#must be her boyfriend's sweatshirt

[inastarlesssky]

I knew I loved you then But you'd never know 'Cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go I know I needed you But I never showed But I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old Just say you won't let go

[moonstruckme]

the sleepy remus drabble was everything but what about sleepy james x reader just cuddling on the couch with remus and sirius teasing them omfgg

Thanks for requesting lovely! I realized halfway through writing this that I wasn't sure if you meant rem and sirius were there platonically or not, but I hope this is alright <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 870 words

Even when you hear the voices, you pretend you don’t, too comfortable on the plush cushion of James’ hoodie. Opening your eyes isn’t worth the effort. 

“Is this what they do when we’re not home?” Sirius’ voice is low and ripe with faux outrage.

James hushes him, so he’s awake apparently. His thumb moves over your tummy, big hand tucked into the warmth between your sweatshirt and your bare skin. “You’ll wake her,” he says, voice still sticky with sleep.

“She ought to be awake, it’s five in the afternoon!” 

Remus’ voice is softer, skeptical. “I don’t see how either of you expect to sleep through the night if you nap like this during the day.”

“We manage,” James yawns. 

You hear Sirius huff. If the muscles in your face were more active you think you’d smile. “I thought we were going to Marlene’s thing tonight,” he complains. 

“Still planning on it.” James’ palm splays over your middle, warm and safe. “We’re resting up.” 

“This is how you prepare for Friday nights now? Fuck, we must be getting old.” 

You whine at his volume, nuzzling your face into James’ chest. 

“Oh, so she is awake. What, sweet thing, you don’t feel like saying hi?” 

This time James coos at your protesting sound. His hand slips from beneath your sweatshirt to wrap around your shoulders, shielding you from your pestering boyfriend. 

“Oh, let’s have a bit of sympathy,” Remus says, sounding amused, “she’s had a long, hard day of napping. She deserves a bit of rest.” 

You want to remind him it’s your day off, but speaking feels like giving into wakefulness, and that is something you are not inclined to do. Instead, you try to wriggle beneath the blanket halfway up James’ torso, curling in on yourself like a roly poly. He helps you out, pulling it up to cover your head and draping an arm over your balled-up form. 

“It’s her day off,” he says, your hero. “Why shouldn’t she get to rest?” 

“That’s fair enough,” Remus allows, “but why were you sleeping?”

James hesitates. “Well, I didn’t have anything to do after training and she…she lured me in.” 

It’s true. James after rugby training is like Remus after he spends all day reading; he’s all worn out and pliable, and you’d practically only had to open your arms for him to fall right into them and then a cuddle on the couch had turned into a two-hour nap. Terribly unfortunate. Certainly not your plan all along. 

You decide it’s your turn to protect James from the others, wriggling up on his chest and covering his head with the blanket. You see his smile through half-lidded eyes, and outside of your little cave, Remus chuckles. 

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” 

“I think we should get in bed and have a cuddle they’re not invited to,” says Sirius. “See how they like it.” 

“I’m not sure we can leave them in good conscience.” The sound of Remus' smile makes you smile, your cheek smushing into James’ chest. “She’s just taken Jamie. If we let her go on like this, she’ll have them both sleeping ‘til tomorrow.” 

That actually sounds rather appealing. 

“They’re jealous of us,” James whispers. You hum your agreement, and he kisses the crown of your head. 

“We could go to all their favorite things,” Sirius proposes. “Make them remember the benefits of leaving the couch.” 

“Like what? Watch sports?” 

“And eat pastries. She loves a sweet.” 

“Mm, yeah. I could fancy a sweet.” 

“From the shop on sixth? They should still be open, yeah?” 

“Stay strong, angel,” James whispers. “Don’t let them break you.” 

“They ought to be. Oh, and the pub down that way will be showing the Manchester match tonight. We could stop and see that.” 

“Sick and twisted!” James throws the blanket off, uncovering you in the process. “You never watch football with me.” 

“I have,” Remus hedges, “that one time.” 

“Last year! And you were reading your book on the other side of the pillow!” 

He turns sheepish. “Didn’t realize you’d noticed that.” 

“But now you’re going to watch it just to spite me?” 

“No,” Sirius admits. “We were never going to watch football, Jamie, sorry.” James deflates, and you squeeze him tight around the middle in a show of solidarity. 

“But we can go by the bakery on our way to Marlene’s thing,” Remus says, adding when you perk up, “if we leave soon enough. They make those danishes you like on Fridays, don’t they?” 

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice croaky and hopeful. 

“That’s me, babe,” Sirius teases, “and I’m down to stop by, but only if I get what I’m owed.” At your blank look, he raises a dark brow. “My welcome home kiss?” 

Oh. “You’re gonna have to come down here,” you mumble. He makes a show of rolling his eyes, but obliges you, bending at the waist to take your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours firmly. He does the same to James once you’re done, straightening with a satisfied look on his face. 

“Appeased?” Remus asks placidly. 

“Yes,” Sirius answers, “the evening may now continue. Up, you two. We’ve got places to be.” 

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 10 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After just two days back home, Bradley takes you on a second date. He wants more, and you don't seem to mind when he can't keep his hands and lips to himself.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being boyfriend material

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

"Shit."

It had been such a long time since Bradley wore anything other than a flight suit, a khaki uniform or gym clothes, he had no idea what he was supposed to wear to dinner tonight. You mentioned weeks ago you thought Italian food sounded nice for a second date, and he agreed wholeheartedly. He managed to snag a table for the two of you at Salvatore's, and he was absolutely prepared to drop over five hundred bucks, but his clothing was becoming a situation.

After spending the entire day with you yesterday, Saturday morning was a bit of a reality check. He was trying to work through three loads of laundry while he sorted through a box of mail. There was nothing sweet in there like the packages you and your class sent to him while he was deployed. It was mostly bills that had already been automatically paid online, mortgage statements, and junk. Then he started folding laundry, somehow expecting some articles of clothing that weren't threadbare tee shirts or tropical print button downs to jump out at him.

"Why don't you have normal clothing?" he asked himself as he picked up his phone now that it was late enough to text you. He wanted to make sure you were okay with grabbing a drink before the dinner reservation which wasn't until 7:45. But when he unlocked his phone, instead of zero new messages, he found a picture you sent seven minutes ago. 

"Oh my god," he groaned softly, dropping onto his bed next to some unfolded laundry. You were in your own bed wearing his favorite sweatshirt and a bright smile.

Good morning, Handsome. Last night felt like a dream, but your sweatshirt is real, so it must have happened.

He scrambled to write back, clothing crisis forgotten. God, he wanted to be in that bed in the worst way. Things would definitely get out of hand pretty quickly, but he knew those first few kisses would be the sweetest things. After last night at the beach, waiting for a few more dates was going to be the challenge of his life, but he wanted you to know he was in this for the long haul. Especially after you mentioned that you thought he may have ghosted you.

Hey, Gorgeous. My sweatshirt looks way better on you than it ever did on me. Did you sleep in it?

He hit send and then wished he hadn't asked that question. He sounded like a horny twenty year old. It was bad enough that he had to practically beg you to go inside your apartment last night while you were kissing his neck, but he didn't want to embarrass himself.

Of course I did. It smells like you. The only thing better would be having you in my bed, too...

How the hell was he supposed to wait until this evening to see you? He tossed his phone aside. His blood felt like it was on fire, and he was sweating. Never before had he wanted to move this fast from a first date to making things official. But he knew you. He'd been working up to this point for months. And the Thai dinner with Prosecco on the beach wasn't really a first date. That felt closer to a reunion with a girlfriend than anything else. The only thing missing for that to have been true was a sleepover instead of him taking you home for the night. 

He was too many steps ahead right now. You hadn't yet done the drive down to Coronado from Mira Mesa for yourself, but he already caught himself wondering if you'd consider moving in with him in the future. "You need to relax," he ground out through gritted teeth. "You'll scare her away." He cracked his neck and forced himself to fold a stack of underwear before picking up his phone to reply.

I don't want to rush things, but your bed does look very comfortable. I'm confident we could get cozy there... You're making me blush. I need to get this conversation back on track. Cocktails before dinner at Salvatore's? I'll pick you up at 5:30?

A few minutes later, you responded with a photo of you still all snuggled up in bed, smiling and giving him a thumbs up in his shirt.

--------------------------

"Just in case," you muttered, making sure your bedding was straightened and your room was tidy. You left Bradley's TOP GUN sweatshirt folded on your pillow, but you certainly wouldn't mind having the man himself in your bed tonight. Your fingers and toes tingled when you thought about it. You bit your lip and scooped up his shirt, inhaling his scent one more time before you realized he would be here any minute.

When he knocked on your door, you set it back on your pillow and glanced at yourself in the mirror as you bounced past it. Cocktails and dinner at Salvatore's would have been a major splurge for a night out for you, but Bradley selected the restaurant. All you did was mention Italian food, and he really ran with it. You'd have been happy with some pizza and breadsticks, simply excited he remembered you mentioned Italian food at all, but this called for your littlest black dress and your brightest red lipstick. 

"I'm coming!" you called, going as fast as you could in your black heels, giggling at the double meaning. You had to compose yourself before you could open the door, and when you did, you were met with the actual man of your dreams.

"Hey, Gorgeous." Bradley's crooked little smile faltered a bit as his gaze slid down from your eyes to your lips, but he didn't stop there. He was shamelessly checking you out as a pretty shade of pink crept up into his cheeks, and you did a slow turn for him. 

Your skin felt warm as you met his eyes after doing a full circle. His lips were parted as you whispered, "Hi," and reached for his hand. As soon as your skin met his, he pulled you closer to him. "Bradley." His lips were on yours as he backed you up into your apartment until you softly met the wall behind you. He was big and warm, and you were holding his left hand while his right one came up to your face.

He broke the kiss by tipping your chin up so you were looking at him. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he crooned softly. Your lipstick was smudged along his mouth, and his tongue darted out to taste it before he said, "I'm fucking crazy about you."

His rough thumb dragged along your bottom lip as you said, "And you've never even seen me dispose of a spider for you."

"Baby," he rasped. "I'd probably propose."

A shocked giggle escaped you, and his crooked grin was back as he kept you there against your wall with your door wide open. You reached up and ran your fingers along the collar of his oxford shirt before tugging on the fabric until his lips were on yours again. You let your head tip back against the wall as he devoured you, tasting your lips, tongue and teeth before his forehead came to rest gently on yours.

"You know," you gasped, trying to catch your breath, "I thought all your emails were sweet and romantic."

He chuckled as he pulled away from you. "I was hoping I was doing okay in person, too."

You shrugged playfully and tried to spin out of his grasp, but his hand was still wrapped up in yours. He followed you to your coffee table so you could grab your purse as you casually told him, "You're even better in person than I thought you'd be."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, pulling you close again. "You like my stupid looking clothes and how I can eat three meals for dinner?"

He was so endearing, you didn't know how to handle him. So you kissed him again and whispered, "I like all of it." You let your fingers trail along his shirt buttons as you said, "You look nice in this, but I can already tell you're more comfortable in your colorful Aloha shirts and jeans. And I love that you can eat three meals for dinner, because we ended up sharing everything last night."

"Let's go," he coaxed, leading you toward your door. "I'll let you pick whatever you want to try at Salvatore's. I don't usually like sharing my food, but there's just something about you, Gorgeous. You make me feel comfortable."

-------------------------

You tried to tell Bradley twice that he still had some of your lipstick smudged on his face, but he just shrugged and said, "Good," in response both times. If he didn't mind, then neither did you. It couldn't be any more obvious that he was with you when the exact color that was on your lips was also on his. You listened to him hum along to the retro oldies station as he merged onto the coastal highway while you took a minute to fix up your own smudged lipstick.

He grinned over at you as you put your makeup away and said, "Come on, Baby. If you didn't want it on my face, then you wouldn't be putting more on your lips."

Every time he made a bold statement like that, you wanted to cancel dinner altogether and take him to your bedroom. "I never said I didn't want it on your face. It looks good." 

He reached out blindly for your hand, and you grabbed his immediately. "You did tell me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

"Yeah," you muttered. "Don't stop doing that." You knew things with him were going to get physical pretty quickly, but you'd never been quite this attracted to someone before. You drew little shapes on his palm as you asked, "How was your first night back in your own bed after so many months away?"

He groaned softly. "Epic. Fantastic. I don't fit very well in an extra long twin bed."

"No, I would imagine you don't," you said with a laugh as you watched him drive his Bronco in the evening sunlight.

He licked his lips and grinned as he said, "Would have been better if you were there though."

The eruption of butterflies in your belly left you biting your lip. You wanted to respond, but you needed to be able to make it through dinner before you were hanging off of him again like you were last night. That's when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, treating you to his mustache there. "Feel like getting a drink or two in the lounge first? Maybe a bottle of wine?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, ready to go anywhere he took you. As soon as he parked, he jogged around to help you down, letting you slide against his body with your hands on his shoulders. You wobbled a bit in your shoes, but he kept you steady.

"You good?" he asked as he leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck as his arm wrapped around your waist.

"So good," you promised. "Never better."

Bradley kept his hand right there on your hip as he led you along the sidewalk toward the restaurant. The lounge was packed; this was definitely a popular weekend date night locale. Couples filled the space with noisy conversation, but you could hear Bradley perfectly as his lips found your ear when he said, "There's an empty stool at the far end of the bar." He gave your hip a little squeeze as you headed for it, and he leaned on the bar next to you. "Why don't you pick out a bottle of wine or whatever you want? I'll go let the hostess know we'll be hanging out in the lounge."

When you agreed, he kissed your lips like the two of you had been at this for years, not just since yesterday. You weren't the only one who watched him walk away in his snug pants and Oxford shirt that somehow showed off his biceps. He was just that good looking. When you saw him without a shirt on, you'd probably faint and need him to revive you. When the bartender came over, you were chuckling to yourself at the idea of having sex with Bradley while he kept his shirt on to save you from that fate.

"Can I get you a drink?"

You looked at him in a daze, realizing you meant to choose a bottle of wine. You blurted out what kind you liked best, and with a nod and a smile, he turned to fill your request. And that's when you finally looked at the menu and realized the bottle was more than a hundred and fifty dollars.

"Oh shit." But it was too late. He had already opened it and was heading your way with it. You scrambled in your purse for your wallet, cringing at the idea of Bradley seeing the bill when you could have simply ordered a cocktail instead. Just as the bartender was pouring out a bit of the wine for you to try, you found your credit card successfully. And that was also when Bradley came back.

"They'll come get us when our table's ready," he said. "I told them it would be easy to find me since my date is the most beautiful woman in the restaurant." He watched the bartender pick up a second glass and said, "Oh perfect, you found some wine that you like."

You nodded and tried your best to pass your credit card across the bar undetected with your hand covering it. "I sure did."

Bradley's eyes followed your hand as he took a sip of the wine. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you told him, picking up your own glass with your other hand. You tasted the wine and nodded at the bartender, and then he filled up both glasses while Bradley reached for your credit card.

