#i might delete this later but like oh my god i just needed to share with someone anyone

[twilightakiishi]

i have no coherent or appropriate thoughts about the way his voice sounds

[the-mandawhor1an]

6 months later...

TLDR: it's Zaddy's and my RP 'anniversary'; artworks; Wolke being emotional about her Tumblr experience; and a fluffy one shot/drabble at the end of the WAY TOO LONG POST

I've alluded to it before, I've commissioned some artwork of the two lovebirbs and they just so happened to get finished this week. Huge thanks to @kenobiwanx for making the two come alive 😭 I can NOT stop staring at them.

LOOK AT THEM 😭😭😭

Yes these are spoilers for upcoming events but I just 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

@zaddymandalorian Überraschung!

Back to the actual point *wipes tears off her face*

Let's set the scene...

My dearest Zaddy and I reconnected in November of 2023 as I had been on a work trip at that time and I needed someone to talk to. We'd been talking on and off for the last months, mostly smalltalk and sometimes me complaining about stuff. Worth mentioning is also that I sent her my Maia fanfic back in June. First person to read it besides myself. I've known Zaddy since spring of 2016 ish (which also means I've known her longer than my husband – fun fact) so I felt comfortable with her reading my extremely self-indulgent shit. Everyone needs friends like that ♥

We mused about the roleplays we lost to forum admins being ruthless in their inactive-thread-deletion efforts every 4 months. We had barely started a Witcher RP and I'm sure it would've been awesome if we had continued. We literally stopped 7 ish posts in so nothing had happened really. – Why was it inactive? Well I took a 14 month roleplay hiatus due to me being chronically fatigued. The joys of working a stressful job and being severly anemic. Oops.

I tested the waters and made an offhand comment about maybe giving in and asking her to plot something with me.

This is a very convincing re-enactment of what happened: (translated because we're German potaters)

Well... and that's when the fun began

I, being a total Pedro fangirlie, asked if we wanted to just take the synopsis of my fic and run with that. She agreed, I was happy, she was happy.

So it's been 6 months.

OH. MY. GOD.

I did not think I had it in me to be consistently posting daily for 6 months. We've laughed, we've cried, we've lost sleep over it. We've grinned into our phone screens like maniacs at work and luckily no one asked

And now, 260k words later, I'm still in love with the babies. In fact I'd say I love the little blorbs even more now. Maia has a face, she has outfits (multiple!) she has a family and a story (that's only about 1/3 written so whew we might make it to a million)

Of course I also love Zaddy very much (and I will keep lovebombing your ass, bitch 🖤💜)

You know what, fuck it, I'm mentioning more people. Buckle up! Wolke spreads some love!

@immarocketman for being the first person on Tumblr that I kind of clicked with because we share a love for Pedro and the color purple 💜

@roughdaysandart for 1) allowing me insight in her creative process making a Fanfic comic and b) doodling Maia basically as soon as she made an appearance in text form 💜

The moots: @thefrogdalorian @djarins-cyare @djarins-wife @pedroswife69 for interacting with me, commenting on my posts and being real cute in general 💜

Everyone that ever interacted with me on here has been nothing but friendly, I feel extremely welcome over here. Everyone who liked/reblogged or commented on my posts, thank you so much. 💕💕💕💕💕💕

Now that the sappy whining is over, who wants to read something actually interesting?

In spirit of me being overbearingly loving, I've typed up a bit of fluff from the lovesick fools™ of Clan Mudhorn. Unbeta'd.

It was early in the morning, the sun barely over the horizon and engulfing the room in warm orange light, when Din awoke, a soft and warm body nestled into his side. She let out the softest little hum when he buried his face in her hair, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close.

"Sleep," he purred into her hair, placing a kiss on her forehead when her face turned towards him. Again, with a quiet hum, she buried her face in the crook of his neck. "How am I supposed to sleep when my husband has his hands all over me?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized and gently stroked her hair. "Why are you awake anyway?" she asked, finally raising her head so her sleepy, green eyes looked into his. "Hey mesh'la," he greeted her with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "I don't know. I guess the sun woke me up, it's too bright in here." He sighed. "I miss the hut on Nevarro, it was always dark in there." "Come on, it's not that bad here. We needed more space anyway."

She pulled away from him, rolling over so she was on her stomach, hugging the pillow underneath her to get a better look at her everything. "Is the sun too strong, my warrior king?" a grin crept onto her lips as her eyes blinked slowly. Clearly this was way too early for her liking. To be fair, last night went on for longer than anticipated. "Are the little troublemakers awake yet?" She raised her head and turned to face the door. For now it seemed peaceful and quiet in the adjacent rooms.

Knowing well she would rise from the bed to check if he didn't stop her, Din hoisted himself over her body, practically pressing her into the mattress with his body weight. "You're not getting up to check on the kids now, cyar'ika," he muttered, peppering kisses along her shoulder. A chuckle escaped her lips as she rotated her head so she could see him in her peripheral.

She was so glad the mattress was soft enough to just give in under the weight, forming a perfectly human-shaped dent to make way for her body. "Whatever you say, great Mand'alor." For just a second she could feel him grind his pelvis into her butt.

He kept on pressing kisses on her neck, her shoulders, slowly crawling down her spine, kissing every little scar he found on his descent. "You really have to stop saying it like that." "Like what?" "With the bedroom-voice." He stopped to crawl back up to her head and leaned forward, giving her the chance to look into his face. His eyes were darkened, one of his eyebrows twitching upward.

"You're insatiable," she laughed, shaking her head. He slowly lifted off of her, immediately wrapped both arms around her and pulled her onto his chest. "That's your fault, my love." His voice was warm and silky, the vibration in his chest making her shudder. "My fault?" "You're just too beautiful so I can't keep my eyes or my hands off of you for long." "Di'kut" "Gar di'kut, forever." "Forever is a long time," she said softly and ran her fingers through his hair.

"And I'll be happy to spend every minute with you. I love you so much" he took her hand in his and softly kissed her knuckles. She sighed and watched him kiss every finger, eyeing her intently. She was mesmerized by his eyes, almost hypnotized by the dark brown, with the orange light surrounding them it reminded her of embers, glowing and warm.

Forever was a long time and although it didn't feel like it, time was progressing, evident by the threads of silver that sparkled in his dark brown curls. And although she felt like she herself was showing signs of ageing, he always told her she was as beautiful as the day he met her. "I love you more, mesh'la," she replied and rested her hand on his cheek.

"You and the kids are everything to me. I would die for you," he mused, closing his eyes as her finger brushed over his beard toward his lips. Her movements halted and the dark brown eyes reopened, scanning her features for signs of her sudden stop. The small crease on her forehead was enough for him to know exactly what was troubling her.

"Look at me," he pleaded with her, cupping her cheek in one of his hands now. "I know that look on your face. I would doesn't mean I will. Stop thinking about it. I'm here and so are you." Her hand slowly retreated to rest atop of his, thumb brushing over his warm and tanned skin. "Thanks to you, I am. You've saved my life once, I hope you don't have to do it a second time." She smiled warmly and nestled her face further into his hand.

Din grumbled and pulled her face closer, peppering it with kisses wherever he could reach. "I've saved your life twice. But it doesn't matter, you've given me more than I could ever imagine. I have a family now. And the most amazing wife in the galaxy." "I love you." "Until the end of space and time."

Both flinched when they heard a noise outside the bedroom. Instantly both heads were turned to the door, listening for more noises. One of the kids must've woken up, maybe their voices were too loud.

"Any guesses?" Din asked his wife, once again burying his face in her hair. "My gut tells me it's your mini-version," she suapected, turning her head to kiss him gently. "Your gut? Or your Jedi magic?"

Din rose from the bed, stretching his muscles in the morning sun, stared at by his better half. "And you say I'm insatiable." A sly grin appeared on his lips as he put on a shirt, his shoulders and bicep stretching the fabric just enough to make her hum. "The faster you check on the troublemakers the sooner you can come back to bed. Hurry, I'm not done with you."

She didn't have to tell him twice.

Translations:

mesh'la - beautiful

cyar'ika - darling

di'kut - idiot

gar di'kut - your idiot

[ms-no1kpopstan]

Me or her?

Niki x reader

NOT PROOF READ

synopsis: you set your bff Riki up with Eunchae, one of your friends, on a date.. but what happens when you realise that you might have caught feelings for him along the way. So who will he choose, you or Eunchae?

PART ONE

Nishimura Riki has been your best friend since kindergarten and you don’t remember the last time you went out without him. It was safe to say that you did everything together. You’ve been through crushes, breakups, and all of that stuff together. You were in college now.

And, here you are texting him whether he would like to go on a date with your friend Eunchae. And he said yes. That answer was one you did not expect at all. ‘Okay, sure’ you type into your chat. You already asked Eunchae and she said yes as well. You told them a bit about each other since they'd never met before, just to have a few convo starters and prevent very awkward silences…

It was now the day of their date and you took it upon yourself to find Riki the perfect outfit and damn, did it look good. You chose a black shirt with his favourite anime’s print on it and some baggy blue jeans. It looked perfect. While you sent him off, you actually felt like a proud mom who was watching her son graduate…

You were super happy about this and god, did you hope this went well. He always told you how it always seemed like he pushed girls away when actually he was just trying to get to know them before a relationship. So this was a chance for him to redeem himself and finally get a girl… you couldn’t wait till they got together and you could tell everyone about you playing their Cupid.

Now you just needed to wait until he got back in a few hours.. a few hours without him wouldn’t be that hard, would it?

You got off your bed and made your way to the couch to watch tv but you just couldn’t without him there to watch with you. So you resorted to scrolling through social media with a cup of instant ramen next to you. A FEW HRS LATER

You hear the keys to your apartment jangling and watch as Riki walks in with a big smile on his face

“Phew,” you think “it must have gone well if he’s smiling so much”.

“y/nnie, the date went so well, we talked a lot, shared a bowl of ice cream and we walked around the place for a bit! I hope we could do that again…” he says, happily. “That’s great riks, did you get her number too??”, you ask, excitedly. “Yeah, I did and oh my god she’s so pretty! Like I know you told me she was pretty but she was just more beautiful than I thought!!!!”

“Okay that’s really great ki! And also, wanna watch that new kdrama with me? I’ve been wanting to watch it for a while…” you say with a soft tone towards the end.

“Okay sure Y/nnie! Even I've been wanting to watch that one”

You make some popcorn and sit down next to each other on the couch, your head on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined(in a friendly way of course….)

Physical affection wasn’t something rare in your friendship and that’s why a lot of people thought you two were dating. Well, all you had to say about today was it was a great day! Riki’s date went great, and you were watching a new kdrama with him too! What more could you ask for?

•____________________________________________ A/n End of part one! And also tell me if you want to be added to the taglist. By the way i Don’t have a schedule for updates so it will be a bit irregular! pls interact with the story if you want. Re blogs, comments and likes are appreciated! Hope you liked it! And this is my first series so pls keep that in mind before giving hate comments. Also, rude and judgmental comments will be deleted and blocked. sorry for the long note!

TAGS; @leaderwonim @mandukkul @copyhanni @nikiswifereal27 @stariikis @ad0rechuu @copyhanni @jungkit @rk1stars @rikihqq @wonryllis

DOUBLE UPDATE YAYYYY okay bye!

A/n pt 2 @ms-no1kpopstan’s not yours. Please do not translate, or repost without my permission and it must have my credits if so.

