#alright now cry a bit and sleep

[serdtse]

//

[eggmeralda]

I need a massive sudden hyperfixation shock to happen again

[jaysavex]

JAIME JAIME HAJEMM HAIEM HAPPY VALENTINES DAY (NKT LATE) HI HIG IGIIHIII!!! HOW ARE YIU!!? YOU OKAY? THRLUWING SO MANY GUMMIE AND SILLY FUNNY CANDYIES AT YOU AUAUAUAU!! LOVE YOU SILLY SKRINGLE I HOPE YOUR DAY SLASH BIGHT IS GREAT!!! I LOVE YOU SPOINKLE! !! I promies I'm not trying to ne incomprehensible bte I just literally am frying righ nkw ANYWYA I LOVE YOU SILLY JESTIE!!! MAUAWAA MWUAH MWUA!! DRINKLH WATEYR AND EATID GOOD FOODS!! 🫀🫀🫀🫂🫀🫂🫀🫂🫀🫂🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀💥🫀🫀💥🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🫀🍒

cheRRYYYYY my lil guy u are literally such a darling how do u do it

I am so sorry for not responding to u sooner silly I got sick again like an idiot and have been deceased for the past 2 days o(-( HOWEVER

HAPPY VALENTINES TO U AS WELL!!!! Silly lil scrunkle I hope u had an excellent vday and got lotsa chocolate n snacks yesyesyes, I would love to get u some snackies as well but alas,, 😔 maybe someday I'll figure it out

Anyways a lil doodlie for u since I can't get u any chocolates 😔 ily u silly lil guy u I hope you're doing well!! 💖💖✨🫂🫂💖✨💖💖💖🫂✨✨💖🫂💖✨

[myheartxmyman]

Right now I feel so old and sad at the same time. Those feelings are so strong I feel paralyzed and slow.

[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[peachsukii]

— emergency contact

it’s been two years since you’ve seen your ex-boyfriend, and didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. a nasty villain fight lands you in the hospital during an overnight patrol and leaves you unable to tell the doctors who to call in your dazed state.

✮ content. late 20s. ex-boyfriend bakugo, hospitalization, sappy confessions & second chances. distance makes the heart grow fonder kind of deal.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

Sharp, shooting pain down your back and a desperate cry from your partner ⎯ that was the only thing you remember from the last…four hours? Time is becoming illusive at this point, blending together with how fast everything unraveled around you.

Were you injured on patrol? Did that villain slip through your fingers and escape? Where was your partner in all this chaos?

“Doctor, she’s waking up,” you hear in the distance, muffled but clear enough to understand. A nurse walks into your blurred vision, a soft smile on her lips. “Hi hon, you’re in the hospital. We’re taking you to your room now, hang tight.”

All you can manage to do is nod in acknowledgement, the world spinning on its axis and making you extremely dizzy. Your eyes fall closed, a hazy sleep welcoming you in seconds.

When you wake next, you're not quite sure how much time has passed. The room sits in darkness, the only sources of light coming from the moon outside the window and the various machines chirping around you. There's a static in your head, as if you're stuck on a radio frequency that hasn't been adjusted to the correct channel. Even with all the noise in your head, a familiar voice can be heard outside in the hallway, one you'd never mistake for anyone else.

"It's late," a nurse says, presumably trying to convince him to go home. "Are you sure you want to stay? We can try her other contacts again in a few hours."

"M'sure. Do I need'ta sign in or whatever?"

"No, that's alright. I'll notate it on her chart and let the front desk know. I'll be back in a bit and we can talk more about treatment."

The door slides open to prove you're not imagining things ⎯ your ex isn't a manifestation of your delirious state. Bakugo's standing in the dim light of the hallway, tip toeing inside and shutting the door as quietly as possible. When his eyes fall upon your hospital bed, he notices that you're awake and sighs. "Been awhile."

You don't have the energy to do this dance with him, to go back and forth with lightheartedness like old times. "Why are you here?"

His lips press into a straight line, jaw clenched tight as he seems to silently ask himself the same question. He makes his way over to the bed, taking a seat at the edge by your feet. "I'm still one of your emergency contacts in your hero file."

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There's no way you haven't updated your database profile in two years...right? Bakugo catches onto your confusion and explains before you have a chance to press him further on the matter. "M'the only one who answered."

What time was it, anyways? Your eyes bounce around the room swiftly to find a wall clock. You squint a bit to read it, finally making out the numbers. 4:30...am?