"That's not necessary, Gorgeous. You can put that away."

You waited until the bartender walked off before you shook your head. "Let me pay for the wine. I was distracted and just picked a random bottle before I looked at the price, and then it was too late because he already had it opened. It's expensive."

Bradley looked completely unfazed as he eased your card from your hand and tucked it back into your wallet. "I don't care about that."

"I do," you said softly in your embarrassment. "I don't want you to think that's what I expected."

Bradley laughed in response. "First of all, I would never think that. And second, I was on that aircraft carrier for so long, and this wine tastes so good, and you look so pretty... I don't even want to tell you how much I'd be willing to pay for that bottle of wine and our dinner."

You simultaneously felt better and a little warm. "Okay, fine. But next time we go out for dinner, we're getting burgers from In-N-Out, and I'm paying."

His smile grew as you sipped your wine which really was quite good. "So that means you want to go out again?"

You rolled your eyes up at him where he stood, his hand brushing your knee where it was crossed over your other leg. "I'm about to make an In-N-Out reservation right now."

"Perfect," he replied. "Which night? I have to work late a few days next week to get caught up on everything I missed while I was away."

"You're ridiculous," you told him with a laugh. "How about Wednesday?"

His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress as he said, "Wednesday's good. You also need to let me know when I can visit your classroom again." His words were so sweet, and his gaze was sincere, but the feel of his fingertips inching along your skin above your knee was something else. 

You set your glass down next to your purse and reached for his hand, letting his fingers slip underneath your dress as you met his brown eyes. When he teased your skin with his rough hands, you reached for his shirt, and Bradley came willingly. Salvatore's didn't provide the two of you with the same level of privacy as the beach last night had, but you didn't really care, and he didn't seem to either.

-----------------------------

You had the softest skin. How was he supposed to keep his hands off you? And that red lipstick made your little pout when he teased you even more delectable than he could have imagined. And he'd been doing plenty of imagining for the last few months. He'd imagined you in a variety of scenarios with him, but so far being with you in person surpassed everything his vivid thoughts came up with.

When he mentioned visiting you at work, you treated him to the silky soft feel of your skin, and then you literally grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged until he was kissing you. Oh god, he was never going to recover from this. He had to wrap his hand around the middle of your thigh to keep himself from going any further as you moaned softly into his mouth. He was absolutely starving and a little dizzy from the wine, but he was thinking about skipping dinner in favor of the solitude of the Bronco right now.

"Mr. Bradshaw?"

Your tongue was slowly tasting his when you jerked away from him as the hostess strolled over. Embarrassed, you turned toward the bar as Bradley grunted in response at the young woman who told him the table was ready for the two of you. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing, because feeling you up in the middle of the crowded lounge wasn't something he'd feel good about later. At least not on the second date. He'd bring you back here in a few months and see if the two of you even made it to dinner.

With a smile, he reached for your free hand after you picked up your glass. You halfway hid your face against his bicep as the hostess picked up the bottle and led the way through the lounge and into the restaurant. Bradley kissed your forehead and murmured, "If I could keep my hands off of you, this wouldn't be a problem."

You peered up at him through your lashes. "Hanging out on your couch alone is sounding better and better."

"Fuck," he groaned softly as you released his hand and took a seat at the table set for two which was overlooking the bay. Bradley pushed your chair in, and his thumbs met your bare arms. He took a few deep breaths before taking the seat opposite yours and accepted one of the menus as he listened to the specials while he looked at your face. He muttered some sort of response, and then the two of you were alone.

You emptied the remainder of the wine between his glass and yours, and then Bradley watched you lick a little droplet from your thumb as you smiled at him. "So which three dinners are you planning on ordering tonight?"

It took him a second to realize that he was holding an open menu even though he hadn't looked at it once. He cleared his throat and said, "Definitely some homemade spaghetti and meatballs. The last time I ate spaghetti, it was overcooked and sad, and I had to go back to my bunk and think about you to make myself feel better." You covered your mouth with one hand while you laughed, and it was the most charming thing he'd ever seen. "I'm so serious, Gorgeous. I got a plate of soggy noodles, and literally the only thing that made it better was imagining you teaching your class about military grade jets and aviation."

Your pretty eyes were glittering as you told him, "I keep extending my lessons on the topic, and you are completely to blame for that. After the first time you responded to us, my students asked about you every single day. They are completely enamored with you."

"Yeah? Just them? Or you too?" He knew his words were reminiscent of the way you'd tried to blame it on your kids when you asked him to send you a picture so you could see what he looked like.

"Hmm." You pretended to peruse your menu. "I'm thinking about the ravioli. Or maybe the penne with vodka sauce." Your foot tapped his leg beneath the table, and he had to fight the urge to reach under and touch your skin again. You were teasing him in every way right now, and he was absolutely loving it. When the waiter dropped off glasses of water and some freshly baked bread, he asked if you wanted anything else to drink.

"You want another bottle of wine, Gorgeous?" Bradley asked, deciding to tease you right back.

"Absolutely not," you told him, looking at him like he had two heads before kindly telling the waiter, "No, thank you."

He was still laughing when he picked up a piece of bread. "So we'll get spaghetti, penne and ravioli?"

"You don't have to order what I want," you told him, your foot still running along his calf while your expression dripped with innocence.

"No. I want to though." It was kind of fun spoiling you with something as simple as dinner. Vanessa would have made a comment by now about how much she hated the slightly kitschy, over the top restaurant, even if the food was supposed to be immaculate. You didn't seem to mind one bit that he ordered three massive entrees and intended to finish whatever you didn't. Vanessa always got embarrassed, but all you said was that you were excited to try all three.

There was never a lull in conversation. You actually listened to Bradley when he was talking, and he could have listened to you all night.

"So you know how last night I mentioned... that I'd never really thought about dating someone in the military who deploys for work?"

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, not sure he loved where the conversation was heading.

You looked a little apprehensive as you said, "I was thinking about it more last night after you dropped me off." 

"And?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I think I'd actually be okay with it, as long as it's you. It almost feels like we got some big, scary thing out of the way already, you know? And I could always write to you, because I kind of loved doing that. And yes, Bradley, I am also completely enamored with you."

It was almost a shame that the food arrived then, because as you started to cut into an enormous ravioli, all he could think to say was, "I'm completely enamored with you, too."

-----------------------------

You were so full from dinner, you didn't know how Bradley could walk. He ate at least two times what you did, and then he insisted on ordering a piece of cheesecake. When you caught sight of the bill, you tried not to gasp, because it was more than you spend on groceries for a whole month. But he handed over his credit card and signed his name without even breaking conversation with you. And now you were discreetly grabbing a handful of mints on your way out of the restaurant as he held your hand.

It was late, and you knew he was still tired. He mentioned briefly that he had a lot of chores to do this week amidst some late nights at work, but you didn't know how you'd be able to wait until Wednesday to see him again. When he started up the Bronco and headed in the direction of your apartment, your mind flooded with questions, but he asked you one first.

"I already have plans tomorrow, but I don't think I can wait until Wednesday to see you again. What time do you usually get to school?"

"7:20."

"Okay. And what kind of coffee do you like?"

You couldn't stop smiling as you told him what you usually ordered on the rare occasion you had time to stop at Starbucks. You kind of already felt like he was spoiling you.

"Have you memorized everything I've ever told you?"

"Yep," he replied, his handsome smile evident in the street lights. "And I've gotta say, you're one of a kind, Gorgeous."

You honestly didn't want the ride to end. The fact that there was no buffer of traffic to add to the twenty minute drive made you pout a little bit. Bradley's deep voice layered over the music playing on the radio while he held your hand was intoxicating, but you made a disappointed sound as he parked in front of your building.

When he released your hand to kill the engine in the near darkness, all you could see was his handsome profile. "You thought the drive would be too much for me," you whispered. "But when I'm in the car with you, I don't want it to end."

He cleared his throat and softly said, "Well, we don't have to get out quite yet if you don't want to."

Your pout turned into a grin as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "I can tell you still need to catch up on some sleep. I don't want to keep you out too late, Bradley."

He chuckled and undid his own seatbelt. "Why don't you come a little closer and say my name again."

As you eased yourself onto your hands and knees, you scooted across the seat and whispered, "Bradley," with a little laugh.

"Closer?" he asked, and you crawled over to him until you were able to kiss his cheek.

"Bradley."

He turned his head so his lips met yours, and he whispered, "Closer," against your mouth.

You were immediately in his lap, your hands resting on his chest as the steering wheel met your lower back. Your lips found his scarred cheek just like last night, and you kissed your way along his mustache and the side of his nose. You let your hands drift slowly down over his abs until they met the leather of his belt, and you whispered his name one more time.

His big hands closed around your wrists as he groaned, "You really love teasing me."

You nodded and said, "I really do," as he guided your hands up to his shoulders and around his neck.

"You're really good at it, Baby. All those pictures of you in your bed are enough to get a man through a deployment and then promptly kill him once he's on dry land if he can't touch you immediately."

He kissed the inside of your arm, and you scooted your body a little closer to his. "You can touch me." Your words elicited a deep groan as he slid his big hands along your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kissed your lips, swiping his tongue against yours as his fingers trailed down your sides. You almost cried out when his thumbs grazed the sides of your breasts before he gently squeezed your waist and your hips.

You could invite him to stay over. You didn't think he'd turn you down if you did. But all you could manage to say was, "Bradley," between kisses.

He tipped his head back against the headrest and whispered, "I love the way that sounds." His eyes were glittering in the darkness as he looked at your face and your body, and you remembered his text message from earlier.

I don't want to rush things

It was hard for you to remember that yesterday in your classroom was the first time you touched him. The first time you heard his voice in person. As much as you wanted to lean in close and ask him to stay, instead you kissed his ear and said, "You promised me movie night on your couch. When?"

"Friday?" he asked, kissing along your neck. "Let me end the week with my Gorgeous girl?"

"Yes."

You were afraid you were going to melt right out onto the pavement when he opened his door, but he helped you down and kept his arm wrapped around you. Bradley walked a half step behind you in the darkness all the way to your apartment. While there was no expectation that he was going to join you inside, you ended up pinned against your door, because it didn't seem like he was quite ready to leave yet either. 

He was eager. You could feel it as his lips found your neck again. He smiled against you as he whispered your name in that deep raspy voice. "Since you don't like surprises, I'm telling you right now that you should expect to see me in the parking lot at your school on Monday morning. Sound okay?"

"Oh god, yes," you whined as he released you. There were so many things you wanted to tell him as he put a foot of space between your bodies, really giving you a chance to see his pink cheeks and the way he was breathing deeply. You blurted out, "I'm falling so hard for you."

His crooked little grin was back as he nodded at your door. "Lock it behind you. And when you get in bed, in my sweatshirt, send me another selfie."

"I will," you promised, and you did exactly what he said. A minute after you texted the photo, you got a message back from him.

I think I'm falling even harder.

-----------------------

I'm so obsessed with them. She was so concerned about that bottle of wine! And he really wasn't lol. Coffee and burgers and a couch date coming up. This story will be 18+ soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 11

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[sophsbookstore]

Monaco Nights

Charles Leclerc x hairdresser!reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Masterlist can be found in navigation!

Word count: 934

A/N: sorry i've been gone everyone! My school just finished school so now I will hopefully have more time to write!

Charles comes home in a grumpy mood, after Ferrari continuously flopping, and little to no points for the team once again, his unsuccessful weekend is heavily affecting his mood. He arrives at Y/N’s apartment in the middle of the night, knocking on the door, hoping she's awake to comfort him.

A small knock and the sound of buzzing from her phone woke her up. The girl checks her phone, noticing a text from Chalres saying he is outside. Y/N as well as Charles’ family have been watching the races, they all understood how hurt the driver must be feeling after another devastating weekend for Ferrari.

Y/N gets out of bed, sliding some slippers on as she makes her way to her front door. She opens the door, the pair looking at one another before Y/N holds her arms open for Charles. He gladly lets himself in, holding his girlfriend as tight as he can before the pair pull apart and walk deeper into her apartment.

Quietly they walk over to Y/N’s bed, the girl getting under the covers as Charles anxiously sits above them, staring blankly at the decorated wall in front of him. Y/N watches him in silence wondering what was running through his mind.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Y/N whispers inching herself closer to Charles.

“How did this happen, me and carlos? I'm just,” he pauses, “Im at a loss for words I guess.” he falls back onto the bed, his head now laying on the pillow. Y/N cuddles into him, placing her head on his chest.

“I'm sorry I'm over so late, I was just too anxious to go to sleep.” Y/N lifts her head, resting her chin against him, now looking at him face to face. 

“You know what my mom and I used to do when I couldn't sleep?” Charles looks at her and shrugs. “We would go on a walk.”

Y/N lifts herself off the bed, going to her closet to put on a pair of walking shoes and one of Charles sweatshirts. Grabbing an extra sweatshirt for her boyfriend who came empty handed. Charles lifts himself from the worm mattress and takes the sweatshirt from Y/N’s hands.

“So where exactly are we going?” Charles questions the determined girl in front of him.

“We are going wherever our legs take us, or at least until we get tired enough to head back.” Y/N smiles at her boyfriend, taking in everyone of his features before reaching her hand out for Charles to take.

Gladly, the driver locks his hand in hers, the pair leaving the apartment, Y/N locking the door behind them. The pair makes small conversation as they exit the building, keeping quiet, not wanting to wake up anyone around them.

When they finally make it outside the moon shines brightly above them, Charles takes a moment to look up, taking deep breaths as Y/N starts stretching beside him. Once she's done the pair start their walk hand and hand around Monaco. Y/N still being fairly new to the city, Charles acts as her tour guide, pointing out all the major touristy spots while giving her little historical facts about each part.

Y/N could tell the walk is getting him out of his head and calming him down. No one loves Monaco more than her boyfriend and seeing him talk about his love for his hometown just makes this walk all the more special.

The pair find their way to the doc, Y/N wrapping her arms tighter around herself feeling every breeze around them. Charles shows her everywhere, taking her closer to the beach letting her get a closer look at the blue water.

“It's so pretty.” Y/N lets the warm surround her hand, before pulling it out and turning back to Charles.

“It is very pretty, I really want to take you and my family on my yacht, especially with the summer weather it would be perfect.” he looks out at the ocean ahead of him.

“I would love that.”

“Perfect.” Charles and Y/N start walking back to the street. The couple taking in all the sights and sounds. “Your maman is a smart woman, the walk is helping…a lot.” Charles says, directing his attention back to his girlfriend.

“She is isnt she?” Y/N smiles, “I'm glad you're feeling better, do you wanna maybe head back now?” Y/N tries to hide her yawn.

“Of course mon amour.” he pulls Y/N closer, giving her a small kiss on the forehead before the pair walk back to Y/N’s apartment arm and arm. 

