#<- this is . Not a vague about my boyfriend or. something. you're fine lovely this is just my own anxiety ❤️ it's normal

[hazmatazz]

the Worst point in a relationship is when you get worried you're annoying or shit. and it always happens no matter what! and it's the WORST

[osachiyo]

❏ SEETHING ENVY !

﹙ ✿ ﹚── includes : dazai, chuuya, kunikida, ranpo, fyodor & nikolai x fem! reader

﹙ ✿ ﹚── content warnings : nsfw content, jealousy, threats of cheating, toxic relationship in nikolai's, pussy slapping, choking, scratching, name calling, degradation, msub in Dazai’s, yandere reader in Nikolai's, edging, toys, oral (m & f receiving), brief mention of murder and torture but it's very vague, throat fucking etc

﹙ ✿ ﹚── synopsis : jealousy jealousy

﹙ ✿ ﹚── author's note : I know the sneak peak of this post had a different title but I think this one suits it way more. Happy reading! Requests are open btw! ♡

﹙ ✿ ﹚── MINORS DNI

DAZAI ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆  

Dazai loves to see all of your reactions. He finds them so amusing. Your eyes shining bright like stars when you're happy, when you're practically jumping with excitement, your cheeks heating up when you're flustered, your pretty eyes narrowing and brows furrowing when you're angry or upset, your eyes glossing over as they threaten to overspill the tears when you're sad...He loves to see them all. So that's why he comes up with the idea to make you jealous. I mean, what could go wrong?

You watch your lover’s eyes roll back from overstimulation, his cock swollen and angry from being used so many times. But you didn’t care, just like he didn’t care about how pissed you’d be while flirting with that waitress from the cafe. God, was it infuriating. But it’s alright, you would never miss a chance to mark your man up nicely, your nails clawing on his back while he hissed from the sting. But he didn’t complain, he actually enjoyed the pain of you marking your ownership over him.

“You fucking manwhore, how many times did you cum?” You scoffed, your hips not slowing down. You slapped his cheek gently when he didn’t answer, the soft flesh damp with sweat and your slick. He opened his eyes, looking up at you riding the soul out of him, your soft tits bouncing with every slam, your plump ass meeting his hips while he massaged the soft fat. “Fuck- uh.. four?—“ he wheezed when your hands wrapped around his throat even tighter, making it hard for him to breathe. “Wrong answer… let’s keep going until you get it right- Haah— okay?” He could only throw his head back in response, shooting blanks into your puffy cunt.

He had a long night ahead of him.

CHUUYA ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆  

Chuuya was a very confident man. He was confident in himself and your relationship. But that stupid fuck Dazai—

“Hey~ Belladonna, are you here alone?” Dazai smirked, taking your hand in his larger one before gently kissing your palm. “You look like you could use some company, no?” He was about to kiss your knuckles but suddenly— “She’s fine.” Your hand gets snatched away by your boyfriend, Chuuya. Dazai shows a face of disgust before sighing in disappointment. “Yeah okay, whatever. If you need some better company, don’t be shy to ask Chuuya for my number, pretty gi—!” A punch was thrown at his face.

“Stupid fucking suicidal piece of shit..” Chuuya mumbled, head squashed between your thighs which were decorated with bruises. Shades of purple and blue staining your pretty skin as he sucked on it, dangerously close to your core. His hand smoothed out the fabric of your expensive dress. When you agreed to go to a bar with your fiancé, you didn’t expect to be eaten out by him in one of the fancy bathroom stalls. Your hands were struggling to find something to stabilize yourself. “Chuuya..what if someone— mm..what if someone comes in..?” He only groaned in response, finally taking you into his warm mouth while his hands played with the soft fat of your ass. “Let them.” He muttered into your pussy, the vibrations of his gruff voice made your toes curl as your hand came down to find itself tangled in his copper locks. As if the universe had heard you, someone walks in. You put your other hand over your mouth, trying your best to silence any noises that could slip out. Then suddenly— the unknown man spoke and you recognized that voice easily. It was Dazai.

Chuuya only pulled away and smirked, before diving in with ten times more effort. He had to prove to Dazai that only he could pleasure you like this and you were his.

KUNIKIDA ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆  

Kunikida, bless this man's heart, was the best husband you could ask for. He had it all, looks, stable income, intelligence and he was sweet. You loved how nice he was to you, always making sure you're comfortable and happy. He was the ideal man of your dreams. But as much as you loved him being sweet and kind to you...you wanted something more. You wanted to get on his nerves, wanted to be manhandled by him. So what better way to do that than to make him jealous?

"Stay fucking still." Your husband growled, frantically unbuckling his belt while he held you down with one hand. Once he finally got the belt off, he tied it around your wrists, the expensive leather burning against your soft skin. "You wanna act like a brat? You're gonna get fucked like one." He spit, flipping you over so you laid on your stomach. "Count." That was the last thing you heard until— 'smack!' His calloused hand came down harshly on your ass, making you jolt from the impact. "O-one!" You hissed, your grip tightening on his silk sheets. There was a long pause before the next hit, which was absolutely brutal. The pain shoots through your entire body like electricity while all you can do is writhe and bawl your eyes out, " two- fuuck- 'm sorry! Please! Kuni—" He only scoffed, his fingers dip into your soaked folds and he raises an eyebrow, "You act like you hate it, but your cunt is practically gushing." He tsks, spreading your lips and this time landing a hit on your puffy 'n swollen clit. "Clearly you haven't learnt your lesson if you're still leaking like a desperate whore."

RANPO ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆  

Ranpo's and your's relationship was interesting, to say the least. You two always bickered playfully, sometimes even pranking each other. One time he even put some neon pink dye in your shampoo. But besides that, you wanted revenge. And what better way to get revenge than flirting with his own rival?

You could almost taste your sweet orgasm coming, ready to push you towards the edge but then— Ranpo turns the vibrator off with a laugh, clearly satisfied to see your misery. "How's that, sweetheart?" He smirked, wiping your tears off with his thumbs. You could only babble in response, too fucked out to think any coherent thought but the need to cum.

Ranpo smiles mischeviously, pushing your thighs apart to make room for himself. He licked his lips at the sight of your drooling pussy. A finger pressed the vibrator against your clit and your head tipped back on the pillow. "Thank you for the meal~" He sung before diving head first into your cunt, the vibrator working it's magic against your clit.

FYODOR ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆  

Why were you doing this again? Oh yeah, because that stupid Kolya told you to. You were just hoping and praying to the heavens above that you wouldn't be dead after this. It's a stupid idea but the prize was well worth the pain. All you had to do is flirt with Nikolai and Sigma for one whole day. Surely he wouldn't...mind that much, would he?

Wrong, is what you thought to yourself while you processed the entire situation. You were tied with deep purple ribbons, restricting you against the headboard of the bed. A ring gag in your pretty mouth, a collar around your throat and lastly, a blindfold over your beautiful eyes. You could only hear his footsteps, circling around you like he's the predator and you're his prey.

"So, Milaya, what were you thinking pressing your tits against Sigma like a slut?" His footsteps stopped, it was eerily quiet in the room after Fyodor had stopped speaking. "I did not know that I chose a stupid slut off the streets who will seduce anyone as my wife," he tsked. You felt the bed dip and creak, then a large bony hand was splayed across your bare thigh. "You are one lucky woman that I am not abandoning you. Clearly you don't know who your master, who your God is." He plunged two fingers in your mouth, watching you gag and sputter around them. His other hand was now wrapped around your delicate throat, giving it an experimental squeeze. He thrusted his fingers in and out of your mouth while choking you. You suddenly felt the smooth material of his slacks grinding against your bare cunt, soaking the fabric with your sweet slick.

If only you could see the almost maniacal smile he wore while doing so.

NIKOLAI ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆  

Fucked up, that's what your relationship with Nikolai was. But you didn't care. You loved him and he loved you. All you thought about was him and only him, never even speaking to another man unless you had to. But did he do the same? No he didn't. He'd purposefully flirt and let other women cling onto him like a damn leech, not because he enjoys their attention, no, he did it to rile you up. Watching as you threaten the women viciously, your tone dangerously low as you speak to them. It gets the adrenaline rushing through his veins when you brutally torture and murder these women who he had approached first.

Your face was stained with blood and Nikolai's precum as he tapped the head of his heavy cock against your cheek, montioning for you to open up. You obeyed like the good little girlfriend you were, tongue hanging out and all as you accepted his throbbing cock into your warm mouth, gagging slightly as it hit the back of your throat. He shuddered, grinning down at you, his gloved hand holding your hair up in a makeshift ponytail while you tried your best not to let your eyes roll back. It wasn't even all the way in yet. "Oh just look at you~ struggling to take my cock, dove? Should I get a new bitch, then? I bet she could take my cock f—" His breath hitched and hips stuttered when you suddenly look him all the way down to the base, throat contracting around him. "There we go... I knew you had it in you, pretty thing." Tears were flowing down your cheeks at this point, it fucking hurt. Nikolai let go of your hair and gripped the back of your head instead, slowly pulling you off of his cock until only the tip was inside then slamming back in with full force.

You definitely needed some medicine after.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, likes and reblogs are very appreciated♡

[hangmanssunnies]

The Hangman Special

Summary: On a night out with your friends at a fancy cocktail bar, you are just trying to keep your head down and ignore the girl that your ex cheated on you with. The night only seems like it's going to get worse when you are dared to kiss a stranger at the bar. However, it seems like the odds might finally be in your favor when you notice a familiar set of broad shoulders. If you can be convincing, you think you might just be able to get your brother's friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin to help you out with your little problem.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 7k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ only, kissing, hot and heavy make-outs, exs, truth or dare, bad friends.

Author's note: Dreaming about kissing Jake in a bar. Thanks to everyone who looked at earlier drafts of this. I hope you enjoy this if you take a chance to read. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

The bar is buzzing with the loud chatter of patrons, the clinking of glasses, and the rhythmic beat of music. You are sitting at a corner table with your friends, a group with an eclectic mix of personalities. You are known for being more on the shy and reserved side, but tonight, you are even more withdrawn than usual. No one had mentioned that Tassie had also been invited to the evening's hang out at the bar. An oversight you felt was probably intentional since everyone knew Tassie had started dating your ex only a week after your breakup. She went so far as to post a picture of them together on her Instagram. It had been a few months since that happened, and until now, you had managed to avoid running into her. However, it seemed like luck had run out.

"Hey, I've got an idea that would spice up the night," Cece says after the first round of drinks. She is one of your bold and outspoken friends, and you aren't sure you like how she is eyeing you with a mischievous glint. "Let's play truth or dare." 

The whole group groans at the suggestion, and one of your friends vaguely wonders if you're all still in middle school playing that kind of game. Despite the initial lack of enthusiasm, after another round of drinks, the group is laughing and entrenched in the game. 

When Cece sings your name when she finishes her turn, you are nervous by the sly smile she is wearing as she formulates an option for you when you hesitantly concede to doing a dare. "You're the only one of us still single, so I dare you to go over to the bar and give somebody a kiss." 

"What?!" 

"Just a quick one, nothing too scandalous," Cece says placatingly. "Come on, live a little! It's just a bit of fun. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I bet they won't do it. They're too chicken for this kind of thing, not one to step out of their comfort zone," Tassie says. It makes your blood freeze in your veins because you know those words. You have heard that criticism thrown at you in the past, but not from her, from your ex. 

Your eyes narrow at her, and you ask, "Too chicken? Seriously?"

"Yeah. Please, prove us wrong. Show us you can do something spontaneous," Tassie taunts, grinning. You feel a surge of defiance welling up. Even though you're reserved, you are not one to back down from a challenge, especially not when the woman who cheated with your boyfriend is acting like you're the one who should be ashamed. Acting like she is better than you. 

"Fine, watch this," You declare, feeling hot with a mixture of embarrassment and determination. As you stand up, your friends exchange amused glances, convinced that you are about to back out of the dare. 

With absolutely no intention of  backing down, though, you scan the bar. After a moment of examination your heart soars because you realize you have this dare in the bag. You have the advantage even, because there is a familiar tall, broad-shouldered blonde at the bar that you know all too well. Jake Seresin, or Hangman, is one of your brother's best friends, and he is looking just as delectable tonight as he always does. The group would undeniably be impressed with you kissing someone so handsome, and you knew one way or another you could convince Jake to help you out. 

"Cece, I'll even let you pick since you made the dare. Point out the hottest man in the bar, and I'll kiss him." You say confidently. There is no doubt that Jake is the most attractive person there, and he is just Cece's type, too. She falls right into what you want, pointing Hangman out for you. The rest of your friend group hoots, making even more comments that you aren't going to follow through with the dare and approach someone who is that drop-dead gorgeous. 

Ignoring their taunts, you square your shoulders and walk with as much confidence as you can summon into sashaying across the bar. Putting mental effort into trying to project some form of hotness onto yourself not only for the confidence boost but also the bit of spite burning in you. 

Reaching the bartop area, the hesitation starts to set in as you admire Jake's profile. He is sitting on a bar stool leaning against the counter, patiently waiting for the bartender in the crowd that is starting to grow. Taking one last breath to steady yourself, you reach out and delicately set a hand on his bulging bicep. 

"Hangman!" You say brightly as if you're surprised to have run into him. Jake turns to face you at your touch, and an easy wide grin spreads across his face. 

"Fancy seeing you here, my dear! How are you?" He asks as his eyes trace you slowly from head to toe and back again, the grin on his face not slipping once. 

"Oh, I’m fine, and I am so glad I ran into you." 

"Most people are," Jake says, winking at you. You are nearly distracted by his handsome face and flirty tone. He looks like he has put on even more muscle since you saw him last. The green button-down he is wearing appears close to bursting at the seams with how it clings to him. "So, what have you been up to these days?" 

"Are you still single?" You blurt quickly, ignoring his question, not wanting to lose your steam. 

"Yes, Ma'am. Last I checked. Why?" 

"Perfect, can you do me a huge favor?" You ask. 

"I'm always happy to help out a friend," Jake says, sounding increasingly suspicious. The smile hasn't dropped from his face, but his eyes have narrowed slightly, examining you. 

Quickly standing on your tip toes, you loop an arm around Jake's neck, appreciating that he is sitting on a stool, helping level your height difference. Wasting no time, you pull him down to meet you in a quick kiss. Once his lips brush yours, you let go of him, stepping back, not even taking a moment to savor the feeling or enjoy having Jake this close. 

With your mission accomplished, you have every intention of making a hasty retreat back to your friends and hoping that you will be able to forget this. You are going to erase knowing you've kissed Jake Seresin from your brain, and then the next time you see him, you're going to pretend this fiasco never happened. It feels like the best and only course of action for you to take. 

However, you don't even get to make a full step away from Jake before large hands and thick arms circle around your waist, pulling you back towards him. He tugs until you are standing between his spread thighs, his hands maintaining their position on your waist. 

"Woah now, where do you think you're going?" He asks, eyes darting around your face, studying you closely. 

Embarrassment at having to explain your actions rushes through you, turning your stomach and overriding or maybe enhancing the butterflies there. You glance away from Jake towards your friends and see them watching with rapt attention. Then his thumb moves in a slow soothing circle, drawing you back towards him. 

"I'm sorry! My friends dared me to kiss someone at the bar, and when I saw you, well, I knew it wasn't a lost cause because you're not a complete stranger." 

You refuse to believe that the frown that flashes on Jake's face is one of disappointment. However, it's hard to ignore when his eyebrows are scrunched together, and his hands are so warm you feel it bleeding through your clothing. 

"You could at least buy someone a drink before stealing a kiss, you know. That's just some common decency." 

"I'm so sorry, Jake," you apologize again. "Let me buy you a beer for your troubles." 

"Naw, you don't got to." 

"Well, now I have to because you made me feel bad," you say, waving your arm to try and flag down a bartender. 

"I didn't take you for one to just kiss someone on a dare," he says conversationally. You try not to wriggle uncomfortably in his hold, but without even trying, he seems to have pulled you even closer. 

"I normally wouldn't be," you agree. "But the girl who I highly suspect of cheating with my ex while we were still together is here. I'm sure she thinks she's better than me and that I'm a boring prude."

"She clearly has never been around when you drink tequila," Jake laughs. You can't believe he would still remember the camping trip from years ago, where you were drinking tequila. Definitely notable because it was probably the last time you had dared have any of the liquor. 

"Can you please forget about that? And tonight, too?" You request. Jake pretends to think it over, humming lightly before shaking his head. 

"Sorry, no can do. It's already burned into my eidetic memory." You huff at his response, avoiding eye contact with him to try and catch sight of the bartender again. "You know, if you just asked me first, I would have given you the friends and family discount." 

"And what is that?" 

"Pretty similar to buy one get one free," he says, his voice dropping a little lower. Your mouth falls open in surprise, but you can't find any words. "Could have given you more than a quick peck, something that would really wow your friends." 

Trying very hard not to imagine what kind of kiss Jake would consider wowing, you decide to deflect. Jokingly saying, "Didn't think you were from one of those kinda southern states. Do you make a habit of kissing family members?" 

Jake throws his head back and laughs full-bellied at you. "The friends and family of my friends discount then," he amends. 

"I already hate being in this situation. I don't want more of a pity handout than I've already taken."

"Darlin," he sighs, shaking his head at you. "I would have even given you the Hangman special. Which is a deal, bargain, and steal. Comes with a kiss that's guaranteed to impress friends, people who cheated with your atrocious ex, everyone in this bar, and has even been known to, on occasion, inspire a standing ovation." 

"Ha.Ha. You're so funny," you say dryly, rolling your eyes. 

"I am, thank you for noticing," Jake says. "However, I think you deserve that kind of kiss to prove a point to your friends over there." 

"They didn't even think I would be able to make it over here to talk to you." You admit to him, glancing over at your friends again, a little displeased that they are still obviously observing your interaction.

"That them over there?" He asks, following the direction you're looking. You hum in acknowledgment. "Which one's the cheater?" He breathes, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, sending a shudder down your spine. 

You describe Tassie a bit to him, finding yourself shifting closer into his embrace, enjoying how he is somehow able to help most of the chaotic bar disappear from your senses. It's hard to think about the noise or the increasing number of people starting to press in when Jake's touching you. When he picks out who she is, Jake grunts a little. He lowers his face and nearly kisses your neck over the pulse point. His hot breath tickles the spot, causing shivers again as he declares, "I don't see the appeal." 

"Wish my ex felt that way," you sigh. 

"Fuck him," Jake says with conviction. Drawing a bit back from you to make eye contact again. His green eyes are clear, and in the dimmed mood light around you, they seem to shine even brighter than usual. 

"You sure you don't mind me having kissed you to prove a point?" 

"My dear," he laughs like you told him a funny joke. "I can't imagine a situation where I would mind you kissing me. Let alone one where I get to help you out." 

Sliding your hand up his chest to casually rest on his shoulder, you wonder, "Is the Hangman Special still available?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Guaranteed to be wowing?" You check. 

"Got a warranty for you and everything," Jake says lowly. 

Your hand curls around Jake's neck again, and you attempt to tug him closer to you. He doesn't even budge, though. One of his hands slowly traces up your side from your waist until he is cupping your cheek. Then Jake leans close, his breath ghosting over your lips, where he lingers for a moment. Your eyes flutter closed, and as soon as they do, his lips press to yours. This time, it's not a quick peck. 

He is slow and deliberate in how he kisses you. Tilting his head to the side to get a slightly better angle, Jake uses his hand on your face to urge your lips to align better with his. Pliable to his touch, you open your mouth to him, seeking even more, and rewarded when Jake's tongue brushes against your own. You never doubted that Jake would be a good kisser, but knowing firsthand is something you know you won't be able to erase from your memory. When the kiss starts to border on indecent, he pulls away. 

You linger in the moment, keeping your eyes closed until your heart doesn't feel like it's going to burst from your chest. While you are in that limbo spot, his thumb slowly strokes your cheekbone. Sea glass green is the first thing you see when opening them again, Jake not making any effort to veil how he is admiring you. His lips are slightly pinker now than they just were, and you can't help but imagine how pink and swollen they would get if you had the opportunity to get this man alone on a couch. 

Just as you consider requesting that he kiss you again, just to really really solidify how good you are to your friends, because obviously, three kisses are much better than the one they dared you to get, you are suddenly bumped from behind. The motion roughly shoves you against Jake's solid chest. Both his hands automatically return to your waist, tightening as he steadies you there. Glaring over your shoulder at whoever bumped you, he asks, "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm okay," you breathe. Being this close to him, the woodsy scent of his cologne tickles your nose. And you suddenly wonder why exactly he is in this upscale cocktail bar dressed so nicely. 

"I'm glad you decided to kiss me and not any of these other assholes," he mutters darkly, still glaring over your shoulder. 