"What did they call you for?" you yawn, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. "I don't even know what happened."

He takes a deep breath as a large hand finds your thigh, resting atop the thin blanket. His touch makes you want to melt into a puddle, memories of your past relationship coming back in waves.

"They didn't tell me much, only that it was life or death. Thankfully, your ass chose life." He shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him. "Somethin' about a villain's poison quirk. Ya got hit in the spine and it paralyzed you temporarily, an' you fell from someplace high up. Your partner caught ya and the paramedics got to you just in time."

Oh. Well, that explains the pain from earlier.

"But why did you answer their call, Baku⎯" you cut yourself off to correct his name as it leaves your lips. "Katsuki?"

"I'm not heartless, just 'cause we haven't talked in ages doesn't mean I don't care about ya."

You shift in your bed a bit, eyes gravitating toward the window to avoid his gaze. Truth be told, you two ended on decent terms and not maliciously. Wrong place, wrong time...at least, that's what you two chalked it up to. You were both too busy with hero work, too absent from each other's lives to properly be a couple. After a year, you convinced yourself that you were satisfied watching him from afar, catching brief glimpses of his life through interviews and news reports. That was your excuse, a cowardly way to keep him out of reach and prevent you, and him, from getting distracted.

"Hey." Bakugo's fingers squeeze your thigh to recollect your attention, the blanket crumpling under his palm. You're terrified to look at him, knowing full well that in your battered state, you'll crumble like stone if he says anything remotely sweet. Those vermillion eyes of his always had a way of making you weak ⎯ soft. "I was thinkin' on my way over here that I should'a called ya, reached out to keep in touch. M'sorry for not doin' that."

"It's...fine," you stammer out, a shaky hand coming up to wave off his concern. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"I don't wanna only talk to you when you're hurt, or worse..." he trails off, screwing his eyes shut to avoid the dread lingering in his chest. "Look. What m'gettin' at is you scared the shit outta me, and it made me realize that I've got a lot to say after all these years."

Oh boy, you brace yourself for impact, expecting the explosive nature to come pouring out any second. But, it never comes.

Before you could stop him, Bakugo's on his feet and leaning over the bed, arms slung around your shoulders to pull you close. A strange but familiar veil of comfort drapes over you in the moment, pulling on your heartstrings. Your eyes begin to sting when the words he whispers finally reach your ears. "M'done usin' hero work as an excuse to avoid you. I wanna talk this shit out...when you're ready. I'd love to make ya dinner again."

You can't help but let out a breathless laugh, arms finally coming up to return his hug. "Only if you promise to make your special katsudon. I've been craving it for weeks."

He chuckles over your shoulder, squeezing you a bit tighter in response. "Deal."

Who knew that a villain was what you two needed to face your fears, to finally admit that the spark was never smothered into nothingness. And this time, something tells you that you'll both make damn sure it stays ablaze.

happy softie sunday!! I know it's been awhile since I've written one. hope you don't mind some baku-sap :)

✮ network. @pixelcafe-network

✮ tags. @slayfics @maddietries @starieqq

@liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague

@napbatata @Yoyolovesdaiki @kirishimaeijiromyman

@strwbrrykthv @awkwardchick87 @stunies @sakufilm

[evie-sturns]

open up - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a long day of matt basically ignoring you, and being too grumpy to even get out of bed, you finally get him to open up to you.

contains: crying, anggstt?.., boyfriend!matt, comforting, fluff.

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

10:28am

"matt we have to go baby, chris nick and i are all going to the cafe." i say softly, ruffling matts messy hair.

hes refused to get out of bed this whole morning, hes woken up in a horrible, grumbly mood.

i stand beside matt's bed, his body intertwined in the tangled duvet.

he shakes his head with a groan, i let out a soft sigh. "matt, they're waiting for us."

"bro- just tell 'm that i dont wanna come." matt croaks out, i furrow my eyebrows at the new nickname he has for me.

i fold my arms, letting out a small huff. "alright, ill be back in a couple hours." i mumble.

matt nods, tugging the blanket back up over his body.

i walk out of the room, closing the door behind me.

what is going on with him?

-----

(3 hours later)

its now 1pm, i decide to go check on matt again.

i sit up off the couch and walk down the hallway towards matt and i's room.

i approach the closed white door, knocking twice before slowly pushing it open.

all i see is a large lump under the covers, which must be matt.

i walk over to the side of the bed before peeling back the sheets. matt’s on his phone, lazily scrolling.