[orginllazyblog]

Deleted Scences from God's Return, Chapter 4

Dura: "Um... brother? I think we might of broken him."

Annih: "Give him a moment."

Eugene: *still processing on what he just heard*

Dura: "But I'm still confused about something. Why is it that you and Gavus were not welcome in the Celestial Mountains, especially with your kids? Because I could of sworn that I told this to one of my trusted elites."

Eugene: "!"

Annih: "He's seem to be back to normal. Go on, you can be honest with her."

Eugene: "W-well, at first I didn't know I'll be wed to a celestial. I'm- or at least was a Hypogean, which is why the Celestials weren't exactly happy with that. The kids were going to be used as weapons for the war, but I'm glad that Gavus was able to see that. We wanted to give the children a better life than being treated like a tool as they were created around the time of the Age of Gods."

Dura: "I'm sorry to hear that. At first, I thought you had given birth to them."

Eugene: "...."

Annih: "Dura, you're THE Goddess of Life, but that's a different conversation for another time. Eugene, in one of your old drafts, you were supposed to be a female, that is when we change of plan."

Eugene: "Uh huh... good to know..."

Annih: "Back to the topic, you two raised them at the Dark Forest until 3 years later were found and put you two in prison while your kid's memories seal away. Once you guys finally reunite, you went to find a new place to live. Dura, which one of your elites did you tell them? Because this would explain everything."

Dura: ".... Morgana."

Eugene: "Yeah, that explains a lot."

Annih: "Hold on, let's make a grand entrance. Firstly, Eugene, you need a new drip. Especially going to the Celestial Mountains, you need to look ✨️outstanding✨️. Especially prove those pigeon heads, and that bitch!"

Eugene: 'I still don't trust you.'

****Hours later****

Annih: "Yeah... Dura, this is not the look for him."

Dura: "Oh, come on! He looks great."

Eugene: *wearing too much clothing*

Annih: "Your birds wear revealing outfits. It's not like anyone would try to flirt with him when he has a husband and kids."

Dura: "Name all of them."

Annih: "Flora, Talene, Zaphrael, Tarnos, Veithael, -"

Eugene: 'How long are they going to argue? I just want to go home already.'

The Fool of Chaos never knew this would happen in all those years of wondering around Esperia, meeting Gavus and the twins, and eventually getting Dura's blessing. It would take time for him to get used to the God of Death as he did plan on killing his daughter. Yes, she did all those things before her memories started to come back to her, but prove her actions to the God of Death and left her live.

Once they made their entrance, Eugene now knows that there family will be safe at last. He also gave Lucilla his new magic, giving her a blue and white eye, star marks, a little halo, and a new dress. Truly look like a princess. He even shared his magic to Liberta, changing his halo a bit, and star marks too. The twins even got their dad's feather ear wings, which honestly look so cute like little fledglings.

[pr0cyon-lotor]

Y'know Yuri fans are shockingly homophobic

You might not think so but god damn I've gotten death threats because I wrote yaoi shit. I actively feel safer writing yaoi because at least the comments section isn't filled with people being homophobic

Like I wrote something for a Yuri pair and deleted it because every comment was homophobic against the yaoi ship I liked.

"oh finally someone isn't writing that yaoi shit" dude... Leave my comment section

"these two girls have more chemistry than the stupid fags" bro why are you being homophobic under my fic?

LIKE BOTH ARE GAY 😭 HOW ARE YOU SO FUCKING HOMOPHOBIC

And then when I told them that I didn't want this hate on my comment THEY CALL ME A STUPID FUJOSHI "oh you're one of those annoying cishet white girls that only likes yaoi ships" EXCUSE ME?! And I'm not even exaggerating with these comments

First of all, I WROTE what you just read! YOU READ THE LESBIAN ROMANCE I WROTE WHAT DO YOU MEAN I ONLY LIKE YAOI?!

Second, I'm neither cis, white, or a woman. I'm nonbinary, Mexican, and I'M ARO/ACE.

And lastly, DON'T INSULT THE CREATOR OF A WORK YOU LIKE

FOR FUCKS SAKE MAKE IT MAKE SENSE

I don't care what prejudice you have. It's not my damn job to change your mind. I'm not your caretaker nor am I your parent.

I almost always write for myself and my friends. I don't need to post it. I can share the doc with my friends. I don't owe you shit. NO AUTHOR OWES YOU THEIR WRITING, so don't act like you reading my stuff is a damn honor! A damned homophobe's praise means shit to me

I love my readers. It makes me happy when people see my writing and like it as much as I do. I love it. But I will delete a whole fic is too many people don't behave

And that's what I did with the Yuri fic I wrote. I deleted it. It's in my notes app collecting dust. I read it for my own enjoyment and share it with friends if they ask.

I feel bad for the kind people that liked my work but I won't put myself through mental anguish just before some homophobic Yuri fans.

I might reupload the fic and delete and block any users that act that way. But currently I don't think I'm mentally prepared for that yet. (Maybe later for any of the nice people that like that pairing)

I won't stand by allow my writing to be whatever permission they think it is to be homophobic.

If you're going to be homophobic in my comment section GET THE FUCK OUT OR LEARN HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP

[localplaguenurse]

oh my god chex mix i need to share this with you because i feel so fucking stupid it's funny. i've had this issue with paypal over a year. actually it might even be 2 years! i needed to submit either my ID card or any document to verify my identity. but i had this fucking issue- whenever i'd drag and drop the document it would upload but wouldn't let me actually submit it. like the 'next' button would remain unclickable. i'd been stuck at this for ages.

well just now i was like "imma try it again" and guess what. it is only then that my wonderful eyes decided to bless me with actual eyesight and i noticed the fucking birth date column. A YEAR. MAYBE TWO. I COULDN'T COMMISSION ARTISTS. BECAUSE I COMPLETELY MISSED THAT IT WANTED MY BIRTH DATE.

Fuckin rippppppppp

This is not at all the same but it's related to birthdates. So I signed up for wattpad when I was 12 sort of by accident. I was on mobile on my little iPod touch and when I was putting my age in I put 2002. Because you gotta be 13 to use wattpad, the scroll wheel thingy went to 2001 automatically, basically to say "you gotta be this year to sign up."

My memory is a little fuzzy but I know I had closed the app instead of confirm or cancel because my mom was probably calling me for dinner or something. I go on wattpad later that night, or it might've been the next day, and instead of the log in button it was the username I picked at 12 years old.

I will be worm food before I say what my old account was because I never actually deleted it.

[someone-uncool-ig]

Hi (3 years later)

um, it's been a while, like 3 years since I been there... It's really crazy to even think about this... I was only 15, it feels like it was just yesterday. Anyways, I thought I'd just give an update now that I'm 18, and oh God stuff did happen in that 3 years, but I'd rather not get into it much

Long story short I'm a recovered alcoholic now and things been going good, about graduate actually, heh (which is also really crazy, years just pass me by) so if you get triggered by drugs or alcohol maybe don't follow me cuz I might draw that,,, hah

Um I don't know if I'll return? It seems like a fun website and all and it seems like there's way more smiling friends fan then Twitter so I might hang in here for a bit, sharing art and stuff, I don't know how to use this app no more so it's gonna be interesting

My favorite is Alan (or Allan) and my main ship is Charlie x Alan, if people do ships on tumblr? I seen some so I think they do, I'm from Twitter so idk... it's weird that nsfw is banned? Is it banned?

Anyways, I might put my twt in the bio, but um, I only draw hot furry girls and OC's there so i really don't know, sometimes fandom art but the account is fairly new and I need to get everything shorted so it might take a week or two, haha. But if you like sexy furry girls just let me know. I'm a pansexual girl who loves boobs so you know you'll get quality content

Old posts are all monsters university related, I will not delete them but I'd recommend not to look at it too much, it's really bizarre...

[emailrulesposting]

Vent? below

I might be comfy sharing more later on. For now I guess I'll share things in a slightly coded manner.

Last night I had three dreams where someone who isnt't real (please stick with me) infiltrated my dream (GOD that one ellicited a vine boom sound effect) and "infiltrated"(???) it. It feels like something I wrote coming back to haunt me but it is based on something In My Brain considers important. Gross gross gross gross gross gross gross gross gross! Sorry had to get that had lol What am I even saying I totally see why people think my mind has been lost.

I planned to say it in a slightly humorous way this morning but procrastinated doing it on here. I'm not entirely sure what's going on wait what's the word count on this who am I again? Oh where'd that come from um? I'm not sure? I'll just... ignore... it? Yeah I will okay we're good I'm not sure how to figure out the word count I guess I could Google it on my PC. THE CHARACTER LIMIT IS WHAT NOW??? HOW MANY ZEROES? Holy shit we're probs about to be here for a little bit longer. It's actually crazy wait stream of thought is something so wild. Probably because of the way I think WHY ARE YOU HERE oh sorry about that! Interesting thats editable

Oh my God I could just post to text and make I'M THINKING CLOSER TO WORDS!!!!!!! THAT'S WHY IT'S EASIER TO WRITE!!! OMFG!!!! This is good information for the future. oh my god. The future. I'm not sure what that's going to be like... not based on what it's like here in the present.

Now I'm making email rules it's honestly so cathartic if you want to see the folder of emails let me know! Organication,,,,,,,,, if you want to see a screenshot lmk I'll have to take one! It's going to be sooo soo soooooooooooooooooo satisfying sorry I stopped holding my breath for a second there.

Wait why tf was I holding my breath? What was it helping? Why did it stop working? How did I know it did? What am i writing about again? Waiting Room by Phoebe Bridgers is playing I forgot how long I've been writing this post

Waiting room is still playing so it definitely hasn't been been long. A couple different songs have played. I guess it's really affecting me or it's just bc I'm high

Honestly I feel like I'm finger painting rn listening to caesar salad - demo by slimdan honestly feeling like that rn. Absurd indie song ass emotion.

Ive been in the wrong playlist for like 5 songs omfg I forget to keep changing it. It felt like the sun just tried to consume me a little bit also like it

Woahhhh the playlisy is already workign wow I'm influenced by music I need to listen to more high tempo music huh listening to HOT TO GO! by Chappel Roan en maybe I need to go back on my old Spotify to see whats there so I can remember what've felt to go. I know I used to spam.... I think going through that could be helpful.

Heey look at that in

I don't remember that thought. I remember deleting a song from the playlist. I remember configuring the email rules to fix the mistake

emaillistposting

Wait that's a perfect url. I'm worried corporations will make "xyz infulencers" for their companies as a marketing strat

[jadegrey711]

Snow Covered Dream

Eric Northman x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello my loves so I got this request for a soft Eric Northan what feels like eons ago, and I’m finally feeling some inspiration for it. It’s been particularly hard for me for this one since when i originally started writing for it I had a good thing going and while I was an my ipad i rotated it and somehow deleted everything I had. So this is attempt number two for this one. I hope you guys like it and if you could show it some love! And to the sweet person who sent this request in I really hope you think it’s worth the wait. 

Prompt: Hey can I send a request in for Eric Northman x reader please? Could you maybe do one where him and the reader have been seeing each other for some time now and then they have sex for the first time and it’s really sweet and the reader lets eric bite her for the first time and they just realise how much they love each other, if not don’t worry about it! Thank you, love your writing!