"Well, it wasn't really a choice." You reveal, which has his eyes snapping back to you in an instant and a frown pulling at his lips. One of his thumbs that's resumed making circles on your waist stops, and the other falls off your waist entirely now. He doesn't move otherwise, but his presence feels less consuming. Tersely, he responds, "I see." 

"I may have skewed the odds. Told my friends to pick the hottest man they could find. What would you know? They picked you." You explain quickly.

"That's some good luck on your part." 

"It wasn't luck, not really."

"How do you mean?" He wonders. 

"I knew they would pick you." 

"What made you so confident?"

"Because, Jake, you are, hands down, the most attractive person here," you reveal to him shyly. Your fingers curling into his silky shirt, where they have found themselves on his chest after being pushed. 

"See now, I don't think that's true," he says, his eyebrows pulling together. The frown is gone though, the edges of his lips quirking up again. 

"Oh please, Jake. Do not pretend you don't know how handsome you are."

"I'm aware. However, that doesn't change the fact that you're the most attractive person in this bar tonight." 

"You're a flirt," you accuse him. 

"I am," he agrees with no argument. "But that don't make me dishonest or mean I'm not genuine. I haven't been flirting with you just for the sake of it." 

Warmth blooms in your center at his words, and you nearly forget all about trying to escape away from him. Right now, you just want to get closer, as close as he will let you. However, you are pulled out of the fantasy when you look away from Jake's intense gaze to see your friends and how most of the table seems shocked and scandalized. Wryly, you notice Cece giving you two thumbs up. It's like you could almost forget that this was just him being flirty and imagine he was kissing you for more than just helping prove a point. "Well, I appreciate your help with the Hangman Special. I know they will all be impressed and jealous when I head back over there." 

"Now, wait a moment. You can't just sneak away. The Hangman Special not only comes with mind-blowing kisses but also a free night out, all expenses paid, and dinner at any restaurant you choose. "

"You just give that away to any random person who asks?"

"No, only the pretty ones I've had my eye on for a long while," Jake says, his eyes intense, the hand still on your waist flexing tighter for a moment.

"You have?" You ask, completely surprised. 

"Yes, Ma'am," he replies with no hesitation. Before you can respond, the bartender finally makes his way over to you two, asking for your order. Jake instantly defers to you before ordering, asking, "What do you want, my dear?" 

"I thought I already told you I'm taking one of the Hangman specials." You say, after taking a moment to think it over. The grin that lights up Jake's face is sunny and bright, and if you weren't being supported by his strong body, you would have probably fallen over swooning. 

Turning back to the bartender, Jake requests two bottles of water and both of your tabs. As you peek over his shoulder while he signs, you see the bill consists of just one beer, the water, and the two drinks you've had tonight. 

"So you want the full experience?" He asks you when you've taken a sip of water, and he has downed half of his in the same time. 

"From what I know about you, Jake, I don't think you're someone who does things by halves," you answer, fiddling with one of the buttons on his silky green shirt. Then you are pushing a bit on his chest, trying to step away. When you do, Jake's hands find themselves on your hips again pulling you closer to him. 

"Where you going?" He pouts. 

"I just need to grab my purse." 

"Whatcha you need your purse for, sweetheart? Don't you know I ain't going to let you pay for nothing?" Jake drawls. 

"I'm sure you want that to come off gentlemanly, but you're close to flirting with misogynistic." You say, playfully poking a finger into his chest.

"No." Grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips, Jake brushes a kiss on your pulse point, saying, "I know exactly who I'm flirting with, and that is you, my dear." 

The laugh you let out is slightly involuntary, but it makes Jake look like he won a prize, so you can't be too displeased, especially not when he has resumed drawing circles on your skin, and it feels like some sort of hypnosis you never want to end. "I'll be right back, and you can keep flirting with me for as long as you like." 

"That a promise?" Jake asks.

"Sure thing," you agree, but Jake still hasn't let go of you. 

"Do you want some company?" 

"You don't have to." 

"Little worried you're going to try and sneak away," he admits. 

"But Jake, I am sneaking away," you say in a fake whisper as if sharing a secret. "Sneaking away with you from my friends and this bar." It makes him smile again, just like you were hoping it would. "Just wait here for me. Okay?"

"Okay," he reluctantly agrees. Despite agreeing, the hold he has on your hand actually slightly tightens. "One more kiss?"

"I'm starting to get the feeling that you're always going to want one more kiss."

"You already know me so well," Jake grins. You press your lips against his again in a quick kiss, careful not to get caught up in it, before slipping out of his grasp. When free, you practically skip away from Jake to grab your things. 

Arriving back to your friends, you're greeted with loud whooping and even some clapping thrown in. Cece is practically giggling as she says, "I really didn't think you had that in you." 

"What were you talking about for so long?" Another one of the group asks.

"Was that kiss as hot as he is?" Someone else wonders, and then questions are coming from every direction before you can answer any of them. 

"It was great, he's great." You manage to get in. When they start to flood you with even more questions, you cut them off. "I would love to talk all about it, but I'm sorry y'all, I'm actually just over here to grab my purse." 

"There is no way you are leaving with that guy," Tassie says incredulously. 

Irritation and anger flares up in you as you turn to glare at her. "Really, there's no way? And why would that be Tassie?" 

"Come on," she says, clearly surprised that you've decided to call her out. "You're just not the kind of person to go home with someone from the bar, and he doesn't really seem like your type." 

"I don't know how tall, handsome, funny, and phenomenal kisser could not be someone's type," You say harshly, snatching your purse and jacket from where you had been sitting. 

"I'm just trying to look out for you," she responds sharply. 

"I don't think that's true," you snap back. 

"Hey now, why don't we all chill out," your friend Marv cuts in placatingly. 

"Sorry to interrupt," a familiar southern drawl says from behind as a warm arm wraps around your shoulder. You nearly sag into Jake. The urge to explode on your friends, more specifically Tassie, instantly absorbed by his presence. "But I was promised I could take this one out on a date tonight." 

"We can't let our friend just leave with a stranger," Cece says, and you turn to narrow your eyes at her, frowning that she is butting in when she is the one who set all this into motion in the first place. 

"While I respect that, I don't think you get to make that decision," Jake says lightly and a lot nicer than you would have in that moment. 

"You could be a crazy serial killer or something," Tassie says. 

"While I am a killer, that's normally just how people describe me in bed," he answers in a flirty, exaggerated way. That has you nearly coughing, you suck in air so hard. He gently pats your back and continues on. "If you're really worried though, you can look me up on Instagram. That's at LT.H_ANGM_N. I hope y'all have a good night. I know we will be," Jake punctuates the sentence with a kiss to the side of your head. 

Stuck between laughing and balking you glance around at everyone’s surprised faces at Jake’s boldness. You know exactly what Jake's last Instagram post was, having spent several minutes the other day debating whether you should like the shirtless picture of him on the beach. 

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Jake asks you, practically muttering the words in your ear. All he needs is your nod before he confidently starts to turn you and lead you out the door. You manage to throw your friends a small wave goodbye, but it only takes a few steps for them to be out of your mind. 

"Did you drive?" Jake asks you as the fresh evening air rushes over you both. 

"No.” And you’re glad you didn’t when it means Hangman will be driving you home.  

"Good," he grins, "do you mind me driving?" 

"I don't," you answer easily, completely content to follow Jake to wherever he is going to lead you. 

He stops in front of a Jeep Gladiator, and you aren't overly surprised by his taste in vehicles. He goes to open the passenger side door for you, but you don't immediately take his offered hand to get inside. Instead, you tug it as you lean against the side of the truck. Jake follows the motion easily, not hesitating to bend down and mold his lips to yours. 

Jake looms over you, one of his hands balancing his weight against the side of the truck just over your head. The other on your side pulling you a bit closer to him. Looping your arm around his neck for some leverage, you let Jake take over your senses. The softness of his tongue paired with how he nibbles at your lower lip pulls a little whine from you.

When you have to pull away for a ragged breath, Jake groans low in his throat as you press teasing kisses down the column of his neck to the V of skin his shirt shows off. The hand on your waist slides up to cup your cheek and pulls you back to his lips. Kissing Jake is easy, he doesn't leave enough room for you to question if he's enjoying it. Nor do you have the capacity to overthink it as Jake's lips move surely and confidently with your own. All there is is him, his warm strong body, soft lips, and the calluses of his fingers. 

Leaning backward, you pull Jake with you wanting to have him pressed flush because even though you're tasting him, caged in, surrounded by him it still isn't close enough. However, the motion presses one of the Jeep’s jutting door hinges sharply into your back. You can't help but gasp a small "ow" as you try to shift. Concern creases Jake's features, and he pulls you away from his truck into his chest, glowering at the vehicle as if it had somehow betrayed him. 

"You okay, darlin?" He asks, his hands tracing down your back checking for injury. You lean more into his chest even though you don't really need the support, it's just nice to be in his arms. 

"I'm fine," you reassure him. 

"Let's get you out of harms way." He says pulling open the passenger side door. As you start to heave yourself into the tall truck Jake is practically picking you up and easily setting you in the seat. You blink at him in surprise at his show of strength. He remains there, standing in the open door, leaning closer and placing his hand just above your knee, his thumb drawing circles there. Then he asks, "So, where would you like to grab some dinner, my dear?" 

"I've heard of this really great restaurant I've been dying to go to."

"Yeah? Let's make it happen then." 

"Mhmm," you hum in confirmation. "It's called Hangman's House." 

Jake's thumb immediately stops moving and the smile on his face seems to shift. The genuine glint there slipping away, to something hard for you to really identify, practiced or guarded. Whatever the change was you don't find yourself liking it and immediately wonder where you misstepped. 

"So, Hangman's House, that's a pretty exclusive place. They don't usually do unplanned reservations," Jake says after what's nearly an awkward silence. 

"That's too bad. I heard that they have great service." You say a little dejected but glad he told you no in a casual manner that you can play off. 

"You're in luck though, my dear, because I know the owner. I think he would be willing to make an exception for us sometime, but they are better known for their breakfast menu." Jake responds upbeat again. 

"I like breakfast." You mutter in what you think is a flirty way. However, it's obvious that you've missed the mark when Jake's hand drops off your leg completely now. 

"Listen, if this is just a one-night thing, just some making out and fun stuff, where you are going to leave in the morning and pretend it never happened next time we see each other," he says seriously. Pausing, he runs a hand through his hair taking a measured breath, and you watch as the muscle in his jaw flexes. "That's fine, but I need to know it now." 

As you study his face intently it occurs to you that maybe even men like Jake Seresin have insecurities. Maybe he was used to interacting with people where more often than not they only saw him as a handsome face with a nice body. People who were ready to leave the next morning. The realization that a one night stand isn’t the series of events he is interested in with regards to you twists a pit of uncertainty in your stomach. You feel a little uneasy not sure exactly where you stand or what he wants with you. 

Reaching to catch Jake's lost hand and tangling your fingers, you start playing with the big class ring he is wearing. He allows the movement and relaxes his hand further, giving you additional leeway. The distraction of Jake's fingers gives you the courage to say, "I guess maybe I misunderstood that this was going to just be a nice fun night with you. Is that not what you were looking for?" 

"I do want that," Jake says adamantly. " However, I don't just want that." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I want to bring you flowers, dance with you, write you love letters. I want to explore every inch of your body and heart until I know what makes you tick. I want you to forget that any other man besides me even exists." Jake presses himself close to you again, and he turns his hand to thread your fingers tightly together. "Now I'm good, and I mean really good my dear, but those aren't goals I can make happen in one evening. So I want to start with tonight, taking you out and giving you a good time. And then I want to do the same thing tomorrow or whenever you have free time. I want to do that for as long as you will let me." 

"Oh wow," you breathe, taken aback by his declaration. "That's kind of a lot." 

"I know, but I don't want my intentions to be unclear. I wasn't lying when I said I've had my eye on you for a while. I'm happy to go at whatever pace you need; I'll do whatever you want. However, if this was all just getting back at your ex and proving a point. If you can't see yourself wanting anything more with me past tonight again, I need to know." Now, Jake takes his turn playing with your fingers as he breaks eye contact to stare at where you're intertwined. "I'll happily let you break my heart, but I don't want to be blindsided by it. 

Surging forward, you pull Jake in to kiss you again. It's an awkward angle, and the way the truck makes you taller than him feels odd. However, none of that matters when his lips are so pliable against yours. 

"I don't want to break your heart," you tell him between kisses. "I want to go on dates with you, and I want to go home with you. I want to go to bed with you and do it more than once if we find out we are compatible." 

"Are you doubting our compatibility?" Jake asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"Not really, but you know it's better to make sure with these things. Have to double check, I think." 

"That makes sense," he concedes. 

"Now let's get some food so you can take me home and then to bed. Show me these killer skills you mentioned earlier." 

"We can do a lot tonight, but we can't sleep together," Jake says mournfully.

"Why not?" You ask confused. 

"Everyone knows you don't sleep together until the third date," Jake drawls.

"That's a cliche. Plus, why does it really matter?" 

"Because I've been dreaming about forever with you, and when you want forever with someone, you don't want to skip any steps." Jake answers, dead serious and earnestly. It makes you wish you weren't in such an awkward position in the truck. If you were still outside pressed against it, or in the bar even, it would be so much easier to show him the appreciation and affection burning inside. 

"We've got to be somewhere near the third date by now. We have tonight and that camping trip we went on. Oh, and that one time that everyone went bowling. Plus, there was that bonfire a few months ago!" You say, trying to think of occasions you and Jake had spent a good amount of time together. While considering it, you also realize he has nearly always gravitated to your side during group interactions, and going off tonight, that clearly wasn't as coincidental as you had previously thought. 

"You deserve real dates," Jake responds with conviction, and the look in his eye really isn't something you can or even want to argue with. There isn't anything wrong with someone wanting to act like a gentleman with you; it's actually flattering, especially when it's clear Jake isn't going to play any guessing games with you concerning his feelings. 

"Well, then we are wasting time when we could be on our first date," you say, pressing another peck to his lips and lightly pushing him away from you. 

"One last kiss," Jake whispers as he lurches close again for another peck. Then, he gently closes your door and jogs over to the driver's seat, asking where you want to get a bite to eat. 

The two of you end up at a fancy Italian restaurant where you share an appetizer, bottle of wine, and dessert. During dessert, Jake insists you pose for a picture. Despite your initial resistance, he convinces you, and then, nearly as soon as he takes it, your phone lights up with a notification telling you that you’ve tagged you in his story. He tells you before you even ask that he hopes your friends looked him up on Instagram but requests that you repost it on your own just in case they didn't. He claimed it's so they know he's not kidnapped you, but you suspect that it's more likely he wants to prove a point. And it's something you don't mind one bit, especially when he easily lets you post a picture of him on your own story. 

After the restaurant, Jake drives you both out of town a bit to where the sky is much clearer and the stars are visible. The evening isn't warm enough to cuddle in the truck bed like he wanted, so instead, you end up in the backseat with the moon roof completely rolled back. You manage to pretend to be looking at the stars for about three whole minutes before crawlingl into Jake's lap to kiss him. 

Before the making out can get too heated, Jake grips your chin, urging your face upwards to look through the moonroof. Gruffly, he mutters into your ear, telling you to behave. Words that only make you squirm in your newfound place sitting on his lap. He lets you stay there, though, his hands steady on your hips, and his lips leisurely brushing yours or your neck whenever inspiration strikes. 

"What were you doing out tonight looking so nice?" You wonder absentmindedly, unbuttoning the top button of Jake's shirt. It's not with an ulterior motive. Really, it's because Jake's shirt is so soft, and the top of it is hiding his dog tags from you, which you have suddenly decided is unacceptable. The new skin exposed to you is just an added benefit. 

"Ah, nothing to worry about darlin'." 

"Common, you can tell me," you say, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

"You know, whinnies?" 

It takes you a moment to place the restaurant and remember that it's across the street from the bar where you met up with your friends. "The wine bar?" 

"Yeah," Jake confirms. "Well, I was on a date there." 

"Oh." When Jake doesn't say anything, you decide you have to push the conversation forward. "So, what happened to your date? Were they not nice?"

"No, she was real sweet," Jake says, and you feel your stomach drop as if you aren't in the back of his truck and sitting in his lap right now.

"So why did you end up at Gem's?" 

"I was checking Instagram before she got there, and I saw you post that you were at Gems, right across the street. And no matter how nice she was, I knew it wasn't fair that I was thinking of a different person the whole time. So, we didn't even make it through appetizers before I had to be honest with her about that, and then I swung by Gems, hoping I would bump into you." 

"You were at the bar just to see me?"

"Sure was. So imagine my surprise when you found and approached me first."

"How would it have gone if you had approached me first?" You wonder. 

"For one, I would have offered to buy you a drink before stealing a kiss," Jake says teasingly. 

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" 

"Probably not for a while," he tells you. You groan and hide your face in his neck as if that will save you from some of the embarrassment. Feeling his chuckles in his throat and rumble in his chest is soothing, and you pepper more kisses to his neck and collarbone as if you were tracing the sound.

"You wouldn't have left without a kiss, though?" 

"I wouldn't have left without seeing you, and I would have done everything to try and convince you to give me one," Jake promises. 

"How would you have kissed me for the first time?" 

"Are you asking for another demonstration?" he wonders. As soon as you nod in affirmation, he pulls you close, repositioning you on his lap so you're straddling him. The darkness of the truck makes it so you can't quite see how green his eyes are, despite that they are still somehow bright.  He holds eye contact with you for a long moment. His hand cups your cheek, and like earlier in the night, he pauses, not closing the gap, observing you close. When you try to lean forward and seal your lips, he backs his head away. Then he chastises you while wearing a smirk, "I'm goin' to kiss you, baby. Now, let me do it how I want." 

Anticipation tingles in you as Jake leans close; however, at the last minute, he swerves, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then the other cheek, your forehead, and your nose. Finally, his lips meet yours firmly. Closing your eyes, you sigh into the kiss. The feeling of being intimately connected to Jake again is nearly the same as relief. When your mouth opens, Jake licks into you, searching out your tongue with his own. 

There no longer seems to be any will in Jake to tamper down the heat of your kissing. He allows you each time you push the envelope of the moment being just the soft sweet first date kissing he initially claimed to want. As he sucks on the sweet spot, her discovers on your neck, the way you grind downwards is involuntary and completely by accident. A low moan comes from Jake, and you like the way it sounds. So, the next time you grind down on him, it's completely intentional. 

The dark slacks he is wearing don't do much to conceal his hardened length. After a few more rolls of your hips, Jake's hands tightly grip your waist helping you grind against him. He urges you into a rhythm that has whimpers, moans, and gasps passing from both your mouths between hot kisses. As you try to speed up, frantic lust beating so loud you can hear it in your ear, he doesn't let you. Though you are on top of him, there is no doubt that Jake is in complete control. 

Just from this night, it's not difficult to imagine how he will be in the bedroom. Strong,  consuming, and in control. You can picture how he will confidently lead you exactly where you want to go, and you will get there because just a back of the car's make-out shouldn’t cause someone to be as turned on as you are right now. You unbutton his shirt and let your hands roam over his chest. Dragging your nails along his abs causes a full body shudder and Jake to grip your ass so hard you think you might bruise. It doesn't bother you, though, because how can anything that gets you closer to his cock be a bad thing? 

“Jake,” you say in a sudden moment of clarity. He hums his acknowledgment but keeps kissing at your neck and squeezing at your ass. A particularly hard thrust upwards from him nearly has your brain going fuzzy as you desperately try to hold yourself together.  “Jake,” you repeat more forcefully, “we need to stop.” 

“What’s wrong?” He asks concerned, detaching his lips from your skin and losing his hold so he is barely touching you. 

“If we keep at this I'm going to beg you to fuck me right here right now,” you answer. He makes a strangled groan. With his swollen lips, lust filled eyes, and hard dick you're sure he wouldn't actually mind. “Which would be amazing but you told me about a three date rule and I agreed.” 

“I did say three dates,” he responds and looks like he hates himself for it. 

“But if it doesn't actually matter I would like to suck your cock at least once before we fuck.” You boldly tell him, twisting his dog tags in your fingers pulling them taut against Jake’s neck until the release beads give away. The chain falls into your grasp, and you use the warm metal to distract yourself. 

“Fuck me,” he breathes throwing an arm over his eyes and leaning back. “You're perfect, you know that?” 

“I'm not.” 

“You are. So perfect, so hot.” He kisses you like he's about to ignore what you just said. Hot and a little sloppy with tongue and a bit at your lower lip. When he pulls away he rests his forehead against yours saying, “We are going to stop now  because I don't want there to ever be a doubt in your mind that I'll keep the promises I make to you.”