“hey, you okay?” i ask, running my hands through his hair.

he nods his head with a small hum,

“matt i’m a bit worried about you sweetie, you’re never like this.” i sigh,

“don’t be worried.” he mutters, still endlessly scrolling through his phone.

“you’ve not left our house in a solid week, that’s not like you.” i state,

matt tenses, putting his phone down next to him.

“i’m just tired okay!?” matt attempts to raise his voice, but it comes out as croaked and weak.

“shh- sh.” i attempt to shush him, which he doesn’t react well to.

“don’t shush me! can you just leave i’m so done with this-“

matt sounds like a whiny teenager, i feel like his mom, trying to get him to open the curtains for the first time in years.

“get up.” i mutter, tugging the sheets off him.

he pushes my hand away, “i don’t want to.”

i scoff, “matt stop, stop acting like an actual child!” i raise my voice slightly, trying to get my point across.

“can you please just leave me alone?!” matt groans,

i sigh, no longer trying to wrestle him to get the sheets off him.

i sit down on the bed beside him, i’m sat up against the headboard.

we sit in silence for a few minutes.

matt’s breathing is laboured, he’s getting so irritated by everything i do.

“what’s going on matt.” i whisper, reaching out and running my fingers up his temple.

“it’s just- i’m trying to sleep and you keep coming in here and fucking annoying me-“

matt’s sentence is cut off by his voice cracking,

“i’m- i’m sorry- i don’t mean that.”

tears start to roll down his flushed cheeks,

i’ve never seen matt cry.

i sit him up against the headboard next to me, i grab his shoulder and tug him to my chest.

“it’s okay, i’m not mad at you.” i coo, pressing kisses to the top of his head

he nods, his small sniffles turn into full sobs.

“do you wanna open up and talk to me about it?” i ask softly, running my nails up his back.

matt nods through his strangled sobs,

“i’m so- confused.” matt manages to squeeze out.

i nod, lifting the back of his shirt up and dragging my nails up his bare back.

“i don’t understand why- why you put up with me“ he sobs,

“and i know i sound like an absolute pick me saying that, but you’re just an- an infinitely better person than me.” matt speaks, rubbing his eyes with his fists,

“i feel like i’m not a fun person to be around- and you’re the total opposite like, everybody likes you-?”

i nod, letting him spill his words out.

“literally just being around you and knowing how you are in comparison to me makes me feel so shit.” he mumbles,

“the feeling i get in my stomach, it’s so bad.” he sniffs,

“i’m sorry- i genuinely sound like such a attention seeker.” matt half laughs.

i continue to stroke his back, he frantically tries to wipe his eyes everytime a new tear falls.

“you’re allowed to cry, i’m right here.” i whisper,

he nods, soft crys falling from his lips as he buries his face further into the soft fabric of my shirt.

“you know i love you so much, honestly i think i’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” i sigh,

he shakes his head, “that’s not true.”

“it is, you make me feel so safe, you’re honestly my bestfriend ever.” i tell him, my voice full of sincerity.

matt’s crying gets worse as he hears me talk, his hands clutching my shirt, his brown floppy locks spread across my shirt.

i let him express everything he’s been feeling, letting him cry.

i think matt bottles a lot of shit up, and every couple months it all comes out in sudden bursts like these.

“i love you, i don’t want you to ever feel like this.” i sigh,

“you can tell me anything, anytime.”

matt nods again, slowly peeling himself away from my chest.

his eyes are red and puffy, his lips are swollen and his hair is sticking up in 8 different directions.

i laugh slightly, “sorry-“

a grin grows on matt’s face as he attempts to fix his hair.

“oh- oh, your making it worse.” i giggle,

i reach a hand up and try to flatten his hair,

“you’re gonna flatten it!! i’m gonna look like a pancake.” matt laughs hysterically,

“i’m a trained hairstylist, if anything i’ll make it 10x better!!” i protest.