When they get back, Charles holds his hand out to take Y/N’s keys, unlocking the door for them as he holds the door open for his girlfriend who goes straight to her bedroom. Charles locks up behind her, taking his sweatshirt off, going through Y/N’s drawer to see if he had left pajamas there. Luckily he had.

The pair change quietly before slipping back into Y/N’s bed to cuddle. Y/N falls asleep first, her body cuddled into charles for warmth and comfort, Charles arms wrapped tightly around her as he admires his girlfriend.

“Thank you mon amour.” he gives her one last kiss before falling asleep.

[paiges-1vur]

from across the crowd pt. 2… and as always enjoy loves <3 🏀⚡️🪩

“you probably have a boyfriend.. right?”

I heard what she had said, but it was like the words didn’t register in my head for another minute. i blush for a moment, and look down before looking back at her, smiling. “no..” I say giggling slightly. why am i acting this way? Tiff lock in. she seems genuinely surprised, but before surprise another emotion crosses her face that i cant decode. “a beautiful girl like you must have a boyfriend, though” she says in total surprise. she must think im lying. “no.. no boyfriend haha” I say trying to calm my nerves. why am i so worked up right now?

“well im sure your ex boyfriends regret ever leaving you, or letting you leave” she says, flattering me. i tense up for a moment. how do i put this? “ive.. never uh- had a boyfriend” i say shyly, slightly embarrassed. i can tell my cheeks are red, but i cant do anything to hide it. “no way..” she says quietly matching my volume. she pauses before speaking again. a smirk spans over her face and she puts her hands in the pockets of her sweats. my eyes flicker down to them for a minute. my breath catches in my throat. im suddenly brought back to reality by u the sound of paiges voice, louder this time. “did you hear me?” i look up to see paige a little closer than before, hovering over me. a smirk that can only be described as devilish on her face. shit. she saw me. “uhm, im so sorry, what did you say?” i say hurriedly, my face even redder than before. nice going tiff way to be nonchalant. “dont worry about it” is all she says in reply.

she looks back down, into my eyes. “whats your name, pretty?” she asks me intently, looking down at me. “my name is tiffany but my friends just call me tiff” i reply, proud of myself that i didnt forget my name. “tiffany,” paige says it again. “even your name is cute huh” i cant help but blush and look away from her for a moment.

theres silence for a minute. but not necessarily awkward silence. just us co existing with each other. i decide to say ‘fuck it’ and be bold. when is the next time im ever going to talk to a hot basketball player, who by the way seems to be very into me. i break the silence. “paige, if you want to know anything, just ask me” i say in a low voice. i could tell something was puzzling her. she knew i had never dated a guy, so im sure she was wondering if im into guys at all.. she looks down at me, her voice dropping an octave. she moves a little closer to me, and we are still in the tunnel towards the locker room so its just us still there at this point. she leans into my ear, and whispers “so no boyfriends.. hm” i can smell her scent even stronger than from her sweatshirt and it’s intoxicating. my eyes flutter closed, breathing her in. she pauses for a moment and i can hear her breathing, “no..” i reply my voice breaking slightly. just when i think shes about to question me farther she leans away from my ear. “just wanted to make sure i heard you right.” she says smirking at me.

she then reaches down next to her and grabs her bag. she puts it on and grabs her glasses, also putting those on too. i secretly hope this moment never ends. “so, will you be out celebrating the win at teds tonight?” i speak up and ask. her eyes flicker to me, still in her hoodie and she smiles. “will i see you there..?” she asks looking at me. gosh. how is she even more sexy with her glasses on. “i guess so” i reply, biting my lip.

she looks me up and down one more time. i can tell seeing me in her hoodie is making her think of a lot of different scenarios right now. “i need to go find my friends,” i finally speak, “but it was really great to meet you paige… i guess i’ll see you tonight.” I say smiling, trying to process everything that just happened in the last 20 minutes. she smiles back at me “here, let me walk you out” she walks over to me. we walk out of the stadium and i look over and up at her. she really is big. my croatian genes may have made me a lethal face card, but in the height department they lacked. heavily.

I spot my friends car and stop walking, before looking at paige. this was a sight. she had pulled on pj pants after the game and had her keys hanging out of her pocket. she had also pulled the hair from her ponytail into a messy bun. i also never would have guessed that paige had glasses. but then again, i had only known the girl for less than an hour. i move closer to her and pull her into a hug. “it was so nice talking to you, ill see you tonight paige.” i say, making sure the hug stays somewhat friendly. she bends down to hug me, and her scent floods my senses once again. “bye tiff, ill see you tonight love” I walk over to the car before really thinking about what she said. before i get into the passengers seat of the car i look back at paige. shes standing with her hands in the pockets, and her stance looks quite intimidating. as soon as she sees me get into the car safely she turned around and walked to her car.

i sit down in the passenger’s seat of madisens car. i buckle up before i look up to see everyones eyes on me. their mouths are wide open and theres silence.

“what?” silence.

“TIFFANY KAY TELL US WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK JUST HAPPENED”

[jenosbliss]

pairing. gn!reader x jeno | genre. fluff | wc. 0.4k | warnings. reader goes through a breakdown, academic stress

The hallway window leading to your bedroom reflected a blurred image of yours. Even though the image appeared bleary, the slump of your shoulders, the dark circles under your eyes, and the wild mess of hair escaping your usual bun spoke volumes of your exhaustion.

With a heavy sigh, you shuffled towards your room, this wasn’t new. Semester end had always been exhausting, the relentless cycle of assignments, deadlines, and exams was draining. You just probably needed a good cry and sleep to prepare yourself for tomorrow’s struggles and stress.

Entering the room, you were greeted with a “Hii baby” from your boyfriend sitting on the shared bed. Jeno’s eyes formed small moons as a sweet smile played on his lips which faded the moment he saw your weary state.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” His smile gave way to concern. “So much… I’m tired,” you said, dropping your bag near the desk. “Come here, love". You turned around to see his arms wide open.

Tiredly you walked toward him, sitting next to him as he wrapped his arms around you, soothingly patting your back. "What's troubling you?" he asked, as you shifted closer to him, hugging him back.

Jeno could probably never understand how much you needed this hug right now, he felt like home, and the warmth from this hug made all your worries disappear for the time being. You didn't want to come out of his embrace wishing to stay here forever as if he'd protect you from everything and everyone.

Tears filled your eyes; the day was exhausting enough and now this closeness overwhelmed you. Noticing your distress, Jeno tenderly held your face, his gaze filled with concern.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you admitted, leaning into his touch. “Each day feels harder…” Your voice faltered, tears streaming down. Jeno knowing not to interrupt just leaned in and kissed away your tears, a hand rubbing the back of your head slowly.

“As if all this end sem and exam stress wasn’t enough, my English professor misplaced my portfolio and is asking me to submit it again.”  you sobbed, gripping his sweatshirt. “It’s not even my fault! She knows I submitted it, but somehow it vanished… I spend hours searching it everywhere but…”

Jeno gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb wiping the tears off your cheeks. It hurt him to see you so broken, he knew it was temporary academic stress and everything would be fine after a week but right now he couldn’t do anything except watch you cry while sitting there helpless wiping your tears.

“I’m not even getting proper sleep, my head hurts all the time, I feel dizzy, and it feels like no one gets it., I hate it… I just want to give up.” Your shoulders slumped as your head fell on his shoulders. Your cries turn into muffles. Both of you stayed like for a few minutes, while you cried on his shoulder, he just rubbed your back calmly.

“Y/n, baby hear me out.” Reluctantly you moved your head and looked up at his direction. “How about we look for your portfolio together on Monday? I’m sure it must be somewhere in her cabin and if not, I’ll help you write it.” He smiled raising his eyebrows. “But our handw-” placing a finger on your lips he continued “Don’t worry I’ve got that covered.” he teased, bringing a smile to your face.

He felt a little peace seeing your smile “And I’m turning off all the alarms for tomorrow. No getting up at 4 and studying, okay?” You were about to protest but he just continued “Nope, no excuses. Sleep in till you wake up fully fresh. You need rest baby also I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow so no getting up early.”

“Fine… but I want waffles.” Knowing that you couldn’t win against him and that what he said was correct you gave in. Smiling he pressed a lasting kiss on your forehead mumbling “I love you” before kissing you on the lips. “Love you too.”

The stress of academia was nothing new, breakdowns like these were frequent for you, crying yourself to sleep and preparing yourself to survive another day was like an everyday story until now.

What changed now was that you can lean on someone while you cried, someone to rub your back, someone to hold, someone to share your problems, someone who maybe doesn’t relate but understands you, someone to make sure that you sleep peacefully before going to bed himself, someone who’s just not someone, but Jeno.

a/n. had this idea two weeks ago when i went through a similar situation but didn’t have someone like jeno :’)

navigtion.

masterlist. dream | 127 | wayv

[luveline]

Hi lovie! A fic request: Eddie or Steve with a reader whose insecure about her stretch marks and just like major fluff

thank you for requesting!! ♡ 1.2k

Steve puts a cupcake in front of you with gold foil and orchid pink frosting, kissing you soundly on the temple. "Something sweet for my honey." 

You laugh at his tone, delight hooked into the corners of your smile. "When did you get this?" you ask, lifting your head from your book to follow his movements. 

Steve rounds the couch to sit next to you. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest mock demure.

"Does it matter?" he asks. "Just eat it." 

"Doesn't matter, but I don't get how you hid it from me, we've been together all day… Did you really manage to grab this while I was in the changing rooms in Seaver's?" You'd never have guessed he went anywhere —he looked the exact same when you emerged as when you left him, mildly distracted but not bored. He's a sweetheart like that. 

"I'm good, right?" he asks, grinning. 

You peel back the paper and shuffle closer to his side, holding the cake toward him, "You better have the first bite. I'm not sharing." 

Steve takes the cake carefully. His bite is little but adorable, a smear of frosting left lingering on his top lip. You point to it on your own face with a pinky finger, and he licks it away as he passes the cupcake back to you.

"You're, like, the quickest girl ever when it comes to fitting rooms. I had to sprint." Steve smiles as you take your own first bite. 

"I buy the same things every time," you say through frosting, hand held over your mouth. 

"Why is that?" he asks. "You could stand to be a little more adventurous. I'd love to see you in little shirts and skirts and stuff." 

"You don't like how I dress?"

"I love how you dress. But I love your arms and legs too and I never get to see them." 

An odd thing to say but not for him. He slides down the couch and puts his feet on the coffee table, a hand straying on automatic to your thigh, where he gives you a good squeeze. You think about what he's saying through chews. You believe him, you really do, when he says he likes how you dress, that his motivation for what he's saying is simply a desire to see you branch out of a self imposed box, but there's a reason you dress how you dress. He must know it himself. 

Even now you're wearing an oversized shirt, the short sleeves big enough to hide the stretch marks on your upper arms. Steve knows they're there undoubtedly. He's pressed enough kisses over every inch of your arms sitting exactly as you are now, hip to hip in front of the TV. He gets distracted at night, pulling your arm into his chest, chin dipped down to nose at your skin. 

"You don't think it would be, like… brave? To wear stuff like that?"  

"Brave?" 

You take a bite of cupcake so you don't have to talk. Steve's interest is piqued, a shark to blood in the water, though the blood is your embarrassment, and the shark your tender boyfriend. He gets softer the longer you're together, and when he speaks it's emphasised. "What does that mean, brave? You think you couldn't pull that off? Babe, you'd kill in a skirt, you'd kill me." He presses his cheek to your shoulder quickly. "I'd die if you had that mini skirt like Madonna–" 

"Madonna doesn't have a gazillion stretch marks." 

Steve sits up. 

You've dropped him in an awkward position, and you rush to pull him off of your hook, "And she's Madonna, so. I can't be expected to live up to that." 

"Obviously you'd live up to that. And Madonna has stretch marks." 

"You've met Madonna?" 

Steve laughs, pulling his socked feet down off of the coffee table to angle himself upward, taller than you once again. "Yeah, I met her– No. No, but I don't need to meet her to know she has them, everybody has them." 

"Not everyone." 

"I got a wall of 'em on my back, doesn't stop me from wearing that cropped sweatshirt." 

Steve looks fucking good in his cropped sweatshirt, admittedly, confident and gently muscled. Never once have you thought about his stretch marks when you aren't touching them, even when they're on display. But… "It's not really the same, Steve. I have them everywhere. I have them on my arms, I mean," —you shake your head slowly, though you've kept your smile in an attempt to be less obviously pathetic— "who has them on their arms?" 

Steve moves the half of your cupcake you have left and puts it on the armrest before taking both of your hands into his. Yours are a little smaller, a little softer, and cool to his warm. 

"You do," he says, suddenly serious, "and they're fine. They're perfect, because they're on you. I don't know if I'm gonna say the wrong thing so don't wring me out if this isn't the right one, but they're just skin." 

"They're ugly." 

"No, listen. I've never looked at you and thought you should hide them, they're not ugly–" 

"Steve," you say again, startled by his passion, "you don't have to. I shouldn't have said it. It's not like you could tell me they're gross." 

"They're not gross," he says severely. "And I'm not just telling you what you want to hear." Steve drops your hands in favour of your waist. "Come here." 

It shouldn't surprise you to be treated so sweetly; Steve's always sweet, even when he's moody, he'll be frowning and choking the breath out of your chest or rubbing his face roughly against the back of one of your hands. He's a tactile creature, and when he doesn't know what to say he falls back on touch instead. 

"I just thought you were a bit shy about showing skin," he murmurs, pushing his cheek into yours, his lips by your ear, "how can you think they're ugly?" 

"They're bumpy." 

"Jesus, babe. Are you supposed to be like a china doll?" 

You laugh softly, and under the comedy of his question is the reality of what he's really saying. Steve isn't expecting anything but what you have, marks and moles and scars alike. He never thought for a second that they were a reason to hide away in long sleeves. 

"Some of them are bad," you mumble. 

"I like them. I really like them." He pulls away ever so slightly as a warm hand starts to move, your view of his face unobstructed as he teases the hem of your shirt with his fingertips. 

"Weirdo." 

Steve can likely hear the love in your voice as his thumb traces the seam of a stretch mark under your shirt. His touching slows to match, and when he leans down for a kiss, it's twice as reverent as usual, and it tastes faintly of cupcake frosting. Your breath catches at the sound he makes, a contented sigh.

He pulls away again. "You believe me, right?" he asks, the exhale of his words fanning over your lips. 

You nod and tilt your head to one side, wading in for another kiss. He gave a convincing argument, as does his searching palm. 

[ninsletamain]

Fluffbruary Day 6: tie | embarrassment | dessert

My contribution to RebelCaptain Fluffbruary PLUS @quarantineddreamer's super ultra amazing fic addition below the cut!!!

The lines of code on the screen were no longer making sense. Somewhere between coffees 4 and 5 of the day they had slipped from Jyn’s grasp, gone from familiar symbols to something more akin to ancient hieroglyphics–as sure a sign as any that it was long-past time for her to take a break from her assignment. 