Your stomach flips with affection, and you sag, leaning heavily into Jake, just hugging him tightly, waiting for the lust that's sparked to cool. The two of you even manage to get some actual stargazing in where hands roam but in more so in an exploratory way than sexual. 

Holding hands driving back into the city you can’t stop staring at Jake’s profile, or admiring his fingers or tracing the veins of his forearms. You are focusing on trying to convince yourself that this isn’t a dream, you're definitely going to wake up with hickies in the morning, and another date with Jake Seresin scheduled tomorrow. It’s something that if you had been told at the start of your evening, you would have laughed at the absurdity of the idea. 

"I know it's really soon, but do you think that if you asked me again in a few weeks if I'm still single, we'll be able to change my answer?" Jake asks you after a bit breaking the comfortable silence you two had been in. 

"I think that's possible. What do you think about that?" You wonder. 

"I would change my answer tonight if you wanted me to."

"Jake..."

"Listen, I really like you, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. So as soon as you give me the okay, I will bring you flowers with a promise ring and ask if you want to go steady with me." Jake's thumb rubs along your pulse affectionately, "I'll change my Facebook relationship status. I'll get a nice little charm with your name on it for my dog tags. I'll take you to meet my friends and brag about how amazing you are." Jake leans over at a red light to press a soft kiss to your lips. "The whole shebang." 

"That sounds nice. Does that deal have a special name, too?" 

"Yeah, we can call it the Jake special. It is a whole package, long-term, all-inclusive deal." 

"Extended warranty?" You check jokingly.

"It actually has a no-return, no-refund policy," Jake answers.

"That's a pretty big commitment," you whisper back, even though the idea of keeping Jake all to yourself sounds nothing but appealing. 

"It's not something that expires. So how about tonight, we just worry about getting you home where you're going to let me walk you to your front door and give you a kiss goodnight."

"Just one kiss?" You ask in a pretend pout. 

"Let's shoot for two, but don't be surprised if it's three, maybe even four." 

"I want five," you declare stubbornly.

"Then I'll give you six," he easily offers. 

You try to hide your smile but don't quite manage it. It's a permanent fixture the whole drive home and during all seven of the goodnight kisses you get. They aren't the best kisses in the world because Jake is smiling through them, too. It's okay, though, because you both know there's going to be more in the future, a lot more. 

[lovebugism]

Hi there 👋🏻 I've been binge reading your stories lately and I love them all! I have a request if you're up for it. Could you write one where shy!reader doesn't like her laugh because some people think it's annoying but Eddie loves it? Totally not self-projecting by the way! 🙃 Thank you!

thank you angel! please enjoy :D — eddie comforts you when he finds out an old boyfriend made you hate your laugh (shy!fem!r, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1k)

You and Eddie sit on opposite sides of the worn, sunken-in couch — long legs bent at the knees, socked feet wedged neatly beneath your thighs. Your bare calves rest on either side of his lap while his calloused palms rub up and down the length of them. His touch is largely absentminded as he tries hopelessly not to laugh through the punchline of his own joke.

“—And I was like, ‘Boom. You lookin’ for this?’”

You think the brown-eyed look of expectancy he gives you is funnier than anything. You smile wide, hiding the sparkling expression behind your palm.

Eddie meets your beam with a boyish pout. He repeats the punchline, more serious this time. “And I was like, ‘Boom’—”

“I heard you, Eds,” you assure with a small chuckle. A mere breath of a laugh.

His frown deepens. “Oh, c’mon!” he exclaims, lifting his hands in protest. They drop back to your ankles a second later. “That was funny! That always kills with Hellfire!”

You nod rapidly, brows raised and eyes wide, like a parent comforting a child. “It was good,” you assure quickly.

“Then why aren’t you laughing?”

“So, what— I have to laugh if I think something’s funny?”

“Well, that’s usually how it works, yeah,” Eddie monotones with a flat face, nodding until his wild curls sway around his jaw. He shrugs lazily a second later and jokes, “If you’re not a psychopath, at least… You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

You meet his narrowed eyes with a more pensive gaze. Your lips purse to the side of your mouth as you jokingly ponder the silly question. “No,” you answer after a few long moments. “Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie nods like he’s relieved. “Nice.”

“There’s still time, though,” you add with a scrunched nose.

He scrunches the bridge of his back. “I’ll take that risk,” he says with a small huff before lifting his weight on his knuckles. The old couch creaks in protest as he leans over to kiss you. 

With a poorly bitten-back grin, you meet him halfway. Your mouths smack together in a fleeting kiss that tastes faintly of frozen pizza.

You settle back on the arm of the couch with Eddie’s socked toes wriggling under your thighs. His thumbs continue tracing shapes on the insides of your calves. He watches you watch the staticky television screen, too wound up about the whole thing to join in on the stupid sitcom.

The subtly overwhelming feeling bubbles in his throat until it spills like vomit from his mouth. “Do you think I’m not funny or something?” he blurts, then goes all shy right after. “Is that why… Is that why you don’t really laugh at my jokes?”

Your breathy scoff only further proves his point. “I laugh at your jokes all the time, Eds.”

He shrugs, unconvinced. “I mean… I guess. You, like, breathe really hard through your nose or whatever, but you don’t… You don’t laugh.”

“I think if you heard me laugh, you’d break up with me,” you joke and don’t think twice about how self-deprecating it is.

Eddie’s face twists at the thought — that he’d ever want to break up with you, or that there’d be a part of you he wouldn’t automatically adore on instinct. “Why would you say that?” 

You shrug with a vague I don’t know type of sound and turn back to the television. “My laugh is just weird, I guess....”

“No one’s laugh is weird!” Eddie insists. “It’s, like, the one sound people make when they’re happiest— It can’t be weird.”

You flash him a deadpan look of silent disagreement.

He caves.

“Okay. Fine. Dustin Henderson’s laugh is weird,” he concludes. “But… that’s just because he’s Dustin, you know?”

You breathe a faint chuckle at that. Almost like you’ve trained yourself to be as quiet in your laughter as you can. 

“My last boyfriend thought my laugh was annoying,” you confess like it’s no big deal. “So eventually I just kinda… stopped.”

Eddie’s soft features harden into a solemn frown. “What a fucking prick…” he grumbles like a storm cloud.

“It’s okay. I got over it. Mostly.”

He squeezes the backs of your calves with a pair of ringed hands, a warm and reassuring touch. “Well, I don’t think anything you do could annoy me,” Eddie tells you, tilting his head to the side until his wild curls bunch at his shoulders. “Just so we’re clear.”

Something in your chest flutters — like there’s a thousand moths trapped behind your ribcage. “Good to know,” you tease in the same sardonic tone.

Eddie rises suddenly, tugging at your ankles until you’re lying flatter on the couch. A squeal sound in your throat as you watch him rise to his knees and lean over you. He digs his fingers gently into the plush of your sides before you can blink. 

“Get off!” you swat at him, laughing loudly at the tickling sensation before you can help it. The golden sound spills from your lips and fills the dim trailer with so many little sunbeams. 

Your face heats at the proud, lopsided smile Eddie gives you.

“Get off,” you repeat, sterner now but still mostly playful. You’re only slightly surprised when Eddie obeys without pouting. You sit up a bit more and tug your shirt down from where it had ridden up. “And stop looking at me like that.”

Eddie fights to purse his beam to the side of his mouth. Your sparkling, unsmiling disposition is impossible not to smile at. “Can’t help it,” the boy shrugs with a stupid grin. “You’re too cute.”

Your face scrunches in disdain of his compliment. You prop your back against the couch and cross your arms over your chest, averting your gaze to the TV once more. “Just drive me home,” you grumble in protest, hardly meaning it.

“No can do, sweet thing,” Eddie says with a sympathetic sigh, dropping a heavy arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. You melt begrudgingly into his sloppy embrace. He presses a kiss to your hair and mumbles into your temple. “‘M never letting you go, actually.”

And, despite your very obvious pouting, you pray he never breaks his promise.

[msmk11]

The Hufflepuff Code

James Potter x gn!Hufflepuff!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 3.6k

CW: Use and discussion of weed, mentions of alcohol, light kissing, reader under the influence of weed, mentions of food and eating

Summary: You have a secret.... Or, at least, your Hogwarts house, Hufflepuff, does, and you can't tell your Gryffindor boyfriend James. Only problem is, your boyfriend is very charming and has an inclination for mischief. What could go wrong?

A/n: Hiiiii, I hope you enjoy! This work is vaguely based off the Harry Potter discourse on TikTok a few months ago, about what parties would be like in each Hogwarts house! Please don't take offense if you're a Gryffindor lol, I love them. Also, until I find a fancast for James Potter that I like (I imagine him as desi), I will be using ATJ.

Going to Hogwarts requires a lot of studying….something you are trying to do but failing, because a pair of hazel eyes can’t help but bore into your face. You double down into your books to avoid your boyfriend’s gaze, but his intensity only increases. He shifts from mute staring to pokes and silent whispers of your name. 

Finally, you snap your head up and look at him, “what?!” You whisper. 

“Just missed you s’all,” James says sheepishly. 

Your heart can’t help but melt a little, “sweetheart, I’m right here.”

“Yeah but you’re studying and not paying attention to me.” He whines. 

“Well, I did invite you to the library to study, not snog or make small-talk.”

James eyes light up, “oh that sounds like so much more fun. We should do that instead.”

“Sorry Jamie, as much as I’d love to, I can’t. Gotta study.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes dramatically, “fine. But I expect your full, undivided attention later.”

You cringe a little and guiltily avoid his sweet, beautiful face. “I-I’m sorry I can’t hang out later.”

“Baby,” he says rather loudly. 

You shush him a little and grab his hands in apology, “I’m sorry, I made plans earlier this week.”

The brunette pouts at you and shakes his head, his mop of curls falling into his eyes as he does so, “with who?”

“My friends-“

“Friends? What friends?!” Your boyfriends protests. 

You glare at him a little. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, “I just mean, what friends could you possibly be hanging out with instead of me? I mean, I’m the bestest friend.”

You kiss one of his hands intertwined with yours, “I know, sweetheart, you are. But I need a little non-boyfriend-friend-time sometimes, you know?”

“Well-uh I can pretend to not be your boyfriend for a night,” he disagrees, “I can gossip and, do whatever your friends do.”

You chuckle a little, “I know you can, and honestly, I’m sure they will be happy to have you in the future. But that’s not the type of hangout we’re having.”

“Okay, so then what are you doing?”

“Burying bodies, holding seances, the likes,” you tease, trying to avoid a serious answer. 

James just glares at you, not impressed by your jokes. 

“Sweetheart, don’t be mad,” you plead, bringing out your puppy dog eyes, “promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he answers, dismissively waving his hand. “That I’m not concerned about anymore. What I really wanna know is what you’re getting up to tonight,” he says, quirking an eyebrow. 

You’re pretty sure his eyes peer into your soul, trying to unleash all your secrets. It makes you shiver and look down at your paper. 

“Oh you know, typical Hufflepuff things.”

“Hmmm?” He asks, shifting closer to you. “Like what?”

“Uhhh eating food, potting plants, being loyal.” You mumble out. 

He gets closer and lifts your chin to make you look at him. James, the bastard, knows the effect he has on you. Teasing you with your closeness, knowing his cologne drives you crazy, his eyes make you melt, and his lips leave you defenseless. He licks his lip a little and you slightly groan. 

“So you’d rather pot plants than spend time with me?” James asks quietly. 

Words leave you at this moment and you only stutter a little. You try to lean in for a kiss, the tension unbearable, but he pulls back. “Nuh-uh.”

“You don’t get a kiss for lying.”

You whine a little. “I’m not lying, I’m just concealing some of the truth.”

“Why, love? Do you not trust me?”

Your face softens, noticing the slight sadness in his voice. You grab his face and brush his dark curls away from his eyes. 

“No Jamie. It’s not that, it’s just- well it really is sort of a Hufflepuff thing. A code of conduct, you know?”

He furrows his brows, “uhh, not really, no.”

“Well, I’m sure Gryffindor has some traditions, right?”

James shakes his head, “well it’s sorta the same thing for Hufflepuff, just more secret.”

“But I won’t tell anyone” your boyfriend says softly, kissing your hand, “promise.”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s not that I can’t tell you, it’s well, I can’t tell-“ you hesitate. 

“Who?”

“Gryffindors,” you say, quietly. 

Confusion clouds his pretty face, “what d’you mean you can’t tell Gryffindors?”

You cringe and pull away, “I’ve said too much already, sweetheart. Sorry, house loyalty.”

He scoffs, “what about loyalty to me?” 

“Don’t do that,” you tsk, “it’s really not that serious. Just silly house traditions, a little bit of rivalry, yeah?”

“Well then if it’s not that serious, just tell me,” he counters. 

You groan. He’s really not gonna give this up. 

“Fine,” you mumble. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.”

You gather your books and motion for him to follow. He stands up obediently and packs up his things before taking yours from you. As you walk down the halls, you find an empty classroom and push the two of you inside.

“You know if you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just asked,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes and slap his shoulder playfully, “pervert…just wanting to get in my pants.”

“Can’t help it when you’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

You hum in content and lean into the kiss, holding onto his arms gently. 

“Could keep you here all night,” he sighs against your lips, as his warm hands wrap around your waist. 

You huff in disappointment and pull away a little, “you know you can’t Jamie baby.”

“Worth a shot.” He sits down on a desk and spreads his legs a little, letting you stand between them, “so if I can’t convince you to skip this tradition, then tell me what it is at least. And why can’t Gryffindors know?”

You sigh a little, “okay, don’t get mad, because I didn’t decide this, remember, it’s tradition.”

James pauses and then shakes his head for you to continue. 

“So, basically, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw have this arrangement to have three annual parties. One hosted by Hufflepuff, one by Slytherin, and one by Ravenclaw.”

“And why not Gryffindors?”

You wrinkle your nose in awkwardness, “well…cause the other houses don’t really like Gryffindor all that much.” Before James can protest you add, “it’s not that we don’t like Gryffindors at all, it’s just, we don’t like when you’re all together. On your own or in small groups you’re fine. But in large party settings you guys get loud, and stupid, and well…..annoying. And, the other three houses got sick of it, so they decided to start hosting a few no-Gryffindor-allowed parties every year.”

James simply stares at you in silence. “And this has been going on for how long?”

“Uh, 20 years at least,” you say. 

The boy’s mouth drops, “and no Gryffindor has ever found out?!”

“Not really, no. We keep it super secret.”

James scoffs, “I mean, well that’s sort of ridiculous don’t you think? Hosting secret parties just to keep us out?”

“Look,” you say gently, grabbing his knee, “I didn’t say I agree or disagree. It’s just tradition. And well, I’m not gonna be the one to break it.”

“So what do you even do at these ‘parties’?” he asks with a huff.

“Well Ravenclaw hosts the first, in the Fall, a sort of poker, gambling game night, but with lots of booze. Very classy actually, typical Ravenclaw. And Slytherin hosts next, right before Christmas. It’s a sort of Christmas, bougie, boozie party. Very swanky and jazzy. And Hufflepuff, well, that’s the crowd favorite. Held in second term.”

The brunette raises his eyebrows in curiosity. 

“Basically we get a shit load of weed from our secret plant stash, and everyone gets high and eats food. We like, raid the kitchens before hand.”

“WHAT?!” James almost shouts. 

You put your hand over his mouth to quiet him. “Shhh, people could hear.”

He takes your hand off. “Hufflepuff has a secret drug stash?! And you hide it from us?!”

“I mean, why do you think we’re so happy all the time?” you say, laughing a little. 

“So you-but.”

Your boyfriend’s brain seems to malfunction, “damn, Hufflepuffs are druggies? My partner is a druggie?”

You let out a laugh, “I wouldn’t say druggie…just…plant-positive.” 

“So…there. That’s my secret. But you can’t tell anyone. I have my dignity to uphold.” You warn. 

“Can I at least come?!” 

“No! I’m not even supposed to tell you. Let alone bring you!”

“But-“

“No. Im sorry James, I don’t make the rules.”

“But I wanna get high…and see you high.”

“Well, another time.” 

Your tone was final, but James did not take it as such. Instead, he became more determined to find his way in to this mysterious party. 

*****

After making James promise to not impose, you left him behind in the classroom with a kiss and a lot of regret. On one hand, you had just broken so many Hufflepuff rules… if anyone were to find out, you’d be shunned for sure. On the other hand, you also felt incredibly guilty for leaving James out. Your sweet boy with his soft eyes and kind smile… but also his loud personality and pranks. You knew he’d never mean any harm, but the likes of him at this sort of party would not be welcome. He’s the definition of Gryffindor. And of course you love him for it, but you’re not sure your peers would. 

Back in your dorm, you throw your books down on your desk and then plop onto your bed. 

“Long day?” Your friend Emmeline asks. 

You groan, “terribly.”

“Good thing we have a chill night ahead of us,” she reminds you, plopping down next to you on your bed. 

“Touché Emmy. I’m very ready for an edible and a bag of flaming hot Cheetos.”

“Mhmmm, and those chocolate chip cookies from the kitchens?”

We both sigh in content. 

I can feel her staring at me. “Something’s wrong…”

You turn on your side and look at her, “yeah… I just, well, told James I couldn’t hang with him tonight because I had plans and I feel sorta bad… being all secretive you know? We don’t keep secrets.”

She hums in acknowledgement, “hmmm yeah, I get that. But I mean, it’s not like a bad secret y’know? Just tradition.”

“Which is what I told him but still..”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” She asks, slight mortification on her face. 

“No, course not,” you lie, turning back on your back. “Hufflepuff code n’all. Just hard having a Gryffindor boyfriend.”

“Yeah, babe, I know. But you only gotta lie a few times a year, he’ll never know the difference, yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m overthinking this, I know.”

“Indeed,” the brunette answers, shoving your shoulders lightly. “Now come on, lighten up, we’ve got a fun night ahead of us.”

You smile and sit up, “yes you’re right.”

“Now, I know the vibe is obviously cozy, but I still wanna look cute y’know? What should I wear?”

You hop up and walk over to her closet. “Oh babe, you gotta do your yellow Hufflepuff sweatshirt. With your brown curls and pale skin, you look like freaking Belle from that muggle movie.”

She gasps, “a whole princess?! Wow, I’m flattered. And what about pants?”

“Leggings maybe? Something that makes your ass look good?”

“Take me to dinner first!” She squeals. 

You laugh a little and wink, “sorry baby can’t help it.”

Her shoulder length curls bounce a little as she shakes her head at you. 

You go into your own trunk as you strip off your school uniform and instead opt for black pajama pants and one of James’ t-shirts that has some muggle band on it. It still smells faintly of him and your heart aches a little at leaving him behind. You brush it off, though, when your other two roommates come in the room, grocery bags in hand. 

“We’ve got the goods!” Amelia and Trinity cheer. 

“My hot Cheetos?” You ask. 

“Course,” Trinity answers, rolling their brown eyes, “this isn’t our first rodeo.”

You squeal and peck them on the cheek before giving Amelia a hug too. 

“You guys are my favorite, you know that?”

“Better be,” Amelia huffs. “Otherwise we’d have words.”

You all excitedly chatter as you go through the groceries and get ready for the party. 

Trinity ends up in Ravenclaw blue, which looks fantastic against their dark brown skin. 

“Trying to impress anyone?” Emmy asks, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Hmmm, maybe a certain Pandora Lovegood?” Amelia quips. 

Trinity tries to hide a smile but can’t, “duh! She’s just so cute, especially when she’s high.”

“And Amelia? Trying to impress anyone?” You ask, scanning her dark gray sweater and black leggings.

“Nope!” She says, popping the p, “only here for me, myself, and I.”

You force everyone to gather on your bed and hold up your disposable camera, “smile everyone!”

You take a few photos, cute and silly, and then wander down to the common space. 

The common room remains mostly the same, besides a few added bean bags and blankets for comfort. 

A low, quiet base thumps in the background as people from all three houses lounge around. Amos Diggory, a seventh year, sits at the contraband table. 

“What can I do for you folks tonight?” He asks. 

Emmeline asks for a blunt, Trinity and I take an edible and Amelia shakes her head, motioning to her pen instead. We crash on the carpet, waiting for the weed to kick in. Everyone around us is laughing, chatting, and snacking, at different levels of gone. 

When Pandora walks in, Trinity waves and motions her over. She’s followed by a few of her friends, including Regulus, Rosier, and Crouch.

“Baby Black?!” You cheer.

He rolls his eyes as he sits down next to you. “I thought I told you not to call me that?”

You shrug your shoulders and pat his cheek, “yeah, but I chose to ignore you. I love how cute you get when you pout.”