—-

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@ellizzyy @colorthecosmos444 @mattspolitank @sturnblog @gabssturniolo @mattstromboli @sierrraaaasturn @milliegvrl @sturniolo-wife @ilovecats0402 @zayyluvz @urfavmattgal @eyelovedher89 @ireadstoriss @princesseva @edgemaster696 @itztimeeee @savvyratatouille @yourmama1 @kaisturni @angel4matt @arianatheway @mattsfavbigtitties @livelovelaughlanadelray @iheartblueyesxoxo @gloomy-ghoulz @megamorgan44 @stasiesturn @sturnzyolo @enemiestolovershoe @yomamaslays4lyfe @sturniolostrawberry @lizzysmith110 @jetaimevous @sturniolotripletsfandom @m4rriii @mayax2o07 @stellasturnzz @venusxsturnio @ana-sofia00 @flouqiis @lovekaiya @stayingstromboli @sturniolo-luv @theyluvme-2315 @annedebeijer @ashleysturn @flouqiis @bellaloves-drpepper @tpvmz @mattsbrowser @sturnrn @starchrisnam @rafecameronsbitch @zosturns @ashlishes @skysturniolo @littlemisswhore @olivialovessturniolo @1c3b4th @jmendez04 @melschapstick @starsturniolos

[lemonturquoise]

Midnight Antics

Sylus x Reader

Luke and Kieran swallowed hard, their nerves frayed as they faced their boss’s anger. The stern look in Sylus’s eyes was a clear sign of his disappointment, and the tension in the air was almost palpable. Although they were partly responsible for letting you go out with your friends, their main concern was the lateness of the hour. It was already midnight, and you still hadn't returned. Their anxiety had mounted with each unanswered call, making the waiting seem endless. When Sylus came down the stairs, his stern expression only heightened their dread.

Suddenly, the main door burst open with a loud crash. “Sylus!” You stumbled into the house, your movements unsteady as you clung to him. Your disheveled appearance and slurred speech made it evident you were quite drunk. Luke and Kieran let out a collective sigh of relief, their tension easing as they saw you finally home safe. "I miss you” you mumbled, your voice thick with intoxication. Sylus, trying to maintain his composure, gently but firmly grabbed your chin to make you look at him. "Where have you been?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and frustration. Your gaze was unfocused as you struggled to respond. “I… hmm… went out with my friends” you replied with a giggly hiccup. Sylus’s irritation deepened. “And you didn’t even bother to let me know?” His tone was sharp, and his grip tightened slightly. “Ouch!” you exclaimed, pulling his hand away with a wince. “I told Luke and Kieran about it and thought you weren’t coming home tonight” you added, your laughter fading into another hiccup. Sylus lifted you into his arms and carried you to your room.

He threw you on the bed, and you swayed slightly, trying to steady yourself. “I need to change” you said, your voice slightly slurred. As you struggled to change out of your party clothes and into something more comfortable, Sylus watched with a mix of exasperation and concern. Your attempts were clumsy and slow, revealing just how drunk you were. After you managed to change, you stood on the bed, trying to balance as you almost reached Sylus's height. The sight of you struggling to stay upright while trying to look him in the eye softened his irritation. You started pinching both of his cheeks with a playful grin. “Come on, don’t be mad.” you laughed, though your laughter was somewhat incoherent. “You’ve surely had a lot to drink, huh?” Sylus tried to hold your hands to stop you from pinching his cheeks. “Sleep now. We’ll talk tomorrow.” he said in a cold tone.

As he walked to the door to leave, he heard the soft sound of crying. He turned around and saw you lying on the bed, tears streaming down your face. Your sobs were muffled, and Sylus felt a pang of guilt. He sighed deeply and approached you. “Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice softer now. “You’re mad and you don’t love me anymore.” your voice breaking with emotion. Sylus looked puzzled, but then his lips curved into a faint smile. He sat down beside you, his earlier frustration wearing away. “I’m not mad. Just don’t do it again.” he said, gently patting your back. “Really?” you asked, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “Yeah, now go to sleep.” he reassured you. You suddenly threw yourself at him in a tight hug, nearly making him lose his balance. As you clung to him, Sylus found your state and the way you misinterpreted his feelings both warm and cute.

He was about to say something but was cut off by your playful pinching of his cheeks once more. Sylus managed to disentangle himself from your embrace with a tired smile. Despite the late hour and his earlier frustration, he found your antics charming. “Alright, enough.” he said with a small affectionate smile. “I’m going to my office for a bit. We’ll talk things through in the morning. Go to sleep now, kitten. I love you, okay?” as he kissed your forehead.

He settled you back into the bed, your crying subsiding as you relaxed into the blankets. “Goodnight, Sylus. I love you too.” you murmured, your voice now soft and content. Sylus left the room and headed back to his office, feeling a mix of relief and lingering fondness.

