#i am in bed sick so if you wanna ask me some questions so i don’t feel so lonely and miserable 🥲💕💕

[yoongsisbae]

10, 17, 18, 25, 26

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you? I think the reason the story exists in the first place is because on some level I was being haunted by the story. The character(s) is screaming at me to be heard, the story won't leave my thoughts until I write it down. It's happened with almost every single one of my stories. I will say Seokjin's Handshake particularly haunted me, as in when I dreamed about it I woke up sobbing and couldn't stop sobbing lol. Then when I finally wrote and edited the story I was in a moodTM for a long time 😅

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text. Let's do Run Run Run, cause that is what I am currently writing to cleanse myself of King of Corruption lol. I AM going to write some more flashback scenes on y/n's time before meeting back up with BTS, but a lot of it was condensed into only a few paragraphs and I don't know if I will ever add it to the story even though I know what happened lol. She did a lot of training at the airport, getting herself in shape, because she realized all the job skills she acquired before the apocalypse were utterly useless now. One of her top motivations to do this was to become someone who didn't need anyone to protect her. Why? She had made a friend at the airport, an airport worker who had been hiding, but she was eventually turned into a zombie saving y/n's life. She had come across and befriended a dozen or so workers/people still hiding in the airport, who all ended up getting bitten quite quickly leaving her all alone. Now as you can tell she has a bit of a complex from it. Also, with all her "training," she managed to completely clear out the airport of zombies and bury the bodies so if anyone decided to go to the airport it would be one of the few very safe and secure locations!

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

When it finally ends, you sigh, softly laughing. 

“Well, I’ve never gotten that reaction before.” You wish you could tell him that was your first orgasm in months that you didn’t have to coax yourself. You almost forgot how good an orgasm like that could feel, how freeing. 

Instead you look at him, a huge grin on your face and eyes sparking, admiring the man before you, happy it was Jungkook you found at the club and not a stranger.

No one has looked at him quite like that before, with starry-eyed reverence that makes everything feel so much more intimate, a deeper connection that he just isn’t used to. 

THE FANTASY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HOSEOK'S STORY lmao what happened was a reader requested a Jungkook story, so I panicked and used this WIP for Jungkook instead since it was closet to being done, but c'mon now, tell me you don't see Hoseok all over this story? 😂😂 LOLOL and subsequently, I Thought You Were Mine? was supposed to be Jungkook's story 😂😂😂😂 but I think what happened was I noticed I had so many JK stories, so I switched it for Hoseok instead. Not that I don't think Hoseok is strong, but if anyone is hauling my ass up to the door frame, it's gonna be Jungkook 🤣🤣

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story? I will literally do everything and anything to mention the size of Jimin's fingers and I don't apologize for it 🥲🥲🥲🥲 and if it's not in the story, it's because it sure was there in the first place but I forced myself to edit it out lmao 😭😭

Jungkook’s long fingers reaching deeper than Jimin ever could.

Hoseok’s digits slippery and moving fast inside you, Jimin’s short fingers thrusting in hard, rocking you over Hoseok’s thighs.

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place? How do you dream? For me, when I dream, I feel like I am teleported into that dream persona, I've been a man, a child, an old person, a murderer, and with that I have had all their memories, feelings, viewpoints, and it felt so goddamn real I've woken up and cried over it. I think I am basically doing the same when I am writing these characters, just letting them take me over for a bit lol, its easy to get out of it because most of the time I don't agree with my characters at all, some of my characters I hate lmao. Both y/n and Hoseok's characters from Day Dream I dislike, but also I understand their viewpoints so deeply because I took the time to get in their heads that I will defend their actions to readers, even if I personally would never lol and you know what? Readers seem to love them so at the end of the day, I don't regret it even if it is mentally draining, because it makes my story better lol.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

[starkwlkr]

Love your baby Leclerc series! ❤️ If you're into the idea, maybe you'd like to write about Charles' little girl being sick and him being all worried and taking care of her? 🥺

my baby | charles leclerc

note: i am not taking requests, i am just posting my drafts

It started in the middle of the night when Ruby woke up Charles. She had her favorite blanket wrapped around her with her bunny slippers on her cold feet. She stood beside Charles, who was snoring. She called his name several times, but he didn’t wake up so she tried poking his arm until he woke up. When that didn’t work, she remembered the story that she overheard the other day about something that Charles had shouted.

“Box! Box!” She raised her voice slightly.

It was like a trigger word for Charles that instantly brought bad memories and anxiety. The driver woke up immediately and saw that his daughter was standing in front of him.

“What time is it?” He wondered as he rubbed his tired eyes.

“I don’t know, but I’m hurting, papa.” Ruby whined.

“What’s wrong, my Ruby Jules?” Charles asked.

“My head is hurting and I’m cold.” She whispered.

Charles pressed his hand against Ruby’s forehead and felt it warm. She was getting a fever and you weren’t home. You were on a trip with Mathéo to your home country to visit your parents. Ruby had school so Charles stayed behind since he had a break from racing.

“You wanna sleep beside papa? I’ll get some medicine so you can feel better.” Charles uncovered himself and stood up from his bed . He took Ruby into his arms and laid her onto his bed then covered her with the blanket.

“Papa, Floppy is alone in my room! He doesn’t like being alone!” Ruby gasped.

“I’ll go get Floppy, just stay here.” Charles said then kissed Ruby’s warm forehead. His first stop was to get medicine from the cabinet in kitchen. He read the directions on the bottle then grabbed a spoon. His next stop was Ruby’s bedroom where he retrieved his daughter’s favorite stuffed bunny named Floppy.

“Floppy!” Ruby called out as Charles made his way back into his room. He carefully set the bunny on the bed for her to grab.

“Time for your medicine, mon amour,” he sat on the edge of the bed as he started to open the bottle of medicine.

“I don’t want that.” Ruby used Floppy to hide her face.

“Ruby Jules, if you want to get better, you have to drink your medicine.” Charles said. Ruby hesitated, but sat up so she could drink from the spoon filled with medicine that her papa had poured.

“Does it taste like candy?” She asked.

“I don’t know, how about you taste it and then tell me.”

So she did, but instantly realized that it did not taste like candy.

“Yuck!” She made a face at her papa wondering why he even bought that disgusting liquid into the house.

“Okay, you did good. Scoot, your papa wants some cuddles.” Charles got under the covers then brought Ruby closer to him.

Morning came and Ruby was still sick. She had a stuffy nose and her fever had gotten worse. She didn’t even feel like getting out of Charles’ bed so when it was breakfast time, he brought a plate of pancakes and fruit to her.

“Papa, it hurts.” Ruby groaned as she hugged Floppy. Charles was starting to question if he should take her to the emergency room. He had texted you early in the morning about Ruby’s condition. You replied that you would get on the next flight to Monaco, but he assured you that he could handle it.

At least he thought he could.

“I know, Ruby, I know,” Charles placed a kiss on her cheek. “You know, grand-mére told me that taking a bath makes you feel better. I’m going to fill the bath, okay?”

“Can you put bubbles and the toys?” She mumbled weakly.

“Anything for you.”

After getting the bath ready with bubbles and toys, Ruby got in. The water made her feel slightly better, but blowing bubbles and playing with rubber ducks with her papa made her smile ten times more.

“Hello mister duck, you look nice today!” Charles tried doing different voices for each duck. “Thank you, little duck!”

“The ducks should have names, papa.” Ruby said.

“You’re right, what should the ducks be called?” Charles asked.

“This one is called Arthur and this one Lorenzo.” Ruby laughed as she pointed to the two ducks that Charles had in his hands.

“I guess that just leaves Charles the duck.” The Ferrari driver grabbed the third duck that was floating in the bubbly water.

“No, papa! His name is Floppy two.” Ruby grabbed the duck from Charles’ hands and played with it.

“Floppy two . . . I guess he can be called that.”

When bath time came to an end, Charles let Ruby get dressed by herself, something she always wanted to do. As Ruby got dressed in her room, Charles prepared dinner for them. Before he could finish the mac and cheese for his daughter, the doorbell rang.

He walked to the front door and opened it revealing his brothers Lorenzo and Arthur, along with Lorenzo’s girlfriend, Charlotte. “Where is my favorite niece?” Arthur asked.

“Hello, Arthur, it’s so nice to see you. I’m doing good, thanks for asking.” Charles rolled his eyes as he let his family in.

“How is Ruby?” Lorenzo asked.

“She’s better. She just took a bath, that definitely helped a lot.” Charles explained.

“Papa! I can’t put my shoe on!” The Leclerc heard Ruby shout. She walked down the stairs with a pink tutu, purple leggings, a Barbie shirt and one shoe on while she held the other in her left hand.

“Interesting choice of clothing, Ruby.” Arthur laughed.

“It’s called fashion and Ruby is a pro at it, Arthur!” Charlotte playfully hit Arthur’s arm. “I’ll help you, Ruby, come on.” Charlotte led the little girl to the living room.

“Yeah, Arthur, it’s called fashion!” Ruby sassed.

Arthur cringed. “She just called me Arthur.”

“That’s your name.” Lorenzo replied.

“Yeah, but she’s my niece. It’s weird hearing it from her.”

[andillneverbethesame]

Its nice to have a friend with james and ravenclaw!reader pls 🙏

love this! thank u for the request <3

it's nice to have a friend

❥ james potter x ravenclaw fem reader, remus lupin x sirius black

❥ summary; you and james swear you two are only friends. except you're not.

❥ warnings; none really.just not reread for gramatical mistakes

❥ a/n: this is very shorttt sorryy

my ts masterlist pt 1, pt 2

“alright, class," professor sinitra said at the end of the astronomy lesson. "that's the end for today. i'll see you all next week. and don't forget your essays about your birth planet!”

“finally,” you sighed in relief. “i am so exhausted.” you hated these friday astronomy lessons at midnight. but you were grateful you didn't need to be up early the next day.

“me too,” pandora yawned. she looked as if she was already half asleep. everyone seemed to be. except james potter, who was now making his way to you with an energetic smile on his face.

“hello, y/n," he grinned and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

“hello, jamie.”

“can i walk you to ravenclaw tower?” he asked you and you raised your eyebrow. “it's not safe for a pretty girl like you to walk around the castle at night.”

“i won't be alone,” you replied. “i got pando—” you turned around to your friend who was next to you just five seconds ago. however, she was nowhere to be seen then. “or no. . . well, then i guess you can walk me.”

on the way, you notice james walked unusually slow. he always walked so fast that you almost had to run to catch up with him but this evening, it seemed as if you were faster than him. as if he wanted to make this walk last as long as possible.

you smiled as you shook your head at the ridiculous thought. you and james were only friends. you've always been just that.

“do you wanna hang out tomorrow at hogsmeade?” james suddenly asked.

you glanced at him. “what about the boys?”

“well, sirius and remus are having a date and peter still feels sick. it would be just the two of us. we could go to honey dukes and get the strawberry chocolate you like so much. and then we could stop at madam puddifoot's and get some tea and cake,” he offered. it almost sounded like a date. you cursed yourself again for the thought.

“you hate madam puddifoot's,” you pointed out the flaw in his plan.

“but you like her jasmine tea,” james said. and i like you, he wanted to add. “come on, it's my treat.”

you rolled your eyes. “you don't need to pay me for hanging out with you, jamie. i'd love to spend time with you in hogsmeade. it'll be fun."

james waited at you in front of the ravenclaw tower at ten in the morning sharp, just like he promised.

despite the fact that it was not a date and just two friends hanging out, you spend quite some time getting ready, wanting it to be perfect.

pandora teased you from her spot on her bed as she watched you chosing between two outfits — dark blue sweatshirt with black skirt and black sweatshirt with white skirt (you chose the second option in the end). you could only roll your eyes and deny every single one of her accusations but you both knew very well what was the truth.

james was wearing his gryffindor sweatshirt and opted to pair it with black pants. his hair was a mess, as always, looking like he had just gotten out of the bed without even trying to style it. he complained about it often but you thought it suited him well.