He can’t help but blush a little and he softens. You have a way with that boy, and he with you. Surprisingly, you are very close friends. 

You turn and nod in acknowledgment to the other two, “Rosier, Junior. How’s it going?”

“Better once I’m high” Barty answers. He turns to his friends, “what do you want?”

They tell him and he stalks over, giving Amos a glare while he’s at it. 

“Always the delight he is,” Amelia teases. Her eyes are a little heavy, telling me the pen is already working. 

“So, Black? What brooding have you been up to recently?” Emmeline jokes.

You swat her arm and can’t help but giggle, maybe a little too hard. “Be nice.”

“Oh you know, just planning your demise” he answers with a smirk. 

“I’m the subject of your brooding?” Emmy fake swoons, “I feel honored.” 

You laugh again and hug Regulus around the neck, “am I ever the subject of your broodings?”

He looks at you with a small smile, “course. I think about killing you once a week.”

You gasp in fake offense and stick out your tongue. Barty, who’s back with the weed, hands Regulus a blunt. He takes it between his fingers and inhales. Then he looks at you and rolls his eyes again. 

*****

James Potter is usually good at keeping promises. However, he’s even better at making mischief. So despite his promise to you to not come to the party, he finds himself a little while later outside the Hufflepuff dorms, albeit hidden under the invisibility cloak. From outside, the hallway is quiet. Any passerby would be oblivious to the party going on within- must be a silencing charm. Unsure how to get into the common room, realizing you hadn’t told him before, he waits outside for someone to, unknowingly, open it for him. He, luckily, doesn’t have to wait long, as two unsuspecting Slytherins stroll past him and up to the barrels sitting outside. In quick succession one pulls out their wand and quickly taps it across the barrels. The brown barrels jump apart, revealing a door. As the two walk in, James closely follows behind, assuring he doesn’t remain locked out. 

Though you briefly explained the parties to James, his imagination far underestimated the reality. When you said all three houses went to these parties, you weren’t kidding. The place was packed, with every 4th year up from all three houses lounging around the badger den. The room was thick with smoke and reeked of marijuana. Students were everywhere, standing, lounging, laughing, eating, and even sleeping. Music played in the background, but no one was dancing, seemingly too high to really notice it. He scanned the room and found you in the thick of it all, seated on the carpet by the fireplace. You were with your dorm mates, Emmeline Vance, Amelia Bones, and Trinity Taylor, and also a few Slytherins. He recognized them all actually, one being Sirius’ little brother, who he knew you were actually good friends with. Also Rosier and Crouch, who he wasn’t as fond of, and Pandora, the one Ravenclaw he sorta knew. 

Still hidden under his cloak, he weaves through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone, afraid of getting caught. He throws himself into a corner by the fireplace, listening in on your conversation. 

“But Reggie, you’d look so cute with dyed hair!”

The Black boy scoffs at you, “yeah right. What should I go for, bright pink?!”

Your eyes light up as you giggle, “yes! And I’d start calling you baby…. pink? Instead of baby black, cuz you know-“ you giggle again, “your hair would be pink!”

Your words sort of slur together, not that you realize it, and so Regulus only nods, himself also struggling to comprehend what’s happening. 

“Wait, I think I have some dye, let me go get it!”

“Wait-“ Regulus calls out but you’ve already gotten up. 

James’ heart jumps as you come closer to him, weaving through the crowd on the carpet…

*****

As you stumble towards the stairs of your dorm you freeze. You could’ve sworn you smelt... James’ cologne…..

You shift backwards a little and sniff again. Sure enough, his fancy cologne, one you love but always tease him about, permeates the air. Either you’re really high or….

You suddenly fling your hand outwards to the left. Though there is nothing next to you, you make hard contact with something in the air, and hear a small “oof” from next to you. 

A chill runs down your spine and out of the corner of your mouth you mumble, “James. My. Room. Now.”

You don’t bother to hear an answer, knowing he’ll follow you like a lost puppy. 

When you’re in your room you shut the door firmly behind you and whip around “James- what the hell.”

Your boyfriend appears before you, taking off the invisibility cloak sheepishly. “Hey, baby.”

“Don’t fucking hey baby me. What are you doing here?” You slur together. 

“Uh, missed you?” He says hesitantly. 

Your nose flares and you stalk towards him. “You. Fucking. Missed. Me?!” Each word is punctuated with a smack to his chest.

You don’t realize in your unsober state how hard you’re hitting him or how loud you’re talking. He tries to minimize his flinches as he grabs your hands and holds them together. 

“Love I-“

“What? Wanted to risk me getting shunned?! Jamie I asked you not to come! I trusted you!!”

“I know lovie. I’m sorry, I just got jealous… and curious. It’s no excuse I know but…”

You huff and throw your head in your hands. It’s spinning for more than one reason, and the weed keeps you from thinking clearly. 

“We’ll talk later. You, just stay here with your cloak, yeah?”

He sighs and nods.

His sad puppy dog eyes get to you and you soften a little, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. 

You then walk towards the door and open it, only to find the whole of Hufflepuff standing outside your door, staring in shock. 

“You, you broke tradition!” Amos Diggory yells, pointing at James. 

“I- well- shit” you mutter. 

“This is like, breaking the law,” another Hufflepuff argues. 

You feel tears prick at your eyes, “I’m sorry guys I- uh.”

“Wait,” your boyfriend says. 

Everyone goes quiet. 

“It’s not their fault, honest.”

No one seems to believe him. 

“Look, I got suspicious of what they’re up to, so I followed them, with my invisibility cloak on. Swear!” He even holds up the cloak, demonstrating its invisibility. 

Everyone gasps, “no way, that’s fucking sick.”

“Please don’t punish them because I’m stupid and nosy! Please!” He pleads. 

Diggory turns to the head prefects of the other two houses and quietly confer. After a few minutes of quiet whispers, Diggory turns back. 

“Fine, fine, you’re off the hook,” he says to you. 

“And as to you Potter, well, I guess you’re officially inducted into our little secret now. We can’t have you going around spilling. And I swear, if you tell any one of your little Gryffindor friends, all three houses will rain hell. Understood?”

Even you turn to James and raise your eyebrows. He really does feel a little threatened and nods. “Uh, yeah. Course.”

Diggory claps his hands together, “great! Well then, get Potter some weed.”

As everyone files out, James turns and looks at you nervously. 

“Well?”

“You heard the man, let’s go get you some weed.”

“Okay, just- wait.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you flush into his chest. 

He kisses you deeply, “love you, baby.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

[patrophthia]

Hey beeeeeeee!!!

Decided to join the 1k followers eventtt!! Oh and congrats on 1k!!

Can I request a Theodore Nott x fem!reader fic based on the prompt "but... I thought you loved me" fluff pls

Sorry if it's super vague xx Thank youuu!!

ps: happy endinggg

Love you and your work 😍

HI BABES!!!! thank you for sending this end and im sorry it took so long ive been a bit busy with school work!! but here it is!!

thought you loved me | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, just crack/humor, chaotic reader!

part of my 1k followers event !

You're weird. Not in a way where you'd randomly stand up on a table and scream weird. But more like convincing people that you were your boyfriend and him you weird. Like asking Theodore if he'd like to drink Polyjuice portions and switch bodies with you for a day just for the shit and giggles weird. 

He thought he knew what he signed up for when he started dating you but it seemed like you find new ways to surprise him everyday. 

The two of you are standing in the middle of a shop, looking over all the ingredients one would need for the Polyjuice with a hovering hand over each container. "Why not?" 

"Because it's ridiculous," he says easily. "Not to mention the potion is extremely time consuming to brew." 

"If you're worried about that then I'd do all the work," you tell him, "just give me a hair then spend the day with me as me!" 

He tries to be stern. "Baby," he says first, trying to soften the blow; Theodore wasn't the biggest on pet names only ever using it to convince you to not do something stupid. "No." 

"No?" You repeated after him. "But I thought you loved me?" 

You're evil. You're weird and evil. For you to play with his heart knowing full well he'd give in to because of such simple words is just plain evil. "I do love you, just not enough to let you freely walk in my body."

Your brows furrows, you absentmindedly handing over a basket of ingredients into Theodore hands. "Why not?"

"Cause I know you." He takes it without a word. "You'd probably sign me up for something time consuming and I'd have to spend the rest of year with it." 

Okay. Fair point. If given the chance you'd probably —definitely— do something like that if you'd found it funny enough to do. "Okay," you sigh, feigning upset. "If you didn't love me just say that." 

"Babyyy." Theodore whines. He actually whines. Because he's so love with you and he knows that once you've set your mind on something, you were going to get it no matter what you had to do. "I love you, I just don't want to be you." 

"Oh so now you hate me too?" You scoff, biting back a laugh when Theodore shuts his eyes at your words. "I see how it is." 

He opens one eye back up, peeking at you. Your eyes meet, the corner of his lips curving upwards as did yours. "Fine," he says finally, "I'll drink your stupid potion." 

You don't have enough time to celebrate when he adds: "but I'm brewing the thing myself. I love you but I'd rather not die because you brewed it improperly." 

And seeing that Theodore was the top of the class in potions, who were you to disagree with your very intelligent boyfriend?

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (part 15)

Thank you @i---believe---in---pink for commissioning this chapter.

(2515 words)

tw: afab reader, infantilization, nonconsensual touches from Cyprus, butchered Spanish,

Masterlists (+commission info), part 1, part 16

She grinned, and so did her son; he was happy to see the beginning of a bond forming with his mother and the woman he planned to wed.

"I should start preparing dinner. Excuse me." His mother walked past you and Cyprus to get to the kitchenette.

Whereas Cyprus went on to usher you to the couches. A large hand guided you by the shoulders to sit on the cushion, it was so soft, that you sunk into it much to your surprise. He then left the living room without a word, entering a doorway that you assume leads to his mother's bedroom.

You looked over at her, she was gathering all the ingredients needed for tonight's meal. It appears beans, tortillas and some fresh vegetables Cyprus bought are on the menu later. She paid you no mind as she brought her crockeries and food processor onto the clean counter.

He returned with two pillows tucked under his arm as he held a folded, pink blanket. Cyprus fluffed your pillow before setting it near the armrest, "Acuéstate." He instructed.

You stared at him, vaguely knowing what he wanted you to do. But you wondered if he had forgotten to switch back to English with you.

"Lay down, that's what it meant." He clarified after a few more seconds of staring. You asked why he didn't just tell you to do that in English.

"I want you to learn my language, mi amor." He tucked you under the blanket, gently stuffing your arms with the other pillow. "I'm sure you knew what I just called you." Your boyfriend smiled, ruffling your hair affectionately.

You grimaced when he kissed you on the cheek with a very audible smooch, he was obviously teasing you, loving how your face would heat up like an inferno out of embarrassment. His mother doesn't seem to mind this public display of affection, though. It's almost as if she's encouraging it.

"Get some rest, I'll be helping my mom out." Cyprus took a long sniff of your hair, greedily inhaling your scent. He reluctantly pried himself away from you in the end.

You asked if you could watch TV, at least. He shook his head. "No, you should take a nap; dormir."

You said that you're fine. It's not like that could kill you.

Cyprus merely rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath in Spanish. You bet it's something about how stubborn you are.

The rest of the afternoon rolled by peacefully, with the mother and son duo chatting away in a language other than what you're used to. The soft clanking of utensils, the bubbling of broth, and the occasional sizzling all served as white noise to you. It felt homely despite your circumstances, it felt cozy. Comfortable enough to let your eyelids droop heavily, to let your mind drift to slumberland.

-

"Mija." His mother's soft voice gradually became clearer as you regained consciousness from your afternoon nap. You groan and rub your eyes, only to have her gently pull your wrists away from you. Cyprus must have told her to stop you from doing that. You couldn't believe that her apartment was comfortable enough for you to fall into a deep sleep.

You greeted her and looked around. All you saw was his mother crouching to the level of her sofa. You then asked where Cyprus is.

"I told him to get me something from the store nearby." Her voice was hushed as if she was trying not to alert her presence. But her smile said otherwise.

You asked her what time it was.

"it's five o'clock, my son will be back in half an hour." She stood up and sat next to you. There was an awkward silence between you and her as you sat up as well, what is there to say? You avoided eye contact with her too, but you heard the rustling of plastic. So you looked at what she's doing.

You didn't notice that she was holding your medication, she was unscrewing the cap of your eyedrops and placing it on a sheet of facial tissue.

"Look up, Mijo." Her hands, there was obvious aging but it's still quite supple and soft. She tried to grab the side of your face so she could apply the drops. However, unnerved by this, you declined and said you could do it yourself. She appeared surprised, but unlike her son, she gave you the bottle without complaint.

Just like a regular, adept adult, you pulled your lower eyelid down and placed a few drops in. You did so efficiently and quickly, clearly not needing anyone to do this for you.

So you asked her what Cyprus had said regarding this. His mother folded her hands on her lap.

"He told me you may need some help."

You replied that you never did, Cyprus is the one insisting that he treats you like a helpless invalid. She nodded sympathetically and stayed silent, you took that as a cue to continue talking. This could be a good time to spill everything about Cyprus, all his horrible behaviors, how he's actually trapping you in this relationship. You hoped that his mother could help you out, she seemed sane enough. But you could never be too sure, so you chose your words carefully to test the waters.

She listened to your rant quietly, all her attention was on you and it seems like she expressed nothing but sympathy for you. Did she expect this from Cyprus? Perhaps she could help you pry him off your case.

You were a bit animated in your talking, feeling the emotions and upset that he had put you through. It was hard to control, but you managed for the sake of winning her favor. You ended the vent without a verbal conclusion or a request for her view on this, you simply stared at her as you waited for a response.

She sighed. "Ah, I..." His mother looked away, almost guiltily. It formed a pit of dread in your stomach, thinking that she wasn't going to be on your side.

She took your hands into hers, enveloping it firmly as she prepared to say her piece. Her piercing grey eyes looked into yours as she parted her lips to speak.

"Mija, I have never seen my son this happy." She began, gulping and darting her eyes all over your face. It appears as if she is finding it hard to express her thoughts. "Cyprus had a bad childhood, his father left us when he was very young. Me and my eldest daughter tried our best to raise him, but I knew it wasn't good enough."

The corners of your mouth is threatening to tug into a deep frown.

"My son is not a bad man. Sometimes he is rude, sometimes he cannot control his anger, but he is not a bad man." Her grip on your hands became tighter, desperate, even.

"He will take care of you, I know he will. I can see that you are his light, and I know you are good for my son." She paused for a moment, maintaining a doleful look. "Please, Mija. You must understand, as a mother, I want nothing but to see my son living the life he deserves. I want to see him happy- Cyprus is a good man, I know he is nothing like his father. He will take care of you, Mija."

You think that she's starting to sound like a broken record, repeating the same handful of words as she tries to convince you to stay with Cyprus.

You told her that you're just one of his temporary girlfriends, and you don't think this relationship will last. You just want to get out sooner and you're sure Cyprus will be fine.

She shook her head. "No, you are very different from the other women Cyprus knew. You are a very nice girl, very respectful and kind. Please stay with him, you are good for my son." It was getting harder and harder to look at her pleading face.

You pulled your hands away from hers, feeling uncomfortable at her desperation. You gave up trying to reason with her, she isn't going to help you at all. If anything, you think she will just make your life miserable.

You ended the conversation by telling her you would think about it. But it looks like she isn't done, as she stays in place and stares at you, prompting you to talk again.

You asked her if Cyprus usually heed her warnings or advice.

"My son has a very... strong personality. Sometimes stubborn, but his heart is big. You are very important to him, Cyprus will listen to you if you can talk to him properly." You noted how she avoided answering the question.

You asked her what she meant by 'properly'. It appeared to catch her off guard, as she stammered a bit before formulating a response.

"Ah... don't shout at him, don't say bad things--"

You cut her off and asked her again, if Cyprus listens to her.

She sighed in defeat, "No. It is very difficult for me or his sister to talk to him."

Having his mother change his behavior is out of the question.

"But he will listen to you!" She grabbed you by the arm, her neatly manicured fingers sinking into your flesh. "His eyes are full of love when he looks at you, I know he will do anything to make you happy."

You doubt his mother's beliefs. But you didn't verbally express it, your opinion may have shown itself on your face, though.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but the jiggling of the doorknob stole her attention away, She immediately released your limb and folded her hands on her lap. Surely enough, the front door unlocked and swung open to reveal Cyprus with a case of beer cans in one arm and a brown paper bag in the other.

He grinned widely when his grey eyes landed on you. "Had a good nap, princess?" Cyprus made his way to the living area, placing his items on the coffee table in front of you, as he was itching to hold you again. His mother stood up and went ahead to lock the door behind him. She then brought the items elsewhere, to give you and him some privacy.

He sat next to you and forcefully pulled you into his lap despite your protests and thrashing, he wore his glasses on the top of his head so it wouldn't get in the way. Cyprus then silenced you by peppering kisses all over your face, you couldn't turn your head away either as his lips would assault your neck. His arms caged you in, so there was no escape from his affections. No amount of whining would stop him from laughing and teasing you with such sensual yet strong touches.

"Bésame." He mumbled. You repeated the word quizzingly. And that was met with another barrage of kisses. Spluttering, you managed to push his head away from you.

You demanded to know what that word was.

"You have to be more specific, Mi Princesa." He pinched you on the cheek. To which, you swatted his hand away.

You said the word "Bésame", you wanted to know what that meant. Only to have him pull you into a deep kiss on the lips. The tips of your ears are getting warm as you realize that Cyprus is doing all these embarrassing displays in his mother's home, probably right in front of his mother too. Has he no shame? He must derive some pleasure from humiliating you like this.

Eventually, he lets you go, allowing you to finally fill your lungs with air again. He chuckled and kissed your forehead, cuddling you like a beloved stuffed bear. "What do you think it meant, baby?"

You said you don't know, and you would appreciate it greatly if he would just be direct. It made him playfully roll his eyes at you. "You're boring. It meant "kiss me"."

You told him that you're not using that word ever.

"What word?" A smirk plastered itself on his handsome face.

You clarified which word you meant: Bésame, but you realized you fell into his trap and braced for a kiss that inevitably came. This time, it's much calmer and quieter. His eyes were fully closed in bliss with his long, fluttery eyelashes tickling your skin. His soft, plush lips molded perfectly with yours.

You whacked him on the chest with your fists, he wouldn't let you go until he thought you were about to pass out from oxygen deprivation.

He laughed heartily when he saw you catching your breath. "Eres tan tierno..." Cyprus cooed, caressing the side of your face and brushing stray strands away. "Do you know what that means?" You lied and said yes so he would stop bothering you further.

"Did mom give you eye drops?" He asked. You nodded as you allowed him to examine your eyes.

"You're getting better-" He was interrupted by a knock on the door. The room became deathly silent as he froze, unblinkingly waiting for further response. Eventually, another knock came, this time it was louder than the last. His mother left her hiding place too, confused as to what or who might be outside her door. The mother and son knew that this wasn't necessarily a safe area.

"¿Esperas invitados esta noche, mamá?" He asked his mother. She shook her head.

He merely shrugged and went back to doting on you, ignoring the incessant knocking while his mother looked increasingly worried. You asked if he should handle it.

"Later." He nonchalantly replied, he shared a look with his mother, who told him something in Spanish. "Dinner should be ready in a few minutes, go freshen up." Cyprus urged you in the direction of the bathroom, you could tell that he was actually trying to hide you from whatever confrontation was about to occur.

Regardless, you went into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, pretended to use the facilities by turning the tap on, and let the crisp, cold water run. Thinking it's somewhat wasteful, you decided to use it to wash your face.

A few minutes later, you heard the door opening and the knocking stopped. You picked up on hushed talking that escalated to unintelligible yelling from the stranger. You're sure that they're all speaking in English, but the door and walls are surprisingly thick enough to absorb most of the noises. It sounded like a mess that you would rather not get into, and you don't think that you can handle any more social interaction for the day. If it wasn't for Cyprus, you wouldn't have left your room at all today.

However, you were curious and whatever lies behind the door is killing you. Maybe... Cyprus could protect you if there is danger?

You scratched the back of your head and stared at yourself in the mirror.

[mncxbe]

Taking a bath with them♡ part 2

𝑱ō𝒏𝒐, 𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒂, 𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐, 𝑷𝒐𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Genre: fluff/ slight nsfw

I saw that y'all really liked the first one so here's part 2 of this little series♡

𝑱ō𝒏𝒐

I feel like Jōno prefers not to take baths because hot water is a sensory overload for him; like his skin feels weird

but he will do it for you if you ask nicely

he knows that it's something important to you so he'll make the experience as enjoyable as possible

he's kinda chill and doesn't move around too much

prefers to have you pressed against his chest so he can run his fingers through your hair

Jōno heard the splashing sound of water accumulating in the tub long before he stepped foot in your apartment. He had a vague idea of what your plans for tonight were, but he decided not to spoil your surprise.