*NOT MY GIF. ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE OWNER.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

Word Count: 3212  Holy fuck this became it’s own novel. I think this is the most I’ve ever written for something like this. Fuck i hope it’s not shit 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

Warnings: 18+ people. Oral (f recieving), mentions of blowjobs, Tantric sex (if you squint), vaginal sex 

Song Inspiration: 

Best Part - Daniel Caesar, H.E.R

Morning View - Towkio, SZA

Looking Through your Eyes - LeAnn Rimes

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

This isn’t the first time that Eric has stolen you away for some kind of romantic adventure. He’s been around for a thousand years and there’s just so many places he wants to show you; places you’ve never even heard of and spots that feel like no other human has laid a foot there before. 

However, this adventure felt different, like when it was over Eric wasn’t planning on letting you go; like he planned to keep you and you couldn’t find anything bad about that. 

“Eric are you ever going to tell me where we are going?” You smiled, seeing the mischievous smirk on his lips. 

“We are already here, sötma.” he stated and you swore his smile got wider, as you quickly whipped your head back towards the window to see if you could finally see your destination. But only found the same endless snowy expanse out your window. 

“Where?” 

“This is all of my property. It’s not huge but just a bit further up this road there’s a little house I keep for when I want to truly get away from everything.”

You waited for a few more minutes keeping your eyes peeled out the window for any sign of the house and then suddenly just out in the distance you saw a spot of bright red. You felt your excitement grow as you watched the house steadily come into view. That spot of bright red growing until you could finally see the whole house; a bright red one that was nestled right in the middle of the property surrounded by what looked like a small farm house and hidden away by the snow covered pine trees that surrounded it.To put it in a word it looked magical.  

“Do you like it sötma?” Eric asked, turning his head just enough to gauge your reaction. 

“Oh Eric! It’s so beautiful! It’s like a snow covered dream.” You said wistfully and then pulled your focus from the car window to Eric and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. 

Eric hummed his satisfaction. “I’m so glad you like it. This is one of my favorite places and I thought I might share it with one of my favorite people. I can’t wait to show you the rest of the house, I think you’ll really enjoy it.” 

“I’m sure I will.” You beamed at him and took his hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. “I’m never disappointed with anything you show me Eric.” 

Eric said nothing at your praise, but simply took your hand that was holding his and pressed a few kisses to your knuckles, before taking your wrist and kissing the palm of your hand; sending a flush of warmth through you despite the endless cold outside the car. 

When Eric pulled up in front of the house, you immediately got out of the car and stepped out onto the fresh snow just to marvel at the bright red house. The way the snow was settled perfectly on the tops of the roof and on the pine trees that surrounded the house it looked like the perfect christmas card. 

“How come you never told me you lived in a Hallmark movie?” You asked turning back to face Eric who had both your bag and his slung under each arm. 

“I don’t. It’s just Sweden. Everything looks like a Hallmark movie here in winter.” he chuckled as the both of you walked towards the large wooden front door. Eric easily maneuvered the bags in his hands to pull out the small set of keys and quickly unlocked the front door, letting you both into the house and out of the cold of the outside. However, there wasn’t much relief from the cold inside the house either. 

You started to shiver as you made your way to the center of the cold house, clutching your jacket tighter to your body. 

Eric looked over and saw you shivering and immediately took off his jacket and put it on top of your shoulders. “I’ll get a fire going in a second sötma.For right now I want you to sit here.” He said as he pulled your shivering body into a main sitting room where a very large fireplace sat on the far wall. 

Eric sat you down on the plush sofa that laid in front of the fireplace and you clutched his jacket tighter to your body as you watched Eric get the fire going with his quick and efficient hands. 

**

Hours later after you and Eric unpacked your things and both of you had your dinner. You found yourself sitting in Eric’s lap on a fur rug in front of that luxurious fire. The feeling of the fire warming your skin and the feel of Eric underneath you as he stroked her hair lovingly, warmed more than just your skin; you felt your heart and soul warm from the contentment that you felt in this moment.

As content as you were though in this moment you knew that you wanted more. You wanted more from Eric than just his soft kisses and loving caresses, you weren’t a fool you knew the reputation that surrounded Eric when you started seeing him. 

Ruthless killer and slayer of hearts but that wasn’t the side he presented you with everyday nor was it something he tried hiding from you. It wasn’t something that you felt like he needed to hide anyway. Everyone has shit in their past and in Eric’s case he’s got a whole mountain range of shit he’s got to deal with from his past but he’s grown and you’ve seen that growth. Hell. You being here wrapped safely in his arms in some remote house in god knows where Sweden should be proof enough of that growth; of the trust you place in him. So much so that you feel confident enough to pull from his soft touches and look at him in those blazing glacier eyes. 

You let out a small breath, and reached out your hand, cupping his face before you pulled him slowly in for a soft lingering kiss. Eric hummed his approval against your lips and then you took him by surprise as you tilted your head slightly and deepened the kiss, your tongue playfully dipping in his mouth and tangling with his.

You smiled against Eric’s lips as you heard him let out a low growl, his strong hands that were at his side, coming up to grab your hips bringing you closer to his body. You let out a low gasp as Eric pressed you closer to his body and you felt just how hard he was for you already. 

You pulled your sweet lips away from Eric’s smirking as you heard him softly whisper “No.” when you pulled away. But you or your lips didn’t go far. You pulled away just enough that you were still most definitely in kissing range. 

Eric watched you as you placed your small hands on his strong chest, letting you control every action and determining just how far this night was going to go. He loved it when you were brave for him, with him, taking control and taking what you want from him. He’s waited for this moment for so long but one word from you and he would go jump in the endless snow outside and quickly cure himself of his raging hard on.

Your hands continued their leisurely journey down Eric’s chest until you got to the hem of his shirt. You looked back up at Eric’s face, as if you were asking permission. He nodded and your fingers brushed the skin underneath his shirt and gasped at how cold he was. But you didn’t let that deter you one bit as you grabbed the hem of the shirt and lifted it up and over his head; with Eric’s help of course. And then your hands were all over his bare chest starting back up at his strong shoulders, then trailing down his chest your fingers stop over where his heart is; and feeling a certain sadness that you wouldn’t feel it’s steady beat under your touch. 

Eric seemed to sense what you were feeling and grabbed your chin making you look up at him. “Your heart is big enough that it beats for the both of us, sötma.” he whispered lovingly before placing a kiss on your lips and letting your chin go so you can continue with your exploration. 

You leaned down and placed a kiss to that spot on his chest, biting your lip when you heard Eric’s little gasp. Your hands went down feeling his hard abs and then those delicious hip “v’s” that you so desperately needed to run your tongue over but maybe later tonight. You looked back up at Eric’s face and grabbed one of his massive hands; Eric watched intently as you flipped his hand over and started to lovingly trace the lines there. 

Eric couldn’t help himself any longer the same hand that you so lovingly traced he used to cup your cheek, and traced your lips with his thumb. 

“Do you know how beautiful you are to me?” He asked as he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head leaving your chest bare to him. 

You felt your cheeks flush. “No. I don’t think you’ve ever told me before. Why don’t you count the ways.” You giggled and let out a little squeal as Eric flipped the both of you over so your back was to the soft fur rug and he was sprawled out on top of you. 

“You’re such a little shit you know that?” He smirked as he leaned down and kissed a spot at your chest, giving it a little suck. Making whatever little smart comment you were about to say dissolve from your mind as you felt Eric ladden your body with open mouth kisses. First to your neck and then your collarbones and then to the spot right where your heart was. 

“Eric.” his name falling from your mouth in a breathy whisper. 

His hair tickled your face as he kissed lower and you let out a gasp as his tongue swirled around your nipple, making your back arch from the surprise of it. 

“So sensitive.” he chided and you felt a gush of warmth spread between your thighs at his words. Before you watched him bring that nipple into his mouth and give it a light suck before he went to do the same to the other. “I wonder where else you're sensitive.” He purred as you felt his lips brush reverently against the bottom of your breasts before continuing his journey to where you were most sensitive. 

You tangled your hands in his hair as he reached your pants and he held your gaze as he undid each of the buttons, making you smile as he lifted your hips up and pulled your pants completely off, leaving you completely bare to him. 

“Oh, Y/N.” He purred as he admired your naked body sprawled out in front of him on his fur rug looking like a norse goddess. “Every part of you is a gift.” He said as he grabbed one of your legs and placed soft kisses there before doing the same to the other. He loved how sprawled out you were for him like a feast all for him. 

“Eric.” You moaned out his name again as you watched him settle himself between your legs, his strong shoulders keeping you spreaded out for him as you watched as he took his index finger and ran it down your slit making you gasp. You watched eagerly as he placed that finger in his mouth and sucked on it. 

“Just as sweet as I knew you’d be, baby.” He smirked and then you felt his tongue flick up your folds before swirling around your clit making your hips buck up into his face. 

You watched as Eric swiveled his head side to side and elicited more moans from you each one getting louder and louder as he sucked your clit and he fucked you with his tongue. Your fingers alternated between burying themselves in Eric’s soft hair to gripping the fur rug behind you as you watched Eric devour you. 

As you felt your orgasm climb you started to writhe under Eric but he easily placed his strong arm over you stomach keeping you under his delicious torture. “Eric, baby I’m gonna come.” You moaned, feeling like you were going to fall over the edge any second. 

“Go ahead baby, come for me. Let me see how pretty you look when you fall apart.” He purred before he added his fingers and crooked them inside you and you fell apart. Eric ate you out through your orgasm letting you ride that wave of pleasure until you finally went limp under him. 

You watched with shaky breaths as Eric pulled away from you giving your clit a kiss before smiling up at you. “I don’t know how I’ll ever get enough of this sweet pussy, sötma.” he said before climbing up and kissing you deeply letting you taste yourself. 

“Are you ready for me, sötma?” He asked and then you felt his strong fingers rub against your soaked folds before he entered you feeling how wet you were for him. “Oh yeah, I think you’re ready for me.” He smiled, kissing you again before standing up and unbuttoning his pants before quickly discarding them.  

He looked like a god from this angle, all strong and hard muscles as he loomed over you, his hard cock springing to his stomach. You’d never been particularly fond of blowjobs mainly because of how your past lovers would grab your head and try to force you down more. But you didn’t feel that Eric you wanted to be at his knees lavishing him with pleasure while he stroked your head lovingly gifting you with lavish praises about how good you were for him.

Maybe another night. You thought to yourself. 

Eric knelt back down till he was sprawled back over you and proceeded to ladden you with soft open mouth kisses, his hands massaging your breasts until you could feel the need between your legs grow until it was too much; you needed Eric now. 

“Eric, please.” You moaned breathily. 

“Are you sure you want me now? We have all night, baby.” He said, kissing your neck again. “Maybe you let me play with that pussy for another hour and then I’ll fuck you.” 

You felt you center throb at the thought at what kind of pleasure could pull from you in an hour; not still not fuck you. 

“No. I want you Eric. I need you inside me now. Please.” You whispered in his ear earning a low growl from him. 

“Well, there’s no way I can deny such a pretty girl when she’s begging for me.”  He hummed and you felt his hard length press up against your folds. “This what you want from me?” He asked, knowing full well, that’s exactly what you wanted. 

“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me?” you gasped feeling Eric’s hard length press deeper into you, letting you get used to him as he stretched you out for him. 

“Oh baby you’ve got such a mouth on you. I can’t wait to see it wrapped around my cock. I just know you’d look so pretty on your knees for me.” He purred as he slid home, making you moan in his ear as he pressed close to your body,to your warmth. 