“ready?" he asked with his hands in his pockets, a smile lighting up his face.

“ready.” you nodded.

“where do you wanna go first?” james questioned as you two entered the village. a lot of people were there every day, but especially today when almost five hundred of hogwarts students decided to spend the day there.

“i'd really love to get the tea at madam puddifoot's now,” you answered honestly. “i'm feeling rather cold and need to warm up,” you blew warm breath on your hands and rubbed them together, hoping for at least temporally feeling of warmth. but it was no use. you almost couldn't feel your fingers anymore.

“why didn't you take gloves with you?” james asked.

“i lost them,” you replied with a pout on your lips. james then took off his pair of black gloves from his hands and handed them to you. “i— but. . what about you?”

he waved it off. “don't worry. i'll be fine.”

“are you sure?”

he nodded and you could tell he really meant it.

you two ended up at three broomsticks for a late lunch. despite each of you eating a piece of cake, a chocolate bar and shared a packet of sour candies, you two found yourselves quite hungry after all the walking.

madam rosmerta greeted you as soon as you walked in (though she was mainly talking to james, who ordered two butterbeers and then winked at her) and you chose a table by the window.

“what would you like?” james asked. “it's on me.”

you gave him a look. “i am not completely broke, y'know? you paid enough for me today. let me pay for you once, too.”

“not happening,” was james's immediate response as he shook his head. “i am a gentleman.”

“i never said you weren't,” you laughed. “but you can't pay for me all the time. i'm not your girlfriend.”

that seemed to shut him up as he couldn't think of anything else to say. at that moment, rosmerta came to your table with butterbeers and asked what would you like to have for your meal.

“i'll have shephard's pie," you spoke.

“beef pasties for me. thank you, rosmerta,” james smiled.

“thank you for today, jamie,” you said once the woman walked away. “i really needed this. i've been so stressful with everything that's going on.”

the boy knew exactly what you were talking about. attacks on muggles and muggleborn wizards and witches have been more and more frequent this year. a lot of your friends were muggleborns, and so was your dad. you prayed every day, begging whoever was up there to not let anything happen to those you loved.

james nodded understandingly. he, too, was worried for the future of the wizarding world. and he knew that he will be joining the order of the phoenix as soon as he could, and he'd be fighting for the good side as hard as he could.

his hand reached across the table for yours, squeezing it lightly for some kind of comfort to give you. you smiled sadly at him and sweets his hand back.

“yeah, me too. i'm sure everything will be okay,” he tried to reassure you. but you both weren't so sure. you weren't going to ruin this moment, though.

“thank you. it's nice to have a friend like you,” you said and james nodded.

yeah, he thought. a friend.

from across the room, remus and sirius, although they were on their own date, were watching you two with an immense interest.

“remus, he touched her hand!” sirius whisper-yelled at his boyfriend and hit him lightly as if he was trying to catch his attention as if remus wasn't spying on you two either. “he touched her hand!”

“yes, sirius, i'm not blind!” remus replied.

“come on, kiss!” the dark-haired boy began to pray. “i'm tired of them tiptoeing around each other like that.”

remus raised an eyebrow as he looked at sirius. “you did the same with me.”

“shut up.”

a month later, it was valentine's day and you had no one to spend it with.

all of your friends were going on a date with their partners or potential partners, but you were in bed with book.in your hands and a cup of tea on your bedside table. no one was in your dorm, leaving you completely interrupted to get lost in the story.

that was until there was a knock on your door.

you groaned. the words on the pages seemed to be getting rather. . . interesting.

"who is it?"

"your favourite boy in the whole world." was the answer and you quickly sat up and fixed your appearance. you'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"come in!" the door opened, revealing james in a black suit and a big boquet of flowers in his hand. your mouth opened at his look. he looked really attractive, don't get me wrong, but you couldn't understand why was he dressed like that. "what's going on?"

"well, dear y/n, me and you are going on a date, that's what's going on."

"on a date?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. "as. . . friends?"

james shook his head. "no, not as friends. we're more than that." he didn't give you a time to say anything before he continued with, "get ready. i'll wait in the common room."

you blinked in confusion as you watched him close the door and then you squealed once you were sure he was far enough to not hear you.

[mascdestr0yer]

Not your fault Pt.2

Paige bueckers x pregnant!reader

Warnings: it's just super cringe and cutesy !

Synopsis: just mini scenarios of you being pregnant with Paige's baby and your massive pregnancy craving of cake

“that can’t be comfortable,” Paige shivered, looking at my sleeping position on the bed.

“please.. just shut up,” you groan, as that was the only position you felt comfortable in.

“the doctor said-“ she started and you cut her off.

“paige. i haven’t gotten any sleep for two weeks, this is the most comfortable position i have, don’t take it from me, i don’t give a fuck about what the doctor said.” You sat up, your head pounding.

“woah-hey, i’m sorry, okay? i didn’t mean to upset you,” she cooed, kneeling down in front of you. she caressed the side of your face gently.

“can we get cake..?” You mumble, looking at her doe eyed.

“but we had cake- actually, i was thinking the same thing,” She stood up, taking her car keys out of her pocket. “No crying while i’m gone, don’t wanna stress the baby.”

“okayy, just go get the cake,” you whined, laying back down on the bed. Paige physically recoiled at the sight of your laying position.

“can’t be comfortable..” she grumbles as she walks out of your shared bedroom.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

Kk and Ice were hanging out at you and paige’s apartment,you we’re out with Paige’s mom.

“Wait paige, i have something to show you,” Ice said, grabbing her phone.

“What? like a photo?” She peered over Ice’s shoulder.

“Y/n’s gonna kill you,” Kk looks at Ice, paige quickly turns her head in Kk’s direction.

“what about my girl?” Paige asks confused.

“okay, y’know yesterday after practice when you took a shower,” Ice starts, and Paige nods.

“What does this have to do with y/n?”

“Everything,” Kk explains, putting a hand on Paige’s shoulder.

“Tell me why, she pulled out a slice of cake out of her purse when you were in the shower, plate, spoon and everything,” Ice says, looking Paige in the eye and shows her the photo.

“I asked her for a piece and she pulled out another slice” Kk said completely flabbergasted, Paige shook her head.

“she’s addicted, i’m trying to limit her to one slice of cake a week, that obviously isn’t working,” Paige groaned.

“Why don’t you tell her doctor?” Ice asked.

“the other day she told me fuck the doctor, she’s so mean to me.” Paige huffed, rubbing her forehead. You walked inside, multiple shopping bags in hand.

“hi,” You say softly, they all turned around. Paige stood up, grabbing the bags from yours hands.

“we need to talk later,” her tone a little rough.

“about?” you asked, taking your crocs off (YOU HAVE SOCKS ON). Kk tried to swallow her laughter as Ice snicked.

“you’ll see,” She walks away to your shared bedroom with your bags.

“you guys snitched, didn’t you?” A light pout displayed on your lips when you asked the two basketball players.

“Ice did it!” Kk pointed the finger.

“it was a joint thing, it’s for your safety anyway,” Ice rolled her eyes. you huffed as you walked to the bedroom.

She was sitting on the bed, scrolling on her phone, jaw clenched. you sat down next to her.

“it was just one slice,” you mumble softly, leaning your head on the taller girl’s shoulder. she shut her phone off.

“it’s not about the stupid cake, i don’t like the fact that you’re keeping secrets from me and lying to me,” She sighed.

“m’sorry… no more secrets or lying, and no more cake,” you look up at her.

Paige was clearly skeptical from the fact that you said ‘no more cake’, “really?”

“i tried to eat some today at the mall, but it made me feel sick,” you admit.

“what am i going to do with you,”

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

“i kinda like the weight you’re putting on,” her hands falling to your butt, giving it a light squeeze.

“are you calling me fat?” You questioned.

“no-never, like plumper in some areas more than others,” she smirked.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

“PAIGE!” You squealed from the living room and you hear her heavy footsteps rush towards you.

“what happened? you okay?” she asks completely worried, lifting up your arm examining your body.

“i’m okay, look,” you say excitedly, Billie Eilish followed you back on instagram and commented on your last post. Paige grabbed your phone, brows furrowed.

“what the..” she muttered under her breath.

“she called me pretty-“

“i can see that, does she know you’re wifed up?”

“you’re in my bio, i think she knows, she’s just complimenting me.” you say squealing again.

“so you’re fan-girling over another girl?”

“she’s not just any girl, she Billie Eilish and I love her music. plus my bump looks good in photo,” you say softly.

“she probably has a thing for pregnant girls in bikinis,” Paige hands me back my phone.

Later that night Billie unfollowed and deleted her comment.

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

[reiding-writing]

Hi i am absolutely in love with your writing. If you want to, could you write Reid having one of his migraines and reader just comforts him, yk massaging his scalp and forehead and whatnot while he lay in her lap. Idk man i just wanna see my boy get some relief from his headaches because in the show he just suffers through them ☹️

migraine massages [ s.r ]

Summary:

Migraines are the worst. They hurt and they stop you from doing absolutely everything. Spencer was silently pleading for relief from his own body, and you plan to fulfil those needs.

WARNINGS: details of migraines, vomit mentions, mentions of spencer’s addiction, mentions of relapse

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort

wc: 2.7k

masterlist!!

a/n: can’t have hurt/comfort without the hurt. from a personal perspective, migraines suck bro. they suck so bad.

i’m also mildly disappointed that they didn’t expand the migraine thing after they dropped the original tumour reason, like they could’ve done so much with it-

thanks for the request! <33

Spencer felt like his skull was being hammered from the inside out. Like his brain was silently vying to escape it’s confines and break out of the bone. He felt like every nerve of his body was working against him to make sure he had the most miserable day humanly possible.

He felt like if he moved an inch from his position that the coffee and croissant that he had for breakfast this morning in an attempt to make himself feel better was going to force it’s way up out of his stomach and paint his desk in a sea of vomit.

The tinnitus ringing in his ears didn’t help, nor did the agitatingly bright while florescent lights of the office that he’d never seemed to take much notice of before.

His shoulders ached as he rested his head in his hands, his thumbs negligibly working against his temples to attempt to relieve some of the aching pressure that sent waves through his head and made him want to curl up into ball under his bed covers and never wake up.

“Spence? Are you okay?” Your voice is deliberately quiet as you approach his desk on your return from the kitchenette, steaming mug of coffee cupped in your hands and concern written all over your face.

You can almost hear the sigh of relief as he realises it’s just you and not Hotch asking him for the fourth time today for the file he’d been trying to finish for the last almost three hours.

He doesn’t look up at you yet, merely replying a weak “hi…yeah…just a headache”

You can see him try to suppress a grimace as his own voice overloads his eardrums and sends another wave of pain through his head.

You knew what a headache looked like. And what he was experiencing looked nothing like ‘just a headache’.

“A headache? You look like you’re in a lot of pain, have you-” You begin to question his pain relief, but catch yourself before asking about painkillers. As much as they definitely shouldn’t be, opioids are the most common form of pain relief prescribed for migranes, and you knew that if he had gone to the doctors for the pain, he would’ve turned them down.

At least you hope so anyway.

“Have you… had it for long?”

There’s a pause, before an almost imperceptible nod comes from him. “Three hours… three hours and eighteen minutes…. I thought it was gonna pass but… it’s getting worse….” he swallows before forcing out the next part “…I feel sick….”

You give him a small nod and a pursed expression, becoming increasingly concerned as he continues his explanation, and you can just barely catch how pale his face has gone underneath his hands.

“You should go home Spence…”

He looks up from his desk at that suggestion. As he’s trying to answer he gets cut off by a blinding pain that explodes behind his eyes. He gasps and clutches his head, dropping back into his chair before closing his eyes. “Agh….”