"Hey there darling" you beamed "How was work?"

"Quite alright my dear. Nothing special."

You made your way to your boyfriend, arms snaking around his neck as you planted a kiss on his cheek. "How about we do something special tonight?" you asked.

Jono didn't miss the hint of mischief in your voice nor the sudden shift of your heartbeat. "Like what, taking a bath together?". He didn't need to see you (lol sorry) to know that your lips were now pushed forward in an adorable pout.

"You're so done I swear~ but yes, I was planning for us to take a bath"

Your boyfriend considered your proposal for a second before nodding. "Alright, but I can't stay for too long, you know that."

"Yes, yes don't worry" you said reassuringly, flashing him a smile. "Now go get ready I'll make us a cup of tea. Or would you prefer wine?"

"No, tea is fine"

"Ok, be right back". With that you tiptoed to the kitched. Jono took off his uniform and headed to the bathroom; the moment he entered the room a wave of heat made his skin prickle. He wasn't a big fan of bathing since the steam and hot water made his skin feel strange, but then again, what wouldn't he do for his lovely girlfriend.

He carefully sank in the tub, taking a few seconds to adjust to its temperature.

"Is the water hot enough?" you asked as you stepped in the bathroom carrying two cups of tea, its herbal, slightly woody scent filling his lungs.

"Yes, it's quite alright." He motioned you to join him and you quickly placed the cups on the tiled floor before sinking in the water.

You made yourself comfortable in his embrace, nestling your head on his chest as one of his arms wrapped around your frame. The first few minutes in the bath were spent in silence, the two of you simply enjoying each other's presence, but soon you became aware of his body pressed against yours, his hands caressing your plump skin. A light, rosy blush tinted your cheeks and your heart skipped a beat.

Of course, Jono noticed the slight change in your body temperature and heart rhythm. A low chuckle escaped his lips.

"Oh my, you alright darling?" he teased, his lips lightly touching the shell of your ear.

"Of course. It's just very hot in here" you shrugged playfully. His fingers ghosted over your thighs, causing you to squeeze them together.

"I can tell when you lie to me, dear. Your breath hitches. Plus, based on your reaction I~"

"Shh ok I got it" you laughed, covering his mouth with your hand. "You're right. You made me a bit nervous."

Jono gently removed your hand, a warm smile stretching his lips. He pulled you closer and kissed your temple, a sign of his unshakeable love for you.

"You make my heart beat faster too, my love" he whispered before letting his head fall back, the smell of honeyed tea easing his senses.

𝒀𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒐

she's a big fan of flower petals in the tub

skincare queen

most of the times she's the one who initiates the baths

she always has a glass of some alcoholic beverage nearby

you know y'all gossip; she wants to know all the juicy details of your day

uses baths as a form of aftercare or simply to relax

"Girl I swear to god." you half screamed as you entered your flat, slamming the door shut. "You won't believe what happened today."

Yosano, who was sharpening the knives in the kitchen, abandoned the steel cutters and made her way to the hallway with a grin on her face.

"Was it that colleague of yours again?"

"You know it! He's so annoying I cannot even".

Your girlfriend smiled understandingly and opened her arms. Dragging your feet on the carpet, you closed the distance between you and pulled her into a tight hug.

"There, there" she said, caressing your head. "How about we take a bath together, hm? I'll go get it ready while you eat something. We have some gyoza and rice in the fridge."

You quickled pecked her cheek and tiptoed to the kitchen."Thanks dear. I'll be right there"

While your girfriend was getting the bath ready you niddbled the pork dumplings; when you finished eating you grabbed two glasses and a bottle of wine from the storage room and made your way to the bathroom. Yosano was already there.

"You surely took your time, dear." she teased, her crimson eyes darting around your features.

"Oh shush. I got us wine" you said as you began pouring the merlot liquid in the two glasses. After that you discarded your clothes on the ground next to Yosano's butterfly clip and joined her in the tub. Drink in hand, you began rambling on.

"As I was saying, that guy is insufferable. He's mad that I was the one who got the promotion and now he's acting all petty. I mean, what even! Today he put salt in my coffee"

Yosano laughed at your words "No way he did that"

"I'm telling you he did" you whined, taking a sip of wine. "What I'm more mad about is that he took credit for one of my ideas and got all the praise."

You were visibly irritated, eyes glimmering with anger. "It's so unfair"

Yosano leaned in and cupped your cheek, her thumb gently tracing over your lower lip. "My pretty girl, don't worry about that asshole."

Her words were tender, but they carried a certain venom. "Plus, if he keeps bothering you I'll deal with him"

A small chuckle escaped your lips "Oh don't bother. He's not worth our time"

Yosano's gaze moved to your lips for a brief second and you took the hint. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on her lips when you kissed and you closed your eyes, allowing the stress to dissipate.

"Well now, dear." your girlfriend said in a honeyed voice as she pulled away "How about we go to bed now? I'll help you relax"

"That doesn't sound bad at all" you cooed, beaming with anticipation.

You both finished your routine for the night and hid beneath the silky sheets, in a world of your own. It's safe to say that you were in for a long night.

𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒂

his face turns a pretty shade of pink when he hears your proposal

at first he tries to protest, claiming that it wouldn't align with his ideals but he can barely hide his excitement

this man has a fern next to his tub idc

Kunikida tries his best to make this experience most enjoyable for you: he asks you in advance if you prefer bubbles, bath bombs or just plain water, what temperature would be best for you, he massages your back and brings little snacks for the two of you

at first he won't let you wash his hair but after a few times he accepts

"Come on dear just this once" you desperately pleaded.

"I said no, Y/N."

"But it's for my birthday"

This little argument between you and your boyfriend started a few days ago when he asked you what you'd like for your anniversary.

"Well" you said coyly, twirling a strand of your coffee-coloured hair around your index finger "I'd like a romantic bath with you. With candles and all that."

The tips of Kunikida's ears turned red at your proposal "But darling, this is... it's against my ideals"

"I know but that's the only thing I want. If you accept I promise I won't try anything" you replied with a smirk.

You've been dating Kunikida for around two to three months now and although you were sleeping in the same bed you never actually saw eachother naked. Your boyfriend had a detailed plan of how the relationship was going to evolve and you didn't really minded it. Of course, you sometimes teased him or tried to push his limits a bit but nothing too extreme, so your proposal came as a surprise to him.

The evening before your birthday he finally agreed to take a bath with you and you spent the whole night answering his questions: what scented candles did you prefer? or did you like the regular ones better?, what snacks and drinks should he bring?

The next evening when you came home from work the whole apartment smelled like vanilla. You walked into the kitchen where you found your boyfriend pouring your favourite white wine in a glass.

"Ah there you are, my dear. Go get yourself ready for the bath, I'll join you in a minute" he said, motioning you to enter the bathroom.

You quickly took off your makeup and undressed, placing the folded clothes next to the sink and got in the tub. The water temperature was perfect, coils of vanilla scented steam hovering above its surface. You gazed around the bathroom, admiring your boyfriend's work; he had decorated the room to your liking: a few tall, beige candles were placed on the windowsill and the floor was adorned with red rose petals. The window had a view over the town and was slightly foggy so the lights of the city appeared elongated and haloed.

Just then, Kunukida entered the bathroom carrying a plate of nuts and cheese and your glass of wine. He gently placed them on the table next to the tub, where his pet fern resided, before joining you.

"Is everything to your liking, my dear?" he asked anxiously.

"Of course! It's perfect I love it so much. Thank you" you beamed, reaching for a piece of camembert. You placed it in your mouth and chewed slowly, savouring its tangy flavour.

Your boyfriend relaxed a little when he saw how thrilled you were and he took a sip of wine.

You talked about your day and the gifts you received from colleagues at work and when you eventually finished eating, you shifted, moving closer to him. The tub was large enough to comfortably fit both of you, but you wanted to be closer to him.

He let you lay your head on his chest, face turned to face the window and you wrapped your arms around him.

"I'm so happy Kunikida thank you" you whispered, placing a soft kiss on his jaw. This made your boyfriend tense a little; you were so close and your body so warm. He really tried his best to avoid looking at your curves but his gaze kept lingering on them. Naturally, you noticed the change in his demeanour and decided to take advantage of the situation.

Your hand slid up his thigh as you began leaving fleeting kisses along his neck. "Tell me, love. How could I possibly repay you?" you purred, your voice laced with honey. Your other hand was placed on his chest right abover his heart so you could feel the sudden change in rhythm.

Your lips curled in a smirk, ghosting over his. "Do I make you nervous, darling?"

Kunikida swiftly seized your wrists and pushed you away from him. For a good couple of seconds he refused to look at you, opting to gaze out of the window.

'Oh no, I fucked up' you said to yourself, trying to set your hands free. "I'm sorry honey I didn't mean to~"

You were suddenly silenced by your boyfriend's lips pressed against yours; his nails grazing the skin of your neck as his fingers entangled in your hair. The kiss was passionate and rough but didn't last long and when he pulled away you could see the desire burning in his eyes. You held his gaze for a while, trying to catch your breath. Neither of you said anything in this time and the tension was growing by the second.

"Do you want to move this to the bedroom?" you finally asked.

He eagerly nodded and got out of the tub, picking you up with ease; you shrieked, arms snaking around his neck to help find your balance. He placed you on top of the soft mattress and leaned in, lips hovering over yours.

"Happy birthday darling" was all he said before kissing your lips again.

𝑷𝒐𝒆

remember when I said that Kunikida would blush? he blushes ten times harder.

"Uh I mean, yes... I mean if you want to. I'd like that"

just don't tease him, he'll blush so much

loves to update you on his latest novels and he'll surely recite you poems if you ask him

this man adores candles; I feel like he'd have some black ones for the vibes

mentiones Ranpo at least one time

"Edgar my dear can you come here for a second?"

Your words sounded more like an order than a request, which made your boyfriend tense in anticipation. You had gone on a business trip for a few days and returned to Yokohama only about an hour ago, time that you spent unpacking your luggage. During this time Poe worked on his latest novel. He was so absorbed in his writing that he didn't even notice you propped against the doorframe. Your words however snapped him out of his trance.

"Yes my love. What is it?" he spoke shily.

Your eyes narrowed as you scanned his body "When was the last time you took a shower? Or had a proper meal?"

Your question took his by surprise and he fumbled for words. "Well uh I mean... maybe it was yesterday or?"

"Darling, you can't keep doing this to yourself. Every time I'm away you neglect yourself and it's really unhealthy". As you spoke your lips formed a tight line but your gaze was still soft. "Come on, let's take a bath together. I need a shower too."

Poe blushed. He'd never blushed so hard in his entire life; he felt like his whole body was on fire. But he knew he wasn't in any position to refuse you so he simply nodded.

"Good." you chimed "I'll go get the bath ready."

Twenty minutes later you were both submerged; the shifting flames of the tall black candles made the tiny bubbles of soap shimmer in technicolour. You were leaning against your boyfriend's chest and could feel his rapid heartbeat. He was silent and his muscles were so tense that not even your gentle touch was able to ease them.

"Would you like to tell me about your most recent work?" you eventually asked "I'd love to hear about it"

"Of course. Y/N I'm telling you this will sure be a challenge for Ranpo. It's about this man who [...]"

Poe started telling you all the details of his novel. His passion has always been something you admired so much so that you couldn't contain your smile when you heard him talk. Once again, your heart was swelling with love and care for the man in front of you.

"I love you, Edgar" you suddenly blurted out.

He immediately fell silent and you spun to face him. Cupping his cheeks with your soapy hands you pulled him into a tender kiss.

All this time Poe was a blushing mess. His hands sqeezed the plush of your hips as he tried to ground himself.

When you eventually pulled away with a loving smile on your face, he rested his forehead against yours.

"I love you too, my little raven" he hummed softly.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Can I request something with Jake as the reader is nervous, and she says 'let's talk' and Jake thinks she is breaking up with the system, but she tells him that she's pregnant. Happy ending though pls 😇

~Everything Changes~

Pairing: Moonknight trio (Jake focus) x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: anxieties and brief mentions of childhood traumas

Genre: fluffy af and just a little angst

Summary: You have news for your boyfriends that you do not know how they'll take and your anxieties cause some for them

A/N: This was actually SUCH a cute ask thank you for requesting it I fell in love with the concept immediately, hope you enjoy the result <3

***

You sigh to yourself as you dig through your bag for the keys to your apartment. Like always you shout into the apartment once you open the door.

"I'm back darling are y'all home yet?" You ask, flicking on the main light in the living room. The apartment's too quiet for your boyfriends to be back. It looks like you beat the boys home. That's fine, better even, gives you time to sort out the best way to break the news to them. You honestly have no idea how this conversation is going to go, you've been noticeably distracted thinking about it pretty much all day.

You take a few moments to just sit with yourself in the silence of your empty apartment before putting on some music to get dinner started. Something simple, you know Steven had work today but you can never predict who will actually be fronting by the time they get home. If Donna was particularly horrendous on any given day Jake would take over. If something Khonshu related happened usually Marc would be the one shuffling into your shared home. You wonder how that's going to play into it now that things are about to change so drastically. You're not quite done when the door to the apartment clicks open.

"Hi lovelies." You shoot over your shoulder.

"You're home already?" Jake greets you once the door's open.

"Yeah, but I've not been home long."

"Dinner smells great mi vida." Jake kisses your cheek.

"Thank you, darling. I've made pasta and chicken. I know you're not particularly fond of vegan dishes." You say.

"Well I like yours cariño, your food doesn't taste awful and bland like what I've mostly seen of vegan food."

"Well I appreciate that sentiment I suppose, but I know you still prefer nonvegan." You chuckle.

"That's true, yes, but I'll probably have both anyway." Jake shrugs.

"Was work particularly bad for Steven today?"

"No actually, that horrid Donna woman was out sick, but I missed you. Steven was with you this morning and Marc was out most of last night. Only fair I get some quality time of my own. We agreed."

"You boys are so silly." You laugh.

"Steven wants you to know it's only you that makes us act that way."

"How cute." You muse.

"Yeah he's quite the sweet talker. How was your day?"

"It was fine, I worked through most of the morning and then I had some errands to run." You shrug.

"What sort of errands?"

"A little of this a little of that, some shopping, some dropping off of things, meeting people." You say vaguely. "Dinner's about done, can you grab some plates and forks?"

"Of course." Jake joins you in the kitchen getting plates and utensils while you turn off the oven and the stove. You pull the chicken out of the oven and Jake grabs one and drops it on his plate before you've even put the tray down.

"It's hot Jake be careful!" You warn him as you spoon pasta onto your own plate.

"No worries muñequita, I'll be fine." Jake winks.

"You all always eat like you haven't had any food all day." You shake your head taking a seat on the couch. Jake scoops pasta onto his plate and joins you as you pick something to watch.

"Your food is too good to not." He says. You roll your eyes at him but you don't bother to respond as you start eating. Both of you are pretty quiet through dinner, mostly discussing the show you've chosen to watch through dinner. You still have to talk to them but the words keep getting stuck in your throat. You wish you weren't so worried but this could easily go very wrong. When Jake finishes his meal he stands and kisses your cheek.

"I'll take care of the dishes and then I'm going to hop in the shower." Jake tells you, taking your empty plate from the table.

"Alright." You nod. Okay y/n suck it up, you can't put it off forever. "When you're finished darling we, need to talk." You announce before you can talk yourself out of it again.

"That- sounds ominous. Is everything okay? Should I hold off on the dishes?" 

"No no, you can finish up it's not- urgent." You tell him. Jake washes his hands and turns off the sink.

"What's this about cariño?" Jake asks walking over to you as he dries his hands.

"I have something to tell you- but I'm not sure how you'll react to it." You tell him when he sits beside you.

"You're breaking up with us, aren't you? We should've known this would happen eventually. I warned them you'd grow tired of us. We've exhausted our good fortune I guess- it was only a matter of time before you realized we didn't deserve-"

"Enough. Jake!" You blink at him utterly stunned by his line of thinking.

"You don't have to-"

"Whatever you're about to say, stop because I'm not breaking up with you and I cannot believe you think I'd grow tired of you. How could you sit here and say you don't deserve me or what we have or- Jake, I love you, all of you, with everything that I am. I can't believe that you still doubt that." You shake your head.

"Y/n no one has ever stuck around. Steven is idealistic and Marc is hopeful, if the other shoe drops one of us has to be able to hold it together for all of us I can't-"

"Jake. There is no other shoe to drop. I am not breaking up with you. I'm not tired of you or giving up on us, I don't think you undeserving of the love I have for you. Other people not loving you is not your fault." You tell him gently, grabbing his face in your hands.

"I do want to believe you but it's not easy to unlearn years of trauma plus what else could you possibly have to tell us that you think we'll take poorly?"

"Jake I'm pregnant." You say. Jake's eyes snap up to yours, wide with shock but you can't pinpoint the secondary emotion swirling in them.

"What?" His voice is barely a whisper.

"I'm pregnant. I was at the doctor today about it, we- could have a baby." You say gently, placing a hand on your stomach. You're only a couple of months along so, if they really were against the idea, terminating the pregnancy is still an option but you're not sure you could go through that and be okay after.

"We're going to be parents?" He asks.

"I know we haven't really talked about kids but-" Jake leaps off the couch before you can finish your thought. As if the news only just clicked in his brain he's suddenly whooping loudly. He even pulls you off of the couch with him.

"We're having a child? You're serious?" He scans your face as he waits for your answer.

"Yeah." You nod.

"You're not leaving." He shakes his head.

"No." You answer even though it was less a question and more a confirmation with himself. He pulls you tightly against his chest with a sigh.

"We're having a child muñequita. A child." He says in disbelief. "Do you think we're ready for this?"

"I don't think anyone is ever ready. But we will all figure it out. Together." You say. Jake makes a sound like a snort and you pull away from his embrace with a questioning glance.

"Steven is scolding me for ever daring to think you'd break up with us." Jake tells you with an eye roll.

"Well he's right about that but save the scolding for later sweetheart. Right now let's just- enjoy the thought of this next phase of our lives." You say leaning into Jake's arms again. You had no reason to worry. You knew they would make wonderful dads and it settled your nerves endlessly to hear the joy in Jake's voice over the news. Everything was going to turn out just fine.

***

[bloomingdayswithyou]

I'll throw a request your way. How about a embarassed Gladion asking his bf to mend his clothes after type null training.

Stitches of Love

Pairing: Gladion x m!reader

Words:

Warnings: maybe a bit ooc, and just cute fluff<3

A/N: so... it's really been a while🧍🏻‍♀️ actually sorry for that :(( hopefully I'm back but I'll post slower than before! At least until I finish with all the requests

Also I was thinking of changing my writing style a bit, so I tried with this one!! Hope it's good enough :)

The Alolan sun was setting, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink. m/n was lounging on the couch in their shared apartment, scrolling through his phone when he heard the familiar sound of the front door opening.

"I'm back," Gladion's voice called out, sounding a bit more hesitant than usual.

m/n looked up, a smile already forming on his face. "Welcome home! How was training with-" His words trailed off as he took in the sight of his boyfriend.

Gladion stood in the doorway, his cheeks flushed a deep red that had nothing to do with the warm Alolan weather. His usual black outfit was in tatters, with several large tears across his jacket and pants. His blonde hair was disheveled, sticking up in even more directions than usual.

"What happened?" m/n asked, jumping to his feet in concern.

Gladion averted his gaze, his blush deepening. "Type: Null got a bit... overenthusiastic during training today."

m/n crossed the room, reaching out to inspect the damage. Gladion flinched slightly but didn't pull away as m/n's fingers grazed the torn fabric of his jacket.

"Are you hurt?" m/n asked, his eyes scanning for any signs of injury.

Gladion shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Type: Null would never actually harm me. It's just..." He gestured vaguely at his tattered clothes, his embarrassment palpable.

m/n couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Well, I'm glad you're okay. But your outfit has definitely seen better days."

Gladion groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. "I know. It's ridiculous. I should be able to control my own Pokémon better than this."

m/n placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. Type: Null is a powerful and unique Pokémon. It's natural for training to be challenging sometimes."

Gladion gave him a small, grateful smile, but m/n could still see the frustration in his green eyes.

"Thanks," Gladion murmured. Then, hesitantly, he added, "I, uh... I was wondering if you could help me with something."

m/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. It wasn't often that Gladion asked for help. "Of course. What do you need?"