[monzamash]

easy to please lando norris x you rating – mature (sexual themes, coarse language) blurb for ✨monzamusings✨

thinking about u, the text read. above it, there was a photo – dark, a little bit blurry, possibly a figment of your weary imagination. a hand pressing down on black cotton, tanned and veiny – a hand you immediately recognised. fingers too, gripping the thin material and an outline that had you sitting up in bed, lazy smile slipping across your flushed cheeks as the picture came into focus. lip bitten. baby, was all you sent in reply. your eyelids fluttered shut momentarily, loosing the battle to sleep until you felt your phone buzzing, resting in your slack hand. they were coming thick and fast and bringing you back into the present. your fingers tingled from the sensation when you held it up and nearly dropped the bright screen on your squinting forehead. don’t baby me i miss u can i call please???? winky face emoji.

you sighed sharply into the plush pillow beside your head, wondering whether or not you had the energy for it. the appetite was always there. hell – all you could think about was him; even in the mundane moments, he was everywhere you looked – your work, your friends, the cheesy rom com that made you cry before wrapping yourself up in a blanket and falling asleep. you missed him. the back and forth, the will they won’t they bullshit nearly sending you into a spiral of complete and utter confusion. the future was uncertain; the distance between where you were and wherever he was in the world unbearable but what you did know was that you loved him, missed him. and he was yours.

heartbreakingly so. alright romeo but make it quick always am hehe. dickhead.

the phone call connected after one, maybe half a ring – there was no pretence anymore with you and lando. this was routine now, the late night calls across oceans, and it was always the same. whispered, i miss you's and i love you's, strangled moans, hands frantically chasing the high of what you knew felt like heaven together, by whatever means necessary, the best dirty talk you could ever imagine, barely tiding you over until you could be close enough to feel each other again.

“hi pretty girl.”

“hi boyfriend”

“ugh, i love it when you call me that. say it again…”

and you did, over and over until the late night giggles took hold and lando couldn’t breathe – the goofy smile scrunching the corners of his dry eyes, fatigue and exhaustion lingering in his hoarse voice.

“you should be sleeping.”

“i would be if you were here,” he stated matter of fact, not even a blinking, “i think i got used to having you with me over winter break… spoiled me too much and now i'm ruined for life.”

“so dramatic.”

“i’m being so real,” he yawned and by the soft grumble on the other end, he was definitely stretching out his sore, weary muscles like cat. there was a beat and a click of the tongue before lando spoke again, the ominous silence already making your eyes playfully roll.

“so… what are you wearing right now?”

“unbelievable…”

“you cant blame a man for asking, especially in my hour of need… show me pleeeeease” lando whined, toothy smile no doubt lining his chapped lips.

“what if I’m not wearing anything?” you taunted, snapping a quick photo and sending it through without a second thought.

lando quickly peaked, side-eyeing the screen sneakily and sighed when he realised you were pulling his chain, “i'm wearing some shirt you left behind because it’s hotter than satan's asshole here in london at the moment.”

he groaned more to himself than to you, eyes scanning your curves under the thin material, fixated on how unconstricted you were under the shirt he recognised, breasts pert. lando was restless and you really did deserve more than the desperado ‘what are you wearing’ pick up line but god, he wanted to know, no, he needed to know because if he didn't find out, he feared he may never recover.

after all, it was you that had him sick in love. and perpetually horny.

“think i might like you in my clothes more than naked…"

“you’re a sicko.”

“mmm you make me like this… and no bra, like are you trying to kill me?”

“always.”

you cupped your chest over his shirt and took another photo, teasing the gorgeous man waiting for your every move with bated breath. he’d sucked in his bottom lip, you could hear by how shallow his breathing had become, reminiscent of a panting dog – the sound alone quickened your heart rate. the image of him sitting in a hotel room alone, hand pressed to his aching cock thinking about you, parched to the point of a sleepless night was dizzying.

and it was easy with lando, the familiarity of his voice and the rhythm you effortlessly fell into. all remnants of consciousness melted away with him.

“wish i was there with you baby,” he whispered and you nodded, smiling, even though he couldn’t see how happy it made you to hear him say it.

“me too,” you sighed, relaxing into the stillness until your loud, obnoxious doorbell shook you from the peaceful silence.

“fuck!” you cursed, frozen in place.

“what?” 