Eric kept his pace slow letting you get used to his invasion but also to leave you breathless and wanting under him. He knows what you want; that you want him to pound into you and he will have no worry about that. He can’t wait to hear the lewd sounds of your wet pussy as he drives into you over and over until you scream his name. But right now he wants to draw this out, really feel each part of you and then he’ll pound into your aching pussy. 

“Eric, please.” you breathed out, your nails gripping his back as he kept his pace slow and sensual, making you writhe beneath him. 

“Please what? Sötma.” 

“Harder.” You begged. 

Eric chuckled against your skin. “I just can’t deny you anything can I?” He asked, looking at your face. 

“Please Eric.” 

“Alright, baby.” He said and before you knew it, Eric pulled out of you and brought his hands under your back and brought you up to his until you were straddling him and just as quickly as he pulled out of you, did he plunge himself back into your wet folds; setting a brutal pace as he fucked up into you. 

You let out a scream of pleasure as your hands wrapped around Eric and held him close as he fucked you. 

“Is this what you want, baby?” 

“Yes.” You whimpered, kissing Eric’s neck and sucked at the spot where his shoulder and neck meet earning a low groan from him. 

“Oh Eric!” You moaned, your nails gripping onto his back. “I-I I’m going to come.” 

“Come for me sötma. Grip me with that tight little pussy of yours.” He growled as he drove into you harder and you felt yourself go supernova as your orgasm racked your body. Eric held you tight, slowing his pace down just enough to let you ride through your orgasm. 

After a few seconds though you felt Eric’s pace quicken again and to your surprise his quickening pace was building you up to another orgasm. 

“Eric. I don’t think I can survive another one.” You moaned, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Eric tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled enough to bring your face to his. 

“You can and you will baby. I want to feel you squeeze my cock again, with that beautiful pussy.” He growled and kissed you, his hand leaving your hair to snake between your bodies and rub small circles on your oversensitive clit and you gasped into his kiss as you felt your orgasm crash over you as Eric held you close to him, as he chased his own end. 

“Fuck! I love you so much, Y/N.” He screamed as his own orgasm crashed over him, holding you closer to his body as he fell back down onto the soft fur rug underneath him. 

As you laid on top of Eric trying to calm your breathing and find your equilibrium again. Eric’s fingers found your hair again and stroked it lovingly. 

“I love you too ya know?” You smiled and kissed his chest. “And not just for the sex. Although I could definitely get used to that.” You laughed.

“You are trouble.” He said, scrunching his nose at you before bringing your lips to his in another searing kiss. 

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[wizkiddx]

this deleted itself but the req was for an ill reader who likes to try and carry on even if they feeling shit and tom noticing I think?!?

Summary:  you take start to feel a bit shit  at toms family barbecue and get caught out and taken care of

///////////

It should've be lovely, an evening in the rare but much appreciated British summer sun in Dom and Nikki’s garden. Everyone was there; all the Holland boys; both sets of Tom’s grandparents; Haz and his long time girlfriend Lucie. It was a reunion of sorts, although no one had been away working, you’d somehow all timed your individual holidays simultaneously. You and Tom to Australia; Sam and Harry to south-east Asia; Paddy, Dom and Nikki to Sweden. Having all returned in the space of a week, everyone was catching up, involving great British barbecues (which are always a little disappointing) and a fair amount of booze.

You were sat on the garden furniture with Tessa (Tom’s grandma), Nikki and Lucie. Very much a ‘girl power’ meeting if ever there was - which in a family full of boys was often needed just to keep the peace. Everything about the evening was lovely… except perhaps your body. God knows why, because you rarely got ill - having not had a day off work in two years. As much as you’d been trying to push away the slow creeping feeling for a couple of hours - it was now getting impossible to ignore. The slightly unsettled feeling in your stomach had you fidgeting in the wooden chair constantly, trying to ease it by shifting positions... to no avail.

“Y/n… Y/n?” Looking up to see three pairs of beady eyes trained on you, you faked a smile, looking over to Nikki who had been calling your name. “Tess was asking how long the flight back was?” “Oh sorry, was miles away!” You tried to cover, shifting once again, this time pressing a hand to your lower abdomen in the hope that’d distract you as you turned slightly to make eye contact with Tessa. “And I think 11 hours ish.” The girls all pulled a grimacing face in sympathy, to which you chuckled at. “No no honestly cos Tom spoiled me completely so we were in the fancy seats, I honestly was spark out of it the whole time!”

It was enough of a response for the girls to all nod, carrying on the conversation as you, now not the main focus, rubbed your pulsing temple with your other hand - in the hope to relieve some of the building pressure. Clearly, though, you weren’t a subtle as you thought - since Lucie got your attention by bumping your shoulder and leaning in closely. “Come to the loo with me?” It sounded like a question, though it very much wasn’t - the stern look in her eye enough to scare you into agreeing. With a word to Nikki and Tess, you both stood up and made your way to the inside, not stopping until you were locked into the thankfully spacious downstairs loo - the brunette eyeing you intently. “You look like shit.” “Thanks Luc, that’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.” You sighed, sitting on top of the closed lidded loo heavily. “What’s up?” Her tone was harsh and to the point, but secretly there was a look of worry in her eyes. She was one of your best mates but sometimes could also scare you shitless. “I think I’m just tired, it’s my stomach and my head, I’ll be fine.”

Lucie didn't really seem to believe you, but respected your stubbornness and after providing you with two paracetamol capsules from her bag, she let you off - both going back into the garden, where, by now Sam was plating up the slightly charred burgers.

Naturally, you’d sat next to Tom, who had pulled your chairs right next to each other - so that his leg was pressed up against yours, his arm pulled around your shoulder. That was just Tom, away from the prying eyes of the public and media, he really was an affectionate person. He just liked to feel you there. God knows how long you all sat in those same positions, but it was long enough for the sun to set. In fact, you most definitely weren’t the person to ask, because at some point, unbeknownst to you, you’d zoned out. Nobody had noticed, under the cover of the low sunset light, until Tom felt your head briefly fall against his shoulder before it shot up once again - your eyes blinking heavily.

He frowned at the sight, seeing you huddle your arms across your body, which was bizarre due to the unbelievable hot weather in London. Yes, it might have shifted into nighttime, but it was still at least 24 degrees. So as his Dad had the entire table captivated recounting some long and complex tale of his touring days, Tom took the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder - grabbing your attention.

“You alright love?” In response you just hummed, eyes shifting up to him after a little delay - similar to how your reflexes became stunted with alcohol, though Tom suddenly realised you’d barely had more than half the glass of beer he’d poured you when you’d both arrived. “ I’said are you okay?” “Yeh… yeh I’m fine.” You forced a small tight lipped smile, whilst Tom took his arm that was round his shoulder to rest on the crown of your head before slowly stroking down your hair. “Sure? You seem a little out of it?” He pushed, still in a whisper so as not to draw attention to the two of you. “Maybe just tired.” Flat out lying, you shifted back into the backrest of the chair a little more making his hand accidentally land on your forehead rather than your hairline. He didn't move it though, instead sitting and swivelling in his chair, pressing the other side of his hand to the skin as well. “You’re burning up Y/n/n” he spoke a little louder - eyes full of concern as he looked you up and down. “No I’m a bit cold if anythin-“

That was when Nikki, from across the other side of the table got involved. She’d obviously been silently observing the two of you, now feeling the need to send you both home. “Oh, we forgot dessert! Tom, Y/n would you mind helping me bring it out?” Thank god for Nikki, for finding a cover story and stopping everyone's eyes on you. Because for someone dating, three years deep, an A-lister - you hated any sort of attention, even from those closest to you. Especially sympathy, you had absolutely no time at all for that.

Leading you into the kitchen with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, Tom waited till the door was shut before turning to you.- claiming you were boiling and looked not so great. “I’m just a bit cold if I can borrow one of sam’s jumpers then-“ “Love, please go home.” Nikki interrupted as she wormed past Tom to put her own hand on your forehead too. “You’ve got the chills and you’ve not been normal all day. Am I right or am I right?” She was the worst to argue against. That was completely due to the fact she was always right. With a defeated nod from you, she clicked her tongue, pushing you to sit down on one of the barstools. “Tom go get a jumper from Sam’s room and order a taxi, I would drive but we’ve all been drinking.” “I can just go back by myself T, you don’t get to see your grandparents a lot and -“ “I love you but please please shut up.” Having rounded the back of your chair he pressed his lips to your temples as confirmation before scurrying off to the back of the house.

“You know he doesn’t mind at all? My son never was at my beckon call like he is with you.” There was a little smile teasing the corner of her lips as Nikki placed a glass of water in front of you, as though instructing you to take small sips. “I just feel bad, he’s always telling me how he regrets not spending more time with all of you and… well I’ve had him to myself for the fortnight in South Africa.” “Your just as much a part of the family as me or his grandparents are okay? Now when you get home..”

Nikki switched the tone to then list off all manners of ways that you needed to look after yourself once back, which she then repeated as soon as Tom returned with a black hoodie that you gratefully pulled over your head.

//////////////

By the time you got home, you were feeling so incredibly shit you weren’t even considering keeping up your brave face. Tom had wordlessly led you up the path to your shared home, unlocking the door and telling you to go straight to bed.

Perhaps he was so concerned because in the whole three years together he’d never ever seen you ill. Yes, the odd headache or whatever, as well as the occasional morning after the night before when you’d opted for a ‘tactical chunder’ to try and protect your modesty. But other than that, you were always the one being sympathetic to him. When he was tired, both emotionally and mentally from work; when he hurt his knee and was on forced bed rest for a couple of days ( which turns out to be the hardest time for you too, dealing with the whiny and fidgety boy man).

He came up a couple of minutes later, by which point you’d already pulled joggers on and wrapped yourself as tightly in the duvet as physically possible. If felt so bloody cold your teeth were actually chattering as you curled up into the smallest ball possible. In his hands was a small tray, carrying a steaming mug; a collection of all the different pill packets you kept in the medicine cabinet (as Tom himself had no idea which one was right so decided to use them all); a hot water bottle and what looked like a damp towel, all scrunched up.

No matter how shitty you felt you had a smile at how sweet and doting Tom was being... and as much as you hated the sympathy - if it was always given by a ripped and beautiful brunette with the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen… well just maybe you could get used to it. After snatching the hotwater bottle up immediately, then letting Tom fuss over you in every which way he wanted you gave in, losing the ability to entertain his puppy energy.

“Can we just go to sleep please?” You whined, which Tom nodded to - quickly getting changed and ready before joining you in bed.

As soon as he felt the way the bed was practically vibrating with the chills you were suffering from, he pulled you up into his chest. Now you had both your own personal heater and a hot water bottle to try and warm you up. “You wake me up if you need anything kay?”

Pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, which was nestled between his shoulder and neck. “Promise me ‘kay?” Him needing the reinforcement caused you to arch back up, looking deep into his brown eyes with the warm glow of his bedside table lamp. “You’re too good to me Tommy.” He tutted at that, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Oh no” He whispered exclaimed, making you immediately ask him what in response. “I think this fever is making you go all delusional love.” You quirked your head, causing him to continue with a cheeky grin. “Well for one, nothing would be too good for you darling and two…. When the hell have you ever called me ‘Tommy’” With him chuckling at his own joke, you rolled your eyes at his cheekiness, firmly planting your head back on his shoulder as if to shut him up. “Alright, I’ll let you off just this once cos your all feverish… get some sleep love.” “Thankyou Tommy.” “Shh love.”