Gladion fidgeted with the hem of his torn jacket, avoiding m/n's gaze. "I was hoping... maybe you could help me mend these clothes? I know it's a lot to ask, but I don't really have any other options right now, and I can't exactly go out like this..."

m/n's heart swelled with affection. Gladion, always so independent and proud, was asking for his help. He knew how much it must have cost him to do so.

"I'd be happy to help," m/n said warmly. "Why don't you go take a shower and relax? I'll see what I can do with your clothes."

Relief washed over Gladion's face. "Thank you," he said softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to m/n's cheek before disappearing into the bathroom.

As the sound of running water filled the apartment, m/n gathered his sewing supplies and set to work. The damage was extensive, but not irreparable. He carefully stitched up the tears, his fingers moving deftly as he thought about his boyfriend.

Gladion had come so far since they first met. Back then, he had been closed off, wary of forming any connections. But slowly, patiently, m/n had earned his trust. He had seen the kind, passionate person beneath Gladion's tough exterior. And now, here they were, sharing a life together.

The bathroom door opened, and Gladion emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, falling softly around his face without its usual styling. m/n couldn't help but admire the lean muscles of Gladion's chest and arms, a testament to his dedication to training.

"How's it going?" Gladion asked, peering over (m/n)'s shoulder at his handiwork.

"Almost done," m/n replied, tying off the last stitch. "They won't be perfect, but they should hold up until we can get you some new clothes."

Gladion took the mended outfit, examining m/n's work with a critical eye. "This is... really good," he said, sounding impressed. "Where did you learn to sew like this?"

m/n shrugged, a bit embarrassed by the praise. "Just picked it up here and there. It comes in handy sometimes."

Gladion slipped on the repaired clothes, adjusting them slightly. They fit well, the stitches barely noticeable unless you knew where to look.

"Thank you," he said again, his voice soft and sincere. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

m/n stood up, wrapping his arms around Gladion's waist. "Probably walk around in tattered clothes," he teased gently.

Gladion laughed, a rare, unguarded sound that never failed to make m/n's heart skip a beat. "Probably," he agreed, pulling m/n closer.

m/n leaned into Gladion's embrace, breathing in the clean scent of his shower gel mixed with something that was uniquely Gladion. "You know," he murmured, "you don't have to be embarrassed about asking for help. Not with me."

Gladion was quiet for a moment, his arms tightening around m/n. "I know," he said finally. "It's just... not easy for me. But I'm trying."

m/n pulled back slightly to meet Gladion's gaze, seeing the vulnerability in those green eyes that he rarely allowed anyone to see. "That's all I ask," m/n said, reaching up to brush a strand of damp hair from Gladion's forehead. "I love you, Gladion. All of you – the strong trainer, the dedicated brother, and yes, even the guy who sometimes needs help mending his clothes after a tough training session."

A smile tugged at the corners of Gladion's mouth, soft and genuine. "I love you too," he whispered, leaning in to capture m/n's lips in a tender kiss.

As m/n melted into the kiss, he knew that no matter what challenges came their way – be it difficult Pokémon training or torn clothes – he and Gladion would face them together. And really, that was all that mattered.

.

.

.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ all mine ❞

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. ex!hobie, you cheat on miguel, mentions of fighting, highkey toxic relationship, mentions of sex, hobie being a little shit trying to get you back. you made your decision, thought things were over between you and hobie brown for good. but was your decision really the right one?

wc: 3.3k

You shouldn't be here.

You know you shouldn't be here but you knew he loved this place in all its shitty, humid glory. You knew he'd be here. You couldn't help yourself. Something within the pit of your gut told you to get up and find your way here the moment you saw that post with a caption talking about him stopping by his old haunts before he left the country...leaving you and everything you both once held dear to find a new adventure. Something deep and carnal, something you thought had long died the moment you decided that he was becoming too much; too insatiable, too unpredictable. What you had once loved had become a burden you could no longer handle.

He texted you too. Just seconds after making the most.

'We should catch up.'

So why did you come here? Why did you seek him out?

Maybe you didn't. Maybe you simply wanted to take in this place one last time before he went, revive some long-buried memories you had stored away for your own sanity. Maybe you were seeking closure, the stitches to a wound left fresh and gaping so you could return to your adoring boyfriend at home with a heart that didn't belong to him. He'd play it off like he had it the whole time, place it under his pillow with another man's name carved into the flesh.

It hurt. The way Miguel gave you his all and you couldn't return such affections. He was everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. He was sweet, attentive to your needs, had generally the same core values as you. He was the safe bet, the type who wouldn't make plans last second without a hint of rational thought and just hope that they end well. Maybe you got with Miguel — his overplanning self — to compensate for your ex's utter disregard and borderline carelessness. He was impulsive, just looking for the next high to make him feel alive.

But you had been his partner in crime. He was ready to do it all with you. 

"___, long time no see. How have you been?" The bartender greets her like an old friend. He's an older man, seen all of your shenanigans with your ex. Had to kick the two of you out a couple of times but almost always welcomed the two of you back the next time you came around. It's been a little over a year now. He had seen you two argue more times than he could count on both hands but no fight seemed as permanent as the final one. You'd fight, stop talking for a few days until one of you came back to apologize and the routine act of make-up sex would commence.

You shrugged with a sigh, glancing vaguely around the dimmed bar as if trying to catch sight of something. Everything was just the same. Nothing changed. Your picture was still hanging up behind the bar along with a dozen others. You two were kissing. He held your waist, hands under your shirt as he held you close. Your fingers were splayed across his cheeks as you held his face, a hint of a smile against his lips as he kissed you. You two were drunk off your asses that night, nearly drunk the whole bar, passed out right where you're sitting. The picture of the two of you sleeping with your faces smushed against the bar was right next to the picture of you kissing.

"Oh- I've been fine. Y'know just...living life." You sighed, tracing your finger in imaginary shapes across the splintered wood. "You remember my usual?" You offer a smile and he returns in. "Of course, darlin'. Just give me a moment." His smile was old and worn but warm. "I haven't seen Hobie yet…if you're here for him." He grabs a glass, places a single ice cube inside of it.

You find your shoulders tensing in defense but you don't deny anything. You know he'd see right through your farce. It's no coincidence you decided to take a stroll down memory lane the same night your ex happens to be in town in the very place you knew he was likely to be. But you don't confirm his suspicions. Plausible deniability and all that. Silence befalls you as you watch him mix your cocktail and slide it down the way toward you. All with a little cherry on top.

Hobie used to pluck the cherry by the stem from your drink. He'd hold it to your lips and have you eat the cherry whole. Then he'd kiss you. He'd take the stem from your tongue and tie it against yours. He was always so good with his tongue, tracing hearts across your skin as he made his way down your naval.

You reached into your bag to pull out your card — or rather — the card Miguel had lent you to use. He was sweet like that; gave you his card when you went out. Kissed you softly and told you to have fun when you claim you were going out with friends. He trusted you with unwavering solitude. His confidence in your loyalty and faithfulness was something you didn't deserve.

You know it when a hand comes to drop a bill on the counter before you can take the honors.

"When have I ever let’cha pay for a drink, doll?" His voice sends shivers down your spine. Over a year and it's like you were never separated. Every muscle, even molecule, every atom in your body still gravitated towards him like a magnet. He was the negative to your positive, the moon to your sun. Something just clicked into place and you aren't exactly sure what it is but it makes you feel complete once more. 

He takes a seat stool covered in cracking leather starting to reveal the beige foam padding underneath. He looks different yet exactly as you had left him. His hair was still full and wild and beautiful. The rest was just the same. Same soft, droopy eyes that disappear when he smiles. Lovely, broad nose, and his lips. Oh– his lips were something otherworldly. They looked just as soft as when they last met yours, when they last pulled back to reveal teeth that sank into your skin. Lips that once murmured "I love you" and whispered false promises of the future you've always dreamed of. You and him with a baby, a family of your own. He promised he'd give that to you but you knew better than to trust the sweetened lies that passed by his lips. Hobie wasn't the type so settle in one place, live somewhere quiet and quaint and start a family. 

Hobie stared at you as if you were simply a memory he had reconstructed before his own eyes. A gaze soft and tender yet the lopsided smile displayed across his lips told a different story. He was certainly happy to see you, that some part of you still belonged to him, still sought him out given the chance. "___." He saw the way you flinched, turned away from him so maybe he wouldn't catch the longing in your eyes. You missed him more than you should. You shouldn't be here. "Hobie."

"Oh...don' be so tense, sweetheart." Hobie scoffed with careless dismissal. He reached out, a hand on top of yours to soothe your nerves. "Yer a sight for sore eyes. I's amazing to see ya again." Better to simply let things be. He'd never have hard feelings for you, no matter the bad your fights had gotten. You had left him abruptly, cut your ties to him with brutal efficiency in the heat of the moment. Hobie figured that was the end of it, no use in trying to get a deaf person to hear reason.

"Stephen," Hobie spoke to the bartender. "Beer, please." He slid the bartender his 20 and in passing, caught a glimpse of the card you had tossed out. "Miguel...tha’cha new boyfriend?" You try to search for some semblance of jealousy somewhere in his misty eyes or across his sculpted features but there was none. He just awaited your answer, maybe to figure out what reaction he'd have to that. Funny...he was always the type to assume first and ask questions later.

"Yeah."

"Good for you, dove. Wha’s he like? Are ya happy wit’ ‘im?" There could have very well been jealousy somewhere in the heart of his, residual possessiveness he still hasn't gotten rid of. But maybe there was a part of him that just wanted to be assured that you were okay. As...terribly complicated and sometimes toxic as Hobie and your relationship with him was. Neither of you ever wished ill on each other no mater the circumstance. Even when you left, when you packed your bags and told him to go fuck himself. You never meant the things you said. You both knew it.

Are you happy with Miguel? You felt that you should be. He's everything you wanted on paper, everything that Hobie wasn't. But that's just it, isn't it? He isn't Hobie. He doesn't get that wild look in his eyes when he gets an idea. He doesn't make haphazard plans with no regard for consequences. Hobie lives in the moment. Miguel lives for a future that isn't guaranteed. 

Hobie knows you too well. He sees the way you hesitate with your answer and speaks again. "I just wanna make sure my girl is being well taken care of." You realize that he doesn't give any indication of being jealous because he knows you still belong to him. He's not threatened by Miguel because if you were truly as devoted and loyal to him as you were to Hobie, you wouldn't be here. Wouldn't have even thought of coming.

You sip softly on your drink before the ice can start to melt, snatching up the card from the counter to place it back in your bag. "Because you took such great care of me."

"I took amazin’ care of ya and ya know it." Hobie had his drink in his hand before he knew it. A quick nod to Stephen in appreciation before the man walked away to give them time alone. "I took care of you, dolli." He whispered softly, gripping the bottle neck with his long, slender fingers. "Don't lie."

"You didn't care about anyone but yourself, Hobie."

"Can we not, righ’ now?" He murmured, pressing the rim to his lips to take a sip. "I came back to catch up wit’ ya, not spark another argument. And tha's not true. I care ‘bout’cha more than anyone." You take note to how he says it in the present tense. He cares about you, not cared. 

You sigh, lips pursing against your crytaline glass. "Fine. How has traveling been?" You won't open that can of worms. Problems that went unsolved will remain as such. Maybe it was intentional. Neither of you would be able to find closure and move on if such wounds remained open and untreated. It was intentional on both ends. You weren't ready to let go, even if the pain still remained.

"Incredibly lonely, actually." He admitted, the whisper of a woeful smile crossing the lips you had once adored so much. "Not much fun when you have no one t’share it with." You two had always talked about traveling the world together. Paris, Rome, Tokyo, anywhere your fickle hearts desired.

Sometimes you'd lay awake at night, your head resting upon Miguel's chest, and wonder what life might have been like if you had left with Hobie. Where you might have been and who you might have been if you had simply gone off with him. He had tried to get you to go. Showed up on your doorstep with the keys to his boat and a plan to sail down the English Canal to France, professed his love to you and begged you to come with him. Leave your whole life behind and just start anew like it was just that easy.

Maybe it was that easy.

"Paris was nice but i’ would have been even better with you. So would Barcelona and Rome. 'm going to Berlin next. Leaving early tomorrow. ‘m sure tha’ll be lonely too." You know his bed has been kept quite warm no doubt with men and women and everyone in between alike. The thought makes you sick, green with jealousy. He was yours before he was anyone else's. You wanted to mark him, litter his throat with teeth marks and hickeys so that whoever had the honor of having him would know that he was already owned.

Yet, he claimed he was lonely. He wanted you. He only wanted you. Why else would he have come back? It wasn't just for the shits and giggles or trying to "catch up". Hobie wanted you to go with him though he wouldn't say that outright. 

There was a beat of silence between the two of you before Hobie spoke again. "It wasn't all that bad, was it? To you at least? We had our downs but we had way more ups." He nudged you softly with one of those smiles that made your heart flutter and skip vital beats. You thought you just might die if he moved any closer to you.

"If by downs you mean telling each other to go to hell and me nearly throwing a vase at your head then sure, we've had our downs." You aren't proud of some of the things you've done...of a lot of the things you've done. You aren't proud that you're here and not at home, reading Miguel's sweet message of goodnight accompanied by a picture of him in bed. "Please do tell me what our ups were."

"Oh, we've had plenty. ‘m so disappoin’ed you've forgotten so easily." Hobie places a hand on his chest with an exaggerated offense. "Am I really tha’ forgettable?"

No. You wanted to say with quick, biting passion. Hobie was the least forgettable person you've ever met in all aspects. But you don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "I don't know, Bee. Maybe I'm in need of a reminder." Now you've gone into flirting with him and you didn't feel bad about it in the slightest. How can you feel bad as Hobie downs the rest of his drink and stands up with the prettiest grin you've ever seen in your life? The same mischievous grin he got when a new idea was sparked in that brilliantly dangerous mind of his. He takes your hand and drags you off of your stool. You stumble along with him, his hand tightly secured around yours as he takes you to the middle of the bar.

You remember this. You remember him putting coins in the old jukebox to play your song, quickly returning to you to take you up into his arms. Your right hand in his left while his right came around to rest of the small of your back. He'd pull you close, smiling with wild joy and youth and the two of you would dance however you so chose.

You missed him. God, you missed him and you hated it. You hated how he touched you with such familiarity. Knew you better than anyone else in the world. You hated that he kissed the corner of your lips and you did nothing to stop him. You hated that you knew this was a ploy to get you back and how you hoped that feelings could override the logical part of your mind and you could convince yourself to go back.

"Is this reminder enough for ya?" He leaned in and whispered into your ear, swaying carefully with you in his hold. Your lips are pressed to his shoulder and you can smell the cologne he had put on just for you, your favorite. He's wearing the shirt and vest you said looks best on him and the jeans you said you liked the very most on him. And of course, the boots he never goes anywhere without. Pulling out all the stops.

It's more than enough, yet, you play coy. "Vaguely."

Hobie likes it when you play coy. You hear him sigh slowly into your ear. "Ya remember the time when I made you miss tha’ flight to go see your parents for the holidays?" He spent nearly an hour between your legs, ravishing your body with orgasm after orgasm until your thighs were trembling around his head. "Or when we got that bottle of champagne and you let me pour it on you." Then he proceeded to lick it up from your diaphragm and naval. "Open." He had muttered and, on command, your mouth had opened up and you let him pour champagne into your mouth. 

"Hobie." Your tone warns him but he's quick to bite. "What? Too many good memories?"

"I have a boyfriend."

"Then why are you here, ___?" He snaps maybe with a bit of unnecessary harshness. It's all too easy for the two of your to start arguments. "If ya love yer new boyfriend so fuckin’ much then why are ya here to see me?"

You look away in shame because you know he's right. Your heart hasn't beat this fast since the last time you saw Hobie. It almost feels like it hasn't even moved since then. He left a vacant hole in your chest, took your heart with him but it was an even exchange in his opinion because he left his with you to fill the space he left behind.

Two fingers are on your chin and your face is being brought back to his. It takes you by surprise, how quickly he kisses you. His lips are just as soft as you remembered and even softer than they look. They still taste like mint and a touch of beer. You can tell he's been dying to do this since the moment he saw you and you can't say that you didn't want to either. You melt into him, let him have his way because you want his way too.

"All mine." He whispers, lips hovering over yours before he dove back in. All his. His hand once in yours now comes around the back of your neck to draw you closer. It was home. This was all you've been waiting for for months upon months, maybe waiting for him to come back for you. Well- he has and you still don't have your answer. But Hobie's always been rather good at persuading you, his tongue gently stroking over yours to coax you to agree.

"Come back t’my boat." He attempts to get you to say a small yes now. A frog in a pot of water. He was just starting to crank up the heat. 

"You know I can't." You manage to say between muffled kisses. Hobie remains persistent. "Of course, ya can, dove. 'm not asking ya to do backflips all the way there, jus’ come with me." That's how it started. Come with me to the dock, get on the boat, sail away with me. Next thing you know you're in a whole nother country. His voice was so sweet though. It's always been his secret weapon, whispering in your ear with that slight airy tease in his tone.

"Come with me...just for tonight." The two of you still swayed together to the rhythm of the song as it slowly began to come to an end. Between gentle pecks from his pillow-y lips to yours, he kept staring at you, begging you to cave just this one time. But it's never just the one time with him. You know this. You know it won't just stop with this. It's why you left. He had too much power, could make you do anything short of killing someone with enough charm. Look how easily you feel back in.

"Okay...just for tonight.”

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hey, can you write something for Matt simmons? I love him. He and the reader are together, he never visits her apartment bc she a big nerd (actionfigures, books, DVDs, games,..) and she insecure about it (somesone said terrible stuff about it) but Matt is really interest in the stuff. Maybe with lots of fluff? I think that doesn't require a special season but i think the latest criminal minds seasons, where he is a part of the team is good! Thank you 🩷

༉‧₊˚. 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬

— pairings: matt simmons x plus size fangirl!reader

— summary: there will always be a version of you that people are meant to see, even your super cool fbi boyfriend, because you think you might die if he finds out that you're a total - in your eyes - loser.

— warnings: insecurity, vague descriptions of fixation interests, the reader is kind of like all of us let's be real, and just a bunch of fluff!!

— wc: 651

⋆ a/n: slowly but surely getting around to my drafts!! this has sat in there for so long almost finished and i apologize for that! matt is a character i've never written for before, but i find that's easy to capture his personality. thank you for your request!! :]

masterlist | AO3

Living by yourself meant that you could decorate your home with your most prized possessions, but you choose to surround yourself with your special interests instead.

You loved your apartment, it was your safe space, your solace. There wasn’t an inch of your place of comfort that wasn’t covered by your most treasured memorabilia; posters, funko pops, action figures, you name it. If there was a kind of merchandise, you have it.

That’s why it felt like you were living a double life when you were with Matt; by day, you were his super cute – albeit basic looking – girlfriend. By night, you were a fangirl.

Your boyfriend had never been to your apartment, most of the time you had chosen to either go over to his place, or be picked up outside of your neighborhood. He never really questioned it, just smiling and saying ‘Hi’ after placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

So that begs the question: What the fuck was he doing here?

Standing by your front door dressed head to toe in a mix of your favorite fandoms – the pants your favorite tv show, and your shirt the other – you stared out of the peephole at the absolute meal that was your man.

You took a moment to look around; your living room was in utter disarray! Oh God, when was the last time you did laundry or the dishes?

He’s going to take one step in here then hit the ground running!

Matt has already knocked twice, and you watch as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, tapping on it for a moment before the one in your hand begins to ring.

You could ignore it yes, but you really wouldn’t put kicking the door down past him if he thought that something was wrong. Gulping, you answer and hold the phone to your ear, your singular eye still trained on him outside.

“Hi.” You wish your voice wasn’t as breathless as it sounded.  “Hey.” You could hear the amusement in his voice, and with the way he had that cheeky smile on his face.

There was a moment of silence, “So… are you going to let me in?”

“...No.” He just laughed, and finally looked up at the peephole, causing you to move away from it.

“And why is that?”

“Because…” You spared a look around the room, “It’s embarrassing.” 

“How is me coming to see you embarrassing?”

“It’s not that! It’s just- I have a bunch of stuff like… everywhere. I don’t want you to make fun of me.” You watched as he sighed.

“Baby,” He began, “When have I ever made fun of you for anything?”

He was right, and you hated it. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, you hung up and unlocked the door.

Matt examined you from head to toe, his cheeky grin spreading even wider into a full blown smile. “Well, don’t you look cute.” He teased, pulling you into his arms to place a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” You mumbled into his strong chest.

You can tell he takes a really good look around your apartment before responding. “Nah, I’m glad you have hobbies, y’know?” Matt says. “You promise?” It was such a petulant thing to ask, but you knew that it would quell your anxiety.