Reaching her arms skyward–tight knots in the muscles of her shoulders and along her spine protesting–Jyn glanced blearily at the alarm clock that perched neatly on the corner of the desk. 

Shit. Was that really the time? She scrambled to her feet, socks slipping on the linoleum floor, and threw her hair quickly into a bun. (Or what she hoped would pass for one anyways.)

Pants. I need pants. Jyn cast about the room, throwing the covers of the bed back, checking over the back of the roller-chair she’d spent the day–no, longer than that apparently–glued to, but found nothing. 

She could have sworn she had at least dropped a pair of sweatpants at the end of the bed at some point…

Cassian must have tidied up before he left (the neat freak); she hadn’t even noticed. That happened sometimes: the computer consuming her when she was locked onto a particular idea. But it shouldn’t have happened today. Today she had planned to wrap up her coursework early, surprise him… 

Okay screw the pants, Jyn decided, marching from the room towards the kitchen with all the determination of a soldier approaching the battlefield.

(If a soldier’s uniform was your boyfriend’s oversized, university sweatshirt and the fight ahead was the arduous task of preparing a meal.)

It took her more than a few tries to find everything–despite how organized Cassian kept his kitchen cabinets–but before too long Jyn was staring down at the black, glinting surface of a flawlessly seasoned cast iron pan and the looming depths of a large pot, a box of spaghetti, its matching jar of sauce, and an assortment of meat and vegetables thrown on the counter beside them. 

“I’ve got this,” Jyn muttered to herself, eyeing the recipe she’d taped to the fridge like it might grow fangs and snap at her. (Or catch fire and nearly burn the place down as had happened on her most recent foray into chefdom). “You’ve hacked into government systems before,” she continued. “This will be easy compared to that. A piece of cake, or a pot of pasta.” Hopefully anyways. 

She checked the oven clock. If she stood any chance of getting this done before Cassian (Impossibly-Punctual) Andor came home she had to start now. 

The empty apartment should have been quiet, peaceful. Instead, it suddenly seemed impossibly loud, noises swelling in her ears the longer she stood staring at the array of ingredients and tools––footsteps from the neighbor above, the distant rumble of a washing machine next door, the clicking of the fridge beside her, all clamoring in some insane harmony. 

The longer she stood there waiting (for what, she had no idea) the more power the sounds seemed to hold, quick to dredge up each and every anxious thought she had been so diligently shoving to the furthest corners of her mind since Cassian had told her of his plans to travel to Yavin…

When he cooked, Cassian always had music playing. Maybe that would help. Drown out the worry and the fear.

Jyn pulled her phone from the pocket of the red hoodie and tapped a playlist at random. Something upbeat began playing, muffled through the fabric as she tucked the phone back into the pocket, rolled up the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt, and drew a deep breath. “Alright, here goes nothing…”

Turning down the hallway that led to his apartment, Cassian smelled something…interesting. 

He tried to pin down what it was. Starch, yes. Tomatoes, yes. Onions and garlic, most likely. But then there were other unexpected notes, the heat of what might have been chili powder tickling at his nostrils, growing stronger with each step closer he got to his door, and maybe the cheese he was smelling was parmesan or pecorino? The combination wasn’t exactly bad, just off–out of balance. 

He thought for sure it was one of the neighbors; maybe Mrs. McCleod experimenting again–after all, she had stopped him just last week to ask him about his favorite market for finding fresh produce.

But as he passed by Mrs. McCleod’s apartment, he noticed the crack under the door was dark, a small pile of mail collecting beneath her welcome mat. She was probably away visiting her niece again. Which meant that the smell was most likely emanating from the door at the end of the hall.

His door. 

Cassian tugged his tie looser, a warmth kindling in his stomach, a smile slowly spreading across his face; Jyn. 

He’d insisted she should stay at his apartment while he was gone–enjoy some solitude away from distracting roommates and loud neighbors–but he hadn’t been entirely certain she would take him up on it. She’d given him a strange look at the suggestion (despite the fact that after nearly a year of dating, she seemed to spend more time in his apartment than her own) and returned to her keyboard, completely absorbed in the endless numbers and symbols flashing wildly across the computer screen at her command.

The reaction hadn’t been a total shock to him. Jyn had been unusually quiet ever since he’d first mentioned his job interview in Yavin. He’d tried to tell himself she was just preoccupied with the workload associated with the final semester before she earned her degree, but deep down he knew that she was likely asking herself the same questions as he was: If I get this job, what happens to us? 

Cassian reached into his suit pocket for his key, twisted it in the lock, and slowly opened the door, his eyes tearing up at the overwhelming burn of capsaicin in the air. Dropping his backpack by the door, he followed the sound of hissing steam, music, and occasional cursing into the kitchen. 

It had been just over a day since he’d seen her, but even so, Cassian had spent the plane ride home longing for the moment when he could wrap his arms tight around her again, kiss her until they were both oxygen deprived and gasping for air. 

He’d envisioned a quick, eager reunion. Unable to hold himself back from rushing towards her; clumsy, grabbing hands and awkward clashing of teeth. 

But then he saw her: standing in his kitchen with her hair wild atop her head, dancing from the stovetop to a nearby drawer; humming along to the song playing faintly in the background as she poked uncertainly at a pan of sauteed vegetables and shot a quick glance at a boiling pot of water–and all he could think to do was lean his shoulder into the doorframe and stare, his breath catching in his chest with a fierce and sudden ache. 

Cassian knew he was helplessly, hopelessly lost–had known it for a while–but it had never been more apparent to him than in that moment, hovering at the threshold. He was certain that if he did nothing else for the rest of life but watch her, he’d still die the happiest man on earth. 

She’d decided to borrow his favorite sweatshirt while he was away–red, well-worn, with Ferrix University emblazoned across the front. As she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the spice cabinet, the bottom of the sweatshirt rose too, revealing the faintest glimpse of black panties, serving in sharp contrast to the perfect, pale curve of her ass. 

The sight inspired a different kind of ache. Cassian made his way across the kitchen, and placed his hands on Jyn’s shoulders. Somehow, the only words he could seem to find were, “You’re cooking.”

A string of swear words fell out of her mouth in quick succession. “I could’ve stabbed you,” she grumbled, even as she set down the knife she was holding to lean backwards into him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m surprised I managed to.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall against him. “I was distracted.” 

“I can see that,” he mused. “You’re cooking. You hate cooking.”

He could just make out the faint flush that rose in Jyn’s cheeks as she glanced back at him, her hair tickling his chin. “I do hate it,” she agreed, “but I figured you’d be hungry and…well, I don’t hate you.” 

A soft laugh escaped him, “What a relief.”

“Shut up.”

“No really,” he said, pulling her closer. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Do you want food or not?” Her scowl was made significantly less believable by the smile catching quickly at the corners of her mouth. 

Cassian gave a considerate hum. His stomach had been rumbling as he stepped off the plane, but now a different kind of hunger was taking hold. His skin was hot beneath his suit where Jyn’s body pressed against his own; all he could seem to think of was her in his sweatshirt–in only his sweatshirt. 

But Jyn seized his brief lapse of silence as an opportunity to change subjects. “So…How’d the interview go?” she asked lightly, though her muscles went tight as she dipped a wooden spoon in the red liquid that bubbled on the stove in front of her.

He watched as she blew steam away from the spoon before bringing it to her mouth to taste and wincing. “The interview was fine,” he murmured, pressing (what he hoped she would as) a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

The smile had already vanished from Jyn’s face. “You think you got the job then?”

Cassian moved his hand slowly up and down her arm, earlier ideas already forgotten. “They made me an offer,” he admitted quietly. 

“They did…” The energy seemed to have drained straight out of her–the dancing, humming, swearing woman from moments ago turned to shadow. 

Like she didn’t know. Like she couldn’t feel the frantic stuttering of his heart where his chest pressed between her shoulders blades. Like she couldn’t sense him, standing right here beside her on the knife’s edge. 

“I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet,” he told her. Of course I did. As though there had been anything else he could do…

“You did what?” Jyn twisted in his arms. “That is your dream job. You know you want to go, so just go. Why would you–”

“Jyn,” he cut in, and she went still–let him hold her in place for at least a moment longer while he continued. “I said yet. I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet.”

Her knuckles were white, wrapped tight around the wooden spoon. He reached past her and switched off the burners before anything could start smoking or boil over.

Cassian’s own nerves were starting to take hold. He gave a hard swallow, trying to clear the tightness from his throat. “I don’t want to go to Yavin. Not without you… I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come with me. After you graduate in the spring, come with me.”

“Cass…”

He was about to tell her she didn’t have to answer right now–to delay whatever pain he sensed was coming from inevitable rejection–when she closed her hand around his tie and tugged him closer, tilting her head back to press her lips to his. 

Beneath his mouth, he could feel her smile forming, but it still took his breath away to see it when they broke apart. “Is that a yes, then?”

Jyn wound his tie tighter around her hand. “I like this suit,” she commented, eyes sweeping across the blue fabric and back to the black silk of the tie. 

“I’m taking that as a yes…” Cassian told her, his attention splitting as she began to playfully undo the top buttons of his shirt. 

“I cooked for you…” Her lips passed over his throat, her voice muffled. 

Heat was racing up Cassian’s spine, his thoughts going increasingly hazy. “You did…” he replied, inhaling sharply as the hand not wrapped in his tie found the back of his head, fingers tugging lightly at his hair. 

“I’m a terrible cook, but I cooked. For you.”

She still hadn’t answered him. Not really. He wanted an answer, a definitive answer. “What does this have to do with–”

“Are you still hungry?” 

“Jyn–” he pleaded.

“Because I was thinking we should forget about the food,” she continued, her mouth brushing over his ear–words like sparks to his skin. “I changed my mind. There’s something else I want to do for you instead. Something I’m much, much better at…”

He relented slightly, instinct shoving reason aside as he tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt, her skin soft against his fingertips. “What did you have in mind?” 

“You mean, aside from moving to Yavin?” she murmured with a teasing grin, pressing even closer, tips of their noses brushing, her breath warm against his cheeks.

“So that was a yes earlier…”

Jyn rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think?”

He lifted her off her feet, and she laughed, wrapping her legs tight around his torso. “I think you’re coming to Yavin with me,” he said, slightly breathless, not quite daring to believe it. 

“I’m coming to Yavin with you,” she echoed, delivering a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome home, Cassian.”

[sturniololoco]

Period Problems

Chris Sturniolo x fem reader 

Warnings: periods?

Summary: You weren’t feeling your best due to your period, and Chris makes you feel better.

Y/N’s POV

You don’t know how I got to this position, but I was now upside down on the couch watching a hallmark movie. Being on your period always hurts, and some crazy sitting positions always ease your pain.

It was late, and Matt, Nick, and Chris were out filming a car visit video and getting dinner from McDonald’s. I texted my boyfriend from my position on the couch,

“Are u still at McDonald’s?”

“Yah, need anything??” He replied after about a minute.

“Can I getta chocolate milkshake plzzzzz” I texted back.

“Ofc mama u need anything else?”

“Nope! 😘”

-

I’m still upside down on the couch when the boys walk upstairs,hold bags of food.

Matt just gives me a look, but Nick says,

“Y/N, should I even ask what the fuck you’re doing?”

“No, probably not.” I respond, to which he just shakes his head and goes to get his food.

Chris comes up the stairs a moment later, holding, what I assume is his Pepsi, and my milkshake.

I immediately turn right side up and roll up my sleeves, clapping my hands like a child.

“Well isn’t someone excited!” He laughs and walks over to me, handing me my milkshake and kissing me on the head. Chris goes to get his food and comes to sit next to me, the other two boys filling in on the couch where there’s room. 

“Y/N, you know we all love you, but can we please change this shit?” Mat says, referencing the hallmark movie playing on the tv.

“ugh I guess so.” I said, tossing him the remote. He changed it to a new show that he wants us all to watch, and we all eat our chicken nuggets.

-

I end up with my head in Chris’s lap while he’s still sitting up in the couch.  Normally I would be super comfy in Chris’s Fresh Love track suit I’m in right now, but my cramps just won’t go away. I try to reposition myself, but I end up sucking in a sharp breath at the pain.

Chris’s POV

About halfway through the movie, I hear Y/N gasp and hold her stomach.

Then i finally realize that she must be on her period. That explains the weird positions, the chocolate milkshake, and the craps.

I slowly take my hand and move her arms from around her. I replace them with my hand, sliding it up her sweatshirt and lightly massaging her stomach.

She lets out a little sigh of relief and snuggles closer to me.

Y/N’s POV

I feel Chris’s hand make their way under my sweatshirt and my cramps almost immediately feel better. His big hands cover my whole stomach, and their warmth soothes my aching tummy. I snuggle into him, so thankful to have a boyfriend like Chris, who always knows exactly what to do.

This was kinda rushed, but I low key rly needed this rn 😭 hope yall like it. I should be able to post one more before the end of the night but I’m still not sure

✌️❤️

[heich0e]

"are you... crying?"

as suna pops into your peripheral vision over the back of the sofa, you turn to hide your face from him, frantically scrubbing at your wet cheeks.

"no," you lie, sniffling pathetically.

the TV is still playing in the background, but it does little to hide the sound.

rintarou hoists his body over the back of the couch, nestling himself and his unjustifiably long limbs into place beside you. he wiggles around while he tries to get comfortable.

"isn't this a kids movie?" he asks you flatly, eyes flickering between the television screen and your face, though you still refuse to meet his gaze. "you're crying over a movie made for children."

you finally turn to look at him, your features pinched in indignation. "lilo and stitch is appropriate for all viewing ages, thank you."

rintarou quirks a brow at your fury, doing nothing to hide his amusement. if his expression tells you anything, it's that he's achieved the exact reaction he'd been hoping for, which only irritates you more.

"wouldn't know," he says with a shrug, the light from the tv flickering across his features, "i've never seen it."

you gape. "if you've never seen it then you can't judge me! you don't even know what it's about."

suna's enjoying your upset far too much, just like he always does. he scooches a little closer to you, tucking his feet under the blanket you have thrown across your lap.

"it's about some little blue monster, right?"

"he's an alien," you correct him pointedly, "and they think he's a dog."

"weird looking dog," suna remarks. he reaches out and swipes at a tear still clinging to your cheek with his thumb. you suppress sudden the urge to bite his hand. "why'd the ugly dog make you cry?"

your lip wobbles again as you turn your attention back to the screen.

you don't want to tell him.

you don't want to tell him.

"he was watching his family have fun without him, and he felt left out," you croak out, voice watery. "he tried to build a sandcastle on his own tummy."

it's quiet for a second, only the voices of the characters on screen playing though the darkness of your living room.

"you're pathetic."

his actions are in direct contradiction to his words, because even as he chides you rintarou is wrapping his arms around you comfortingly, pulling you into his lap.