And that’s how you fell asleep, finally finding a bit of warmth in Tom’s arms.

Safe to say he very much didn’t sleep so well. Yes, you felt cold - but Tom was bloody boiling. Still he didn't move because if you were comfortable, his discomfort didn’t matter. It was also a physical impossibility for him to relax until he felt (yes, technically not the most scientific way) your fever coming down. Every five minutes or so he’d gently press the back of his hand to your forehead. This boy was so whipped for you... but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~feedback is really really appreciated~~~~

taglist for tom: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

[wonderlandhatter]

Angelic in my clothes.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x femReader

Summary: Spencer knew a lot about a lot of thing and topics, but he doesn't know a lot about relationships, but you help him understand them.

Word count: 3400

Warnings: none, just a whole lot of fluff, itsy tinny bit of angst for like half a paragraph.

Prompt 4: “Why do you like stealing my clothes so much?"

A/N: ok but this was supposed to be a short little blurb, oops. anyways thanks for the request I hope this is ok, pls tell me if it wasn't what you'd imagined or feel free to send in another request.

A/N2: My old account got deleted so I'm just reposting my fics I would appreciate if you could bust this so i could get back to where my account was thank you for your time.

Taglist: @pinkdiamond1016  

Spencer did not like not knowing, he knew he was smart, and he knew a lot about different topics, one topic he didn’t know a lot about though were relationships. He wasn’t very experienced with them and there’s only so much you can learn from books and Derek honestly wasn’t a great insight.

Since you two had started dating he had begun to understand some of these thigs, one of which he understood fairly quickly. Which was why couples loved cuddling so much, he had never been a person that expressed affection through touch because it made him uncomfortable, and you were very understanding of this and waited for him to be comfortable and took baby steps. The first time you properly cuddled was while watching doctor who on his couch, and you fell asleep lying there with him, all the statistic and worries  about germs left his head, they were the last thing  in his head at that moment, they had been drowned by the beauty of your sleeping form, for another time in this relationship you had taken all his thoughts out of his head and you were the only thing that mattered. Emily was truly right, a pretty girl and his IQ is slashed to nothing, but you weren’t just any pretty girl you were the single most wonderful person he had ever met and he didn’t care about his IQ slashing, you were all that mattered mattered now.

And then he knew why people liked it, it was comforting and the most wonderful feeling in the world, hearing your cute little snores, that you flat out deny even exist, and seeing your hand keep a tight hold of his shirt. He liked holding you, it made him feel close to you in a more intimate way. That’s when he knew for sure he loved you, and he said it, you subconsciously smiled in your sleep at those words but had no knowledge of them when you woke up, but he didn’t care he would say them to you soon enough and he wasn’t sure but you would say them back with no hesitation.

Another thing he now understood about relationships was how good it felt to have someone to come home to, someone who you trust with your whole heart and who you can tell anything too, someone you love.

He understood this quite early into the relationship, you had been dating for a little over two months, you hadn’t had many dates because of his work but you talked on the phone all the time, and you were friends before for a while so it felt longer than it had actually been, but at the same time not long enough he wished you had met a long time before, but you’re together now and he wouldn’t waste any more time with you.

He understood this one night/very early morning after a case. He had missed you so much, the case was long, tiring and incredibly tough. He didn’t say anything, but you could hear it in his voice how tired and how mentally and physically exhausted he was. The truth is the victims looked a lot like you, the victimology fit you too perfectly for his comfort and it scared him, the thought of the unsub going after you terrified him, he couldn’t stand it so as soon as he got on the jet he called you, he just needed to hear you, to make sure you were still there alive and well, he however hadn’t realised how late it was until he heard a very groggy hello.

“Oh no Y/N I didn’t notice how late it is for you, I can call you when you wake up, I’m sorry I’ll let you go back to sleep” but just before he hung up you rushed out a response. “wait, no Spence wait a second, I want to talk to you”, you were definitely awake now,  “are you sure, its ok if you want to sleep, it is very late and you had a long work shift and”, “Spencer, of course I want to talk to you, I missed you” he smiled at this and before he could reply  you said something again, more quietly than before “I missed the sound of your voice Spencer”, god he loved you so much “I missed the sound of your voice too”, you sat there in comfortable silence relishing in the sound of each other’s breathing letting your words dance in the air.

After a minute you spoke again “how was the case”, Spencer sighed remembering the victims and your shared resemblance, “it was fine”, you knew it wasn’t “spencer talk to me I can tell it wasn’t”, how could you tell from just his voice.

“Well it was, agh it was just a lot, I don’t want to talk about murders though I missed you, can you just talk to me I want to hear your voice”. You didn’t push him any further with it, you knew he would talk to you if he needed to. “ok love, well………..” you talked for around an hour nothing of massive importance just pointless chit chat, but to him it was the most heavenly sound in the entire world, he was however fighting sleep from taking over, he didn’t want to stop talking to you, he felt like he needed you right now. He snapped back when he heard you calling his name “spencer…. Spence…. Love!!” “oh yeah, yeah I’m here, sorry what did you say”, “I’m going to hang up your falling asleep, I’ll talk to you later ok” “no I want to keep talking, I’m wide awake”, “Spencer I can hear your exhaustion its fine, go to sleep, I’ll go to sleep and we can talk later ok love”, he let the words sit for a  minute before sighing “ok, bye bug, I’ll talk to you later, we are landing soon so I’ll call you then, ok bug?”, “ok love sleep well”.

And with that the two of you hung up, and even though he missed hearing your voice he was exhausted and sleep over took him, you however did not sleep you got out of bed, and made your way to your door and put shoes on, you were going to go see him, you didn’t bother to put clothes on he had seen you in pjs before, you were wearing sweats and one of his Cal-tech crew necks stylishly matched with lilac crocs, wow you were hot.

You were now making your way to his apartment, it was about a half hour drive, it took a little longer since you had decided to drink some coffee before leaving so you didn’t fall asleep at the wheel. You knew he needed somebody right now, you didn’t know why but you didn’t need to you could hear it  when he first called you almost in a panic to hear you, plus you missed each other.

You arrived at his apartment and used your spare key to get in, once you were in you made your way to his kitchen to turn the kettle on to make some tea while you waited  for him. He texted you while you made your tea that they had landed and was on his way home, you chose to send him a text  saying “I’m waiting for you at yours <3” , you didn’t think it would be smart to surprise him and scare an FBI agent.

Spencer made his way home quitter than he usually would after he saw your message, he didn’t bother replying just rushed there as soon as Hotch said they could go home. He’d never been in such a rush to get home after a case, sure he was always happy to go home and sleep but this felt different this felt like a scratch he hadn't been able to itch and once he could see you he would feel the relief.

Once he got to his apartment building he ran up the multitude of stair until he got to his floor, he might have had to take a couple brakes between stairs but what can he say, he isn’t used to doing the physical stuff on the field, Morgan normally takes care of that.

As soon as he got to the door, he stood there for a minute to calm down his breathing before putting the keys in and unlocking the door. He stepped in and your sent engulfed him in the most comforting way, as soon as that scent reached him, he could physically feel himself intense.

He took his shoes off and placed them beside your discarded crocs with a quiet laugh at your ridiculous shoe choice, he then hung up his satchel with his blazer, and walked to his room assuming you’d be there but on his way there he stopped at the sound of cute little snores and saw you sitting on his couch with a half empty cup of tea on the side table and a book laid open on your chest, he should have known you would try to stay up for him.

He kneels in front of you and leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead, you slowly opened your eyes as you were only in a light sleep. Once you could make out the blob of colour in front of you to be your boyfriend you smiled and wrapped your arms around him nearly knocking you both backwards onto the floor before he stabilised you both. "Spencer, I missed you" you said nuzzling your face into his neck. "I missed you too bug, so much" he said closing his eyes and holding you tight to him.

You stayed there, just like that enjoying each other for a minute before you heard him sniffling, “Spencer are you ok love", "I... I just... I just really needed to see you, and feel you, I needed to know you were still here" before you could reply he spoke again tears clear in his voice "thank you so much for coming here tonight", "Spencer look at me", he reluctantly looked at you tears streaming down his face, you wiped his tears with your thumbs while holding his face gently "any time you need me, I will be there for you ok. I don’t care if you just finished a case and its an ungodly time just call me and I'll be here ok, I miss you to when you’re gone  and I love being with you, when I heard your voice over the phone I knew something wasn’t right and I needed to take that away, even if it's just for a little bit. You never need to thank me for being here for you ok" he decided the best way to reply, the best way to get all the words he needed to say to you was by kissing you, and so he did and you knew exactly what he meant by the kiss you understood every unsaid word that travelled through his lips to you.

It didn’t take long after that for Spencer to tell you why he was so upset and why he needed to see you so desperately, and you understood and held him and he felt safe. After you talked and held each other it was unspokenly decided you would spend the night, you went straight to bed while Spencer took a quick shower, if you could call it that he was in such a rush to get back to you he barely got wet. He got dried and dressed and then excited his bathroom to find you curled up on his bed, he loved the sight, it made all his worries from previously wash away, you had that effect on him, you seemed to be a source of good, and he loved it.

He got into bed and as soon as he got under the covers you were reaching for him, he welcomed the touch and held you back. So there lying with you he understood, while the worries of the past week washed away, he knew, he knew why people liked having someone to come home to so much. And he knew he would have to ask you to move in sooner than later.

At this point in your relationship spencer had come to understand many things, but there was still one he didn’t. He didn’t know why you enjoyed wearing his clothes so much, he wasn’t complaining not at all in fact he loved it when you wore them. It was a slightly possessive thing, he knew you were his and he was yours but when he saw you wearing his clothes it was just a visual reminder that you were in fact his and only his, but that’s why he loved it, so he didn’t know why you did, but boy was it irritating him.

You two had been living together for the past 5 months and it had been amazing, he had also seen a lot more of you in his clothes, as time went by he saw you sleep in his shirts and boxers many times, you were especially fond of his old Cal-tech sweatshirt and button ups. He loves you wearing them it’s one of his favourite looks on you, when you’re comfortable and cosy and simply adorable in the articles of clothing that are too big for you.

But if he’s being honest a very close second is when in the mornings after you have ‘exercised’ the previous night, when he wakes up to the smell of bacon and coffee and sees you in nothing but a pair of cotton panties and the button up he had discarded the previous night, he loved coming up behind you in those mornings and slipping his arms around your waist and holding you while whispering sweet nonsense to each other.

They had just gotten back from a case. It hadn't been long or a particularly hard one but boy did he miss you, he always did, he thanked whoever it was for it being a Friday night because it meant he would arrive home to you. In no time he was at the door of your shared apartment, you had both decided moving into his would be the best choice since it was bigger.

He opened the door and almost immediately heard your sock clad feet hitting the floor of your apartment, he quickly hung up his coat and satchel before opening his arms and catching his girlfriend in his arms "I missed you so much Spence" he laughed lightly in response and replied "I missed you too bug, it was only a week" you pulled away from the hug and leaned your forehead against his before whispering "a week without feeling you" he smiled at that and leaned in lighting bumping your noses together before connecting your lips together, god he’d never get tired of kissing you, it honestly felt like heaven.