His laugh is hearty, his chest reverberating due to the vibrations. “Of course sweetheart. Now, is there any other cool stuff you want to show me?”

You pull away and look at him with lit up eyes, “Yeah!” You tug him inside and lead him to your room where your other memorabilia lies.

Little do you know that Matt is taking note of everything you’re showing him, he’s even thinking about getting you guys matching pajamas. He thought you knew how much of a geek he was alongside you.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[g1rld1ary]

hiiii🩷 i love your work and i wanted to request a drabble. i don’t know if you’ve done something like this before or not so… also im new to the whole requesting thing.

so it’s basically a lockwood x reader where lucy and george don’t know lockwood has a kinda secret gf. and one day she shows up to the door of 35 portland row and lockwood has to explain to them that he has a girlfriend. (he didn’t tell anyone to protect her or smth).

opening doors - lockwood x reader

wc: 1980

cw: mentions of an injury, one use of 'my girl' but otherwise gn i think?

an: thanku for requesting baby!!! sorry its taken a while but i lovedddd this request and writing this!! i know i changed the end a little bit but shh hopefully its ok!! xoxo

Dating whilst ghosts roamed the streets of London was hard. Dinner dates were a precarious decision and you had to be sure if you were spending the night pretty quickly for your own safety (against ghosts, men were still another question). Dating a ghost hunter? That was harder. Yes, he wasn't exactly a 'ghost hunter' but that was close enough from the stories your boyfriend told you; brushes with death were a common occurrence, much to your chagrin.

You couldn't count the number of times you'd sat up all night in your bedroom, waiting for a call to confirm that he was alright and alive after a case. But Lockwood was Lockwood and each time, just as your eyes were starting to close on their own, your phone would ring and you'd be startled awake, picking up as fast as your arms would let you. He'd open with an affirmation that everything was fine and he was sitting in the library with a hot cup of tea, ready for a chat with you.

This had been your routine for the six months you'd been dating, and while it had ruined your sleep schedule, you couldn't be happier. Lockwood had turned your world upside down after your chance encounter at your university while he was investigating a case, giving you adventures and the most love you'd ever felt. You were similarly obsessed with him, rambling on about your day over the phone and attaching to his hip whenever you could get together.

This was all true, except for the last four days. Lockwood told you on Sunday they had a high-paying case on Monday night and hadn't called you since. No confirmation he was alright, let alone alive, and it was killing you. He'd never forgotten, not once over six months. This ignited a panic in your stomach, anxiety clawing through your chest as you had to continue on with your week acting like you could think of anything other than your boyfriend.

On the fifth day, you'd had enough. And so, on Friday afternoon after your class had let out for the weekend, you marched to Portland Row for the very first time. Lockwood didn't want you around his business, saying he wanted to keep 'the best thing in his life' separate and as safe as possible. You didn't mind, you had a tiny apartment all to yourself that you were more than happy to host him in, but it did make your expedition more scary than it otherwise would have been.

Still, you steeled your nerves and rapped on the front door, picking your nails nervously as you waited for someone to answer. That person happened to be an unimpressed-looking boy who you recognised from Lockwood's tales as George.

"Can I help you?" He asked, wearing cartoonishly large rubber gloves that made you want to laugh.

"Is Lockwood here?" You took his lead to skip the pleasantries, none of it being even vaguely interesting to you until you knew your boyfriend was alright. George hesitated.

"He's not seeing anyone right now."

"Why not?" You all but cut him off, desperation making you forget your manners. He narrowed his eyes, clearly choosing his words clearly.

"He had a nasty accident on our last case. He's only gotten back from hospital today and is on strict bed rest. If you have a professional inquiry, you're welcome to return later or speak to me or my other colleague, Lucy Carlyle."

"Can I speak to Lucy?" You needed to talk to a girl. Clearly, George was not the most emotionally sensitive member of the company, and if you tried bartering a visit with him you had an inkling you'd start crying. If Lockwood's descriptions were anything to go off, Lucy was much more likely to understand you.

George let you in, clearly reluctantly, leading you to the kitchen. He awkwardly made you tea, leaving you to drink it silently as he went to fetch Lucy. You took the moment alone to take in the kitchen, a soft ache settling into the edges of your heart. It was so cozy, so lived in that it almost upset you. Lockwood and Lucy and George. They were the residents of 35 Portland Row, they got to wake up to one another every morning. They got to bicker over the jam and tea. You woke up alone, going about most of your days in silence unless you started talking to yourself, but you were really trying not to make that a habit.

It wasn't that you hated Lockwood keeping you a secret, it made complete sense. He was in a dangerous profession and had an even more impulsive nature, making for a risky lifestyle. And as he'd unwillingly told you, he did have people who occasionally came after him. Lockwood didn't want you caught in the crossfire and you understood, you were grateful, even. But looking at the life he led without you, you couldn't help but regret it a little bit. Portland Row was the kind of place you didn't even have to try to be able to imagine as your home.

You were interrupted by George returning with Lucy in tow, both clearly unprepared for a client. George was in some sort of cleaning gear, the aforementioned gloves and an apron over his shirt, and Lucy looked like she'd been working out but not for long, only a slight sheen on her features and her clothes still mostly light and moving.

"Hi, I'm Lucy," She greeted, a warm (if somewhat awkward) smile on her lips, "How can we help you?"

"I need to see Lockwood, please."

"You know we're not idiots, right?" George snapped, "Actually, I'm much more competent than him." Lucy shot him a dark look, elbowing him in the ribs as they sat across from you.

"What he means is that despite it being Lockwood's name on the sign, we're all fully qualified to talk to you and take your case. I'm not sure what George has said, but Lockwood is--"

"He's my boyfriend." You cut her off, unable to stand any more delay. You were met with dead silence, both agent's jaws dropped open.

"What?"

"He's my boyfriend," You affirmed, "We're dating and I need to see that he's ok."

"That's not possible." George shook his head, "He's never mentioned you."

"Not that we don't believe you, but can you tell us more? We just don't want to let any random person into our house, I'm sure you understand," Lucy added and you nodded instantly, more than aware that Lockwood had made enemies during his time with his company.

You started speaking, spilling the exact timeline of your relationship, details of your time together, vague suggestions that he'd told you about his family, anything you could think of to prove that you were really together. Then, like a lightbulb illuminating over your head, you reached into your coat pocket for your wallet. Sitting on the inside was a Polaroid of you and Lockwood, him kissing your cheek as you laughed. George grabbed it, examining it in disbelief. Even Lucy stole a glance or two before turning her focus back to you, new sympathy in her eyes.

"Will you please tell me what happened to him?" You begged, reaching out for Lucy's hand. She held yours firmly, speaking in a soft voice as she explained the incident.

"We were on a case on Monday and Lockwood took a leap down some stairs to get away from a ghost. He fractured his patella. It's fine, the doctor said he got pretty lucky all things considered, no surgery needed or anything. He was just kept in hospital for a few days because -- as I'm sure you know -- Lockwood isn't good at following instructions, especially orders not to get out of bed for a week. He only got back this morning which I assume is why he hasn't communicated with you." You nodded slowly, taking it all in.

"Can I see him, please?"

They both nodded quickly, leading you up the stairs to where you assumed Lockwood's bedroom lay. Lucy knocked before cracking the door open, smiling softly at her boss.

"We've got a guest here for you."

"A client? Can't you talk to them? I'm not in my professional clothes!" You could hear him rustling in the bed sheets, presumably pushing himself up to be sitting and smiled a little.

"Better than a client, I hope?" You said, stepping through the doorway. You watched Lockwood go through a thousand emotions in an instant, but his face settled on elation, holding out his arms for you.

You rushed to his side, wrapping him up in your arms as tight as you could.

"What are you doing here?" He asked incredulously, a laugh escaping his lips.

"Someone didn't call me after his case," You replied, sliding into the bed next to him to hold his arm.

"And someone didn't tell his coworkers-slash-friends-slash-housemates about his secret partner he's had for half a year!" George cut in.

"Sorry, Georgie," Lockwood gave him a megawatt smile, "Had to keep my girl safe, you understand." You grinned, pushing yourself even closer to him. George grumbled something but Lucy was already pushing him out the door, giving the two of you some much-needed space.

Safely alone, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad you're okay. I was so scared."

"I'm sorry, lovely. I couldn't get to a phone in the hospital, but I thought about you all day every day."

"But now your friends know about us," You said and Lockwood nodded with a smile that made your insides melt.

"They do," He paused, "So d'you think it's time for you to finally spend the night here?" You grinned.

"Really?" You could almost feel the sparkle in your eyes. Lockwood nodded again, a matching look on his face. You didn't bother confirming, instead pressing your lips to his desperately.

Dinner at Portland Row was exactly how you'd imagined it; loud and chaotic and absolutely perfect. George and Lucy arguing over the tiny details of a case story they were telling you, Lockwood butting in with a flashy description of the action sequence. You laughed along, compliments spilling out as you tasted George's cooking. It was too easy to see it happening perpetually, and you had to stop yourself from getting too comfortable on your first visit.

You settled in for the night next to Lockwood. You were in Lockwood's bed with him. You weren't sure if you'd stopped smiling all night.

"I like being here," You said into the dark, looking at the vaguely Lockwood-shaped shadow next to you.

"You could stay here more often, the others love you already."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, all that we've gotten out of keeping us a secret is worry. If people come after me, I promise that I'll do everything to protect you, but we shouldn't waste all our time being scared of something that may never happen. I love you," He said. You faltered, breath hitching slightly. He'd never said that before. Maybe it was slow, maybe it wasn't, but you knew Lockwood was so scared of committing to his feelings, this was everything.

"I love you too," You replied, hearing the smile in your voice as you said it. It was the easiest night of sleep you and Lockwood had ever had.

[maraschinomerry]

Little Pink Heart

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader, implied Locklyle

Summary: following a fatal Ghost-Touch, Lockwood and reader must figure out how to manage love and life after death

Content: reader's death, ghost!reader, grief, angst, bittersweet, not a happy ending, established relationship

A/N: Please please be aware that this fic has some very heavy content, don't feel obliged to read if you could find it upsetting! That being said, this is as much about exploring the concept of Visitors' sentience that Jonathan Stroud introduced and building on what we saw with Annabel Ward as it is about the angst and the grief. This is dedicated to @bella-rose29 for mentioning the idea of ghost!reader and giving me inspiration (bonus angst: listen to Someone New by Freya Ridings while you read)

Word count: 4.9k (my longest fic yet!)

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea (let me know if you want adding or removing!)

The click of the key echoed through the house as you opened the door. Dusk was falling, the fine mist that had settled tinted a soft blue. As much as you didn't want to go inside, you fancied staying out here less.

“Don't linger, darling,” your boyfriend, Anthony, murmured as he passed over the threshold. His hand slipped into yours and he led you in. The house was cold and dim in the fading light, and from the fine layer of dust and lack of personal effects it was clear that it hadn't been inhabited for some time. It was a shame that the owner, who had seemed like a nice enough young woman, had had to move out of her family home, but you couldn't help but be grateful. You and Anthony had only just got your licences, and with no links to any agencies nor desires to join them you'd decided to try and set up your own. That took time, though, and money, and though Anthony had a little equity in his house you'd agreed to take a couple of small, private cases to make up as much as you could. That was how you found yourself here, ready to earn a reasonable sum in exchange for eliminating a lone Type Two. A few jobs like this would help set you up nicely.

The kitchen was slightly warmer than the rest of the house, the west-facing windows having allowed in the last of the sun before it dipped behind the trees in the distance. Together you set up your kit bags on the table - you didn't have much: a few handmade salt bombs, filings and chains, a few flares only in case of emergency (they'd cost far too much to waste) and of course your rapiers. Lockwood pulled something extra from his bag, a small plastic-wrapped packet. Bourbon biscuits.

“You're the best,” you smiled as he opened the packet and offered one to you, which you bit into quickly.

“I know,” he grinned back, brushing a stray crumb from your lip. You blushed.

The owner of the house had provided a floor plan, but her account of the Visitor had been so inconsistent and vague that it was difficult to pinpoint a possible location for the Source. Anthony spread the roll of paper across the table, and you wrapped your arms around his waist, peering over his shoulder at the diagram. There were two floors and a basement, but the latter had been gutted a month ago ready for renovation so there was nothing in there at present.

“Let's start upstairs and work our way back down,” Anthony suggested. “More likely to find something in one of the bedrooms.”

“True, but it's a lot of wasted time if we don't. Why don't we split up and take a floor each?”

His expression soured, and he moved closer, taking your hand again and rubbing small anxious circles above your thumb. “That's smart, but I hate the idea of leaving you on your own.” Even when he didn't agree with your ideas, he always found a way to compliment them. Just one of the things that made you love him all the more.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “It won't be for long, and I'll call for you the moment I find anything suspicious.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You leant forward and placed your lips delicately on his. He held you close, your hands on his chest, one of his on your waist and the other fidgeting with your necklace. It was one he'd bought for you, a small pink gemstone in a heart shape on a simple silver chain. His promise to always love and protect you. Not a day had gone by since that you didn't wear it. He nodded at last; he knew he would, he'd do anything you asked of him in a heartbeat. It still worried him not to be by your side, but he trusted that you were a good agent who could handle yourself and that you meant it when you said you'd call for him. His only condition was that if the Source was more likely to be upstairs, that would be where he'd look.

So it was that you found yourself, torch in one hand and the other on your rapier, exploring the ground floor. The silence was oppressive, seeping the confidence from you with every step. Not a ticking clock, not the creaking of the old building settling, not even the residual hum of electricity or plumbing, just the occasional thud from your boyfriend upstairs. Working quickly, you ruled out the dining room and bathroom. That left the lounge. The air smelled musty, and a shiver ran through you as you entered. That was never a good sign. You pulled out your thermometer and watched the temperature drop the further in you went.

“Anthony?” Your voice felt deafening against the quiet of the room, but you knew it hadn't been anywhere near loud enough to travel upstairs. No, this was silly, you could handle this. There were no signs of a spirit yet, for all you knew the change in temperature could be from the wind blowing down the chimney into the empty fireplace. You flicked the torch off, using your now free hand to hold your necklace, grounding yourself as you tuned in and listened. There was nothing at first. You wondered whether Anthony was having more luck upstairs; so far down here had been thoroughly useless. Maybe you should go and check on him. But then you heard it. A tragic, gut-wrenching wail, getting closer.

“Anthony?” you called again, louder this time but as steady as you could. There was movement above. He'd heard. So had the spirit, the wailing definitely nearby now. You pulled out your rapier.

The temperature plummeted.

A screech, so close you would have felt the breath on your neck had it come from a living being, made you whirl round. Your rapier clattered to the floor. Shit. Stay calm.

“Anthony!” you yelled, not caring how scared you sounded. His footsteps rattled down the stairs. He was so close.

You lunged towards your rapier.

The Visitor lunged towards you.

Lockwood was in the back bedroom when he heard his name. All his senses were immediately on high alert - you were the only person he allowed to call him Anthony, so he always reacted differently to his first name anyway, and under the circumstances hearing it immediately made him fear the worst.

“Y/n?” He crept out onto the landing, slowly pulling out his rapier and listening intently for any more noise. It was moments like these he was grateful not to be a Listener, he could focus on you and not the sounds of the house's history. He was only two steps onto the staircase when his name came again, louder and more panicked. Without a second thought he ran down the stairs, only holding back enough to make sure he didn't fall. His blood ran cold when he heard you scream.

You tried to both duck and spin as your hand came into contact with the hilt of your rapier. The blade sliced upwards, connecting with the Visitor, but it was too late. Its clawing grey hand clutched onto your shoulder moments before it disappeared. You screamed as tendrils of ice shot through you, radiating outwards from the spot. Through the fog of pain that had suddenly engulfed your brain you heard Anthony, close by now, yelling your name. You had to go to him. He'd know what to do. Everything would be okay.

You took one step, then another. Your torso was going numb, your entire arm having already fallen victim to the plasm which was turning your shoulder a violent shade of blue. One more step, and your legs gave out. You just about made out the silhouette of your boyfriend in the doorway, rushing towards you as you slumped to the ground.

“No, no, no, y/n!” Anthony's face swam into view, trying to mask his utter horror for your sake. “It's going to be okay, darling, I'll go and get help.”

The fingers of your good hand twitched towards his and he took it immediately, despite how cold it was. You struggled to focus on him through your tears, and noticed the same in his eyes. “Ant-” Your voice was failing fast.

“Shh, I've got you.” He cradled your head, his own tears mingling with yours on your cheek, but you could barely feel them. Almost everything was numb. The blue had spread across your chest, and the little pink heart stood out starkly against it. “I'm so sorry, my darling,” Lockwood said softly. He choked back a sob as he leant down, placing a kiss into your hair. You wanted to do the same, to speak to him, to do anything.

His face was the last thing you saw before everything went black.

—

You had no idea how much time had passed when your vision returned, a room slowly materialising in front of your eyes. It was a bedroom, filled with knick-knacks and bathed in a warm golden light. It looked familiar, but you hadn't been here when it went dark, you'd been… somewhere else. It was so hard to remember, but you knew there had been a dark, dusty room and a feeling of agonising cold. And a person. There'd been someone there, someone you needed to say something to. Now here you were, everything feeling so normal yet so bizarre; you were still you, still able to move and see and hear, but there was a disconnect between those sensations and reality. Nothing felt real. You looked around again, desperate for answers.

There.

Perched on the edge of the bed was a boy. His crisp white shirt was a stark contrast to his dishevelled dark hair, doleful brown eyes and the deep eyebags beneath. He looked exhausted, like he'd barely slept or eaten. There was something in his hand, balanced carefully on the tips of his fingers: a necklace, with a little pink heart. A spark of recognition bloomed in the back of your mind. That was your necklace. It was important. He had no right to be holding it. You drifted forward. The boy looked so familiar. Oh. The icy feeling rippled through your chest again, and you remembered. He'd been there when that feeling had taken over your body until you couldn't feel anything else. Rage boiled in your veins, and a snarl crept onto your face. But then, as quickly as it started, the anger subsided. He'd not caused it. He'd held you so gently, cried as everything faded. You knew him. You opened your mouth, finally ready to speak.

Lockwood stared at the tiny gemstone in his hand, unsure whether he wanted anything to happen this time. He'd secretly slipped it from you before DEPRAC had arrived, and spent the past few weeks periodically taking it out of the little silver-glass box in his bedside table. Part of him desperately wanted you to come back, to let him see you once more, but the other part knew it would hurt so much. What if you didn't recognise him and turned violent like so many Visitors? What if you didn't because you didn't recognise anything, just hung there as a shadow of your former self? What if you did, and he had to live with putting you back in the case and removing you from his life all over again?

The decision was made for him when a soft golden glow appeared in the corner of his bedroom. There you were. Tears welled in his eyes as the image of you sent him spiralling back to that day: your edges were a little fuzzy but everything else was the same, from your outfit to the scared look in your eye to the dark patch spreading from your shoulder. You looked at him now and he was relieved to watch you processing your surroundings. The person he knew was still in there, you weren't just a hollow shell. Suddenly you snarled and he flinched, fingers twitching towards the silver-glass case.

You moved closer.

You stopped.

Your face fell.

He watched the glimmer of recognition in your eyes, and the tears he'd been holding back spilled out along with all the things he'd wanted to say for months.

“Oh my darling, I'm so sorry. I should never have let this happen, I should have been there for you, and-”

He paused. You were mouthing something. Over and over. Your death loop, he presumed. God, just putting death in the same sentence as you stung.

“I'd give anything to be able to hear you right now,” he said, voice wavering. You stopped, giving him a sad look. The realisation that at the very least you could understand him, even if you couldn't communicate fully, hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Lockwood!” a boy's voice called from outside. You both looked at the door and your anger flared again. The boy on the bed shook his head.

“He's a friend,” he told you reassuringly, before calling back, “One minute, George!” You waited in the corner, puzzled. The boy, Lockwood (you knew that name, didn't you?), gave you an apologetic look. “I'm sorry, y/n, I've got to go. I'll explain soon, I promise.” He dropped the necklace into its little case and clicked it shut, and you watched the world dissolve.

—

You still weren't sure how much time had passed when you found yourself back in that bedroom, but it didn't feel like very long. The last rays of the sunset poked through the gaps around the drawn curtains, the room lit instead by a lamp on the bedside table. The boy, Lockwood, was sitting on the bed again holding your necklace, but this time he looked at you almost immediately. His hair was a little neater, his eyebags more pronounced.

“Hi,” he said quietly. “Sorry if I disturbed you, I don't… really know how this works.”

You knew he couldn't hear you, but you gave your message again anyway.