“Spencer…” You can’t help but wince slightly at Spencer’s clear display of pain. “Let me drive you home, you’re not fit to work right now,”

He wants to argue but his mouth is dry. The pain is just too much for him to focus on anything else, including having an opinion, so instead he simply nods.

“Give me two seconds okay? I’m going to go and tell Hotch and then we can go,”

That seems to be a satisfactory answer for now, because he just nods again. He’s not quite ready for the onslaught of light and sounds that will be the outside world just yet. He simply leans his head back and closes his eyes, trying to relax and focus on his breathing.

It takes you a little under two minutes to return, and the first thing you do is take both of your messenger bags onto your shoulder and dispose of your coffee mug on your desk.

You hold out a hand tentatively to him to help him up from his chair. “Here, let’s get you home,”

He takes your hand, slowly getting on his feet as his change in positioning sends another wave of pain shooting through the front of his head. He’s leaning on you for balance as you lead him out of the BAU office. His vision is still blurry, but at least having someone to lean on stops him from having to risk tripping over.

You have to help him into your car once your reach the parking lot, reclining the passenger’s seat as far back as it’ll go so that he’s not forced to sit upright for the whole ten minute drive.

You make an effort to keep the vehicle smooth as you pull out of the office, checking periodically over at your side to make sure that Spencer is alright. Or as alright as he can be anyway.

Once you reach Spencer’s apartment complex, you shut off the car and collect both of your belongings, getting out yourself and then walking around to assist Spencer in getting up.

It’s clear from his expression that he wouldn’t’ve managed the task on his own. He leans on you in a combination of gratitude, comfort and convenience, and he continues to use you as a crutch through the front entrance to the elevator and all the way up to his apartment door, where he struggles to insert his key in the lock through his shaking hands.

“You got it?”

He gives a weak “mhm” as he fumbles with the keys in the lock for a few seconds more, but eventually manages to unlock the door and step inside with you.

“Take a seat Spence,” You lead him carefully over to his couch and sit him down before walking across the room to pull his curtains shut and dump your bags on his reading chair.

As you pull the curtains shut and turn around again, you notice the room being a little messier than usual. Books and papers have been scattered over the room, and there were several mugs and glasses dotted around.

Clearly this wasn’t his first migrane.

Spencer is increasingly grateful the room isn’t too bright as the shade covers the room, allowing him to relax into the cushions of the sofa as you kneel to help him remove his shoes before removing your own.

He doesn’t resist your assistance. The pain still hasn’t subsided enough for him to be in the mood to resist anything. He keeps his eyes closed the whole time you unlace his shoes, just grateful for any relief he can get.

“l’m going to get you some water okay?” Spencer nods at this suggestion. At this point he’s too tired and nauseous to try and fight you, so as you leave the room, he lays his head over the back of the couch and just waits for you to come back with the water.

You return with both a glass of water and a small holding a few ice cubes, handing Spencer the glass and leaving the towel on the coffee table to chill under the presence of the ice. “Drink,”

He takes the glass from you, before slowly leaning forward and sipping the water. Your presence seems to bring him a lot of comfort, much more than he probably realises.

He continues drinking until the glass is empty, seemingly more dehydrated than he realised.

You take a seat next to Spencer has he finishes the glass, and you take it from him gently and place it down on his coffee table.

He takes a deep breath in, and out, leaning back into the couch once more.

He’s trying so hard to focus on something other than his pain, but it’s difficult. So instead he focuses on one of the only other things he can feel, which is the warmth you radiate as you sit next to him. “Here, lie down Spence,”

You put a hand on his shoulder to help try and ease him down slowly so he doesn’t put himself in any more pain. “But there’s no space..”

“You can put your head in my lap it’s okay,” You lean over to grab the now cold towel, leaving the ice in the empty glass before patting your thighs as an indication for him to lie down. “Let me see if I can relive some of that lingering tension,”

If he were of his right mind right now he would’ve been somewhat embarrassed in such a scenario, but right now he’s just too tired and in pain to do anything else but submit to the situation.

He lays his head into your lap slowly, his face relaxing as he looks up at you with grateful eyes.

You chuckle softly as he blinks up at you, leaning down over him slightly to brush some hair off of his forehead. “Close your eyes Spence,”

You can see a slight pinkness in his cheeks as he closes his eyes. His expression is the perfect combination of relaxed and sleepy, although you can still see the traces of the pain he’s feeling through the knit in his eyebrows and the tension in his shoulders.

Just hearing the sound of your voice fills his head with warmth and relaxation; Even if his head is still pounding he feels a lot better just being able to listen to you.

As his eyelids flutter closed, you place the damp cold towel over them, raking your fingers gently through his hair to ensure that nothing gets caught underneath the fabric ans slowly detangling it in the process.

For a moment your touch sends him into heaven, and he can actually feel the tension and pain receding from his body.

As he relaxes, his body slowly begins to respond to the touch with warm and fuzzy feelings. He wants to savour every second of this, to commit the sensation to memory, to never forget the feeling of your warm and gentle touch.

“How long have you been having migraines for Spencer?” You make an effort to keep your tone as soft as possible, moving your attention from running your hands through his hair to kneading your fingers against his temples.

“they’re a fairly recent thing… been having them on and off for a few weeks now….” As your hands work on his temples the pain once again starts to recede significantly. It’s still there, it probably will be for a long time, but it’s no longer all pervading. “…they can be a little debilitating some days….”

“Have you…” you trail off your question, unsure if your right to ask him it. “Never mind-“

He pulls the fabric of the towel from his eyes and blinks them up at you. The dark circles under his eyes are still clearly evident, but it’s not really surprising considering all that’s been happening to him. “…you were gonna ask if i’ve been using again weren’t you?”

“…i’m just worried about you…”

You continue to gently massage at his temples as he sees right through your apprehension.

He can’t help but sigh softly as you indirectly admit to him being right in his assumption of your question. Your concern is appreciated, albeit unnecessary. “…I’m not using anymore… I quit… I’m serious…”

He plasters a small smile on his face as a form of reassurance, though it’s pretty weak considering the fatigue his headache was providing him. “Just having a bad bout of migraines this week… that’s all….”

“Can I just- see your arms? Please?” Your fingers halt their movements as you ask the question, fully focused on receiving an answer. “I just want to make sure…”

His body tenses up a little bit as the request is made, but he complies nonetheless. He slowly raises his arms and hikes up his shirt sleeves, exposing the flesh of his forearms to your view.

There’s no marks on them, no dark scars and no signs of track marks.

He’s clean, and you can tell from his body language alone that he’s telling the truth.

You can feel your shoulders physically relax as your eyes examine his skin, and your expression softens as you look down at him. “thank you…”

“I told you, I’m serious about staying clean….” He lowers his arms, closing his eyes again. He’s back where he was a few minutes ago, a man almost fully at peace despite the fact that he’s still in pain.

“I know Spence..” You scratch gently at his scalp, feeling a little guilty about unofficially accusing him of a potential relapse. But you had to know. You had to know that he was alright.

“I just care about you… I want you to be okay..”

As your fingers brush the base of his scalp he shivers slightly. The feeling is incredibly relaxing, more so than even the previous massage. He smiles softly at the fact that the pain has at least become bearable for now. “Thanks for looking after me…”

“Always,” The pad of your thumb brushes lightly against his cheekbone as you move to tuck a stand of hair behind his ear, knocked loose by him pulling on the hand towel that now laid crumpled on the floor.

Spencer’s eyes flicker slightly. The movement of your fingers across his cheeks is soothing, but also makes him feel something else entirely. It’s hard to describe.

He can’t deny the sensation that rises up from his stomach at these small gestures of affection. A part of him is enjoying it more than is probably okay, given the situation and how tired he is. All it amounts to are butterflies, but that’s enough to make his cheeks flush slightly. “you should take a nap Spencer,”

“mhm…” He nods in agreement. “but can I ask you a small favour first…?”

You mirror his nod with one of your own, your fingers returning to scratching gentle lines against his scalp. “Of course you can,”

There’s a small moment of silence before he speaks again, his eyes flickering between you and the ceiling.

“can you stay with me?”

His question is more of a request, and you swear that you melt from the innocent pleading in his tone.

With you around it’s almost like he doesn’t notice the pain at all. When he closes his eyes it feels like the world is completely at peace, like there’s no need to worry about anything else at this moment in time.

“…please…?” the last word is almost a whisper.

You don’t hesitate in your answer, giving him a soft smile. “of course i will..”

You let out a small breath of air alongside your words, your eyes entranced with the relaxed expression on Spencer’s face, mixed with relief at your willingness to spend a few more hours with him.

Spencer feels a small smile form on his lips as you respond. His hands raise slightly and clutch at your thighs, gently gripping at them almost compulsively.

Now that he knows you’ll be sticking around for a while, all he wants to do is fall asleep in your company.

[shortcakesturns]

Am I making you feel sick?

A/N: eventual smut later in the fic, you are responsible for what you consume. Cannabilism however u spell it, P in v, asphyxiation, blood, unprotected sex! (DONT DO THIS), cream pie, daddy kink, pet names: baby, honey,sweetheart princess, pretty girl. Female reader, semi, public sex. prolly more. fluff, angst. IN THIS UNIVERSE LEE WILL NOT DIE. PERIOD. THATS IT.

REQUESTS OPEN!!! I write for a lot of people please check my pinned to see who I write for! (I also take requests of who to write for)

Summary: you meet a stranger that’s also a so called eater, eventually you fall in love with him and during a kill you wonder how good he could make you feel

“Don’t talk to strangers, or you might fall in love”

A dimly lit streetlight shines above me, I could smell him in the store. He left shortly after having a man chase him out. My eyes are drawn to the corner of the abandoned building where I know he lays above the man's bloodied body eating.

The skinny boy stands up and out of the window stumbling, blood dripping down his body and coming from his mouth.

“Whatcha looking at darlin?” he asked

“I could smell you in the store.” I blankly replied.

“Could you now? I could smell you too, another eater?” he tilts his head to the side.

I nod and look around. “So where you headed?” I inquire.

“Wherever the wind takes me, honey, what about you?” his smirk grew.

“Same.” I stay quiet observing the boy, from top to bottom. Curly red grown-out hair, shell necklace originally white covered in blood droplets, the res stain meeting his skinny frame, and suddenly his hips shift.

“You like what you see there? Well if you have nowhere to go either. Come with me.” he pointed to the blue truck and his feet began to move towards the driver's side. Before my mouth could say anything I felt myself following him. I open the door from the passenger's side and climb up into the seat. With a creak, the door shuts.

“I asked you a question doll” he turns to look me in my eyes, grabbing my chin to turn my face to look at him. “I said, you like what you see doll?” giving him yet another glance down his body. I nod slowly. He lets go and turns his eyes toward the wheel and road. “Thatta girl” With a jerk the car starts up and begins to move slowly.

“Where are we staying for the night?” I look at him curiously.

“Wherever this guy's house is” he nods.

“What's your name beautiful?” he follows up with.

“Y/n, you?” I meet his eyes yet again.

“Lee.”

————

The light gleams in, and my eyes start to flutter. I turn to the other side and Lee is dangerously close to me. Cramped up in a small twin-size bed. Without waking Lee I jolt up and get ready for the day, opening the man's fridge to see if anything good could be scavenged, eggs.

A crack and pop of the eggs cooking is the ambiance as I look around the house, the eerie feeling is lingering. The house smelt like weed and cigarettes. I go to turn a corner in the house and my waist is quickly pulled back and spun around.

“You probably don't wanna go in there, it smells the worst in there. It's just an old record and a TV, rotten food. He really was a low life. Well, good riddance..”

I chuckle and my head falls into Lee's chest. His arms wrap tighter around me. “I made eggs in case you hungry for not…people” I look up at his beautiful blue eyes and his perfect smile.

“I'm always hungry honey.” he makes his way to the kitchen grabbing the eggs out of the pan and bringing them to the table.

