to protect this nude amnesiac former coworker who always hated me,' it's going to be too much. You can't sleep long enough for that type of hurt to go away. Better not to say anything.

"Then nothing has to change, does it?"