“Maybe I should see if George knows how to lip-read,” he chuckled wryly. The sound reminded you of home, wherever that was. Things were still hazy, but part of you had a feeling this was it. Here, with this boy. “Which reminds me,” he continued, “I did promise to tell you about him.”

You settled into the space in the corner, allowing Lockwood's low, gentle voice to wash over you. It was incredibly calming. George was his new housemate, he told you, who'd been living here for about a month. It was all very confusing - it had felt like both minutes and years had passed since you were last here and the same before that, but he explained that the other boy had moved into the house in mid-September, and the last time you'd been here was a week ago in late October. Where was all the time going?

“I have no idea whether you experience time when your Source is contained, whether you're aware of what's going on in between or remember things from last time,” he admitted. Source. You knew about those. They were what you'd been looking for that night in that dark old house. A spirit had been tied to it, and you had to seal the Source to get rid of it. But you'd failed and it had found you, and now… your chest tightened at both the memory and the realisation. Nothing felt real because you weren't. You were just a Visitor. You continued to listen numbly as Lockwood kept talking. Not much wonder he'd recoiled when you first appeared, he'd seen what the touch of a ghost had done to you and without knowing you'd almost inflicted the same fate. You vowed in that moment that no matter what, you'd never let that happen.

The next few months saw Lockwood getting you out every chance he got. Bit by bit, he helped restore your memories and did his best to accommodate you even though the two of you couldn't properly communicate. He set up a little daily tear-off calendar on his dresser so you could keep track of how long it had been between visits, and stored his kit bag in the bottom of his wardrobe so you could move more freely around the room. Eventually, you'd come to remember him more. Not just the events from the night you died, but him. Your boyfriend, Anthony. You wanted nothing more than to be close to him, to be a comforting presence, but you knew you couldn't. Not only because you couldn't touch, but because deep down you knew that as much as you treasured being able to keep him in your life (or rather, afterlife), you had to let him go sooner or later and he needed to do the same with you. He'd been followed around by grief since long before you met him, and you hated that you were adding to it. You were just glad to see him slowly improving week by week - his face was a little brighter, and it seemed George was making sure he stayed fed. You'd have to thank the other boy if you ever got chance. Anthony said the two of you would have got along if you'd met in life, and even now George's obsession with the Problem would have made him your biggest fan, but their friendship was too new and besides he wasn't a Listener either so you'd not be able to tell him anything.

“I've got something to show you,” Anthony announced as you materialised one sunny day in late spring. He sat down with a large pink folder and patted the space next to him on the bed. You tilted your head in confusion.

“Come on,” he sighed fondly, “you never had any sense of personal space before, don't start now. Just no hugging.”

You glowed a little brighter and drifted over, your legs disappearing into the mattress until your torso was level with his. Being careful where he positioned his arms, he angled the folder towards you. It was a photo album, labelled in handwriting you recognised as your own. Page by page, he took you through your memories, giving you time to linger on each one: you as a baby, then a toothy toddler with your first pet; your family and childhood friends; Polaroids of your first team in training to become agents. His hands trembled a little as he reached the next section. On the left were four photos: the team you'd transferred to, the one he'd been training with; a slightly blurry action shot of the two of you sparring for the first time; a goofy photo he'd taken of you cartwheeling down a grassy hill after a case; your team all proudly holding their Grade Four licences. On the other side, surrounded by two styles of hand-drawn hearts, was the two of you hugging on the steps of 35 Portland Row, Anthony's lips pressed in a smile against the top of your head. You remembered that sensation well, a frequent occurrence right up until the moment you died. The rest of the album was full of photos of the two of you, ones taken by others and candids you'd snapped of each other. You felt a pang of regret that you'd never get to take any more.

Anthony turned another page. Hold on. You knew for certain there were no more photos. You looked sideways at your boyfriend, and he gave you a bashful smile. Pasted across a double spread was a copy of a certificate from DEPRAC, confirming A.J. Lockwood & Co Investigators as a registered agency. Inspector Barnes, who you vaguely recalled meeting once or twice, had signed as the licensing authority. Anthony and George had put their names down as the founding members. But then underneath that, in Anthony's familiar hand, he had added an extra section. Honorary Member: y/n y/l/n.

He looked at you so lovingly. “We did it, darling.”

You would have reached for his hand if you could.

—

Weeks began to pass before Lockwood got you to visit again. He'd have spent every day with you, but business was good and he owed it to you to make a proper go of it. In the meantime, George talked incessantly about Visitors which gave Lockwood a chance to think about you. Each time he finally got to see you again he'd apologise profusely, and you'd repeat your death loop back to him. He tried so hard to figure out what you were saying - his Sight was good, you were as clear as day and he knew your every quirk and mannerism, but he just couldn't put the movements of your lips to the right sounds.

Everything changed the day he met Lucy Carlyle. From the moment she set foot in his living room, he felt like he was supposed to have met her. The feeling only grew when he gave her the interview tests - plenty of people had passed through, some with better Talents than others, but none had come even close to the Listening abilities of the girl before him. When she spoke of the gentleness she found in his uncle's pen-knife, he knew he had to hire her.

Lucy managed to defy even his high expectations on the Annabel Ward case. He kept his focus on the young woman's spirit hovering at the end of the corridor, rapier levelled in case the details of her aggressive nature were true, but he couldn't help but think of the first day he brought you back and how quickly you'd retreated and shown a level of sentience he'd never expected from a Visitor. Was this poor woman the same? Lucy's eyes were closed, listening intently.

“She's in pain,” she said softly.

“Of course she is, she's dead.”

“No, something's different.”

He was intrigued instantly. “What's different?”

She shushed him. “I can almost…”

Annabel launched forward, sending Lucy crashing through the wooden railing in her attempt to dodge the grasping hand. Déjà vu overwhelmed Lockwood, your pained eyes flashing across his mind as he staggered backwards.

No.

He'd already lived through this once and regretted the outcome every day since. Now was his chance to redeem himself. He sprang towards the ghost, fending her off with his rapier, pulling Lucy from her desperate grip on the picture frame as soon as the coast was clear.

“Did it touch you?” he asked in a panic as she clung to him.

“Course not, I'd be dead.” Didn't he know it. The more she explained how she'd connected with the spirit, the more sure he became. Later, when they experimented with Annabel's necklace and he listened to Lucy describe the scene in such detail, he knew for certain.

“He loves me. You love me, don't you?” Her hand stroked delicately across his cheek, and he fought the urge to lean into the touch. For that brief moment, he could pretend it was you, still with him, saying those words. Perhaps with Lucy's help, it could be.

—

It had been a while. The trees outside Anthony's window were tinted a beautiful copper. You couldn't wait to hear his updates this time.

“There's a sadness, but so much love too. She feels very kind.” That wasn't Anthony's voice. Something was wrong. There was a girl sitting beside him on the bed, holding a little pink heart on a chain. Your necklace. You grew defensive, preparing to strike.

The boy looked up and saw you glaring. “It's okay, darling.” The girl followed his gaze. “Lucy, this is y/n, my late girlfriend. Y/n, this is our new associate, Lucy. She's a Listener.” Ah. Finally. You settled back down and took in the girl properly. She was pretty, with a warm brunette bob and a blue jumper which made her eyes pop. She smiled up at you, a genuine friendly smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she said sweetly. Anthony gave her an encouraging nod. You noticed that he seemed a little nervous, but there was also a calmness to him that had been missing for the past year. If that was Lucy's influence, then she was alright in your eyes.

Anthony spoke to you again. “She's brilliant, connected with a Visitor on our last case and I thought maybe she could finally help us figure out what you've been trying to say.” You nodded in agreement, and the girl closed her hand around the necklace.

You weren't sure whether you were in Lucy's head or whether she was in yours. The two of you blended into one as she ventured into your memories. Anthony's room melted away around you, sending you back to that cold dark room. You bristled.

“It's a bit different having her in the room with us,” Lucy murmured, eyes closed. “Let me know if either of you need me to stop.”

Anthony glanced at you, flickering slightly but still present and unagitated. “We're okay, go on.”

Meticulously, she described what you were both experiencing, or in your case reliving. It was hard knowing you were getting closer to the agony all over again, but it was important for your boyfriend to finally have a chance for answers and closure, so you kept the inevitable moving along.

“Anthony?” Lucy said softly, the same way you had. By the look on his face, it seemed he was realising now what you had at the time - that you'd tried to call him and hadn't been loud enough, that if only you'd tried again straight away, maybe you'd still be alive. “Anthony?” she called again. “Anthony!” You heard your own scream echo in your mind, felt the cold grasping your shoulder. The boy reached out and gripped Lucy's free hand, never taking his eyes off you. The gesture was supportive for her, but meant for you too. A tear rolled down his cheek. Lucy's breathing was shallow.

“It hurts,” she gasped, “and she's scared.”

“I should have been there quicker.” His voice was shaking with emotion, barely able to get the words out.

“No, there's no anger. She knew you were coming, and having you there through the end was a comfort.”

Anthony swallowed thickly. “Her death loop. Can you hear it?”

She opened her eyes and watched you as you spoke, the words spilling from her lips a second after.

“It's okay. It's not your fault.”

The boy broke down, his sobs rattling through the small room. Lucy held out her arms and he folded into them. She threw you an apologetic glance, and you said it again to her. “It's okay. It's not your fault.”

They were still hugging when, with his and your permission, Lucy gently slipped your necklace back into its case.

—

Now that the secret was out, you really did become an honorary member of the agency. Sure, you couldn't exactly contribute to the cases, but other than that the whole team treated you as one of their own. Anthony always waited for your opinion on big decisions, which you could make quite apparent with how happy or angry your energy was. George was absolutely fascinated by you, and took every opportunity to quiz the others on your awareness of various things and how you reacted to his experiments. Lucy often got you out on her own to have another girl to talk to. In return, of course, she'd fill you in on any gossip they came across or funny things that happened on cases that the boys were too embarrassed to tell you about. Through it all, you watched the three of them grow into a little family. Anthony and Lucy especially had clicked with each other; they reminded you of how you and he had been. That realisation filled you with a mixture of relief and melancholy. You loved Anthony so much, all you wanted was for him to be happy, but you'd be lying if you didn't wish it was you putting the light back in his eyes.

He sat you down shortly after New Year. His face was sombre but hopeful, and he fidgeted with his ring. Part of you could already tell what was coming.

“I don't really know how to say this,” he began hesitantly, “but after everything we've been through, you deserve to hear it.” You waited patiently for him to find the words he needed. Really, you had all the time in the world.

After a few moments, he spoke again. “I promised to always love you, and I will still keep that promise until the day I die…” But. There had to be a but. “...but I really care about Lucy too, and I just-” He didn't need to finish the sentence. And technically he was single. And he stood a chance of having a life with her. And she wasn't going to keep him tied to his past and his grief.

“It's okay.” Now he knew what your death loop was, he could tell what you'd said, and the way you'd limited it to just those words was a reminder of how remarkably well you understood everything that was happening. How you were as close to being a person as you could be, how it wasn't close enough.

“Promise?”

You touched the hollow of your neck, where the outline of a little sparkling heart sat against the darkness.

He nodded in understanding and reached for the silver-glass case. “Thank you, darling.”

“It's okay.”

It's not your fault.

[blindmagdalena]

Heya, do you write for ftm!reader? You can ignore this ask if you don't write for them.

(sorry if this may sound self indulgent) But can I get a tiny scenario of Homelander just being affectionate towards his boyfriend. I know he's mostly written as a boob type of guy, but what if he likes thighs and ass. Like reader has top surgery, but would Homelander would be just loving his boyfriend's thigh and ass. Both him and his boyfriend would praise eachs others bodies in bed (can be nsfw if you like)

(just been really bummed about my dysphoria lately, and I wanted my man Homelander just being cuddly n stuff)

i hope this is okay, anon! i'm still a little fried, and my requests are technically closed, but your ask really resonated with me so i wanted to put out a lil something-something. never, ever apologize for self-indulgence! also, if you're in the market for more ftm!reader x homelander content, i highly recommend you check out @sehtoast's works if you haven't already! 🖤

It's early morning. You've been watching sunlight crawling up the headboard as the sun rises above the skyline, spilling over you and illuminating the face of the man sleeping soundly beneath you.

There was a period of time after surgery where you couldn't lie like this anymore. In fact, the only way you could lie was upright, slanted back against a special pillow. Often times, that pillow was Homelander. He didn't mind sleeping at an angle with you so long as he still got to hold you.

However, you're healed enough now that it doesn't hurt to sleep with your chest pressed to his. You were quick to jump on the opportunity.

Homelander wakes with a deep inhale, nostrils flaring with it. He opens his eyes belatedly, squinting against the sunlight backlighting you. That same light makes his hair look ethereal and golden, and his blue eyes even brighter.

"Morning," he greets, the word slurred with sleep. He smiles lazily after a beat. "Mmmmm, missed this," he murmurs, sweeping his hands all the way down your back, over your ass, your thighs. He's never been shy about loving every part of your body.

The two of you have happily spent hours mapping each others curves and slopes, charting moles and birthmarks like waypoints. Even blind, you would know him by the shape of him beneath your palms.

You laugh softly when he makes a point to take two handfuls of your ass, squeezing appreciatively. "Me too," you agree, toying with the hair at the base of his neck, your own arms pinned under his. "Do you miss the boob squish, too?" You ask, smushing your flat chest against his. It's hard to put into words the sense of euphoria you've felt ever since the surgery, but a nagging little voice in the back of your mind has nipped at your consciousness, fretting that this joy was yours alone.

"Mmmmhm," he hums, eyes closed against the light.

Your smile falters. His casual confirmation of your gnawing insecurity has instantly made you anxious. "You ever feel upset I got rid of them?" You ask tentatively, trying to keep the nerves from your voice.

Homelander cracks one eye open, his brows furrowing. "What? No." You can see in his shifting expression how he's mentally working his way back through the conversation. "You asked me if I missed 'em, and I do. I'd miss any part of you that was gone. Doesn't mean I'm upset. If you wanna..." He lifts his hand to gesture vaguely. This kind of conversation isn't his forte, but you can tell he's trying. "Dye your hair, wear makeup, don't wear it, whatever... Whatever you do to make your body feel like yours. That's fine. It's still you."

He's beginning to sound like you. You still remember how embarrassed he'd been when you first saw him without his suit, or when you figured out his hair bleaching routine. You had said almost the same exact thing to him.

Tears prickle unexpectedly in your eyes. The good kind.

"Now, that said. Your ass?" he follows up, kneading the soft swell of it against his palms. "You try and hack that off, then we'll have problems. Serious problems," he says gravely.

You huff an affectionate laugh, kissing his chin, his cheek, his nose, and finally his lips. You're determined to ensure your lips know every part of him as well as your hands do. "I promise my ass isn't going anywhere," you say, swallowing back the lump in your throat, unable to keep the smile from your face.

"Good," he says, kissing you in a series of short bursts. "Because I'd catch it," he says, punctuating the sentiment with a crisp two-handed slap to your ass.

You laugh, pressing your forehead to his. "I love you."

You can feel his grin against your lips when he replies, "Love you more."

[the0racl30fd3lphi]

High on Cloud 9

pairing: xavier thorpe x gn!reader

warnings: fullf, established relationship, slight nudity, ouid

summary: you stumble into your inebriated boyfriend, xavier, and have to take care of him.

a/n: once again, written at half past i should probably be asleep i have work and errands tomorrow. y'all love xavier and it feeds my addiction so please enjoy!

word count: 1.2k

•••••

You'd strayed too long in the gardens, feeling the rush of life fill your veins as the plants brighten up a little in your presence. Anything that seemed like it needed a little more care and attention sought out for your touch and influence. You clipped enough chamomile from the nearby pot for two cups of tea. Just enough to refill your stash.

When people said you had a green thumb, they were telling the truth in multiple ways. Could you bring anything to life? Yeah. Did you have an affinity with foliage and plants? Sure. Were your thumbs green? Yes. But so were your whole hands just above your wrist.

Strolling through the halls trying to hide from teachers, you heard the echo of a call from a few halls down. It sounded vaguely like your name. Actually, it sounded exactly like your name because it was your name. As fast as you could you ran towards it while trying to keep quiet.

"Xavier?" You almost whisper yelled. "Why are you not in your dorm?" You approached your boyfriend quickly watching him trip over his own feet and slide down the walls laughing.

"Hi, my pretty lady," he wrapped himself around your legs in a hug, hands sat in the crook of your knees.

"Hi love, you're- oh." You tried to pull him up, but when you got closer to his face, chin resting on your thigh eyes gazing into yours, you smelt something rather familiar. Something similar to the fresh crop you grew for Ajax after he complained about his last one. You told him to use the smallest bit and dilute it for the best experience, yet with the way it was wafting off of Xavier you figured he probably didn't. "Yes come on love, lets go."

It took a hefty sum out of you to drag Xavier to this dorm, since you had to make sure no one caught you. But between his mumbles and drabbles about his fingers, the floors, the ceilings "no one seem to appreciate!"

"That's all fine, just move your hand for me," you could barely entertain his rambles as you fished your hand in his pocket to grab his keys and unlock the door.

"Y'know, this whole place is built so wonderful and gothically," he slumped against the wall when you bent to pull his shoes off. "the ceilings look like something straight out of an architecture.. history book.. or something." You pulled the layers of him and left him in a t-shirt and his joggers to sit him at his desk. "Why doesn't anyone look up and appreciate it more?" He was laid down in the star position now, giggly and admiring the roof of his dorm.

"I don't know darling," you hummed and started heating up some water on the electric kettle you left in Xavier's room a month ago. Next to it was a mug, waiting to be filled. You searched through your bag for the jar of honey Eugene gave you earlier, and the lemons Ms. Thornhill gave you after class. You were known for your obsession with teas so you needed to have the hookups for everything you needed when you weren't at home, in your garden conservatory.

"Xavier, lovely, get up and shower yeah?" You urged him from the side as you pulled out some fresh clothes for him.

"Are you my mother or my girlfriend?" He muttered as he got up and stumbled towards you. He gazed at you from his height with those big green doe eyes as he grabbed your hands, laying a kiss to the back of your hands before pressing his forehead against yours.

"You've called me both," pushing to your tiptoes you planted a quick kiss to his lips before playfully tapping his ass and directing him towards the bathroom shower. He laugh loudly and tipped his head all the way back before floating into the shower and slipping out a "yes ma'am!" before closing the door.

•••••

You'd settled comfortably on his bed, picking up where you left off with your edition of Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, when you heard a knock from the shower, and the soft mumble of your name.

Sliding off his bed and padding to the door, you creaked it open and slipped your head through, "Yes, love?" You called to him. Quickly you found his sitting form peaking out through the curtain, resting on the side of the tub. "Can you wash my hair please?" He pouted and pleaded with you.

"Of course Xavi, one minuet." The shower seemed to have relaxed him even more he almost fell asleep feeling the warmth. You peeled off your sweater and changed into a pair of his boxers in case you got wet. Which, knowing Xavier, he'd probably try to pull you in and you liked your outfit too much.

Kneeling down by the tub was the only comfortable position you could get in without being completely soaked. You put a dollop of shampoo on your hands, lathered it up, and started combing your fingers through his hair and scrubbing into his scalp. "Baby keep your head up, don't go loose on me now," you slipped a wet kiss on his cheek and he smiled.

There's something so intimate about washing someone's hair for them. The head, the scalp, its such a sensitive and delicate place that trusting someone with it blindly feels like such an honor. Xavier had a rough upbringing and some rough trust issues, and how he asked you to do take care of you made you feel privileged.

Carefully, as if he was fragile glass that would shatter at a cold breath, you wove through the knots, tangles, built up tenseness. It was such a wonderful and vulnerable experience. The woody scent of his shampoo and conditioner flew through the air and gave the room such a warm and inviting smell.

You reached for the shower head and softly rinsed all the soap out of his hair and wrapped a towel around his head to keep it all together until you could dry it. He helped you somewhat, drying himself off while you carded through his clothes, that he dumped on the floor with the clean pile, to find what was fresh to put him in.

Helping him into his clothes you than sat him down on the toilet while you grabbed the blow dryer. At this point he got cuddly and wrapped his arms around your middle, head completely buried in your stomach. Barely enough to breath but just enough to live. You kissed the top of his head and chuckled while you started blow drying his hair. It was a feat, he gave you very limited room for motion so it was tough to maneuver but you did it.

The two of you settled into a warm embrace as you put a movie on your laptop to lull you both to bed. Xavier, fresh and warm, drinking his sweet chamomile tea, quickly passed out. You had enough time to put everything away and get comfortable again before sleep quickly claimed you too.

You two always sleep better together, but something in the air tonight felt different, and the sleep was unlike any other rest you'd had.

And just like that night, just like the tea, the morning was just as gentle and loving.

•••••

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