"he just wants a family," you warble, tucking your face against the collar of your boyfriend's sweatshirt. his hand pats gently over your back, the other tugging the blanket up around you both as he nestles you back into the sofa.

"doesn't he have one? who are those people?" he asks, nodding forward towards the screen.

"that's lilo and her older sister, and the hunky guy is david."

"hunky?" rintarou asks, his voice lilting up in what sounds like genuine concern and mild offense.

you snort.

"yeah, he's hot," you say, snuggling even further into suna's chest. "he's nani, the older sister's, love interest."

"so he's like me?" suna asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close. "and you're nani?"

"no i'm the guy whose ice cream keeps getting knocked off his cone," you shake your head. "and you're scrump."

"scrump?" suna mutters in confusion.

"wanna restart the movie?" you ask, peeking up at him hopefully.

he looks down at you, his eyes following the lines of your face for a moment. he smiles a little, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"yeah, alright," he agrees once he pulls away, reaching for the remote. "i wanna see who this scrump guy is. must be handsome if you say he looks like me."

[atlabeth]

between colleagues pt 2 - anthony lockwood

part one

summary: the morning after and some shopping. this is still a great plan. right?

a/n: lol this took forever to come out but ive been busy asf and dealing with a lot of personal issues but i am really loving these two and they made me feel better so i hope you all enjoy!! they really are just two idiots in love lmao the shop scene was v fun

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): fem!reader, small mention of death in regards to a case, reader freaking tf out for a second. but basically no warnings this is all fluff

also im aware i use this gif a lot but it's like my favorite one of him so uhhhh yeah

Your shoulder was stiff when you woke up, and you had to stifle a groan of discomfort as you rolled onto your back. So much for staying off your injured side, you thought disdainfully. Typical of you to sabotage yourself in your sleep. 

A glance over at the other empty bed proved Lucy was awake, and a glance at the clock on the wall proved she might have been awake for quite some time. 

It was six in the bloody evening. Lockwood’s call with the Caldecotts must have gone well if you were able to sleep for 14 hours. You normally would have had the sense to be a little bit ashamed of sleeping an entire day away, but after the job you’d had and the arrangement you made with Lockwood, you felt like you deserved it. 

You pulled yourself out of bed and went through the paces of making yourself presentable at the very least, then threw on a sweatshirt and made your way downstairs. Lockwood was alone in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a half-eaten piece of toast in front of him and the agency’s case binder in his lap. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Lockwood said, glancing up from the files on his lap with a smile. You rolled your eyes at him as you walked into the kitchen. 

“Would you believe me if I said I was still tired?” You took a cup from the cabinet and filled it at the tap, taking a sip as you glanced out the window. Night had already fallen, and you could see the flickering of ghost lamps in the distance. 

“You know, I think I would,” he said. “You didn’t make it the full 24 hours you promised—I think you’ve still got some in you.” 

You chuckled and shook your head. “Where’s Lucy and George?” 

“Grocery shopping,” he said, and he looked at the clock. “It’s taking them an awful long while, though.” 

“Why are they shopping at night?” you asked. 

Lockwood shrugged. “George really wanted to make pad thai, but we have none of the ingredients. Apparently, it’s important enough to warrant a night trip to the store. Lucy offered to go with him, and I made them take their rapiers, so it should be fine.” 

“Of course you did,” you mused. “Did you tell them about our little arrangement?” 

His eyes filled with amusement. “No. I figured you would want the honor.” 

You sighed and let your head fall back. “Kind as always, Lockwood.” 

“You should probably start calling me Anthony,” he said. “Just to get used to it.” 

“What,” you said dryly, looking back down at him, “girlfriends don’t usually call their boyfriends by their last name?” 

“I think your family may frown upon it.” Lockwood checked his watch, then set the binder on the table and stood up. “If you get a kettle going, I’ll make us tea.” 

“Bored of write-ups already?” you asked, crouching down to pull the kettle out of a cabinet. Lockwood chuckled as he took the tin of tea bags out of the closet, and he turned the burner on just as you finished filling the pot up. 

“I try to do my part, but they’re really not my forte,” he said. “You and George are much better at them.” 

“And it comes from filing reports since the tender age of eight,” you said solemnly as you set the kettle on the stovetop.

Just then, the sound of a lock clicking open drew your attention, and you smiled as Lucy and George came inside. George had a reusable bag in one hand and her rapier in another, and Lucy also had hers drawn. 

Your brows knit together. “Run into any ghosts?” 

“Good morning to you too,” George said. You gave him a mocking look in return. 

“No,” Lucy answered, pushing the door shut with her foot, “just being careful. Because somebody swore he saw a Spectre and refused to let a Visitor run away with his goods.”

“I am starving,” George enunciated. “I wasn’t going to let a ghost ruin all my hard work.” 

Lockwood smiled. “Well, I’m glad you’re both intact.”

“I’m glad you’re finally up,” George said with a look at you. “I thought you’d never come out.”

“She slept like a brick,” Lucy said. “I knocked over all the bottles in the shower and she never even stirred.”

You shrugged. “Last night was exhausting. For many reasons.”

The kettle went off and you turned the burner back down. Lockwood took two more mugs out of the cabinet and set tea bags in them, then poured the boiling water into all four. You handed him the sugar container with a pointed look. 

“Remember, half—” 

“Half a teaspoon,” he nodded, taking it from you with a wry smile. “I remember.” 

“Good,” you said. “You’re always a little heavy handed.” 

“Are you saying I add extra sweetness into your life?” Lockwood asked, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“How did you know?” 

“You know, we’re also here,” Lucy spoke up, though when you turned to her she was barely hiding a smile. 

“As if I could ever forget you, Lucy Carlyle,” you said. “How’s your day been?” 

“Quiet without you,” she said. “Lockwood’s been on the phone all day, and even though George didn’t sleep quite as long as you, he still woke up at two in the afternoon.” 

“Oh, please,” George said over his shoulder, in the midst of rifling through his groceries, “I earned it. We all did, after the night we had.” 

“True,” she said, tilting her head. “I actually didn’t have any nightmares for once— I’ve never slept so soundly.” 

“See?” You gestured at her. “The charms I put on the walls are working.” 

Lucy gave you a look. “You can’t seriously believe that.” 

“No ghosts have gotten into our room!” you exclaimed. “And both of our nightmares have been getting better. That dragon is protecting us.” 

Lockwood bit back a smile. “I still cannot believe you bought that.” 

“Seriously,” George said, still organizing ingredients. “A week’s wages, just gone.” 

You frowned. “My iron dragon is incredible, thank you very much. Besides, I’m supporting local businesses.” You glanced at Lockwood. “So the supply calls were made?”

“Every last one of them,” he confirmed as he stirred sugar into your tea. “Satchell’s was very happy to get our business again. Salt bombs will be in on Friday, flares come next week, and we’re getting brand new chains tomorrow. Plus a couple new silver glass containers from Sunrise.”

“That’s smart,” you said. “I think I threw our last square container in the furnaces last week.” 

George frowned. “We went into the disaster that was last night without any silver glass?”

Lockwood cleared his throat as he handed you your mug, then set the other two on the table for Lucy and George. “Everything worked out in the end.”

Lucy just sighed. “We cut things too close for comfort.”

“The Lockwood & Co motto,” you said before taking a sip of tea. Perfectly sweetened. “How about the Caldecotts?”

“Rescheduled for tomorrow at half past noon,” Lockwood said. “Do you think you’ll be awake by then?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “I didn’t forget our deal that quickly.”

George raised his eyebrows. “What deal?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said. “Just sold my soul for a favor from Lockwood.”

Lucy frowned, eyeing the two of you. “Elaborate.”

Lockwood hid his smile with a sip of tea as he also looked at you. So this was still your treat. 

You shrugged. “We’re going to a wedding together.”

“Not exactly selling your soul,” George said. “Congrats.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re going together.” 

“Congrats,” he said again. “Are we just emphasizing words now?” 

“We’re going as a couple,” Lockwood said. 

Lucy’s eyes widened and George nearly choked on his tea as they blurted out the same thing. “What?” 

“A fake couple,” you added hastily, “to fool my family.”

“…Oh,” Lucy said, glancing at George. “That’s…”

“Less exciting,” he finished. 

Lockwood made a face. “Less exciting? George, we’re going to be lying to her whole family for a whole weekend. I’d say that’s quite exciting.” 

He glanced at Lucy for a moment before he sighed and looked back at Lockwood with a shake of his head. “Sure.” 

“Anyways,” you segued, “I just thought you two should know. It’s not for another month and half, but between the usual ghost-hunting we’re going to be doing a fair bit of planning together.”

“Spend all the time together that you want,” Lucy said. “George and I are good enough at holding down the fort, right?”

“It was just Lockwood and I for months at the beginning of all this, and half the time I was on my own because of investigatory whims,” George said. “At least you’re usually sort of predictable, Luce.”

She frowned. “I take offense to that.”

Lockwood chuckled and shook his head as he set the other two cups of tea down on the table for them. “We won’t impede work at all, I promise. I’ll make sure everything still goes as smoothly as possible.”

“What Lucy said,” George said, finally satisfied with the order of all the ingredients as he got to work. “Spend as much time together as you want.” 

“Maybe you will,” you said haughtily. “Maybe Lockwood’s lying and we’ll completely abandon our duties.” 

“We won’t,” Lockwood assured, and you merely smiled as you took another sip of tea. 

“Speaking of work,” Lucy said, “we ran into Kipps and Godwin on the way to the store.” 

Lockwood’s expression hardened and he set his mug down a bit too forcefully. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?” 

“Because it was nothing,” George said, looking up from cutting vegetables. You were glad he was the one with a knife and not Lockwood. “Just typical Kipps posturing.” 

“He told us about some job they got,” Lucy said. “Some ridiculously rich widow hired Fittes to find and clear out the ghost of her husband, and they were put on the case.” 

“What was her name?” Lockwood asked. 

“I wasn’t really paying attention, if I’m being honest,” she said. 

“Agnes Colville,” George said. 

“That bastard!” Lockwood’s jaw clenched and he moved across the room to a stack of newspapers on the floor, toppling over from the height. He crouched down and began rifling through them, and after a second he pulled out one and held it up for you all to see. The look in his eye was only slightly crazed, which was admittedly progress. “He stole it from us!”

“I do remember seeing her in the paper,” you said after taking a moment to scan the cover. Her husband died of old age, and it was only because of their impressive fortune that anyone knew of it. “A tragedy.” 

“I talked to her first,” he insisted, still crouched on the ground. “I called her right after I got this paper, and she told me she wasn’t looking for any agents.” 

“She changed her mind, I guess,” Lucy said with a shrug. 

“Or Kipps bothered her until she changed it,” Lockwood grumbled. 

“Great,” George said wryly as he pushed garlic off his knife. “We’re going to be working double time to make up for this, aren’t we?” 

“Sharp as always,” Lockwood said, and he finally stood up as he set the newspaper back down. He pointed a finger at you. “After we go dress shopping tomorrow, it’s straight to the archives to pick up a better case than Kipps.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We’re going dress shopping tomorrow?”

“Did I not tell you?” He frowned. “Caldecotts then dress shopping. And now archives.”

“No,” you said, “you absolutely didn’t.”

Lockwood shrugged. “Well, now you know. We’re going dress shopping.”

“Awfully eager to get into this boyfriend role,” George said.

“I take my job seriously.”

“I already have a dress, Lockwood,” you said. “Dorothy Perkins, remember?”

“This is a special occasion,” he said. “You deserve something nice.”

You felt your cheeks warm and you looked right at him. “You’ll pay?”

“Of course,” he said. “Business expenses, remember?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Yeah. Alright, we can go dress shopping. But if I’m getting a new dress, you’re getting a new suit.”

“Fair’s fair,” he said.

“Do we get any new clothes on your bill?” George asked. “Or is that just reserved for your fake girlfriend?” 

“Oh, come off it, George,” Lucy said. “Let them have some fun together.” 

“Thank you, Lucy,” you said as you sat down across from her. 

“Of course,” she said. “You’re saving me from the Caldecotts and a day in the archives. I should really be thanking you.” 

You turned to look at Lockwood. “You’re not going to use this as an excuse to get me to come along on all your errands with you, are you?” 

“Do try and be supportive, love,” Lockwood said. “It’s only right as my girlfriend.” 

You groaned as you leaned back in your chair, trying your best to ignore Lucy’s smile. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.” 

“Another Lockwood & Co motto,” George mused. “How fitting.” 

-

“Is that Anthony Lockwood walking through my door?” 

You looked up when you walked through the door after Lockwood, a grin already on his face as the boutique saleswoman, a kindly older woman, greeted him. A worker at an upscale clothing store knew him by name—already a good sign. 

“Ms. Bridgeston,” Lockwood said, “it’s been too long.” 

“It certainly has, young man!” She pulled him into a hug and he returned it, and the woman looked at you when she pulled away. “And who is this darling girl with you?” 

Lockwood said your name with a gesture, and you smiled and held out your hand. “I’m his associate.” 

“And my girlfriend,” he added as she shook your hand. You shot him a look over her shoulder with wide, questioning eyes. 

“Practicing,” he mouthed at you with a shrug. He was so ridiculous that you had to stifle a laugh. 

“Yes,” you said, looking back at her with a smile, “his girlfriend, too.” 

“Well, it is wonderful to meet you, dear.” Ms. Bridgeston smiled at Lockwood. “Anthony here has wonderful taste in apparel—he was right to bring you here.” 

“I believe it,” you said with a glance around. “We’re actually in the market for wedding clothes—my cousin is getting married soon.” 

“Oh, congratulations!” She clasped her hands together, eyes shining as she looked between both of you. “Is there anything you need help with, or would you just like to look around?” 

“We’re good to just look,” Lockwood said, “but we’ll certainly let you know if we need anything.” 

Ms. Bridgeston nodded with another smile. “Certainly. I’ll be in the back stocking if you need me.” 

“Thank you,” you said, and you looked at Lockwood as she walked off. “Any ideas?” 

He shook his head. “Get whatever you’d like. This is a very special occasion.” 

You chuckled and nodded, going off to look at a rack of dresses. The agency had been doing well for itself lately. You supposed you could splurge on a nicer dress after nearly dying a couple dozen times. “What are you going for?” 

“Oh, I’m not getting anything here,” he said. “I’ve already got a suit at home, and I’ll get a pocket square that matches whatever color you’re wearing. We’re shopping for you—I’m just having fun here.”

“How exquisite,” you mused as you ran your finger over velvet. “We’ve only been fake dating for a day and you’re already all in.” 

“Consider it getting in character,” Lockwood said. “We’ll already have gotten all our mistakes out of the way by wedding time.” 

“Wise as always.” You took the maroon dress off the rack and continued moving down the line, and you glanced over at Lockwood. “You’ve already got what you want?” 

“Most of my wardrobe is black and white.” He held up a navy suit. “This is different.” 

“Hardly,” you said with a chuckle. “Dark blue is almost black.” 