“someones at the door…”

“what time is it there?”

“like 11pm… should i ignore it?” you were already grabbing the cardigan you'd thrown over the end of your bed and halfway to the door, curiosity winning out.

“nah, nah. you’re on the phone with me – answer it,” he encouraged, “i wanna make sure it isn’t your side piece coming ‘round when i’m not there.”

“ha-ha, actually my other boyfriend is already here, i've been trying to get you off the phone this whole time...”

"hmm, lucky cunt." he mumbled.

lando made you brave, stupidly brave so you swung the door open without hesitation, locked and loaded with a line of interrogating questions for the person interrupting the precious time you had with the man you love.

but you were hearing double as you held the phone to your ear and looked up – you knew that mess of frazzled curls and tired eyes anywhere, peering back with a smile the size of the moon curling at the corners of his lips. he was bundled up in a hoodie, one you knew would feel warm to the touch and smelled like him.

you had to be dreaming.

“better go tell your other boyfriend to pack his shit and get the fuck out of our house.”

“lando…” tears welled in your eyes as you lunged into his open arms.

“hi pretty girl…” he chuckled, picking you up without hesitation and hooked your legs around his waist, carrying you over the threshold.

“why didn’t you say you were coming home?”

“surprises are sexy, no?” he asked, voice deliciously low. he knew your answer.

“very sexy.” you moaned and pressed firm, fiery kisses into his strong neck, “you’re so sexy – all of this is sexy… god, i love you.”

“love you too sweetheart – let’s go to bed.”

“to sleep?” you asked, with doe-eyes and a devilish grin.

“yeah, i flew eleven fuckin' hours to just sleep… oh and by the way," lando narrowed his eyes and pointed to the crinkled shirt hanging from your shoulders, you looked a mess.

"i want my shirt back right now.”

you hummed and twirled down the hallway, “you’re gonna have to pry it off my cold, horny body, norris…”

“mission accepted,” lando confidently stated, chest puffed as he started stripping his hoodie from his body and inched closer and closer to where you were stood and all you could do was admire the gorgeous man stalking towards you.

oh, and blink a few times to make sure you definitely weren't dreaming, "i can't believe you were sexting me in the back of a cab."

“i know," he chuckled, "it was getting a bit much by the end there, so i walked the last couple of blocks to calm myself down."

you couldn't suppress the moan building in your throat at his touch and his confession – your mind was running wild, "that's so hot."

"you are." he quipped, hands slowly tracing your sides and cupping your chest in his warm palms.

"this is way better than phone sex.”

lando shrugged as you ran your hands down his toned stomach, thumbs circling the indents just above his hips, “i’ll take anything with you – it’s all good to me.”

“you’re easy to please.”

“well, you make it easy – god, look at you,” he exhaled, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face and all you could do was smile.

“i’m glad you’re home, ya goof. it doesn't feel right without you here."

“me too, baby. meee too.” lando smiled and planted a longing kiss to your pouty lips.

more writing...

bit of backstory with this blurb; it was originally going to be a follow up to another fic i wrote called lost in japan and then got buried in the wip graveyard. somehow it resurfaced in my doc folder right when i needed it and i feel like it still kinda fits in the lost in japan universe - selfishly i love those characters. anyways, i hope you enjoyed it 💋

[itneverendshere]

my angsty little heart just imagining you looking at rafe after baby’s been born and you start sniffing, and you’re like “i’m so sorry i put you through that”

couldn't make them suffer more so i made this kinda short💔thank you for the request, hope you like it!💛

rafe watched autumn, now bundled up and sleeping peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling like it hadn’t just stopped for what felt like years.

he’d talked big game, said the right things, held your hand through every ultrasound.

but nothing, nothing, had prepared him for that moment.

he’d felt like he’d been gutted alive, emptied, and only now was the relief wrapping itself around him and making him feel like he could maybe breathe again.

you lay there, propped up in bed, the exhaustion written all over your face, but you still managed to look at him with this soft, broken smile.

you took a shaky breath, still staring at him like you hadn’t yet snapped out of that agitated state, and then you started sniffling, quiet sobs you were trying to control.

rafe’s stomach dropped, the lingering anxiety coming back up all over again.