You gasped into the kiss and pulled away abruptly, Spencer looked confused but you had the biggest smile on your face and all of a sudden he didn’t care you  broke of the kiss, “what was that for?” he asked feign hurt, “I made something” you said sheepishly rocking back and forth on your heels, “what did you make?” spencer asked imitating your tone. “come and see” you replied excitedly while pulling him into the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen you very excitedly showed Spencer the cupcakes you had made, “I baked cupcake” you announced while placing him in front of said cupcakes, Spencer went to reach for one when you slapped his hand “no Spencer I still need to put the icing on them”, “but they look so good” he pouted giving you puppy eyes, “oh, you’re cute when you pout” you leaned in and when you were only a breath away from kissing his lips you spoke “but still no” and with that you kissed his pout and pulled away, you made your way to the counter were you were putting the icing into piping bags and piped up saying “but you can help me ice them and then you can eat one”, “can I only eat one?”, you turned back smiling and handed him one of the piping bags “you can have as many as you want love”.

You were currently both icing cupcakes in comfortable silence, Spencer had noticed you were wearing his Cal-tech crew neck and a pair of cotton shorts along with a mismatched pair of his socks, you looked adorable, he loved that you wore mismatched socks like him even before you’d met, the fact you were sporting his at the moment was just the cherry on top.

And so he thought no would be as great a time as any to ask “Hey love can I ask you something”, without looking up from what you were doing you hummed in agreement, you were concentrating so hard on making the cupcake look perfect you just barely registered what he said, god he thought you looked so cute when you concentrated  so hard you had your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth.

He shook himself out of the trance you put him in and just asked "Why do you like stealing my clothes so much?", you looked up at his question with a worried expression on your face, you didn’t realise it could bother him, you never meant make him uncomfortable, should you have asked for permission before you took them?, Spencer saw your concerned expression and was going to clarify he didn’t mind when you rushed out first, “Spencer I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I should have asked I’m so sorry, oh god I’m wearing your clothes now I’ll go change”.

You put the piping bag down and passed Spencer when you were about to leave the kitchen but Spencer gently pulled your arm and pulled you into a hug, “Y/N, love, you just spiralled,” he pulled back from the hug and gently held your face in his hands, he could still see the sad and worried expression on your face and he hated that he had caused it, and needed to take it away, “I love that you steal my clothes, I absolutely adore seeing you swamped in my crewnecks and wearing my socks and specially in my button ups after certain events have taken place” he smirked at the blush that crept up your cheeks at the last part of his statement, he loved your shyness, “believe me I love it when you steal my clothes, you look angelic in them I just want to know why you like it, I know its dumb but I just can’t figure it out and not knowing is really bugging me”.

You smiled at this and all your previous worries washed away, you weren’t making him uncomfortable he was just being his usual curious self, you slid your hands up his chest and played with the collar of his shirt as his hands moved from your face you your waist and you began “well there’s a lot of reasons I like wearing your clothes, for one they’re really big on me so they are soooo comfy, they also smell like you so they remind me of you when you’re gone on cases”, he smiled at this and you looked down before continuing “and when you’re gone and I’m scared something will happen and I won’t see you again, it comforts me, it makes feel close to you when I can’t be” you looked up at him when you finished and he could see the glossiness in your eyes of the tears forming from your memories of all the times you were scared you wouldn’t see him again and he gave you a sad smile while he wiped a stray tear falling down your check.

“Honestly, they just make me feel warm and loved, when you’re gone”, his eyes were now glossed over too as he leaned in and kissed you, “I love you bug”, “I love you Spencer”.

And now Spencer knew, he knew why having a crew neck of his meant so much to you and how it could bring you comfort in a time when you needed it most.

[missymurphy1985]

The Revenge

Cillian and y/n had been together for 5 years, only these last few months he'd become seriously complacent and distant. Time for a wake up call.

Warnings - smut. This was a request from @being-worthy , I hope you like it!!

7pm. 7:15pm. 7:30pm. You kept glancing at your watch, the waiter bringing you another glass of wine as you sat, positively seething at the table. The third date night in a row he'd missed, and this was made you especially mad. Your anniversary meal. 5 years to the day since he asked you to be with him, properly be with him, after 2 months of being fuck buddies on the set of Peaky Blinders. You'd bagged the job of being his umbrella girl, so spent most of your time with him, and one thing had led to another after he'd invited you in for a game of cards and a bottle of Jameson's. Strip poker became your new favourite game.

You downed the wine, paid the bill and called a taxi back to your shared apartment. Walking in, he was nowhere to be found. Locking the door, seeing his keys still on the table in the hallway, you turned your phone off and went to bed.

"Sleep on the fucking porch, dickhead."

Waking up the following morning and turning on you phone to 17 missed calls and 7 voicemails, she smiled. Deleting all of them, she slipped one of his shirts on, and made her way downstairs to hear the front door being pounded. Smiling, you opened it to see Cillian stood there with a look of pure rage.

"Morning baby, have a good evening?" You opened it allowing him to enter.

"Where the fuck were you?? I've just spent the night sleeping in the fucking car y/n, why was your phone turned off?" He barged his way in, pushing past you to get to the toilet, his bladder screaming from inside him.

"Sleeping. Battery must have died. Shouldn't have left your house keys, should you?"

"Fucks sake... I'm going to bed." He stalked upstairs, not looking at you and went to bed. Now, you were really angry.

When he came back down a couple of hours later, he was still mad at you. Wouldn't say two words to you as you sat in the living room watching TV, coffee in hand. Into the kitchen he sulked, slamming cupboard doors to make his frustration clear to you. You just smiled.

You were showered now, but still wearing his shirt, buttons done low, exposing your cleavage, with no underwater underneath. You were determined now, plan in action, he was going to suffer for this. Walking into the kitchen, you opened the fridge to get some orange juice, bending completely Dr the waist, exposing your bare backside under the shirt. You felt his eyes on you, watching you, and inwardly grinned, though he couldn't see as your hips swayed slightly as you bent further to grab the juice at the bottom of the fridge. Standing back up, you turned to face him, shirt hanging off your shoulder now exposing almost down to your bare nipple, you straightened your body to drink from the carton, then bent again to place it back in the fridge. His eyes didn't leave your body once as he sat at the breakfast bar with a slice of toast.

"You mad at me, y/n?"

"Hmm? Why would I be made at you, now Cillian?" You smiled sweetly, noticing a small drop of juice on your finger, you licked it as seductively as possible, winked and left the room. Now he was confused... And hard. You smiled, knowing exactly what effect you'd had on him and went upstairs to get ready.

"I'm meeting Orla for lunch, I'll be back by 4." You called from the stairs.

"Tell my sister I said hello, yeah?"

"Maybe." You went upstairs to get dressed, within 20minutes you were out the door.

The following morning, you woke to find Cillian in his office downstairs on his laptop. You'd avoided him most of the previous evening, making him sleep in the guest bedroom. Sure to keep him out of the bedroom you shared, you'd locked your door.

Perking your nipples slightly to harden them, you stood at his office door.

"Hey... Um..." He glanced at you at the door and had to swallow a gasp. You winked at him, before making your way back upstairs. You heard him growl slightly, close his laptop and follow you. Sadly for him, you made your way into the bathroom, and locked the door. Bath time.

Sinking your body under the water, you could hear Cillian moving around upstairs, just outside the bathroom door.

"Y/n will you tell me what it is I'm supposed to have done wrong?" He paused outside the door knocking lightly.

"Mmm.... God this bath feels nice... Warm water on my skin... Fuck I needed this..." You moaned as seductively as possible, keeping your voice just loud enough so he could hear you.

"Y/n open the door... I can make that bath even better..." His voice deepened. This was working like a dream.

"Mm.... Don't you have another appointment with your agent Cillian?" He knew he was in trouble. You never called him by his full name, it was 'Cill', 'babe', but only Cillian when he'd pissed you off. Which he'd clearly done, but had no clue as to how.

Over the course of the following fortnight, you'd kept Cillian at bay, he was still sleeping in the guest room, your bedroom door remained locked overnight (he'd tried, you'd heard him, it was fucking hysterical) while you continued to seduce and tease him mercilessly. Orla had called to say he'd even tried calling her to find out what he'd done, but good as gold, she told him she had no idea what he was talking about.

Cillian had had enough at this point. He'd even tried getting himself off at night but he couldn't do it - his hands just weren't as good as yours, it wasn't the same. He genuinely thought his balls were going to explode, the tension inside him was driving him insane. He called his sister Orla again when you went out to do the food shop, desperate this time.

"Orla I need your help please, I'm your brother... Please? Surely she's told you what it is I'm supposed to have done wrong? All I did was go out with Adam for one night and she's barely spoken to me and hasn't TOUCHED me since!"

"Woah now, that's waaaay to much info for your sister to be hearing now!" She laughed at the other end of the phone, rolling her eyes. Y/n had done very well to keep this up for two whole weeks.. maybe it was time for some sisterly advice for her older brother.

"Cillian when did you go out? What date?"

"Few days after my birthday, so the 30th May I think, why?"

"No, it wasn't the 30th. Think again. Check your dates." He put his phone on loudspeaker and checked his calendar. Then it dawned on him. Oh fuck... Oh shit... Shit shit shit!!

"The 27th.. oh fuck Orla it was the 27th.. and I'm looking at the fucking calender entry for our date night saved as a fucking DRAFT!! I didn't set it properly... Oh fuck Orla I'm a dead man, how's she not killed me?"

"I think in a way she has Cillian!! You've got some serious making up to do - not like the first time it's happened now is it?" He groaned... This would be the hat trick. Three date nights missed because he couldn't work the fucking calendar app on his new phone properly.. but that excuse wasn't going to wash now, he'd had plenty of opportunity to sort his sorry ass out. And to miss their anniversary dinner? No. He'd make this right. He thanked his sister, ended the call and opened a different app on his phone. Operation Clemency was in motion.

****************************************

You left your friends house on Friday afternoon to see Cillian's car parked outside. You could see bags on the back seat, him standing by the open passenger side door waiting for you.

"What are you doing Cillian?"

"Surprising my girlfriend. Listen y/n, I've been a fucking idiot okay? Missing our anniversary date, after missing two before that.. neglecting you, neglecting US... Let me make it up to you, yeah?" You couldn't help but smile, nodding your head you took his hand as he led you into the passenger seat, closing the door behind you.

All the way there you stole glances at one another, Cillian refusing to tell you exactly where you were going. You couldn't help the feeling of excitement - never in 5 years had he done anything like this, you'd have to make a habit of punishing him if this was the outcome..

Pulling up outside a large manor house an hour later, you gasped in shock.

"Shit.. Cill this is beautiful!"

"It's ours." You nearly had whiplash from the sudden head turn in his direction. "I bought it last month, I was waiting until your birthday next week to surprise you, but now seemed like a much better option. Welcome to our new holiday home baby." You couldn't help the tears forming in your eyes.

"Oh my god... But how? When? I don't understand!"

"All those appointments with my agent? Didn't you wonder why I wasn't getting any work from it all? I was at the bank sorting the mortgage for this place! Picked the keys up yesterday, it's fully furnished and ready for us. I figured we could spend the Summers here. Beach is less than a 5 minute walk away, the boys will love it." You were stunned. Well and truly stunned.

Leaving the car, you walked to the front door, Cillian handing you the keys. You opened it and walked inside into the most beautiful setting - it was newly decorated exactly to your liking. It was perfect. You turned to face him.