“This is my version of fun,” Lockwood said wryly, and you smiled as he went into the dressing room. 

You spent the next while picking out dresses that struck your fancy, and by the time Lockwood was done, you had five in your arms. When he walked out, you nearly dropped them all. 

You didn’t know what was wrong with you. 

Perhaps it was lingering sleep deprivation from the near 24 hours you spent awake the other day. Perhaps it was lingering anger from your dealings with the Caldecotts—no amount of money could make dealing with Lorena worth it, but all those zeroes did help—or perhaps you were just already losing your mind. 

Despite your complaints, you weren’t averse to the day Lockwood had planned out. Seeing as you’d spent entire days rooting through the archives with him on wild goose chases, an afternoon after an interview and some shopping wasn’t the worst it could get.

But now, standing in the back of the store as Lockwood emerged, you were beginning to question the wisdom of this decision. 

Because you honest to God didn’t know what was wrong with you. You saw Lockwood in suits every day, or at least something suit-adjacent. Slacks, a jacket and tie, a million white dress shirts that you always end up folding. Pristine shoes, so shiny you can see your reflection in them, getting ruined by cobwebs and plasma over and over—you’ve spent many a night sitting with Lockwood talking as he polished his most recent pair of shoes, determined to get them back to their former glory. 

The point was that you were used to it. You were used to seeing Lockwood dressed up—when you first joined the agency, you honestly thought he slept in suits as well until you ran into him one night on a mission for midnight tea.

So why were you unable to look away from him when he emerged from the dressing room? Why were you rendered absolutely and completely speechless? 

It was nothing special, at least for Lockwood. Just a tuxedo. Navy blue rather than black like he always wore, but far nicer than the usuals. He was fussing with his bowtie as he walked out, muttering things under his breath, and thankfully not looking at you at all. You felt your eyes widen, your breath stolen from you for a moment, and all you could do was stare. Very classy of you, but you could hardly be blamed. He was stunning.  

You didn’t even realize he was saying something until you heard your name for what had to have been the third time, and you blinked and snapped out of your stupor. 

“What?” 

He gave that damn smile and inclined his head slightly, holding up one end of the tie hanging around his neck. “Could you help me with this? I don’t know what’s wrong with me this morning.” 

At least you had that in common. You cleared your throat and nodded, taking a deep breath as you walked up to him in the hopes that you looked far more composed than you felt. “Yeah. Of course.” 

You felt his eyes on you the entire time and you tried your hardest not to focus on it. You’d done Lockwood’s ties millions of times, usually before a particularly important interview or a particularly difficult night. He always said it was good luck, and you always rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“So?” Lockwood spoke after a moment, still watching you.  

“It’s good,” you said with a nod as you finished tying the bow, making sure it was straight before you stepped away. “You look good.” 

“Thank you,” Lockwood said, looking at himself in the mirror with a slight smile. “For the compliment and the help. 

“It’s what I’m here for,” you said. 

“And as much as I appreciate that,” he said, turning that smile on you, “we’re here so you can get a dress too. Did you pick any out while I was getting ready?” 

You nodded and picked up the hangers you’d set down to help Lockwood. “Which one do you want to see first?” 

“Definitely the maroon one,” he said with a nod. “Goes well with your eyes.” 

“You’re too kind,” you said, and he chuckled as he pressed his hand to his heart. 

You went behind the curtain, purposefully taking your time as you undressed so you could try and compose yourself further. It was just a suit, and he was just Lockwood, and this was just a fun little ruse to get your mum off your back for once. 

Just a suit. Just a ruse. Just Lockwood. 

You let out a deep breath and nodded, finally feeling like yourself again. You stepped into the dress and pulled it up, adjusting it around your figure before you zipped it up in the back, but you couldn’t get it all the way up. 

“Lockwood,” you called, “can you help me?” 

“Of course,” you heard him respond. 

You pushed the curtain aside and stepped back out, making some more minute adjustments along the way. When you looked up, Lockwood’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted. 

“Lockwood,” you said, staring at him. 

He blinked and seemed to focus back in, his head perking up. “What?” 

“My zipper.” 

“Right.” Lockwood moved just a bit too quick around you, and you shivered as his fingers brushed your bare back for a moment while he pulled the zipper the rest of the way up. “Sorry.”

“Your hands are always cold,” you said. “It’s fine.” 

“That’s—” he cleared his throat, and you turned just to see him shake his head. “Right. Yeah. Thanks.” 

You raised your eyebrows, the slightest smile tugging at you. “For what?” 

His own rose. “Hm?” 

“You thanked me. For what?” 

Lockwood shook his head again. “Don’t worry about it.” 

You chuckled and nodded, holding out the skirt of your dress with your hands. “So? What do you think?” 

“You look incredible,” he said, “obviously. It’s an honor to be your fake boyfriend.” 

“You’re gonna make me blush,” you said, but your cheeks already felt too warm for comfort. 

Lockwood grinned. “Good.” 

You had to turn away at that point. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, teasing you like this. “You’re taking your role way too seriously,” you said, busying yourself with rifling through the rest of the dresses you picked out. 

“I told you,” he said, “I take my job seriously. And as someone who takes their job seriously, I think that dress is definitely the one.” 

“Really?” You held up a sparkling blue dress against you and looked at him. “What about this one?” 

He shook his head. “Maroon is definitely the one.” 

“I agree, dear.” You looked up to see Ms. Bridgeston walking out carrying two boxes, that same adoring twinkle in her eye. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” You looked back in the mirror for another good, long moment, and you nodded decisively. “I agree. This is the one.” 

“Wonderful choice,” she said. 

“Perfect choice,” Lockwood said with a grin. “If you get changed, I can go ahead and pay for everything. We’ve already used up half our day—we’ve got to get to the archives.” 

You eyed him. “You didn’t just say this was the one so we could spend eight hours in the archives, did you?” 

“No,” he assured. “That is the one—trust me, love. You just happened to pick out the best one first.” 

You chuckled and shook your head as you started going back to the dressing room. “Whatever you say.” 

Soon enough, you and Lockwood were both back in your regular clothes, dress bag in tow, walking down the streets of London. 

“You seriously don’t mind spending all that money for this?” you asked, glancing over at him. 

“Of course not,” he said. “I can always take it out of your paycheck, if it’ll make you feel better.” 

You laughed and hit him on the arm, earning a chuckle in response. “As long as you seriously weren’t lying to me about liking this dress to get me to the archives.” 

“I would never lie to you about something like that,” Lockwood said, and he held up his pointer and middle finger. “Agent’s honor.” 

You smiled inwardly. “Thank you, then. I suppose I can handle spending the rest of the day in the archives with you with compliments like that.” 

“Thank you, then,” he repeated. “We do have to make a stop for tea, first.” 

“Naturally,” you agreed. 

As you continued on your way, not exactly arm in arm but close enough for your hands to brush every so often, you found your mind drifting back to Lockwood in that damned suit. You cleared your throat and shook your head, trying to physically push the thought away. 

“Everything alright?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Just got something in my throat.” 

Lockwood nodded, thankfully oblivious to your inner struggle. You let out a deep breath. 

This was definitely still a good idea.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz (ft platonic!Jay Halstead): Not The Pizza Guy 

You swung the door open money in hand and paused at the man in front of you. “You're not the pizza guy.” He was leaning on the doorframe, his jacket damp from the night rain. His face, which had been furrowed in worry, was now caught between shock and disbelief. Your eyes fall to the badge clipped on his hip. You had thought that knock was a little loud and on the cop side. A smile comes to your lips, “You must be Jay,” 

“Yeah, I must be.” He agreed. You nodded at him and gestured into the apartment.  

“Did you want to come in? Greg is just in the shower.” It is strange for Jay to hear Mouse’s legal name. It’s even stranger to see you standing in front of him, all smiles, dressed in one of Mouse’s Star Wars sweatshirts and little else. You don’t wait for him to answer as you head back in. Jay hesitated before following you in and closing the door behind him. The living room was empty. Jay barely sees your ponytail rounding the corner as you call out Mouse’s name.  

Jay feels out of sorts. He had come over because he had been worried about his friend. It seemed like Mouse was falling back into old bad habits. He was blowing off team outings, constantly distracted by his phone, and had seemingly been in his own world. Jay's first and only thought had been that his friend was struggling with PTSD. He had feared that Mouse may have been slipping back into his former drug use. He had come intent on doing an intervention if need be. He had been planning what he would say, the options he had found, and even prepared to move Mouse in with him if he needed the extra support.  

Now he wasn’t sure how to respond. 

Mouse rounds the corner in sweats, toweling off his hair. He had clearly been alerted to Jay’s arrival. He had the grace to look guilty. “Hey buddy,” You walked back in now sporting a pair of black leggings under Mouse’s hoodie. There is a moment of quiet before another knock sounds at the door again. 

“Now that’s got to be the pizza.” You turn on your heel walking between the boys to head for the door.  

“Baby, for the sake of my peace of mind, please check who it is before you open the door this time. This is Chicago, not your small town.” You look back at your boyfriend smiling contritely. 

“Yeah, right, sorry.” They watched you head to the door. There is a brief pause and then, “You're not a murderer, right? You’re just the pizza guy?” Mouse rubs his hands over his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.  

“Her lack of self-preservation is going to take years off my life.”  

Before Jay can ask Mouse anything, you come back into the room with the pizza and a stack of paper plates. You give one to Mouse and then offer another to Jay. Soon you are all sitting in the living room eating pizza and the ball game is on the TV. Jay can’t focus on it and instead spends his time analyzing you and his old war buddy. Jay watches as Mouse throws his arm across the back of the couch and you lean into his side. You place a napkin on his leg, and he smiles down at you. There is a lightness in his friend, a warmth, a happiness that Jay hasn’t seen in a long time. He feels ridiculous for being so off base with how his friend was doing. 

And so fucking grateful he was wrong. 

Jay lingered after everyone had finished the food. You offer to make a pot of coffee and the boys accept. Mouse watches as you disappear into the kitchen. “She seems like a nice girl.” Mouse’s lips form an unconscious smile. 

“She is.” 

“Why didn’t you just tell me man? I was worried about you.” Mouse rubs the back of his neck scratching gently. He lifts his eyes from where they had been trained on the floor. 

“I know, I’m sorry. It was selfish but I just wanted to keep her to myself for a while. She’s so innocent. Untouched by the dark side of humanity.” Jay can see the struggle in Mouse’s eyes. The self-doubt and question of if he was worthy of something good.

Someone good.

Jay had seen it many times looking back at him in the mirror. “Her parents are still together, from a small town- never even locked her front door before she moved to Chicago- can you believe that? And she just-” Mouse threw his hands up as if he was trying to get a grasp on his own good fortune, “She walked into a cafe and right into my life. Just like that. Just like that man. I can’t even believe it. She's not anything like what I would have picked for myself.” Mouse chuckles, “She is so technologically challenged, it’s insane. I thought you guys at the precinct were bad, but it is nothing compared to her. And I can’t help but find it strangely adorable.” 

Jay put a hand on Mouse’s shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m happy for you buddy, really, I am. You deserve it. But you can’t hide her away forever. And everybody is going to want to meet her.” 

“I know.”

You come in holding a cup of coffee in each hand and creamer, and sugar tucked under your arm. You offer the cups to both men. “I didn’t know how you took your coffee.” You say in explanation and Jay looks amused as he takes the sugar from your arm and pours some into his cup. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Mouse takes a drink of his already doctored-up coffee. He meets eyes with Jay before taking a deep breath. “Hey, the intelligence team is getting together at Molly’s tomorrow night...Do you want to go? Meet everyone.” You smile brightly pressing a kiss to Mouse's cheek. 

“I’d love to meet your family.”              

[kscheibles]

fall rendezvous (college bf! au)

content warnings: f! reader, fluff, smut, unprotected p in v sex, oral sex f! receiving

word count: 2.2k

The crisp morning air bites at your nose as you walk across campus after your 8 a.m. discussion class. You’re not used to New England weather; the chilly air causes your nose to run even when you’re bundled up in sweatshirts and coats as you are now. Matty makes fun of you every time, but his actions betray his true feelings. He always takes the opportunity to hold your hands in his and breathe hot air onto them. He likes being your solace. Your comfort.

As a matter of fact, that’s what you need him for now. Chase, the obnoxious legacy student in your Art History section, was insistent on devaluing the thematic interests of indigenous artists. Unfortunately, you’d had to take matters into your own hands when the TA looked as if it was too early for her to put a stop to his bullshit for the third time this semester. You’d ripped him a new one, but as a result, you were now simultaneously riled up, tired, and in need of a comforting hug from your boyfriend. You lug your book bag across the quad, texting Matty when you’re finally near his dorm.

You wait a few moments at the door, still reeling. As soon as the door swings open, revealing Matty’s crooked, slept-on curls and perfect, knowing smile, you can feel the anxiety in your body ease up. You run into him, almost knocking him off his feet as his arms come around to envelop you. The smell of his cologne and detergent and sleep fill your nose and seep into your brain, relaxing you like a drug. It’s instant with him. He gets into your bloodstream. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” he mumbles into your ear. You smile into his navy hoodie, looking up into his sleepy eyes.

“Mornin’,” you coo. Matty grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs, unlocking his door and letting you in. You’re greeted by the smell of fresh coffee. Matty goes over to the coffee pot and pours you a mug as you toss your bookbag on the floor and take your shoes and socks off. You survey the place, taking inventory of the two beds, one belonging to his roommate, Ross, who has a 9 a.m. lab. He won’t be back for hours, bless him. Matty’s bed is at a different height than usual. He’s lowered it a bit, for god knows what reason. You chalk it up to a manic ADHD episode where he decided he had to rearrange his room in order to do his homework properly – you know this kind of thing isn’t uncommon for him. You love the ways in which his brain is different from yours. He sees and gets excited by things you never could and you admire him endlessly for it.

“What’s with the bed?” you ask as Matty passes you a mug of steaming coffee. You take another whiff – hazelnut, he must have gotten a new blend to mark the beginning of fall – before sipping on it, feeling it ground you back to reality. Matty quirks his eyebrows playfully, smirking as he does. 

“Well I wanted to try something actually,” he starts, cozying up to your side and resting his chin on the top of your head. “You know we were having all that trouble last week when I was trying to fuck you standing up?” 

Your head snaps around and you meet his eyes, smiling. What a boy, you think. 

“Anyways, I couldn’t stop thinking about it the other night while I was waiting for Ross to come back from the library so we could play Mortal Kombat so I crushed a Red Bull and adjusted the bed to be just a bit lower than my hips.”

You put your coffee down on his messy bookshelves filled with mythology volumes, dogeared paperback copies of Kafka, and plastic video game cases. You bring your arms up around his neck and kiss him softly on the mouth. 