“i’m so sorry i put you through that.”

rafe blinked, stunned, “what? what are you talking about?” his thumb grazed over your knuckles.

he didn’t know what he’d expected you to say, but it wasn’t an apology. if anything, he’d wanted to tell you how sorry he was for what you'd just been through, for how he couldn’t do anything but stand there while it all happened.

you sniffed again, wiping at your cheeks, eyes still shining with this look of guilt and sadness that made him feel like he’d been punched in the lungs all over again.

“i just…she didn’t come out crying, rafe. she was just there, and you had to see that, go through that… i just, i feel like i dragged you into—”

“hey, hey,” he cut you off, gripping your hand tighter, his other hand brushing a few loose strands of hair away from your face. “stop. you didn’t ‘drag’ me anywhere, alright? i’m here because i want to be. because you’re my family.”

your mouth trembled, “i’m just—i was so scared she wasn’t…” you trailed off, looking back at the baby. “i thought we lost her.”

he couldn’t lie to you; he’d thought the exact same thing.

for a few agonizing seconds, he’d thought he’d lost everything that mattered, and he couldn’t even understand that feeling now.

but she was here. you were here.

“she’s here. and she’s okay. we’re okay.”

rafe moved to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, not caring about the cramped space or how uncomfortable it was. he needed to be closer to you, needed you to understand that he didn’t see this as something you’d put him through.

it was something you’d both survived.

he leaned his forehead against yours, his hand pressed against your cheek, “you don’t have to be sorry for anything, you got that?”

you let out a wobbly breath, pressing your face into his palm, eyes fluttering closed, “okay.”

he looked over at the bassinet again, and there she was, your daughter—his daughter, your little autumn, with her tiny fists and barely-there eyelashes.

she was still sleeping, looking so peaceful like she hadn’t been seconds from scaring him shitless.

a weird, tight laugh bubbled out of his chest as he shook his head, in disbelief, still in awe.

he couldn’t stop looking at her, still couldn’t believe she was real.

“i… i can’t believe we made her,” he confessed in just a whisper, “that’s ours.” he laughed again, shaking his head, “we did that, baby. you… you did that.”

he felt your hand tighten in his, and when he looked back at you, you were smiling, tired but so proud, a little bit like him��still not fully believing it yet.

this whole thing was real, it wasn’t just a dream he��d woken up from.

he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

he looked at you, catching the way your hand shook a little as you wiped at your eyes, saying “sorry” like somehow you still thought this was on you, all he felt was this deep, gut-wrenching gratitude that you were both here.

“you’re still apologizing,” he reprimanded you quietly, squeezing your hand a little harder, as if that would get the point across.

“i was supposed to—” you stopped as you looked at autumn, lying there so still, so alive. “i was supposed to protect her.”

“you did protect her. you protected her every day before she even got here.”

your lips quivered as you nodded, even as a couple of silent tears slipped down your face, and he could tell it was a lot more than the relief you were feeling.

he wanted to tell you a thousand things—that he’d never felt prouder of anyone in his life, that you’d been braver than he ever could be, that he was just grateful, in this a way he couldn’t translate into words.

“always gonna be right here. for you and her. promise.”

rafe would never let you feel like you had to apologize for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with. he would carry it with you, or he’d carry it himself—whatever it took to make sure you knew that.

[emmyrosee]

Okay hear me out…

Trying to surprise Sukuna with breakfast in bed but it goes wrong and Sukuna wakes up smelling smoke and us making a mess in the kitchen. He scolds us a little ofc but it’s all soft and fluffy still. You can make up the ending I just think this is a sweet concept lol.

I’m a sucker for bfs who fix our messes 🤭

of course he could smell fire. but sukuna's mind merely brushed it off.

in his dream, the smell of smoke appeared as a campfire himself and megumi, of all people, had started. it smells strong, like he can physically taste the smoke.

then, in his dream, there's an incessant beeping, one that comes out of Megumi's mouth in place of words.

But finally, he hears you scream in the real world. And his eyes fly open to wake up, his head spinning from the sudden shift from sleep to cognizance. Without a moment to spare, he barrels from the bed into the kitchen, dark clouds of smoke dancing in the air. There’s a baking sheet of burned cinnamon rolls crashed onto the floor- you, cradling your hand not far from it- a pan with a burnt egg sizzling on the stove, and the toaster smoking from whatever contents have now been roasted inside of it.

"What the fuck!" He snarls, grabbing a dish towel and waving it around to break up the dark clouds of smoke near the fire alarm. He leans over to shut off the stove and pop the toaster up, heat coating his arm You wince at the pain on your palm, and he furrows his brows, "fuck sake, go run it under water! What’re you doing grabbing things out of the oven with no mitt, you freak!"