For some reason, meeting a nonscary eater has made me more comfortable, and makes me feel more connected to him.

“I feel like I can be myself around you.” I break the silence sitting down.

“Whys that?” he makes a confused face.

“You're just the only eater that I've met that isn't scary, kinda sweet actually.” I smile

“Well, that's just perfect honey, and kinda? I'm insulted.” Lee chuckled.

“You are sweet, are” I laugh.

—— two months later ——

Lee drives down the road after picking a man up at the carnival to eat for the night, Lee brings him into the cornfield and begins to touch him. It was odd seeing Lee like that. Talking someone through it, the farthest we had gone was just a quick make-out session.

The man's moans echo throughout the so-called empty cornfield. Does Lee make people feel that good? Before the man could finish Lee slit his throat and waves me over. “Were you watching darlin'?”

“Yeah, I was.” I kneel down to feed on the man, but then Lee’s eyes dart up to look at me. “Eat baby, come on” I began to feed on the man, but keeping my eyes on who I'm truly craving. Lee.

As we finish the man Lee stands up with his blouse unbuttoned and blood down his body. “Come on pretty girl, let's get out of here.” he motions for me to follow him. I quickly follow him. Once we're at the truck I keep my eyes on Lee.

“Need somethin’ sweetheart?” Lee smirks.

“You, Lee, need you.” Lee is taken aback by the sudden boldness but keeps his mischievous smirk plastered on his face.

“Go to the bed of the truck, and bend that ass over f’me mk? I'll get there in a second love”

I do as he says and pull down the wall to the truck bed plant my feet on the road and arch my back laying the front of my body on the cold truck bed. I look around the dark isolated road, with only us. Fog covering the cornfield. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lee walk over and feel his presence behind me.

“Mm that's a good girl, love seeing this ass bent over for daddy.” a harsh slap makes contact with my ass, my dress is slowly lifted up to reveal my wet pussy.

“No panties hm? You slut.” another slap is landed on my ass. I feel Lee get on his knees and lick a stripe down my cunt, he begins to attack my clit, the noise of him sucking on my clit could make me cum alone. Suddenly he adds a finger to my pussy stretching it out.

“Gotta stretch this pussy for my dick, yeah?” he mumbles into my pussy,

I cry as I feel a second finger added to my pussy, he continues to fuck my pussy with his fingers at a fast pace. His tongue lapped over my sweet spot, I started to build up this feeling in my stomach.

“Im gonna- fuck- Lee I'm gonna cum.” his pace quickens.

“Come on baby come f’me, come on my tongue.”

I feel my legs twitch and white covers Lee’s tongue but he doesn't stop.

“Gonna get your cum all over my face baby,” my legs twitch and my pussy becomes sensitive, and my legs began to shake more intensely. “Thats my good girl.”

Lee licks one last stripe and stands up, the pressure on his hips is sudden and firm. “You feel that princess, you feel how hard my dick is for you?” he groans out. “Yeah baby it's so big.” he jerks his hips, rubbing his clothed cock around my entrance. “That's all you have to say? Hmm okay, baby.”

His pants and underwear are yanked off in one swift motion, and his undergarments hang low against his ankles. The tip of his cock begins to rub against my pussy, from my clit to my entrance. “You want it inside baby.” he pulls back spitting in his cock and fondling it and rubbing the tip around my opening.

“Yes Lee, baby please need it so bad”

“So needy sweetheart.”

With one swift motion, Lee is inside me entirely. letting out a loud groan, he stays for one second letting my pussy adjust to the hasty stretch. “So tight baby.”

He begins to thrust deeply into my pussy, “Hmm baby, so wet and tight for me.” his cock hits my cervix over and over again. The sounds of slapping and moaning fill the once-quiet atmosphere. I glance behind me at Lee with his head thrown back encircled in blood, muttering incoherent words.

“Lee fuck its so big.”

“Yeah, this dick big enough for you? Who's fucking pussy is this?” he starts to thrust harder, “Your pussy baby.”

“Thats right pretty girl.” his thrusts slow down. “Thats fucking right” he grumbles.

A tug on my hair is felt and then a hand creeps up on my neck. “You want me to make you a mommy baby, fill up this pussy?” his thrusts are painfully slow and deep. “Yes baby please wanna be a mommy,” I beg and cry out when his thrusts speed up.

“Good girl, gonna make you the most perfect mom- oh fu- fuck gonna cum in this pussy baby.” hot cum spurts to my cervix and he lets go of my throat. “Good girl, don't let it drip out.” I stand up and he kisses my lips.

“We better get going hun, don't wanna get caught.” he steps away and walks to the front of the truck. I follow quickly behind.

We sit in silence and the car starts.

“Lee I love you.”

“I love you pretty girl.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: weekends aren't for rest, they're for being sick and anxious so Monday will be a treat.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you enter, you try your best not to make too much noise. You set the bags down lightly and ease the inner door shut. You can hear your dad and the soft sound of puzzle pieces meeting the table.

“Ya know, thirty years almost, but I can see her just like yesterday,” he says.

Your heart clutches. You never heard him talk about your mom. When you were a kid and didn’t know better, he just ignored all your questions about her. When you got older, you stopped asking. You figured it’s easier for both of you to pretend she never was.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Leslie comforts, “you know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it over and over. It’s a wound you can’t heal.”

“Oh yeah,” he grits, “yeah, I’d say…”

You swallow and lean back on your foot, crinkling the bags behind you. You cringe as you hear sudden movement. You turn and work to slip off the white loafers. You pretend like you weren’t listening as Leslie’s shadow looms from the archway.

“You’re home,” she proclaims, “we didn’t think you’d be so early.”

“Me either,” you say as you face her. 

Her lashes flick and her mouth opens, “oh my, you look so good! Weren’t you working today?”

“Uh, did some work,” you lie, “I got a few hours off so I… did some running around.”

“Oh, gosh, come on, you have to show your dad,” she takes you by the wrist and tugs you around, “Charles, look at your girl.”

She presents you with her hands on your shoulders. You can’t even look at your dad as the couch creaks and he grunts at your appearance. He snorts and pushes another piece into the puzzle.

“What am I looking at?” He sneers.

“Charles, don’t be like that. Look at her hair, and this dress,” she touches your hips, “must be a nice job, huh?”

“It’s alright,” you shimmy out of her grasp, “I just… needed something more presentable–”

“Something shorter,” your father scoffs, “so when she’s bending to tidy the floors you can see right up.”

“Charles, that’s gross,” Leslie reprimands.

“Truth can be like that,” he snickers, “think some man’s buying her fancy clothes so she can sweep? We both know how she pays for you.”

“No… it’s not…” you shrug and give up, “I’m gonna put my stuff away and start dinner. If you want, you can head off early too.”

“Oh, I don’t mind sticking around,” Leslie says as she once more sits beside your dad, “let me know if you need any help with dinner. Don’t wanna get anything on that nice little dress.”

You nod and hesitate. You can’t tell what she means by that. For as much as she can call out your father, she often speaks with an edge of her own. Just like the cigarettes, she must assume his insults are your fault.

You leave the room and grab the bags. You carry them up the stairs to your room. You shut the door and sit on the end of the bed. You bend and cradle your head, trying to set it straight after the dizzying day.

👠

The bus provides a momentary break from your hostile world. There is no safe place for you. Home is barely that and work is… confusing. Your only escape is to focus on your tasks and get through them. Get through Mr. Laufeyson’s list then come home and the chores left untouched. 

Your look at the time on your phone and black the screen. You get a glimpse of your reflection off the glass as you do. You didn't do too bad with the makeup. It looks okay. You tried not to use too much as you recalled Eliana's instructions.

You shake off your doubts and airy feeling around your legs. You're not use to the skirt or the pretty fabrics. You feel overdressed and out-of-place, but the latter is so new to you.

Through the gate and along the edge of the drive, you hear your name flutter in the air. You stop short as you see Frigga strolling along the hedges, caressing the petals of a rose. She draws away and strides towards you, an ivory skirt paired with a golden brown blouse and nude heels.

“You do start early, don’t you?” She approaches and takes your hand, “come, let’s have tea.”

“Oh, uh, I…” you let her tug you along the walkway towards the front door, “the carpenter is coming today–”

“Ah yes, Loki mentioned you were working on restoring the gazebo. That’s lovely. We used to have tea there, me and… his wife. She was a laugh.”

“Mm,” you hum. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve been very special. You imagine a beautiful woman with silky hair and long legs like Frigga. She must’ve fit right in.

“I suppose if it was meant to be, it would be. I only hope my son can find happiness again,” she squeezes your hand before she lets you go. 

She opens the door and waves you in ahead of her. You slip out of your flats much easier than your usual lace-up sneakers. She steps out of her heels and sighs.

“That’s his problem, you know? He’s lonely but too proud to admit it,” she sidles around you and leads you down to the kitchen. You follow and watch as she goes to the counter and pours from the waiting teapot. “Though I haven’t seen him today. I suppose he’s sleeping in, it is the weekend.”

You tilt your head but don’t comment. For as long as you’ve worked for him, not very long at all, he’s never slept past your arrival. Well, not so far as you know.

“I do love this skirt,” she comes back around the counter and touches the tweed, “wonderful pairing,” she touches the blouse with the petal shaped cutouts around the high-collar, “you’re learning.”

“Um, yeah, all the clothes are so pretty,” you say.

“Please, have your tea. I’m sure you have time before the carpenter,” she urges.

“Right, er, I’ll just take my bag upstairs first,” you say, “out of the way.”

“Sure,” she accepts with a kind smile, “how about I take this out to the patio, we can enjoy the sun?”

“Alright,” you agree and hike up your bag, “thank you.”

You quickly flit off and head upstairs. You weren’t expecting her to be there. You just hadn’t thought of it. You only dreaded facing your unbendable boss and his persistent stare.

You go into the library and tuck your bag under the writing desk. You double check the schedule in your phone; Ronan, 10. You have an hour before he arrives.

Your mind is already on the gazebo as you scurry back into the hall. As you shut the door gently, you hear a groan. You peer down towards the unusual noise and blink at the slightly ajar door. The main bedroom. Mr. Laufeyson’s. It rises again before a drawn out exhale, his timbre rumbling low.

You quickly set back to your path and flee downstairs. Maybe he’s talking in his sleep, or more likely, stretching out a few kinks. Your curiosity quickly dissipates as you pass through the dining room and out into the patio.

Frigga sits with large pointed sunglasses over her eyes. She tilts her face up to the sunlight as you sit before the other cup of tea. You pull it close and look out at the yard. A streak of green catches your gaze.

You watch the hummingbird hover over fuchsia petals. You stare dreamily, lulled by the peace of the moment as Frigga merely sips and basks. This isn’t so bad. The bird zips between flowers before disappearing behind a tree. In his stead, the skittish chipmunk scrambles along the railing of the patio. You smile at his fluffy tail.

“I’ll be off tomorrow,” Frigga states, “my husband will be expecting me. Oh, but I’ll miss you, darling.”

“Is it very far?” You wonder.

“Four or five hours,” she answers, “not very far but enough. It’s so lovely up where we are. I wish you could see. Perhaps one day. When things are better.”

Before you can answer, there’s a subtle click behind you.

“Morning,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is unleashed onto the scene as the patio door swings inward, “mother,” he pauses before he enunciates your name, “beautiful day out.”

Your shoulders stiffen and nearly touch your ears as you sit straight. He pulls out the chair at your other elbow and sets down another teacup with a clink. He sits and smooths back his dark hair, tucking the spiralled ends behind his ears.

“Late morning,” his mother remarks, “any tea left?”

“Some, shall I–”

He puts his hands flat, moving to stand but she shoos him as she’s quicker to rise, “I’ll get it myself. And you darling,” she dips her chin in your direction, “more?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m still… working on mine. Thank you, Frigga,” you say, mindful of each syllable.

She leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. You stare at the brim of your cup, turning it slowly between your hands as Laufeyson raises his own to his lips. He drinks carefully before putting it down again.

He’s quiet. He shifts and plants an elbow on the table. He turns his attention to the yard and watches. You dare to look up as well, the chipmunk poking his head out from the bush where he hides. He ran away at Mr. Laufeyson’s arrival.

“Cute little fellow,” he remarks as he faces you again. You quickly lower your eyes.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Mmm,” he drones and taps his fingers on the porcelain teacup, “you… that’s a nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you lift your cup and drain most of it, gulping painfully as you put it back down, “I should go start. Ronan will be here shortly–”

“The carpenter?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I have him penned in–” You explain.

“And? He is a carpenter, he knows what he’s doing. I doubt he needs you watching over his shoulder.”

“I know, uh, but I should be there to let him in,” you slide your cup off the table.

“You’re not even done your tea.”

“I’ll finish on my way in–”

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused and you wince.

“What?”

“You’re running away? Why?” He challenges.

“I’m not, I– I have work to do.”

“Work I give you. I’m your boss, you may sit and finish. I’ll permit it.”

You falter and set the cup on the table. You lower yourself back to the seat and fold your hands. You look at your lap and push your shoulders back. He is back to his haughty demands, you find that part of him easier to handle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I wasn't running away.”

He scoffs thinly and his nostrils flare as he stares off at the hedges that edge the patio, “I wonder why you can be so quick to flee me when you sat and let my brother feel you up.”

“Huh?” You blanch, stuck by the accusation. “Mr. Laufeyson, I–”

“I know him well and I’m not as blind as my mother. I saw it. You didn’t say a word. You just let him do it,” he clucks, “why?”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. You nearly choke, the acidic flavour of the tea drying on your tongue. Was it that bad? You tried not to think about it, to let it affect you, even as the memories flashed in your head, you just tried not to feel anything about it.

“I didn’t… well… he’s your brother, Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t want to assume… to offend–” you stammer.

“So you let him do what he wants?” He snarlss as he turns his sights on you, a brow arch tritely. “You do not work for him, you work for me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” you sputter, confused by his anger. “I tried to…”

Your voice trails off. No, you didn’t try. You were too afraid too. He’s right, you let Thor keep touching you and you didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, you just froze up.

“It makes me wonder,” he cups his chin, leaning on his elbow, “how far would you let him get, hm?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you whimper, “I’m sorry–”

“Did you like how he touched you?”

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, no, of course not,” you plead.

“You do not want him to touch you?” He prompts.

“No, I… didn’t know how to say—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, lifting his chin from his hand and pressing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away to point at you, “I’ve a better question…” He reaches towards you and you flinch. You quiver as he traces the cutout along the top of your blouse, “how far would you let me go?”

You squirm as he hooks his finger inside the teardrop window in the fabric. His fingertip brushes you as he gives a slight tug, looming closer as he draws you towards him. He smirks as you stare dumbfounded. What is he doing?

“My brother will not touch you again,” his voice is low and rocky, “I will make sure of it.” He tickles you slightly and rescinds his hand, “and you will make sure to remember who you belong to.”

He sits back and hooks his fingers in the handle of the porcelain mug. As if on cue, the french doors open behind you and Frigga trills as she emerges, “oh, just enough tea,” she announces, “I added a dash of honey this time.”

She places the cup by her empty chair but does not sit. She twirls and paces around the patio, going to the flower boxes along the rail. She leans in to examine them.

“Perhaps the carpenter could have a look here, it’s crooked,” she declares. “And I dare say the guest room has a loose floorboard right near the bed.”

“Mm, perhaps, mother,” Laufeyson drawls as he once more raises his cup, his eyes stuck on you, “my house manager will be sure to ask, won’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you wisp out through your constricted throat, barely registering his command. 

You can only hear his previous words echoing, over and over; remember who you belong to. Belong to… No, you only work for him.

[secretsandwriting]

Obsessed

Ethoslab x gn reader

Where Etho is sick and the reader is dragged in to take care of him

As per usual, I've attempted gn reader but I am used to writing fem so if I messed it up let me know and I'll fix it

(UNEDITED)

You weren’t sure why you were pinged by Gem to meet at Etho’s base as soon as possible, but there you were, landing a few steps away from Gem in front of Etho’s base. She turned around, clearly relieved to see you.

“Etho’s sick.” That wasn’t good but you weren’t sure why that required your immediate arrival, Gem seemed to catch on to your unsaid question. “He’s refusing to believe he’s sick and won’t let anyone help him. Tango said he’s way too warm to just brush it off, and since Etho listens to you a little better than the rest of us I asked you to come.”

“I don’t know if he will on this, especially if he wants to get back to his redstone.” You followed Gem into Etho’s base and found him arguing with Tango and Pearl, both trying to get him to lay back down while Etho tried to get past them to work on whatever he felt was calling his name. Which left only one method that would maybe work.

“Etho?” He whipped around and smiled through his mask at you. 

“Hey Y/n! Want to come look at my farms if Pearl and Tango would get out of the way?” You held up some papers. 

“Actually, I have some plans I’ve been testing for a farm but I’m not sure if I have the numbers right. Would you mind looking over them with me?” Etho paused and his gaze flickered between you and the papers.  

“Of course!” With that, your fate was sealed. Etho ushered you to the kitchen table and the papers were laid out and he started pouring over them, figuring it out in his head and mumbling it out. It didn’t take long to hear the effects of his fever. His rambling made no sense. Less sense than most of his redstone rambles. While he was talking, you gently placed your hand against his forehead. Etho froze before ever so slightly leaning against your hand. 

Tango was right, he was burning up. 

“Alright, that's enough. You need to get some rest, your fever is high.” Immediately Etho protested, “I’ll make you a deal. If you listen to what I tell you, I’ll take care of you. If you don’t, I’ll ask Doc too.” He weighed his choices. “Head to bed, I’ll be there in a minute with some things.” Etho jumped up and headed to his room, he was out cold when you went up three minutes later. 

You took that time to get everything you needed together and make some light food for when he woke up. Knowing full well a sick Etho would take advantage of any open second to get away and go back to work and once he started it could be almost impossible to pull him away. 

Etho was out until the next morning, and as predicted, he tried to escape out the window. Thankfully you had blocked all of them off so he couldn’t but he still tried. Begrudgingly, he accepted the tea and sipped on it slowly while he ate his soup. 

When you checked his forehead, he leaned into your touch more than he had the day before, he was also quite a bit warmer then he had been. Hoping you were wrong, you gently pushed his hair off his forehead and kissed it. It was worse, though you were pretty sure the sudden flush in his cheeks was not from the fever. 

Etho whined and complained when he was sentenced back to bed but immediately calmed down when you offered to read something to him. Settling down under a large pile of blankets he fell asleep to the fairy tale you were reading to him.

The next time he woke up, he was delirious and to make it worse, he kept trying to get up to go work on some redstone project. Nothing you tried would convince him to settle down and at least stay inside. 

“You wanna know what will keep me inside?”

“Yes Etho, I do!” Etho’s expression morphed into something you weren’t sure you wanted to know and he leaned a little closer to whisper to you.”

“A kiss, and not on the cheek, it has to be on the lips and you have to cuddle with me.” Oh boy, you had a feeling you knew how this was going to end.”

“I will give you a kiss on the lips and cuddle with you, if you listen to me and you can collect it when you're better and no longer contagious.” He pouted at the last part but seemed to accept it as he settled back down in bed and fell back asleep. 

Three days later, Etho was better and you left to go back to your base for the first time in 6 days. It was nice to finally shower in your own home, and it would be nice to finally get a full nights sleep again in your own bed.

What you didn’t expect was for someone to join you.

“It’s just me.” Etho. “I am here to collect my kiss and cuddles.” Of course Etho would remember that, why did you even agree to it i- Your thoughts were cut off by Etho pulling you closer to him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years.” Etho whispered before closing the space between your lips. It was a short kiss, but damn was it good. You could feel the questions in the air, questions you weren’t sure if you knew how to answer. So you did the only thing you could think of that could possibly answer a few of them without having to find the words.

Placing your hand on his cheek, you pulled him back for another one. You could feel his smirk through your kiss and his arms tightened around your waist. 

“I didn’t know you were so obsessed with me.” He teased, before you could fire a response back he continued, a little more serious, “It’s ok though, I’m obsessed with you too.”

[allllium]

Stage 2

~ finished this a little later than I wanted to but here it is. It's pretty short but I love soft Remus so much <3

~ Fluff/ Hurt/comfort? WC: 852

~ Laying with Remus after a full moon <3

When dating Remus Lupin there are always three stages. Right before the full moon, right after the full moon and any other time. Right now you're firmly planted in stage 2, the day after the full moon.

Remus during this time is always extremely clingy, even more so than usual (not that you mind). But right now you're currently trapped under your very tall boyfriend.

You're laying on your side with him behind you holding you as close as he physically can. Remus loves skin to skin contact with you when he's in this clingy state so you're both laying in your underwear. He has his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his head hidden in your neck.

“Remus, baby, are you ready for some food?” You ask him gently, not getting an answer. However, you know he has a lack of energy due to the activities of last night so you poke him until he answers.

“No.” Is all he grumbles, clearly sick of getting poked in the face.

“You have to eat at some point.”

This time you don't get a word response from him, only gaining an angry grunt as he fails to pull you closer.

“Remus, sweetie, I'm pretty sure we're as close as physically possible.” A small laugh tumbles though your lips.

“No.”

“Am I gonna get any response other than no?”

“Maybe.”

You softly chuckle at him again. “Remy, it's a Sunday. I am more than happy to lay in bed with you all day after you eat some food. What can I make James get you?”

“Something from the hall is fine.”

“Okay good I'll make James bring us something.”

“Thank you.” He mutters, a little gentler than before.

You send a message to James via magic to get You and Remus some food from the hall. Once James arrives he leaves the food on the bedside table and exits the room while making a dozen of strange winky faces towards Remus. Shaking your head at his childish antics, you start to sit up.

Remus seems to have a problem with that as he aggressively pulls on your hips until you're lying back down. You let a startled shriek and your eyes grow wider at his movement. He acts like nothing happened and puts his head back on your chest.

“Remus. What the fuck?” You ask him in disbelief. Yes he is usually clingy but this is a whole new level for him.

“Don't wanna move.” His voice shows nothing but comfort.

“You can't eat while you're lying on me.”

“Then I won't eat.”

“Remus Lupin you will eat this food or I will go back to my dorm and you can cuddle a pillow.”

That gets his attention. He lifts his head up just enough to give you a betrayed glare. Instead of getting up like you were hoping, he moves his arms in a way that allows him to tighten his grip around you. “Try me.”

What the hell is going on right now??

“C'mon let's eat.” You pull out of his hold and sit up. He doesn't move, flopping his head on your lap instead. “No up.”

Reluctantly he pulls his head off the bed and grabs the plate of food. You eat in complete silence. Remus eats as quickly as he can, holding your hand the whole time.

As soon as you both finish your food, he tosses the plates to the side and pulls you to him.

“Are you okay, honey? You're not usually this bad.”

“Am I bothering you?” Such a simple question shouldn't be enough to melt your heart but somehow it did.

“No, of course not.” You pause for a moment to make him look at you. “I just want to make sure you're alright.”

“I'm fine. I just want to be with you.”

“I'm not going anywhere. Do you need anything else? Water or something?”

“No just you.” His voice is quiet, almost inaudible. “If I don't let you go you can't leave.”

“What?” Saying your face dropped at the speed of light would still be an understatement.

“Nothing.”

“Honey, that's not nothing. What's wrong? What can I do?”

“It's nothing Angel. I just overheard someone say something about my scars.” He shrugs it off but I can tell it bothered him. “But that doesn't matter because you love me and that's all that matters.” He repeats the words you've told him many times.