“I suppose you wanna try it out then?” you ask, teasingly. Matty moans into your mouth and walks you back towards the bed until your thighs hit the mattress. You fall down onto your back and Matty’s instantly undoing the button of your jeans, pulling your pants and underwear off in one fell swoop. His head falls between your legs instantly, kissing your inner thighs, lifting your legs over his shoulders, and then licking you from your hole to your clit. 

You whimper at the contact. He’s so warm and wet and good. You squirm under his tongue, instinctively looking for friction. You swear you can feel his lips curl into a smile around your clit as you begin to buck senselessly, arrhythmically into his mouth. He captures your clit in his mouth, sucking at it devotedly as his left hand comes around to pin you down to the bed by your hips.

“God, you make me feel so good,” you moan as his fingers begin to swipe listlessly at your entrance. His head leaves your body long enough for you to read the need in his eyes. His pupils are completely blown out, lips glistening with your pleasure. “I love you,” you breathe. It’s the only thing you can think when you see the picture between your thighs: your sweet boy on his knees, cozy in his hoodie, and looking up at you for reassurance that he’s eating you right, even though he’s done it a hundred times before. He bends down, kissing your lower tummy tenderly.

“I love you, too,” he smiles up at you, “Can I fuck you now, sweet girl?”

You nod, intoxicated with pleasure and grinning. Faintly, you hear his clothes shuffling as he rids himself of his sweatpants and underwear, pumping himself a couple of times to be sure he’s ready for you. You hear the condom wrapper crinkling. Then you feel him, sinking inside you slowly. You feel dizzy despite having your eyes closed. Matty folds your knees into you and begins to push in and out of you slowly, rocking you into ecstasy. With your feet to the sky, you start to feel the chilly autumn air seep into you through your extremities and into your core, distracting and uncomfortable.

“Matty, I’m cold,” you whine, grabbing at your feet to warm them up. Leave it to your university to skimp on heating during the freezing Connecticut fall. 

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, pulling out of you briefly, “Can you stand up a minute, darling?” You do, hissing as your feet hit the cold, ground, and watching him dumbly as he unmakes his bed, fluffing his comforter up and holding in his arms. He wraps it delicately around your shoulders, holding you to him in a hug that feels like complete and utter safety. “You wanna lay back down?” he whispers into your hair. You nod and Matty helps you back onto the bed. You slowly lean back until your spine hits the mattress and plant your feet back on the flat surface. He notices before even you do, “Your feet still look cold, are you okay?”

You look down at them, realizing only now that they’ve gone completely numb. You meet Matty’s eyes bashfully. “Will I still be hot enough to fuck if you lend me a pair of fuzzy socks?”

Matty blushes and nods, kissing you sweetly on the forehead. “Always,” he assures you before padding over to his chest of drawers and finding a pair of wool socks to don you with. He puts them on you himself, rubbing your toes through the thick material to bring the weight back into your body. 

“I feel like Cinderella,” you quip. 

“You are,” Matty smiles, your feet still in his hands, “My perfect princess.”

“Okay don’t get too into my feet now,” you giggle and Matty drops them immediately.

“You’re right,” he turns fake serious all of a sudden, “Don’t even know how I was paying attention to them when you’re all spread out for me right here.”

You smile sweetly as he buries himself in you again, savoring that perfect, holy meeting that makes you see stars every time.

Your mouth falls open and your brows furrow inadvertently as you feel Matty fill you up. He touches every part of you, holding on to your tits and legs and anything else he can get his hands on as he begins to fuck you in earnest. He’s losing himself, grasping at any straw of reality that could keep him grounded. Your hand comes around to encircle the wrist of his hand that's bruising your right breast. You whine with each snap of his hips into yours but still manage to get his attention and talk him through it. 

“I’m right here, Matty,” you say, “I’m yours. Making me feel so good, baby.” His eyes meet yours, black with desire. Matty’s confided in you that he has a tendency to dissociate a little during sex. It helps when you touch different parts of him, stimulate him in new ways so that he stays present, and when you speak to him so he can remember that he’s doing it for you, too. He appreciates how seriously you take it and loves you even more in the moments he can tell you’re trying to care for him. 

Matty’s hand moves from your breast down to where his body meets yours, trapping your clit between his fingers and rubbing you in tandem with his thrusts. It causes another wanton cry to escape your lips.

“Please stay just like that,” you beg, “Please, please, I’m so close baby.” He nods, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead as he drags your body impossibly closer to his own. 

“Being so fucking good for me baby,” he manages, “Such a good girl. You’re for me.”

“All for you, baby,” you repeat, “I’m so fucking lucky you make me feel so good.”

“Gonna make you cum, baby. Can I?” he asks, leaning over you even further, chasing both of your orgasms. Your head falls back into the bed as he does. Like a marionette with her strings cut, your head bobs uselessly against the navy sheets as Matty rubs you and fucks you faster.

“I’m almost there,” you warn, “Stay just like that. Please, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. Your brain is too far gone to be rational. You tense up as you feel your orgasm creeping up on you. 

“Relax for me,” you hear Matty’s voice in your ear, “It’s gonna feel a lot better if you relax, baby.”

You do. Instantly, you feel the band of pressure in your stomach snap as your orgasm washes over you from head to toe. You can feel yourself pulsing around Matty’s dick, over and over, beginning to feel overstimulated as he continues his assault on your used cunt. You swat tiredly at his hand on your clit. He moves it to your hip, holding on to you for dear life.

“Just another second baby,” he breathes, “You can be a good girl and take it a little while longer, yeah?” You nod uncontrollably, blissed out and needy. You need him to cum, need him to feel as good as you do. 

“Please, Matty, need you to cum inside me.” Matty slows to a stop above you, panting.

Matty falls onto your chest, bent over at the hips, panting into the duvet that cocoons you. Your hand meets his curls immediately, holding tight to what you couldn’t reach moments ago. You push his hair back from where it’s fallen onto his forehead, revealing his flushed face. Your thumbs ghost over his perfect cheekbones. You stay there, present for him, as he comes down, smiling at him when he finally meets your eyes. 

“Hi,” you muse.

“Hi,” he pants, letting his head touch the comforter again and pulling out of you. Your hands fly to his shoulders, brows furrowing as you try to still him. “Shhhh, baby, just a second,” he coos, standing up and tying the condom off before chucking it god knows where. He unwraps you and pulls the covers over the both of you as he nestles back into the comically small bed. He kisses the crown of your head when you find your way into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Thank you, I love you,” you say into his chest. 

“You too, baby,” he whispers, “Always look out for me you’re so good to me baby.” 

You lean up to kiss him, warm and sweet and soft. 

“This bed is really small,” you laugh into his mouth.

“That’s why I had to fold you up to fit,” he quips in return. 

“Will you take me to get a coffee, then? I think the one you made has gone cold.”

“Sure, baby,” he says, rubbing your bicep when you spring off the bed to get dressed. Matty gets up too, scrounging for his long discarded clothes. 

He chucks his blue Nike hoodie at you. “I know you were planning to steal that anyway.” You smile, shucking it on over your sweater. As you bend over to put your shoes on, Matty comes up behind you steadying you as you wobble with only one shoe on. You use his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans in, kissing you slowly and unhurriedly like he could do it all day.

“You ready to brave the cold?” he teases. 

“If I’m with you,” you pout. He giggles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and looping his arm around your neck.

“Come on then, baby,” he beams, “I’ll keep you warm.”

[honeybelleee]

Stabbed, You’re Next!

| Chapter Two |

Synopsis

When Y/N's best friend, Wonyoung Jang, is brutally murdered after uncovering a corruption scheme involving the school's staff, Y/N finds herself pulled into a dangerous game. With only a cryptic email and a folder of incriminating evidence, Y/N must team up with Wonyoung's boyfriend, Mingyu and a tech-savvy loner, Jake to expose the truth. But as the body count rises, Y/N realizes the conspiracy goes deeper than she ever imagined-and the killer is always one step ahead. Trust no one, because in this game, anyone could be next.

Pairings

Jake Sim x F!reader (It will progress rily slow)

Genre

Mystery, thriller, crime, heavy angst, slowburn fluff

TW

This story contains themes of violence, murder, and death, including graphic depictions of a stabbing and blood. It also explores corruption, fear, and grief, as the characters deal with loss, danger, and being stalked by a killer. Themes of paranoia and emotional trauma are present.

Notes

First fic posted on tumblr, ignore the details of the text messages places (its unorganized)!

Extra - This is going to be a half smau!!

Prev - Masterlist - Next

____________________________________________

It was 2.30 AM on a Wednesday, I wiped away my tears, trying to focus. I couldn’t fall apart now. Not when there was still so much to do. I grabbed my phone, dialing Mingyu’s number. It rang a few times before he picked up, his voice groggy.

“Y/N? What’s going on? It’s late.”

“Mingyu, it’s Wonyoung. Something’s happened. She’s... gone.” My voice cracked, and there was a long silence on the other end.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” he finally asked, his voice tight with confusion and rising panic.

“She’s dead, Mingyu. I found her in the lab.” I could barely get the words out. “I think someone killed her because of something she found.”

“W-what?” Mingyu’s voice broke, his disbelief palpable. “No, no, no... That can’t be. Wonyoung wouldn’t just—"

"I know, but it’s true. She was looking into something big, something dangerous. She left me a message before it happened.” I didn’t have the strength to tell him everything over the phone, but he needed to know the basics. "Meet me tomorrow. We need to figure out what she was working on. And... you might want to bring Jake."

He didn’t ask questions, his silence filled with grief and shock. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

After ending the call, I took a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts. I stared at the draft email again, scrolling through Wonyoung’s inbox, hoping there might be more. She was smart—she had to have left something else, some other clue that could help me understand just how deep this went.

Nothing.

It was almost like she’d wiped everything clean herself, leaving behind only the draft that was meant for me. I frowned, frustrated and on edge. Wonyoung wouldn’t have left something so dangerous in plain sight. The evidence had to be somewhere else—somewhere safe.

My mind kept circling back to the lab, to the stack of papers she was gathering before... before she was killed. Could they still be there? Or had the police already collected them? The thought of going back to that room made my stomach churn, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed to know what Wonyoung had found, and those papers could be the key.

The next morning, I met Mingyu and Jake in a quiet corner of the local coffee shop. Mingyu looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes, his usual bright smile absent. Jake, as usual, kept to himself, his face hidden beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.

Neither of them spoke at first, the weight of what we were dealing with hanging heavily in the air.

The next morning, I met Mingyu and Jake in a quiet corner of the local coffee shop. Mingyu looked haggard, dark circles under his eyes, his usual bright smile absent. Jake, as usual, kept to himself, his face hidden beneath the hood of his sweatshirt.

Neither of them spoke at first, the weight of what we were dealing with hanging heavily in the air.

Mingyu’s eyes were bloodshot, and I could tell he hadn’t slept. He read the email with trembling hands, shaking his head in disbelief. “This doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t she tell me about this? We didn’t keep secrets…”

“She probably wanted to protect you,” Jake said quietly, surprising both of us. He was already tapping away on his laptop, his fingers moving fast. “You said she didn’t trust anyone. If this was as dangerous as it sounds, she would’ve kept you out of it.”

Mingyu bit his lip, frustration and grief written all over his face, but he didn’t argue. “So what do we do now?”

“We need to find the evidence,” I said. “The police might have taken everything from the lab, but I think Wonyoung was careful. If she didn’t send it through email, then maybe it’s hidden somewhere else. Jake, do you think you can find anything?”

Jake gave me a nod, his eyes already glued to his screen. “If she left any digital traces, I’ll find them. But we need more than just her emails. If she kept notes or files, I need access to her devices—her laptop, her phone, whatever she used.”

I nodded. “I’ll go back to the school, see if they’ve secured her stuff yet. Maybe they haven’t taken everything.”

Mingyu looked hesitant, fear flashing across his face. “Y/N... you need to be careful. If whoever did this finds out you’re digging into what Wonyoung found...”

“I know,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I was ready to face that reality. “But I can’t just do nothing. Wonyoung trusted me with this, and I’m not going to let her down.”

Mingyu looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he just nodded. “Okay. Just promise you’ll call me if anything happens.”

I made my way back to Riverton High, my heart pounding as I approached the science lab. The police tape still blocked off the entrance, and a few officers stood nearby, guarding the scene.

I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing—I had to act. Taking a deep breath, I ducked around the corner and waited until the coast was clear. I knew the side door near the storage area wasn’t always locked. Wonyoung had told me about it once, back when we snuck in to finish a project late at night.

My pulse quickened as I pushed the door, holding my breath. It gave way with a quiet creak, and I slipped inside.

The lab was eerily quiet, the shadows long and ominous under the harsh fluorescent lights. The sight of the bloodstains on the floor made me sick, but I forced myself to focus. I had to find those papers. They had to be somewhere.

As I scanned the room, something caught my eye—a drawer near Wonyoung’s workbench. It was slightly ajar, and I could see the edge of a folder peeking out.

I quickly moved toward it, my hands trembling as I pulled the folder free. My breath caught. Inside were pages of notes, printouts, and photographs. Wonyoung had documented everything—emails, financial records, pictures of school staff, even a few blurry images of what looked like secret meetings. This was it. This was the evidence that had gotten her killed.

I barely had time to process it before I heard footsteps. My heart leapt into my throat. Someone was coming.

I shoved the folder into my bag and turned, scanning the room for a way out. But it was too late. The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure stepped inside.

“Y/N,” the voice was cold, sending a chill down my spine. I recognized it immediately.

Ms. Kang, the new guidance counselor, stepped into the light, her eyes narrowing as they landed on me.

“You shouldn’t have come back here,” she said, her voice calm but filled with menace. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

My blood ran cold as I realized the truth. She was part of it. She was involved in whatever corruption Wonyoung had uncovered.

And now she knew I was onto her.

I took a step back, my hand tightening around the strap of my bag. “I’m not scared of you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Ms. Kang’s lips curled into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. “You should be. Wonyoung didn’t know when to stop. Don’t make the same mistake.” She took a step closer, her eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous. “Leave this alone, Y/N. Or you’ll end up just like her.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get the evidence to Jake and Mingyu.

But first, I had to survive.

Taglist

@heeseungspookie @woorcve

[lovintasteslike]

Stone Cold Under Your Feet

One where drunk actions have harsh consequences

Word count: 700+

a/n: now whyd this actually take me so long. the ending is so trash. also I just saw a pic of niall getting kfc with basil standing behind him idk why that's so funny to me. anyways send me requests plsss

You wake to a sharp ringing and a glow illuminating the room from your bedside table, interrupting your dream of...who knows what. You think it must have been a good one as your brain tries to grasp onto sleep again.

Your arm remains sprawled onto your right hand side of the bed, Niall's side, as your brain processes the noise coming from behind you.

Once the ringing subsided, your eyes start to droop, breathing slowing, until you perk up, finally realizing that Niall hasn't come home from his night out with the boys.