"You know, I might just forgive you after all..."

"Nope. Not yet. I'm not done." He smirked. "I want you to go upstairs - our room is second on the left. Lay down on the bed and I'll be up in 15 minutes." Raising an eyebrow, you complied, walking up the stairs eagerly anticipating what he had planned. "Fully clothed y/n... Don't remove a damn thing."

You walked in to find a large double bed with fresh sheets, covered in rose petals. Candles lined most of the hard surfaces in the room. It brought a lump to your throat. A fresh bouquet of flowers on the chest of drawers under the window, with a small envelope under them, your name written in Cillians hand writing. You opened it to find a two tickets to the new Enda Walsh play showing at the Gaiety later that week - it was sold out and you remembered telling him you were disappointed to miss it, but when you're Cillian Murphy, sold out meant nothing.

Hearing him coming up the stairs you quickly lay down on top of dozens of rose petals on the bed. He walked in slowly, casting an eye over your body. This would be the hardest thing to do now, trying to control himself, but he was determined to make this last as long as possible. Moving to the old record player in the corner of the room, he turned it on, allowing the gentle sounds of the music to fill the room softly. Making his way over to you, he kneeled on the bed, eyes never leaving yours.

"You're not to move unless I tell you to, okay? Just relax. Sit up." You sat up as he lifted your t shirt over your head, swiftly followed by your bra. Pushing you back down and turning you onto your front, he carefully sat himself across your legs, opening a small bottle of something you couldn't see. Suddenly his hands were on your back, smoothing the oil into your skin, putting pressure all over it. Closing your eyes, you relaxed into the massage as he skilfully eased away as many knots as he could find in your slender muscles.

"Fuck... Cill that feels amazing... Don't stop, please..." He bit his lip, he could feel his erection forming under his jeans and willed himself to have self control. Two weeks without touching you was a long time...

He moved his hands lower, teasing the waistband of your jeans as he moved his body down, pulling them over your hips, underwear following. Now you were completely bare, his hands now expertly rubbing hard circles over your thighs, your calves, then your feet. Your core was burning now, his touch, even after 5 years, doing things to your body you still couldn't believe we're possible. Your hips twitched slightly with the throbbing feeling you couldn't ignore deep in your groin. He could almost smell it, the need in you. Smiling, his hands moved back up your legs, dipping between your thighs and moving closer to where you desperately needed him. He grinned, and teased his fingers closer, then pulled them away. Back over your firm cheeks, up your spine slowly. You groaned, you were positively on fire now.

"Patience..." You bit your lip as he whispered in your ear. He turned you onto your back, now running his hands over your belly as he moved back to hover over your waist. Hands moving higher, he kneaded your breasts, knowing it would drive you crazy.

"Ahh... Fuck Cill... Baby please..." He chuckled, this was more fun than he anticipated, why had he never thought of this before?

Leaning down, he trailed a line of kisses long your exposed neck, your head flung back as he continued his assault on your breasts. Nipping the skin, sucking lightly, you arched against him. You felt close to an orgasm already and he hadn't even got to the good part yet. Your breath coming out in short bursts as his lips moved lower over your collarbone.

"Feel good baby? Feeling close huh? Keep those noises coming, fuck you're turning me on right now..." His voice was intoxicating, his hands roaming, now his lips, you couldn't stop the heat rising in your belly, that familiar knot forming, how was this even possible? You didn't care, and you couldn't stop it - you came hard, bucking your hips up to meet his as it overtook you.

"Fuck... Baby oh my god...." You came down from your high and looked into his eyes, now darker and desperate. He was trying so hard to control it but the control had gone. He hadn't expected you to cum from this alone, clearly he wasn't the only one who'd gone without these last 2 weeks.

"Take them off." He didn't argue. His clothes were removed quick as lightening as he opened your still quivering legs. He quickly pushed himself inside and stopped, just enjoying the feeling of your core swallowing him again.

"Jesus.. I swear you got tighter..." You raised your hands to his face and glared at him.

"Shut up, and fuck me Mr Murphy." With pleasure, he thought to himself, as he pounded into you hard and fast, both of you groaning into each others mouths as you kissed hungrily, desperate to get as physically close as possible. You rolled him onto his back, keeping him inside you, as you leaned back and rode him hard. You moved his hands to hold onto the bed frame behind him.

"You've touched me enough, it's my turn." Your hands roamed over your own breasts now, hips still rocking against his, your second orgasm fast approaching. You knew, after 2 weeks of abstinence, he wouldn't last long and you were right.

"Baby.. slow down.. I can't... Oh fuck... Ah... Feels too good..." He was raising his hips to meet yours, you felt your orgasm taking over.

"Cum baby... Need to feel you... Fill me up... Drown in me..." He couldn't hold back any longer and with a final, hard groan he came, filling you. His hands came to rest at your frozen hips, he felt your walls clench around him as you came alongside him, both of you breathing heavily as you came back down to earth from the most exquisite high either of you had ever had. Leaning your body back down to kiss his lips, you gave him one more squeeze of your walls, emitting a twitch and a gasp from him, before collapsing next to him.

"Fuck... My god Cill, I'm gonna have to punish you like this more often..."

"The fuck you are y/n, never again are we going more than 24 hours without sex, ever.. I don't care how mad you are at me.." you both laughed, curling up in each others arms, Cillian whispering how sorry he was in your ear, how much he loved you, as you gently fell asleep.

The following morning you woke to an empty bed, but you could smell coffee and breakfast being prepared downstairs. You made your way down wearing just his T shirt from the day before and found a full breakfast waiting for you. Sausages, eggs, bacon, toast, juice, croissants... All there on the countertop. A plate, cutlery and a coffee waiting for you.

"Just missing the pinny Mr Murphy..." You giggled as he turned and stuck his tongue out at you cheekily.

"Eat up and get dressed y/n, I'm taking you for a walk this morning." Smiling, you ate, and an hour later you were stood on the beautiful golden sands of the beach 5minutes from your new holiday home. Watching the waves crash, you were the happiest you'd felt in a long time. You heard Cillian behind you.

"Turn around, y/n." As you did, he took your hands in his and kissed your lips.

"If I have to spend every single day for the rest of my life saying how sorry I am, I will. If I have to spend every second making it up to you, I will. You have completed my life y/n.. after my divorce, I didn't think I'd ever be lucky enough to find love again. Then you came along and everything slotted into place. My boys adore you.. their Dad couldn't live without you.. y/n..." He sank down to the ground, reaching into his jeans pocket. Bringing a small, velvet box back up to you, your breath caught in your throat, tears already in your eyes.

"Make me the luckiest man in the world y/n.. marry me?" You fell to the floor alongside him, tears openly falling now as you cried, pulling him close, kissing him softly.

"Yes!! Oh my god a million times over, yes I'll marry you!!" You both grinned, standing now as he held out your left hand, slipping the simple, white gold band and diamond onto your finger. Nothing else mattering in that moment apart from the dreams you both shared of the amazing future you had ahead of you.

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @being-worthy @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

[ladyeliot]

Show me your phone

Request: Anonymous: Hiii I adore your writing!!! I was wondering if you could write cevansxfemale reader (famous or not) where he’s on jimmy fallon playing show me you phone and your relationship is revealed? ❤️

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Female Reader

Warnings: No one/Fluff

Word count: 1536

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

The two of you had met by chance one autumn night ten months ago. Quite unexpected, unusual and with tremendous prejudices towards each other, because of the image the media projected of you.

It was obvious that you weren’t born for each other, or at least that’s what you thought the first time you went on your first date. But then one thing led to another, and your sporadic encounters in the most unusual places made you realise that maybe it would be better to give each other a chance to erase those prejudices you had in your minds. And so it was that as the days, weeks and months went by, you began to be in a relationship without being aware of the fact. You understood each other very well, you both worked in the same sector and that allowed you to understand and accept each other in many aspects.

For the time being you kept your relationship a secret, you were afraid of breaking the magic, of the media destroying what you had created. So your life as a couple was reduced to intimacy, living together and escapes to places far from the hand of God. However, you knew that sooner or later it would be discovered, it didn’t worry you too much, but you wanted to strengthen your relationship as much as possible until that moment arrived.

That night, Chris was going to be interviewed on Jimmy Fallon’s late night show because of the recent release of the movie Avengers: Endgame. It was common on nights when Chris was on one of the late night shows for you to stay at home, cook your favourite meal and wait on the couch with Dodger to watch him on TV. Before he came on, you used to send him a text message encouraging him and a picture of you and Dodger on your couch. It was like a ritual for both of you.

In a millisecond that message reached the other side of town, where Chris was staring at the image with a slightly scandalous laugh. He was in his dressing room, minutes away from going on air, and could barely reply with “I love you both”. 

The interview was great, Chris talked about the day the cast said their goodbyes and how Antony Mackie found out that Captain America was going to give Falcon his shield. All the anecdotes that any Marvel fan would love to hear. Yet, as is well known, Jimmy Fallon’s shows bring with them a number of embarrassing moments for the interviewee, as well as the interviewer. 

That night both Chris and Jimmy were going to play ‘Show me your phone’, a game where they had to show whatever material was hidden on their mobile phones. The moment they got up from their respective seats, Chris realised that he hadn’t deleted any of your conversations, you were present in his whatsapp, his picture gallery, his social media messages, emails… in other words, his whole phone was a personal diary of your relationship.

His nervousness was present as he took a seat opposite Jimmy at the circular table. In front of them there was a red button, in the centre a mobile phone holder and next to it was an electronic panel showing all the possibilities that could come up, as if it were a wheel of fortune. There was the icon for Whatsapp, Safari, the photo gallery, Instagram, email, last calls, notes…

“Okay, do you know how this works?” asked Jimmy putting on his jacket. “Well, for those of you who don’t know, here’s how this works. Chris and I will take turns pressing the red button we have here, which will randomly select one of these icons we have on the board.” Chris began to laugh somewhat nervously. “Each icon will reveal something we need to share on our phone…”

The audience began to laugh too at the worried gestures they were both making.

“Just so you know, neither of us know what’s behind each icon.” Jimmy looks at Chris who was still laughing. “Are you ready?”

“I’m not too sure about this,” Chris shared scratching his beard. “I forgot to clean some stuff off my phone.”

“That makes two of us,” Jimmy said laughing along with him. “Alright, here we go. Since you’re the guest you press first.”

“What an honour,” Chris said wryly, which drew laughter from the audience. “Here we go!”

Chris pressed the red button and quickly the icons on the panel began to light up, and you stood expectantly contemplating the moment. On the one hand the situation was amusing, but on the other hand you were completely scared and wished that what he had said about cleaning his phone wasn’t true.

The light stopped specifically on the Safari browser icon, so that a text was displayed that said 'Show us your last Google search’. Chris frowned and looked thoughtful.

“Safari, show us your last Google search,” Jimmy repeated.

“Okay!” exclaimed Chris grabbing his phone and heading to the app. “If I’m being honest I have no idea what my last search was… Oh!" 

Chris started laughing without showing his phone, which caused everyone around him to laugh hilariously.

"Okay, okay,” Chris set the mobile down on the small platform. “I thought it was a funny idea.”

The camera pointed straight at him, checking that his last search had been 'Halloween costume ideas for your dog’. The set erupted in laughter, Jimmy clasped his hands to his chest, laughing his head off.