“You're still allowed to be upset, Remy.”

“I know but I don't wanna be. I don't want some random person to be able to affect me.”

“You can't choose your feelings. And that's okay. Those people have no right to talk about you like that when you're prettier than all of them.

“Pretty?” He finally gives you a full smile.

“Pretty, hot, gorgeous, beautiful, handsome, I can keep going.”

“I think I get it.”

“Good because you're perfect and you need to know it.”

“Thank you, angel.” He leans up to give you a quick kiss on the top of your nose. “I love you y'know.

“I love you too, Remy.”

~ Now off to go make a banner for this amazing man and can someone please explain how y'all do those 'read more' things, I'm so confused 😭

[purerae]

teehee first ask thing :3c

i work at a movie theater and it sucks, literally the only thing that keeps me going is pretending someone going to see movies just to interact with me. tbh whenever i scan someone ticket and they’re cute, i’ll try to be at their theater whenever the movie end just to tell them “have a nice day!”

do what you'll want with this, i just wanna share my delusions ^^

hihi omg this is so cute, i wrote a little something about it !!

(i wrote this at like four am on a googles doc and didn’t proof read — pls forgive me for the kinda lame writing ;;;)

You’re tired. Extremely tired. If you got a coin for how many times somebody had asked you a stupid question — you’d be able to quit your job by now.

The smell of popcorn and off brand candy lingers in the air; you feel sick to your stomach as you look at the clock. 3 more hours of your shift left, god, you close your eyes for a solid minute — imagining yourself in your nice warm bed away from all the noise, smell and buzzing food machines.

Fortunately, it seems as the flurry amount of people had dispersed after the screenings of the new trending movie had stopped at a certain time. You hum a sigh under your breath, the theater was almost empty, You prayed to whatever was listening to you that a group of teenagers wouldn’t just burst in and charge towards your counter.

You decide to pass off some time by restocking the candy shelves by your desk, grimacing at the overpriced labels when you suddenly hear a small cough.

Looking up, you notice a very familiar customer beaming at you with a big smile. Their eyes light up, and you can't help but change your tired expression to one that matches theirs.

“Hey! How’s your shift going Y/N?” The man smiles, fidgeting with his hands as he eagerly looks at you.

“Good as a shift can get Matteo, how’s your day going? This is the third time you came this week — Must’ really like movies.. new world record huh?”

You respond back, with no malice in your tone, exchanging banter with your favourite customer. He comes so often to the theatre, that you guys are already on first name basis.

Honestly, the only reason he was your favourite customer was because of how how nice and pleasant he was to chat too.

Matteo would arrive with a warm smile, always making a beeline for whichever counter you were working at. You guys would chat about the latest releases, obscure indie films, and laugh over the messiness of children running around.

You’d remember the first time he came into the movies with his friends, his eyes would linger on you every now and again whilst ordering — you never really paid any mind to it.

Matteo raises his eyebrows as you question him. “…Really like movies?” A pause between the two of you as you nod awkwardly, before his eyes widen in realisation.

“Oh yeah— yeah! I love movies hahaha…! Movies are great.. awesome, spectacular, so fun!!” He says laughing, wiping his eyebrow and grinning extremely wide.

Rapidly changing the subject, Matteo places one of his arms on the counter. “The movie you recommended to me two days ago was so funny! I loved it, anything new for me today?”

To be frank, you could not recall what movie you told him to watch, and you doubt you even watched it yourself! However, seeing the gleam in his face — you didn’t have the heart to tell him so.

You shift your head slightly to see behind Matteos head, the small list of movies that were going to play soon. Selecting the most cool sounding one, you look back at him.

“There’s a movie called ‘Argan Gate’ that came out recently in theatre 3?”

His smile becomes even more radiant (which you didn’t know could be possible) as he looks through his bag, “Sounds perfect! I’ll take a ticket!”

Matteo hands you his money, your fingers brushed slightly, The man freezes as he just stares at your hands for a solid few seconds before zoning back in with flushed cheeks.

“…I’ll tell you how the movie was after, see you at your next shift?” He says with a flustered look. You mutter a small okay with a wave as he walks to the movie screening.

You wonder for a second on how he’d know when your next shift is, and why he watches every single thing you recommend him. Pausing as you stare at his back with a narrowed gaze before you shrug your shoulders, going back to restocking the shelves

‘He must just really really love movies.’

[mialikeshockey]

Sick - Nico Hischier

part two to dancing in the rain

“I told you, we would get sick.” Nico says stuffy. Nico and I have been since for the past two nights. They have been pretty rough. It’s been hitting Nico harder than it’s been hitting me. Probably from how much I go in the rain, my body is probably used to it by now.

“At least we have the memory of it, think of it that way.” I tell him as he side eyes me. I know Nico hates being sick, he doesn’t like how weak it makes him feel and he doesn’t like to sleep all the time. He’s currently all cuddled up in bed with a hoodie on and sweats with two of our blankets.

He claims he’s freezing, I get the idea of making him soup. It will give him more of something to try to warm up his body. Plus, he hasn’t ate all day. It will also give him someone light in his stomach. I heat up some chicken noodle soup and put it in a cooler bowl so it wasn’t so hot on his hands.

“Neeks, I got you some soup if you’re hungry. You should probably eat, you haven’t ate anything all day and it’s going on four.” Nico rolls over to look at me, he smiles. “Thank you.” “You don’t have to thank me. Now eat up and try to not turn into an ice cube.”

I put his hood over his head and give him one of my pillows to sit up on. He starts slowly eating the soup and then I go make myself some tea. I walk back in the room to find Nico turning on the tv.

“I thought you said that you had a headache? I don’t think that watching tv is gonna help with that love.” I question him as I look over and see The Flash start playing.

“The Flash is worth it.” He says patting the place down next to him for me to come lay with him, I cuddle up to him. “Are you feeling any better at least?” I question him after he doesn’t talk for a bit.

“Yeah, kinda. I kinda wanna nap though.” Nico lays down and turns the tv off, I follow doing the same. “I’ll set an alarm for when you have to take meds next, okay?” He lifts his head up, “You also have to take meds, don’t forget to take care of yourself too.” I smile and Nico puts his head back down.

I wake up in the middle of the night and it’s freezing, Nico has all the blankets and I’m left in a hoodie and sweatpants. I tug on the blanket, hoping Nico would hand some over but he doesn’t move. I forgot I gave him melatonin with his medicine earlier to help him sleep. He’s probably having the best sleep that he has had since getting sick.

Definitely getting better sleep than I am. I go back to sleep and hope that I feel better in the morning.

In the morning I wake up to hearing water running, I don’t remember turning on the shower or anything. I sit up and rub my eyes. I look around and Nico isn’t in sight. Maybe he’s feeling better and wanted to take a shower. I get up and walk to the bathroom, Nico’s laying in the tub with a bath bomb and soup everywhere in the water.

“Morning.” He smiles, “So I’m taking this as you’re feeling better?” I ask, turning to get my face wash out. “Eh, I had a bit trouble sleeping after around 7 so I got in the bath with some warm water and now I’m kinda feeling better. What about you? Feeling any better yet?” “I struggled a little bit last night, because someone’s a blanket stealer. Other than that, I slept okay. I feel a bit better I think. It hasn’t really hit me yet.” I continue to wash my face and leave for Nico to finish his bath.

I sit on my bed and start reading my book that I started at the beach the other day. After about fifteen more minutes, Nico comes out of the bathroom with another hoodie and sweats on.

“Still cold?” I giggle as he jumps in bed, grabbing the blankets fast. “Perhaps a bit.” He smiles and cuddles up to my side. “What are you reading?” I move my fingers and show him the cover of the book.

He shakes his head, “I never was a really big book guy. I like movies more.” Nico states as he lays his head in my lap. I start playing with his hair until he falls asleep.

After a couple days I get over the cold I had but Nico still has it a bit. He swears he’s never gonna go in the rain again like that, but I guess I’ll have to test that when it rains next.

——————————————————————————

I did not proofread this so if there is any mistakes ignore them please 😭

[yoongsisbae]

Oooooo for the ask game 16 22 and 27

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark? An m&m

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud? I am not organized whatsoever 🥲 What are you supposed to organize? The words? lol 😆 I use googledocs and tumblr (WHICH I DON'T RECCOMEND AT ALL UNLESS YOU WANT 5K WORDS TO DISAPPEAR INTO THIN AIR FOR NO DAMN REASON DON'T BE LIKE ME STICK WITH ANYTHING ELSE THE NOTES APP IS BETTER THAN TUMBLR DRAFTS ISTG)

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why? Yoongi's character in C!HOC stresses me out lmao having to justify his actions gives me a headache. Writing yandere characters takes a lot out of me mentally tbh.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

[unforgettwble-sumii]

GO TO SLEEP, AMOR ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅☆

(Wednesday x Fem!reader)

> It's 11 a.m and you're still on your phone reading a fanfic about your favorite fictional character. (For the sake of the oneshot let's say that said fictional character was Draco Malfoy.)

⚪ Your roommate Yoko went to have a sleep over at Enid's and Wednesday's dorm, So it was the perfect opportunity for Wednesday to stay over at your dorm.

🟠 It's been hours and you still haven't went to bed so, she tries her best to convince you to go to bed without attempting any murders.

—–·—–·—–·—–·–—·–—·–—·–—·–—·–—·–—·–—

"For the last time, Amor. Go. To. Sleep." Wednesday said glaring at you. What was so important that was on your phone? Why did you keep on giggling?

"Waitttt Wennnn, I'm almost done reading this!! 20 minutes moreeeeee" you say whining, you quickly glanced at her then back to your phone.

At this point, Wednesday was about to loose it. You said that about 2 hours ago. It's a miracle that she hasn't dragged you to your bed.

Wednesday sighed. "What are you even doing?"

She got up from your bed and moved towards the baby pink couch you had in your dorm room that you were sitting on.

You were sitting with your legs crossed and was hugging the adorable giant bat plushie Wednesday got you from the carnival awhile back when you were sick.

Wednesday sat beside you, observing you like a hawk. Wednesday wondered how the hell she managed to get with you.

'Eres perfecta' she mumbled, cheeks lightly coated with blush, not too visible for you to see. Her lips curled up into a very small yet loving smile.

She snapped out of her thoughts and glanced at your phone.

"what are you doing?" she asked looking back at your face.

You giggled and moved your phone so it was much closer to Wednesday's face.

"I'm reading a fanfic!!!!" You exclaimed, a big smile plastered on your face.

'Fanfic?' Wednesday questioned herself. She glared at you in confusion.

You noticed the expression she made, you giggled at it. She was really adorable.

"Enlighten me." She said, one eyebrow raised. You went on explaining it to her, it took her quite some time to understand.

"Why would you wanna read these so called 'fanfics' when you can read books." She tilted her head as she said that.

"well...I don't know, plussss they also have some great stories hereee" you say batting your eyes at her.

"they corrupt the minds of young and adult girls and romanticize the cruel world. I think it's pathetic." She says glaring at you.

"hey! That's not true!" You say crossing your arms infront of your chest.

"You're acting like a big baby." She says

You laughed at her reply and hugged the plushy infront of you closer.

"We should go to bed now, Cara mia." She says sighing.

"but-" you say pouting. "No buts. It's 12 am and we have to go to class early tomorrow." She says with a stern expression.

"fine..." Your lips formed a small pout. You stood up from the couch, making your way to your bed. Wednesday following right behind you.

You laid down sighing, making sure to leave space for your love.

Wednesday laid down beside you and pulled you closer. Her action surprised you but, nevertheless you melted in her touch.

You gave her a smile and hugged her even closer than before "I love you...wen."

She gave you a peck on the cheek as a way of her saying 'i love you more.'

"Sleep well, my love." She says with a small smile.

And with that you both started to doze off

a/n:

I just had a random strike of motivation and decided to make this (hence the reason why it's short) however it is rushed so I deeply apologize if it isn't that good.