Thought finally enters your brain as you reach your hand back in the direction of your phone, mindlessly trying to find it in the dark of your bedroom. You brush your fingers along it, then grasp it, bringing it to your face. Your eyes squint to adjust to the light. As you click on the 'missed call' notification, Deo's caller id returns to the screen.

You slide your finger across the screen to accept the call.

"Hello," You speak first, your voice groggy.

"Ya gotta come down 'ere, y/n."

"Hm? Whaddya mean..."

"They're saying Niall broke his foot. We're at t'emergency room by Queen's Arms. Y'might wanna see this."

The remaining drowsiness quickly drains out of you as you hear the words, "emergency room," out of Niall's cousins mouth. You throw the comforter off your body and rush to find some clothing, grabbing the first thing in sight. His beloved Speak Up sweatshirt.

"The emergency room- wha- why hasn't Niall called me." In a scramble to start the Range Rover (which you hate driving because of it's enormous size), your phone falls beneath the seats.

"Ah mate, he's completely out of it a' t'moment"

"Like you're any better," you mumble under your breath. "I- just- I'm coming, okay? I'm ten minutes out. Don't do anything stupid, I'm begging you."

Before he could even take a breath to respond, you hastily grab your phone, ending the call to focus on the road in front.

...

The emergency room practically empty this late at night, or...early in the morning, whatever it may be, the doctor leads you to your boyfriend. He pulls the curtain back to reveal Niall laying on the bed, eyes shut and tugging his fingers through his hair. His leg is propped up at the foot of the bed where a nurse stands, wrapping his leg with cloth.

She looks back towards you.

"Are you the spouse?"

Niall's eyes shoot open, lifting his head just enough to be able to make eye contact with you. Your lips tug slightly at the sight of Niall's distressed position, but you hold back. You look back to the nurse, sarcastically sighing.

"Unfortunately so," you let out humorously.

The kind nurse smiles. "I'll excuse myself to give you two some privacy."

You nod at her, mouthing a thank you.

Niall sits there with his hands in his lap, one resting on his thigh. You look at him with a sympathetic glance before moving closer, taking a seat beside him. His head falls onto your shoulder and your hand subconsciously comes up to play with his hair, offering him whatever comfort you can give.

Niall, glossy eyed either from the pain or the pints, looks up at you.

"Did they tell y'what happened?"

"Had to pry it out of Capaldi, but yea..."

A beat of silence goes by before he starts again. "Why'd ya come 'ere?" You look down at him, raising your eyebrows. "You'll be tired when ya go t'work tomorrow."

You click your tongue and nod your head side to side, telling him no. "Your foot is one step away from dangling off and you're worried about my sleep."

"Ya wanna see it?" He asks, grabbing the X-ray papers from the side of the bed. "It's gnarly stuff."

He opens the folded paper and you grimace in disgust at the sight of ligaments torn and misaligned from his foot.

"'M not leaving you alone at home while you're like THAT"

"Yer gonna stay home for me?" The puppy dog eyes stared lovingly at your face. "Awww," he says, placing a hand over his heart. He squeezes you tight in a hug. "Love ya so much, petal."

You groan. "God, you're so insufferable," rolling your eyes, dramatically.

"Ya love me. Want to take care of me. Ya love when 'm a li'l stupid after a few pints."

You cross your arms over your chest.

"Keep at it and I'll whack you so hard, you'll stay stupid."

"Oop- yes ma'am"

You raise your eyebrows at him, a breath of laughter escaping both of your lungs as Niall's head falls onto your shoulder. Peace consuming the both of you, despite this ridiculous situation.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— WHOLE LOTTA LOVE

SUMMARY : beau finds a way repays the reader after taking care of him when he’s injured, but also to apologise for worrying her. but most importantly, to prove he was okay.

PAIRING : beau arlen x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw (18+), smut, mostly fluff, PAIN (but physical)

WORD COUNT : 2.5k

A/N : title from led zeppelin’s song. I love beau, he’s so boyfriend-shaped, I wanna squish him. it was so worth staying up late every Wednesday just to see him. anyway, what an ending, right? LMAO XX

Bright light from the bathroom door shone on Y/N’s face when Beau stepped out after his shower, despite being quick to turn the light off, Y/N woke up. Groggy, vision blurry, and voice filled with sleep she murmured Beau’s name as he made his way to her in the darkness.

She sleepily turned to her side to face him when he chuckled softly, a lazy smile on her lips at the sound. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya,” he murmured. The bed dipped under his weight and he hissed softly as he got comfortable in the bed. Worried, she rubbed her eyes and squinted her eyes to try to see his silhouette with only the light from the moon that seeped through the big window of their room.

“You okay?” She sat up, twisting her body to turn the lamp on. The white light illuminated the room, allowed her to see him with his eyes closed and his face exhausted. Her expression softened, from worried to compassionate, she reached out to touch his face and he opened his eyes slowly. His thick lashes fluttered against his cheeks, his green eyes heavy with sleep, only lulled faster by the gentle brush of her fingertips along his cheek and bearded jawline.

“I’m okay, go to sleep, sweetheart,” he reassured her. His thick fingers wrapped around hers and he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. His dry lips gently pushed against her soft skin, tickling her a little with his beard.

She bit her lip, her eyes moved down his body, the sweatshirt he was swearing had ridden up, exposing his hip bone and waist where there was a giant bruise coloured his skin like a dark purple blotch of paint on a canvas. She felt her stomach drop and she inhaled sharply, felt queasy just imagining the pain, her heart skipped a few beats and he looked down to where she was looking.

“That’s nothing,” he reassured her, reaching to lower the sweatshirt so it went over his sweatpants. “I swear, I'm fine, okay?” He sounded a little irritated and she frowned, one part of her feeling hurt by his tone and the other part of her still concerned with the strong urge to help him.

“I… I was just gonna…” she stuttered and paused to push down the hurt she was feeling to focus on what she wanted to say. “I have something for it, Beau. You don’t have to be in unnecessary pain,” she said more confidently.

Guilt from both the hurt on her face and her kindness despite it made him give in and nod, allowing her to take care of him. He looked away at first, eyes cast to the side out of shame before he looked up at her pouty lips and her sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised earnestly, rubbing a hand down his sleepy face, “I had a bad day. I shouldn’t take it out on you. You’re just being sweet. Go ahead and fetch it, darlin’.” He groaned when he started to sit up, her body instantly twisting up inside at the pain he must clearly be feeling, a wince on both their faces as he settled against the headboard. He chuckled when he looked at her and he grabbed her hand, tugging her forwards so she’d come closer before she left. “I love you, Y/N,” he murmured, a weary smile on his lips, waiting a few seconds while her eyes scanned over his face.

“I love you, too, Beau.” The crease between her brows disappeared and her lips were no longer downturned, a relaxed expression now in place of it. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, nuzzling her nose against his hairline, she could easily smell his shampoo. “I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, watched her get out of the fluffy bed to walk into the bathroom. He let his head rest against the wall, his hands going to the hem of his sweatshirt to lift it up, taking it off all the way. He made it into a ball and put it between their pillows.

Looking down while biting his lip, he inspected the large bruise. He was lucky he didn’t break a rib. He was only happy Y/N wasn’t scolding him the way she usually did, and since Jenny already did that, he didn’t think it was necessary to be told again that he needs to be more careful.

He just couldn’t let the guy get away, so he went all in instead of waiting. He didn’t want to take the chance that the man would continue to hurt people. He made a hard call and really it went well, he caught the bad guy, got him locked up and now everyone was safe again to continue their lives.

He was definitely not doing that again though. The bruise covered most of his side and it was ugly, with dark purple splatter-like colour surrounding the main bruise. It was painful as hell and he probably should have had it checked out, but he was too stubborn to admit it was something a little more serious than he let on.

Y/N came back with a tube of cream and a pill bottle after a while of him listening to clutter in the bathroom. She must have been on her toes, body stretched out to reach the objects in the medicine cabinet. She was so cute. He smiled at her, matched her good mood because he was home now. This was his safe space, his happy place was with her. When he had bad moods and tough days, he could just be here and all of that evaporated.

She returned to his side, frowned and bit her lip in concentration as she also inspected the bruise. She shook her head in disapproval, but didn’t say anything when she popped the cap off and applied the white cream to her fingers, hesitating slightly when she came close enough to feel the heat emanating from his body.

“It’s okay, I can handle it,” he reassured her, reaching out to squeeze her thigh. She exhaled and nodded, then very gently she smeared the cream on his bruise. He tensed up, pressed his lips together in pain when she moved her fingers along the purple skin, trying to ignore the way she couldn’t breathe knowing he was in pain.

She was gentle with him and he eventually got used to the pain, his stomach was still tense and he squeezed the pillow in his hand, but knew it would feel better after she was done. His skin tingled under her fingertips, eyes tracing the circles she drew on his body trying to evenly spread out the layer of cream that would relieve the pain and heal his bruise.

“There,” she huffed out a breath and wiped her fingers on the flimsy shirt she was wearing.

“Thanks,” he murmured, staring down at the bruise that now has a light layer of white over it like melted frosting on a cinnabon. He relaxed too, his body deflating now that that was over.

“No problem.” He watched her reach over to the water bottle she had beside her on the bedside table and then heard the pills rattle when she handed them to him. “Take two,” she instructed.

“Yes, ma’am.” He took both, carefully opening the pill bottle he tipped it over and let the pills spill over his hand, returning the rest so only two remained. He put both in his mouth and drank water to swallow easier, drinking some more just to remove the thirst he started to feel.

He placed both bottles on his side, wiping his mouth to clear water droplets. He turned to face her, worry still knitting her brows together despite the little smile on her lips. She couldn’t hide it from him, even if she wanted to. Even the fact that he knew her brain was working like a whole factory of chaos and future possibilities was clear in the way her eyes scanned the rest of his body for any other injuries.

“Hey,” he called softly. She finally looked at him, actually focused on him when he started to shift so he was now facing her while sitting back on his legs. “I’m alright, okay? I promise, I won’t do anything reckless.” The word again hung in the air, but neither of them addressed it. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his knuckles gently brushing along her cheek, warm and soft.

“Okay,” she conceded, closing her eyes at his touch.

She opened her eyes when he started to thread his fingers through her hair, holding the back of her head with his eyes glued on her lips. When she whispered his name for no reason other than being flustered, he looked up at her. She closed her eyes instinctively and he started to move forward, his beautiful lashes resting on his cheeks when he closed his eyes and tilted his head to kiss her properly.

The kiss was soft and loving, he pulled away just a centimetre to peck her lips over and over. Only stopping to nibble on her lower lip when she smiled, her hands finding his wrists to keep herself grounded. Clouds of love and adoration filled her head so she could only focus on everything about him, leaving her light and puddle-y as he gently parted her lips with his tongue.

The minty taste was enhanced by their tongues sweeping past each other, slow and soft making them both moan into the kiss. He was pushing against her slightly, eventually pulling away from the kiss breathlessly so she’d fall onto her back with her legs still crossed. Her back arched for her comfort and he hummed softly, his hand going underneath her shirt to slide his hand along the arch. Her chest started to rise and fall faster, her skin flushed with excitement, a reaction following the speed of her heart from his kiss.

He pushed her shirt up, little by little, and first revealed her underwear to him. The black cotton covering what he wanted from her at that moment just to prove he was okay and that he loved her so much for how she took care of him. The higher he went the more he was able to see, until she shivered and the shirt bunched up above her breasts, her nipples tight and erect.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered, slipping back into his Texas accent. He leaned over her carefully, trailed his lips up starting from the waistband of her underwear, slowly moving between her ribcage to her breasts. She carefully straightened her legs out on the bed, let him straddle her hips when he wrapped his lips around her nipple, his tongue flicking the bud.

“Fuck, Beau,” she moaned. The tingly sensation between her legs multiplied, followed by heat that spread with arousal when he sneaked his hand down to her underwear, and teasingly moved his fingers along waistband. His breath tickled her skin, his beard was scratchy but felt so good against her skin, and his teeth gently tugged when he slowly started to drag her underwear down her legs.

He hummed softly against her. One of her hands began tugging at his hair and the other moved to tease her other nipple. She panted when he pulled away from her, sitting back on his legs again to bend her knees, slowly slipping her underwear off her legs. He let her legs relax on the bed, feet flat, and flicked her underwear to the side, letting them hang at the edge of the bed without even looking.

“You’re always looking out for me, huh?” Beau asked, grinning down at her to see her smile again. “Take the shirt off, yeah?” He carefully moved off the bed and pulled his sweatpants and boxers down at once, watching her naked body, now that she discarded the last article of clothes on her body. “You really are so lovely, honey,” he murmured, climbing onto the bed again with his hand jerking his cock slowly.

“Beau, are you sure?” She asked suddenly, her eyes drifting away from his busy hand to the bruise on his hip. He knew what she was talking about, but he chose to play dumb, moaning louder than normal when he swiped over the leaking head of his cock and stood between her legs. She got flustered, her eyes snapping back up to his adorable face.

“Yeah, darlin’,” he nodded, grabbing her ankle, “you’re so sweet, so carin’, and a million other perfect things.” She raised a brow at his words, blushing, but otherwise confused when he placed her ankle on his shoulder, and lifted her hips up. “Don’t give me that look. ‘Course I’m sure that you’re lovely.” He had the cutest, stupidest smile on his face and she simply rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head slightly. She was still mindful of his bruise when he placed her close enough to him that his cock was rubbing through her wet folds.

“That’s not what I meant,” she whispered, letting him press the back of her other thigh against his with her knee bent over the unbruised side of his hip. Beau bit his lip, his cheeks red with a blush, and didn’t respond when he pulled back slightly, the head of his cock gliding through her slick warmth until he was pushing against her entrance.

“Sweetheart, I want this, okay?” He reassured her, slowly, breathlessly pushing every inch of himself into her fluttering walls. “Don’t… fuck, don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” He bottomed out inside her, moaning softly at the feeling of her around him, his stomach clenching with excitement.

He pulled his hips back slightly, the light of the lamp pouring over her body, allowing him to watch himself pull out of her, slowly so that they could both feel every inch of each other. A pleased sigh rolled past her lips, her excitement clear in the way her pussy quivered around the tip of his dick. His hair fell in front of his eyes, messy and slowly drying from his shower.

Beau pushed himself back into her, teasing her first before picking up the pace. He rolled his hips carefully, hissed softly when his efforts began to make the sting in his hip worsen. He ignored it, played it off like the sound coming out of him was due to pleasure, which it partially was, but the faster he thrusted into her the more it hurt. The sting spread across his side, but he could already feel his orgasm building up as he watched her take every inch of him.

He leaned over her, hoping to ease the pain on his side, and allowing him deeper into her cunt. She moaned softly, holding his face to kiss him, soft and loving she pressed kisses across his cheeks and his jaw too, lazy pecks scattered across the freckles that covered his skin. Deep and gentle thrusts slowly built up their orgasm, breaths heavy, muscles tight with each movement, pressure building up until they both came with whispered praises and soft grunts.

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