“This- This is so funny,” he said between guffaws. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“I did!” began Chris. “I found a really funny Mario and Luigi one, but it wasn’t too scary, you know. I’ve got to keep looking.”

“Yeah, not too much,” concluded Jimmy. “Come on! Here we go. My turn.”

The panel came back on, the light moving between icons until it stopped on the 'YouTube’ app. Jimmy frowned, and the panel informed him that it should show the history of videos watched.

“Come on, show us those videos!” exclaimed Chris encouragingly.

“I’m extremely scared,” said Jimmy with a serious and comical look on his face, reaching for his mobile phone. “I have no idea… Oh!” he began to laugh. “Okay, okay. This… I’m not good at cooking, don’t judge me.”

'How to cook oatmeal’, 'Easy oatmeal recipe’, 'Oatmeal ideas you need to try’. The audience started laughing.

“All right, all right,” Jimmy held up his hands. “I can explain. The other day was Mother’s Day, and my kids and I wanted to make my wife a special breakfast, so we had to help ourselves to YouTube.”

“That’s pretty cool man!” exclaimed Chris.

“Yes, my wife ate her breakfast,” he laughed and picked up his mobile phone. “And she’s still alive for now, so it was a triumph.”

On the other side of New York City, you were watching the show with amusement, curled up next to Dodger on the couch. You were so engrossed that you barely noticed Chris’s Whatsapp icon pop up.

“Show us the last message you sent on Whatsapp” Jimmy read out eliciting cheers from the audience. “Come on!”

Chris reddened and ran his hand over his face.

“Alright, alright,” he began to laugh nervously. “It says there the last message I sent, the person too?”

“Well, you have to put the mobile phone down,” Jimmy laughed.

“Okay,” Chris started to look up. “Last text message…” he took a breath and looked at Jimmy hesitantly.“Oh man…”

Your last conversation appeared before everyone’s eyes, showing only the last photograph you had sent him with Dodger and Chris’s reply 'I love you both’. Chris’s countenance showed an inner nervousness, hidden in a nervous laugh and flushed cheeks.

“Wait, wait,” Jimmy said looking at him and frowning “She’s Y/N Y/L/N with your dog? With Dodger?”

The audience exclaimed a sweet 'aw’ when they got a glimpse of the photograph, but Chris was scratching his beard nervously.

“This is really sweet!” said Jimmy looking at Chris, “This is really cute.” “I know, I know,” Chris commented, nodding slowly.

“Are you two-?” asked Jimmy hesitantly, to which Chris took another breath, somewhat embarrassed by the situation.

“I think so,” Chris laughed nervously. “I mean, I don’t know what’s going to happen after this.”

Jimmy laughed, accompanied by the audience.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Jimmy handed the mobile phone back to Chris. “We’ll invite Y/N over next week and let her have her revenge on you.”

Both the audience and you from your living room started to burst out laughing. Contrary to what you might have thought right now, Steve wasn’t angry at all, not even annoyed, you were even a little relieved. Your relationship had been made known to the world naturally, as if you were just another couple texting each other and telling each other how much you love each other. Now you just had to face a new day-to-day life.

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[queenshelby]

Time for Change – Part Four

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 1,888

Notes: Not based on Cillian’s life. This is fiction guys! 

YOUR POV

It has been just over a week since you saw Cillian last and not one night went by during which you didn’t think about him and the incredible sex you had with him.

Whilst you had agreed that this was a going to be a one-night stand, you couldn’t help but fantasise about him over and over again.

Even when you were lying next to James who, two days ago, had returned from New York, you were thinking about Cillian’s body on top of yours and all the naughty things that he would do to you.

You wanted him, more than as a friend or casual lover. But you knew that, this was never going to be possible.

As far as James was concerned, you didn’t address his infidelity yet. You needed more proof and you desperately needed to see a lawyer to ensure that James couldn’t take Chloe away.

James and Chloe were both US citizens, but you were not and Chloe did not hold an Irish passport. You applied for one, but the Department of Immigration was taking a long time to process through the adoption papers. Chloe was adopted by you both when you lived in the US and Ireland was slow in recognising it. This meant that you were stuck with him for now if you wanted to remain in Ireland.

With that being the case, you ran into the problem of James wanting more from you than what you were willing to give. You knew that he was fucking at least one other woman and, therefore, you had no intention of being intimate with him. It disgusted you.

In the same vein, you had slept with another man, a man who was still on your mind and who had satisfied you more than James ever could, raising the stakes quite significantly.

You kept making excuses, telling him that you weren’t feeling well, had a stressful day or a headache. You hoped that, eventually, he would find someone else, perhaps even someone at his place of work.

CILLIAN’S POV

As for Cillian, he also had not spoken to Danielle about his intention to divorce. He struggled with the idea and the fact that he wouldn’t see his children every day if they separated.

Danielle had threatened to withhold the children many times over the past few years after endless allegations of affairs, none of which were true. She told him that, due to his line of work, she would seek full custody and he knew that she was likely going to be successful if he wasn’t home for several months at the time.

Her behaviour was relentless, even to the point where one of his old personal assistants had resigned due to her constant allegations.

Then, a year later, she went so far and shared her allegations and concerns with Cillian’s mother, causing Cillian to leave her for several months, which is when she made her threats real and withheld contact to his children until he came back to her.

In addition, his agent had advised him against moving forward with the separation until the next season of Peaky Blinders is released. In his mine, with nothing else being available for his followers to get their hands on, his separation would likely be dragged through the mud by the papers, making it more difficult for his career.

Cillian liked to stay out of the media as much as he could but, depending on where Danielle was to take this, this might not be possible and he started to weigh up his options.

Yet, he felt the same about the night you had shared. The images of you in bed with him drove him crazy and, whilst him and Danielle no longer were intimate, he felt guilty for sneaking into the bathroom almost every single night to masturbate with you on his mind.

Making a Date

To his surprise, at 8 o’clock on Thursday night, he received a text message from you, asking him whether he wanted to meet up with you and, of course, he did.

He was reluctant at first, knowing what was at stake and not knowing how far things would go when you met up again.  

He didn’t know what your intentions were and why you wanted to meet but, when you responded to his text message by asking whether you should get a hotel room, it became pretty clear to him that you were after intimacy.

Cillian was torn about it. It was cliché, that’s for sure. It even reminded him on a movie he had starred in a few years ago. But, the thought of being alone with you in a hotel room drove him crazy and his reasonable thought process came to a standstill.

‘Alright. Let’s meet at the Westin 5 o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I will book a room’ Cillian typed, before deleting it and then retyping it all again. He knew it was wrong, no matter how bad things were between him and Danielle.

Eventually, he decided to send it and you were quick to respond, agreeing to his proposed time and location.

The following day, you told James that you were meeting up with friends in town and might stay over at Emily’s house.

Cillian did the same and told Danielle that he was going out in Temple Bar with some of his friends and, whilst James didn’t mind and bought your excuse, Danielle was frustrated with Cillian for leaving her with the kids.

‘You better don’t come home drunk Cillian’ she growled angrily, causing Cillian to roll his eyes.

‘If I have too much, I will crash on my brother’s lounge’ he then responded, causing Danielle to huff and swear.

‘Seriously Danielle? You disappeared for a fucking week and you have a problem with me going out for one night?’ Cillian said, shaking his head before he slammed the door behind him.

The Hotel

‘Room 307. I left a key at reception’ Cillian texted as you were sitting in the back of the taxi.  

‘Can’t wait to see you. I didn’t bother wearing panties. I hope that is okay’ you texted back, teasing Cillian.

‘Good call. They would just have come off within minutes of you walking through the door’ he responded.

The texting went back and forth making you more and more excited. With each chime of your phone your pussy throbbed more and your ten-minute drive felt like it took forever and the short walk up to the hotel room was torture.

Your clit was so aroused that even the motion of your legs as you walked teased your pussy and made you just crave Cillian’s touch even more.

When you knocked on the door Cillian answered very quickly. He was wearing only a towel on his hips and you could see his freckle covered chest and the tops of his hips.

Quickly you entered and turned and locked the door behind you. You grabbed Cillian and kissed him passionately. As you did, moans escaped your mouth and you could feel Cillian's already hard cock press against you as his towel fell to the floor.

‘Fuck’ Cillian groaned as he saw you and, in one quick motion, he ripped your dress to the floor, kneeling in front of you as you stepped out of it. Without losing any time and before you could even have said hello to each other, Cillian pressed his face against your deliciously wet pussy and began to make circles around your clit with his tongue. He then slid one finger inside you and left it still.

‘Oh, fuck Cillian, please’ you begged as you craved more and moved your hip so that his finger teased you gently. Cillian then added a second finger and he curved them upward just slightly so that the tip of his fingers stroked your g-spot.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned, wanting even more. Your body began to shake and your legs began to weaken as you grew close to orgasm.

You leaned your back against the door to prevent yourself from crumbling to the floor. Cillian then began to suck on your clit and as he did you screamed out. Your legs shook and you had to grab a hold of the door handle to prevent yourself from falling to the ground.

‘Oh my god, I'm cumming’ you screamed with passion and lust in your voice.

Cillian kept teasing your pussy after waves of pleasure rolled through your body. You gained control of your balance again and became steady on your legs. You then grabbed Cillian by the shoulders and pulled him up to kiss him, tasting your juices on his lips and tongue.

‘Well, it’s good to see you’ he finally grinned as your lips drifted apart.

‘Now this Mr Murphy, was a nice welcome’ you said before kissing him again passionately.

‘Now it’s my turn’ you then said as you pushed him back towards a chair in the corner of the room and made him sit down.

Within seconds, you pushed his legs apart and went down on your knees in between them and took his cock in your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned as, first, you just lightly sucked on the tip of his cock, flicking your tongue on the tip.

This was something Danielle hadn’t done to him in a very long time and it didn’t take long for another small growl to come out to the back of Cillian's throat.

With this encouragement you took his entire cock into your mouth devouring all seven inches of his amazing cock. You deepthroated his cock starting off slowly and as you got quicker Cillian pulled your hair encouraging you to go faster and faster on his cock.

‘Jesus Y/N’ Cillian groaned as you tilted your head back to catch your breath and stood up.

After you gave Cillian another passionate kiss, you climbed on top of his lap, facing him and allowing him to play with and suck on your breasts while you lowered yourself onto his cock with a loud moan.  

You rode his cock slowly at first and worked up to speed, panting as your clit rubbed against his hips. You could feel your pleasure building inside you as you could feel yourself becoming ready to orgasm again. Cillian continued to play with your hard nipples until finally he slipped his hand between your legs and rubbed your clit in a circular motion. This sent you over the edge and you started cumming again.

‘Fuck, Y/N, that’s it’ Cillian groaned as your walls contracted around his hard cock, milking him and sending him over the edge as well.

You came in sync and could feel Cillian filling you with his warm cum, coating your walls and cervix as you rode out your orgasms.

‘That was amazing’ you huffed out eventually and Cillian kissed you again passionately.

‘I fucking needed this’ he chuckled after your lips drifted apart.

‘Me too’ you giggled. ‘So, are we going to make use of this amazing spa tub?’ you then asked as you slowly lifted yourself off Cillian, causing a large amount of his cum to leak out of you and onto Cillian’s lap.

‘I would say let’s have a bath, then order some room service and then have some more sex’ Cillian suggested.

‘Sounds like a fabulous idea’ you smiled.

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