Oh and I didn't proofread it so I apologize for any errors, as again, I made this in a rush.

That is all thankyouu, luv u all!! ♡︎

</3 xoxo - unforgettwble-sumii

/ᐠ. ᴗ.ᐟ\ 💐

©unforgettwble-sumii's work. Pls do not repost, steal modify, or translate.

[svltzmans]

take care - f.g.

a/n: i'm so grateful for these fiona requests, thank you so much! writing for her is comforting for me ❤️‍🩹 i promise i'll get back to writing for other characters soon though!

warnings: reader is sick (but it all turns out fine!), very fluffy of course (not proofread though)

when y/n wakes up in a cold sweat, she can tell something is terribly wrong.

each swallow feels like a mouthful of glass, breathing through her nose is impossible, and her body feels like it's engulfed in invisible flames.

forcing herself to turn to read the clock, she sees that it's still the middle of the night. 2:30 a.m., to be exact.

how could she have gone to bed a few hours ago feeling completely fine?

y/n's first instinct is to grab her phone and text the only person she knows who may be awake at this hour. solitude isn't exactly her favorite, especially when she's sick. she could use someone to chat with.

are you awake?

she clicks send, rolling back over onto her pillow. she's exhausted, yet sleep seems impossible. before she can even think about trying to fall back asleep, her phone dings.

what's going on? it's late baby.

her girlfriend, fiona, is usually quite the night owl. she spends most of her days catering to other people, including her siblings, so her evenings are the time she reserves for herself.

is it healthy? probably not. fiona finds time to sleep at some point in her busy life, and y/n tries not to think about it too much to avoid the inevitable worry she would feel.

i think i have the flu or something.

fiona writes back almost immediately.

i'm coming over.

y/n forces herself to sit up, realizing that her girlfriend is probably being serious.

fi, it's the middle of the night.

go to sleep and you can come in the morning.

hello?

y/n knows it's no use, and she's proven correct when she hears a light knock on the door.

when she opens it, fiona is standing in the hall with several cans of soup, an entirely-too-big box of medicine, and a 12-pack of sports drinks.

"you're out of your mind," y/n laughs, voice scratchy.

"i am not, my girl is sick and i'm taking care of her."

"what about the kids?" y/n feels concerned realizing the rest of the gallaghers are alone in the house.

"they're asleep, first of all," fiona laughs. "but i asked v to make sure everything is fine. she's awake too, believe it or not."

"where did all this stuff even come from?"

"24 hour stores are a thing, you know. any further questions?" fiona laughs at her own sarcasm before grabbing hold of y/n's hand.

"c'mon, you're getting back in bed."

"i'm awake now, though."

"not for long, pretty girl," fiona replies.

before she knows it, y/n is in fiona's arms, being carried bridal style to her bedroom.

fiona sets y/n on the bed gently, pulling the covers over her.

"aren't you gonna get in too?"

"well duh, i didn't come here for nothing. but i'm going to get you medicine first."

when fiona returns, she's carrying a bowl of soup, along with the medicine she promised and a glass of water.

"i thought you were just getting me medicine," y/n teases, seeing that fiona had outdone herself.

"you know i can't help myself. now, take this and eat your soup."

fiona sits next to y/n in her bed, pushing her hair behind her ears and planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"jesus, you're burning up. my poor girl," fiona coos, wrapping her arms around y/n.

"fi, i'm gonna spill the soup."

fiona pulls away, forgetting that y/n's hands were very much occupied with a hot bowl.

she can't help but giggle as y/n drinks some of the broth before putting the bowl on her bedside table and returning fiona's hug.

"can we watch a movie?" y/n asks, even though she already knows the answer.

"you have to pick it though, you know i'm indecisive," fiona responds before leaning in to kiss y/n.

"fi! you're gonna get sick!"

"i don't care and you know it. wanna kiss my girl."

melting at fiona's words, y/n allows fiona to kiss her, feeling her body heat up and knowing it isn't because of her fever.

when y/n and fiona finally separate, y/n turns on her television, resting her head on fiona's shoulder.

"lay down, silly," fiona insists, letting y/n rest her head on her chest.

"can we watch that musical? the one about the wedding on the island or whatever?"

"babe, we watched 'mamma mia' last time i was here."

"i'm sick, you can't say no to me."

"i can't say no to you ever. i'll put it on, you rest."

20 minutes into the film, y/n had already fallen asleep, her head still rested on fiona.

fiona smiles to herself, admiring her sleeping girlfriend. it isn't long before she falls asleep herself, arms around y/n.

y/n wakes up the next day to find that it's already after noon, and that she's actually starting to feel better.

her nose had cleared significantly, and although her throat was still sore, she considered it a win.

finally standing up and walking to the kitchen, she's surprised to see fiona hovering over the stove, evidently cooking.

"good morning, sleepyhead. how you feelin'?" upon closer inspection, y/n sees that fiona is cooking pancakes.

"better, actually. i can't believe you left me in bed alone, though," y/n teases, wrapping her arms around fiona's waist from behind.

"only to make you breakfast, my love. or lunch, seeing as you slept until 12:30."

"i forgive you, but only because the food smells good."

"oh, just be quiet and eat your pancakes."

[freyito]

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ & ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜱɪᴄᴋ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

guess whos getting sick.... yippee!! i like never get sick and when i do im like completely OUT. rn it's just a sore throat and a kind of cough but it's been getting worse all day so i figured i'd get this out and donesies with before i cant even leave my bed lol

cw: gn reader, just fluff, JEWISH JOHNNY (hes jewish and you arent gonna tell me otherwise), not proofread

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny does not care that you could possibly get him sick, he is all over you. Like not once does he leave your side. And if he has to? Then he's just picking you up and taking you with him. Even if you complain that you wanna stay in bed.

He's got a weeks worth of takeout planned. All your favorite comfort food, something cold for your throat, something warm, too. And he's always got a nice, cold bottle of water for you. He's very intent on you staying hydrated.

We all know he can't cook. But this man has ONE (1) thing he actually can make without messing up. Two words. Jewish. Penicillin. Good ol' Matzoh Ball Soup. Guaranteed to cure you (don't take his word). And it's damn good. It's the perfect temperature, and it runs down your throat so smoothly that it- for once- doesn't feel like sandpaper. It's bliss. Pure damn bliss.

Of COURSE you're gonna end up cuddled up on the couch or in bed, watching some sort of movie or show. It's Johnny Cage. But, he also just likes talking with you. Or, to you. He doesn't want you to lose your voice, now. He'll ramble on and on about cinema, history- literally any, but of course he's a bit partial to Sento and the Taira clan specifically.-, and physics, science, yada yada.

And he talks and talks for days on end. Until you get better. But who am I kidding, he talks then, too. And when you finally get better, it's actually a miracle that Johnny isn't sick. But he's even more clingy, after.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Unlike Johnny, Kenshi knows to give you space. Doesn't mean he isn't right by you the entire time, though. He's constantly checking your temperature, checking in on you in general. Do you need anything? How about a warm bath? Something to eat? Water? It's a constant stream of questions. He's just so worried about you, even if it is just a common cold.

He does order takeout as well, but it usually just amounts to soups and what not, he's kind of hellbent on making sure you eat the right foods and not something that could even make the cold slightly worse. He'll let popsicles slide, though... just no icecream. Hell no.

About that bath... Kenshi puts his heart and soul into it, for whatever reason. Epsom salt, some vitamin C bath foam, maybe some petals just to make it a little fancy. Oh, he's got it all. He wants to make sure you're at the height of relaxation.

Music and Audiobooks. He's got then playing, unless you ask for silence. Of course, he plays them kinda softly. He's a bit afraid of you getting a headache. It offers some sort of mental stimulation, though, while your huddled up in bed. He wants to make sure you don't feel bored while you're sick.

And once you're better... he's got so much laundry done. Like the very moment you're all energized and feeling better, he's like "oh the dryers done!". Kenshi wants to make sure there's no risk of you getting sick again, and to be honest, he pampers you a little extra, too.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[meganslife]

Pen pals - p. parker (part five)

pairing: TASM! peter parker x reader

TASM! peter masterlist w/ series

summary: you find out that peter is spiderman, and your visit continues with more love and affection than you could ever imagine. (possible tw’s; past-self harm mention, slight panic attack on peters end)

a/n: HI HI HI!! i am so sorry that this came out later than i said it would. vacay was rough and busy. anyway, enjoy!

Peter stares at you like a deer in headlights. You stare right back.

“It’s… It’s a cosplay–” Peter tries.

“Peter.”

He puts all of the food back in the fridge. “I’m preparing for comic-con.”

“Peter, stop.”

“I’m serious! I- I take comic-con very seriously,” Peter insists.

You shake your head, turning away from him.

“Peter, it’s okay. You’re Spider-Man. It’s fine.” You sigh, noticing some blood on his suit. “Are you bleeding?”

He tenses up. “I– um, maybe.”

You grab his chin and inspect his face. He has a bruise forming on his temple, and a small cut on top of the bruise. “I’ll clean you up,” You say, yanking him by his wrist to the bathroom. No other house would have a full drawer of medical supplies besides Peter’s.

“Y/N, it’s fine,” Peter whines. “I just wanna go to bed.”

“I don’t care.”

He scoffs, leaning on the bathroom counter. You start a bath and make it all bubbly and warm. Peter was visibly stressed, and baths helped you, so maybe they’d help Peter.

“Okay!” You clap, “Uh, I’ll turn around and you can… Y’know.”

Peter nods, his face flushed.

He gets into the water, wincing at how warm it is. You ask if you can turn around, and he says yes, but you don’t really know if you’re ready to turn around. The bubbles in the water most likely made it so that you couldn’t see his bottom half… But you’d see enough to make you feel funny.

You slide off your hoodie, and then you realize you’re only in a bra and shorts. Peter notices too.

“Sorry. It’s just hot in here-”

Peter shakes his head. “It’s okay. Can you wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” You nod. He gets his hair wet, going under the water in the process. When he comes back up, he stares at you again. You pretend to not notice as you rub the shampoo into his scalp.

“What?” You laugh, washing out the shampoo. “You’re staring at me.”

Peter shakes his head, smiling. “It’s nothing,”

“No, what is it?”

“It’s an awkward question,” His posture slumps. He’s embarrassed.

You rub his shoulders. “Just ask it. I don’t care if it’s awkward.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You gulp. “Yeah.” That was an awkward question.

Relationships have been terrible for you so far. The last boyfriend you had was the summer before college started. He was terrible. Super mean, especially about Peter. He didn’t understand how important Peter was to you. Talking about relationships kind of made you feel sick, mostly because no one had ever treated you right. You felt unloveable. Sometimes you worried that you’d die alone and cold.

“You never mentioned one in our letters,” He raises an eyebrow.

“I guess I just didn’t want to talk about it,” You shrug. “They were all mean.”

Peter looks at you, his smile gone. “Mean?”

“I don’t like talking about them,” You look down at your lap. “It’s kind of like re-hashing old wounds, you know?”

Peter doesn’t miss how you briefly look at your arm; the arm is scattered with white scars from old wounds you inflicted on yourself.

“Can you turn around so I can dry myself off?” Peter asks.

You nod, and he barely even dries himself off. You can hear how antsy he is.

The towel was wrapped around his waist when you felt him hugging you from behind.

“Peter, you’re all wet,” You giggle.

He laughs too. “Shh, it’s fine. You’re fine.”

“Let go.”

“Never,” Peter whispers in your ear.

“I’ll scream,” You warn.

“Yeah, right.”

When you and Peter finally make it to his bed, he wraps an arm around your shoulders as he reads. You really want to sleep. But Peter is right there. He’s warm and soft. He sets his book down and takes his glasses off when he feels you cuddling up to him.

“You tired?” Peter asks, smiling.

“No,” You murmur into his neck.

He rubs your back, making you even more tired.

“Do you wanna see my webs?” He whispers.

You shake your head. “Show me tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

~

When Peter wakes up, he’s alone in his bed.

He groans, stretching. He heard the shower running, and you singing, and he smiled.

It was already day two of your visit. Peter never wanted it to end, no, the thought of you leaving terrified him. He had already become dependent on your smile to get him through the day. I’m whipped, he thinks as he makes breakfast for you and May.

May emerges from her bedroom with a slight grin.

“Saw you two sleeping in your bed,” She says. “You didn’t have sex, right?”

Peter chokes on his orange juice. He shakes his head with a blush rising on his cheeks and ears.

“Good,” May sighs, “I hated giving you the talk the first time.”

“What talk?” You ask, clueless.

Your skin was all red and slightly wet from your shower. Not to mention that you were only wrapped in a towel. Peter couldn’t form a single thought in his brain.

“Umm,” Peter stammers, “Being safe as Spider-Man. She noticed my latest injuries.”

May nods, tugging at Peter’s ear. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day!”

You laugh, girlish and loud. Peter watches as you walk away, the urge to tug you back and kiss you is way too primal.

Once you’re dressed and have eaten breakfast, Peter wanted to go for a walk.

It was nice outside. Not too warm, and not too cold. Peter slips an arm around your waist as you walk through Central Park, and you seem none the wiser. He listens to you talk about the latest book you read, because how could he not? You’re beaming and beautiful and so excited about some book he’s never heard of. He thinks he loves you, but he’s not going to think too much about it.

“Was it supposed to rain?” You ask him. “I felt a drop.”

Peter feels one too, along with the guilt of taking you out when it’s about to pour.

“Sorry, bub. I didn’t know it was gonna rain… We can get a cab home if you want,” Peter shrugs, letting go of your waist.

“It’s okay,” You laugh, “I don’t mind getting a little wet!”

Peter’s fingers ghost over yours. You notice what he’s doing, and smile, telling him not to be shy. It was hard for him to not be. When your hand is in his, he feels a little more confident. Secure.

The rain starts coming down, and you mutter something about a paper in your pocket.

“What’s in your pocket?” Peter asks, “You keep digging in there.”

You let go of his hand.

“It’s nothing,” You stop walking to look through every pocket in your shorts. “Ugh, damnit.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, “Okay, what did you lose?”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me,” You whine. “Please. It’s so embarrassing.”

“So much embarrassment for one girl. Just tell me.”

You take a deep breath. “I lost the drawing you gave me.”

Peter ponders for a moment. Did he give you a drawing? He couldn’t even remember.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Peter grins, “That can’t be the right word.”

“Guilty? A terrible friend?” You grumble, hugging Peter. He hoped it was for comfort.

Peter chuckles, hugging you back. The rain is still pouring down on you both.

“It’s okay, lovie,” He smiles, “I’ll draw you something else, okay?”

You nod, still frowning.

Peter knew he didn’t draw you a lot of things. He would make drawings for you, but wouldn’t send them in fear that they were bad. Maybe he’d show them to you soon.

“I bet you can’t beat me to that bench over there,” Peter dares.

A smile spreads across your face. “I bet I can.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You count down from three, and you both start running. Peter immediately starts falling behind, and you can’t tell if he’s doing it purposefully or not. You and Peter’s giggles are some of the only noises around, other than birds chirping.

When you win the race and sit on the bench, he follows close behind.

“Fuck,” Peter gasps, “Why the hell are you so fast?”

Rain is still coming down, but the sun is peaking out. A rainbow is starting to form in the sky.

You blush, “I think you let me win.”

He laughs, still out of breath. “Maybe a little.”

The bench was wet and uncomfortable to sit on. You and Peter were both soaking wet. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, kissing the crown of your head. Peter mutters about something May said before you came; how you would have laughed so hard at her stupid joke. You try to listen, you really do, but Peter’s mouth looks so lovely and kissable. God, you need to get over this crush. Or do something about it.

“What?” Peter finally looks at you, “Is there something on my face-?”

“No. I was- uh, zoning out,” You lie, “Wanna go back home?”

He nods, squeezing your hand. “Let’s go, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl, you repeat in your head.

~

You and Peter get back home and shower, as neither of you wanted to get sick or smell like rain. He watches as you do your makeup afterward, even though you guys aren’t going anywhere.

“It cannot be that interesting to watch a girl do her makeup,” You chuckle.

“Oh, but it is,” Peter says, “I don’t know how you do it.”

You don’t respond, putting your signature lipgloss on instead.

May shuffles past Peter and into the bathroom, she tells you that you look pretty. Peter wants to say something like that, too, but he’s not sure how to word it. “I have a shift,” May says, “I’ll be gone for a while. No funny business, you two!”

“Bye, May,” Peter kisses her cheek goodbye.

You kiss her cheek too, and then she’s gone.

Peter walks off to his bedroom with his face flushed. He’s so annoyed with himself. Why can’t he just tell you he likes you? He could tell Gwen he liked her. He almost hears Gwen’s voice in his head, telling him to go get her. Scoop her up before someone else does. Gwen always knew what was best. God damn her and her wiseness. Before Peter knows it, he’s crying, holding his hands over his mouth and nose to stop the pathetic noises from escaping. He just really needed to tell you. And if you don’t feel the same, then he’ll just shrivel up and die—no big deal.

He pulls himself together before you can notice something being amiss.

“Do you have a roof we can sit on?” You ask, sitting on the kitchen counter.

Peter smiles. “You want to sit on the roof?”

“Yeah!” You beam, “I used to do it as a kid. Almost fell and broke my ankle once.”

“Don’t break your ankle sitting on the counter.”

You scoff, hugging your legs to your chest.

Peter moves around the kitchen. He’s cleaning what doesn’t need to be cleaned-- mostly because he needs to distract himself. You aren’t helping by sitting on the counter and watching his every move.

“So,” You tug Peter’s wrist, “Roof? C’mon, Pete. The sun’s setting. We can’t miss it!”

“It’s not that interesting,” He says, voice monotone. “Usually the same sunset every day.”

“Well, I haven’t been here every day.”

Your determination to sit on the roof almost makes him smile. Almost.

“Fine,” Peter sighs. “If you break a bone, it’s your fault.”

You nod, face flushed, and eyes creased from your bruising smile. Peter worries you’ll get stuck like that; your huge, crooked smile. Not that he would mind you being stuck like this.

When both of you are on the roof, you hand Peter one of your wired earbuds. He takes it and lays himself down on the shingles with you.

“Any song requests?” You smile. That goddamn smile, Peter thinks.

“All These Things That I’ve Done,” Peter says instantly, “You know, The Killers?”

The song starts playing. “I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard this one,” You confess.

Another head aches,

another heart breaks,

I’m so much older than I can take.

And my affection, well it comes and goes

I need direction to perfection, no, no, no, no--

Peter shrugs, smiling. “I need to introduce you to real music.”

You look over at him, face flushed and a little sweaty because of how hot it is. Peter doesn’t look over at you; he’s too afraid. The fact that he feels nervous and shy because of you makes him smile, but it also scares him. “You’re not looking at the sunset,” Peter remarks. You glance at the sunset. It wasn’t that exciting, like Peter said.

“Peter,” You whisper, “I didn’t want to come out here for the sunset.”

He looks visibly confused. You frown.

“Why are we on the roof, then? I don’t want you up here, Y/N, you’ll get hurt.”

You groan, face falling between your knees.

“I like you, Pete,” You say quietly, so quiet that Peter almost misses it.

“What?” He practically squeaks.

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Peter puts his hand on your knee, he’s smiling. “You like me?”

You whine, trying to get away from him. You slide down the roof and onto the porch, Peter watches and follows. When you stride off to the front door, Peter stops you. He yanks you back with a web, his hands going to your waist. “Those were my webs, if you wanted to know,” He smiles, looking into your eyes.

Laughing, your hands fall on his face. The stubble of facial hair against your palms, his pink cheeks, and his stupidly gorgeous brown eyes were so close.

“For the record,” Peter twirls some of your hair around his fingers, “I like you too. Maybe more than like.”

You look away from his eyes, the fluttering feeling in your stomach becoming too much.

“No,” He whispers, “Look at me.”

You shake your head, smiling and squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t expect him to do anything funny when you did that, but then he kissed your lips, and everything melted.

Peter felt bad that he hadn’t asked first. “Sorry,” He huffs, still holding onto your face.

“Don’t be sorry,” You smile, leaning in and kissing him.

Peter sinks into the kiss, hands roaming around your face and neck. You tried really hard not to make any embarrassing sounds or mess up. It had been a long time since you kissed anyone. Peter didn’t mind, he guided you with pleasure. When he touches his tongue to your bottom lip, you groan. You two were eventually french-kissing on his front porch, still not giving a damn about the sunset.

“We should-” You murmur between kisses, “We should go inside, don’t you think? This is a lot of PDA.”

Peter laughs, kissing the corner of your mouth. He leads you inside and into his room. You have a feeling that you know what’s happening next, and your heart feels heavy. It’s not that you didn’t like Peter. You loved him. You didn’t want to have sex with him, not now at least. And you didn’t want that to be the entirety of the visit.

You couldn’t have been more off.

“Do you wanna go out on a date?” Peter asks, lying down on his bed. “I wanted to take you out before kissing you. The buildup would’ve been nice, you know? But, I just couldn’t help it.”

You stare at him, standing in front of his bed. “What?”

Peter shrugs. “If you don’t wanna go out, that’s cool. I just wanted you to know that I want to be together.”

“You want that?” You ask quietly.

“Do you not?”

That was such a dumb question. Of course, you wanted it. You wanted to be with Peter since junior year of high school when you two first connected and started the letters. It was just a foreign feeling to be wanted for something. Peter was everything you needed and wanted, so why did you feel this nervous bomb in your stomach waiting to explode?

“Bub,” Peter coos, “Come here, will you? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

You walk over to Peter, falling into his arms. “You want to be with me?”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t,” He assures.

“Oh.”

He laughs, loudly and unapologetically, not at you, but more so at the fact that you didn’t understand that he wanted this. He wanted to be close to you and be able to hug your waist. He wanted everything, only if it was involving you. “I think that when Gwen died, I knew,” Peter says quietly.

“Knew what?”

“I knew that she was right. She’d always tell me to be with you, even though you lived so far. The number of times I talked about you was unreal. I love Gwen, obviously, but she was right about you. You’ve always been my person.” He explains, toying with the necklace around your neck.

You smile, warmth pooling in your chest. Peter smiles too, kissing your knuckles.

“What would we do about distance?” You ask, “I won’t be in Queens forever.”

“I dunno. Maybe we just have to go with the flow and see,” Peter shrugs, “I wish you could be here forever.” He hugs you tighter.

You giggle, kissing down Peter’s hairline. His head remains in your chest, listening to your heart and accepting all of the love you were giving him. Peter was euphoric; practically buzzing with happiness.

He loved you, you loved him, and everything was at peace.

~

“Are you sure you’re not gonna go spidering?”

Peter groans, throwing a balled-up shirt at your head. He’s attempting to clean his room, but you’re bombarding him about Spider-Man duties.

“Stop calling it that,” He demands, “And no, I’m not going out.”

“Twitter is very concerned about your whereabouts–”

He snatches your phone from your hand, grinning.

Kissing your head, he says; “I’d rather be with you than doing NYPD’s job.”

“They should pay you for saving New York so many times,” You suggest, blushing from his proximity. You could feel the heat radiating off his face.

Peter pecks your lips, slow and loving. You laugh, pushing him away when he starts to kiss down your neck. “Go away,” You giggle.

“Go away?” Peter laughs, “You were begging me to lay by you earlier. What happened to that, honey?”

The soft hum of music plays in the background. City noises are making the walls rattle. Peter is warm and lovely. You want to stay here forever, you think. Peter and you, forever.