"I couldn't find it!" you whimper, making your way to the sink to, in fact, run your hand under the cold water, hissing at the sting before letting yourself cry softly, be it from the pain or the stimulation of everything at once, Sukuna doesn’t know yet.

Just as soon as the chaos started, it ended, the smoke alarm silencing and the only noise being your whimpers and the running sink. He pants softly and cards a hand through his messy bed head, tossing away the rag and coming up to wrap his big arms around you. You bury your face in the fabric of his nightshirt, crying quietly.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” you whimper, and he sighs and rests his head on yours. “I know you’ve been working a lot… I thought I would surprise you.”

“You surprised me alright,” he grumbles, gently cradling the back of your head. “I told you, the oven in my apartment is fucking weird, don’t mess with it. And you did. Now you’re hurt.”

“Breakfast is ruined,” you sniffle, and he pulls back with a scrunched face.

“Breakfast is- babe, you literally have blisters on your hand!” He snips. “Who cares about breakfast, I’m worried about your damn hand!”

You wince slightly at his words, and he groans again, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. We can always remake breakfast. Your third degree burns are my concern right now. Since your goofy ass grabbed a damned cookie sheet square out of the oven.”

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, “‘m not goofy,” you pout. He tucks in his lips to try and fight back the smirk that wants to spread on his face, not wanting to make you feel worse.

“How’s your hand?” He asks after a few beats of silence, pulling back to gently grab your hand and inspect the blistering burn, which you whine at clench your palm at. “I know, I know,” he soothes. Then, he presses a kiss to each of your fingers, playfully biting your pinky to make you giggle and giving you back your hand. “How about we load into the truck and get you some bandaids and a breakfast sandwich, huh? Save what bit of breakfast we can?”

“Okay, kuna.”

“Good,” he says, pulling away. “Go get on shoes. I’ll take care of ya.” When you leave to go get some shoes on, he’s quick to call after you, “I do appreciate you trying to do something nice for me. I knew you always had a soft spot for me.”

You titter and shake your head as you smile at him. “More than you could know, sukuna.”

[rafesangelita]

exbf!rafe calling reader at 1am about how much he misses her and how much he needs her pussy and he’s saying things like “i need your perfect little pussy wrapped around me” and shi

warnings: mentions of violence, slight fluff, dirty talk, masturbation

“what could you possibly want right now, rafe?” you sighed, your eyes heavy with sleep. “what? i can’t call you just because?” there was a teasing tone in his voice, which only indicated one thing; he was horny. “no, you can’t. you lost that privilege when you decided to be an ass and punch a hole in my wall, okay? i’m hanging up now.” just as you pulled the device away from your ear, you heard a muffled ‘please don’t.’ on the other line. the hold this man had on you was sickening, you hated that you weren’t strong enough to completely go ghost and ignore him.

“we’re not supposed to be doing this, we aren’t together anymore, remember?” you reminded him. “i know i fucked everything up, okay? i’m working out my shit because this isn’t the end for us, alright? i know you know that.” you shrugged even though he couldn’t see you. “just say you miss me.” rafe smiled at the sound of your soft laugh, looking over at his bedside table where a framed picture of you two sat. “i do. i miss you a lot.” rafe confessed, making your heart skip a beat. “i miss you, too.” he felt like a weight had been lifted off of his chest when you confirmed you had been feeling the same way as him.

“you wanna know what else i miss?” rafe hoped you wouldn’t end the call. “what?” you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together. “i miss feeling that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock every night, ‘been losing sleep without you baby.” you refrained from moaning at his words, feeling utterly pathetic. “i need to feel you again, its been too long.” his words came out a little breathless. with the last bit of resolve you had left, you told him; “use your hand, rafe. goodnight.”

you reached for your phone, pausing when he said, “ah, fuck- i am.” you paused. as if you couldn’t be any more sexually frustrated, he moaned into the receiver, making your eyes shut momentarily. “i know you’re thinking about it, too.” you were fighting with yourself at this point, ultimately losing when you laid on your back, your thighs separating ever so slightly. “just give me the word, y/n. i’ll go over right now and fuck you until you cry.” a particular stroke of his hand made him groan. you sucked in a breath. of course he’d do this when there was no one else in the house, the temptation getting harder and harder to resist.

“..no.” you knew your voice gave you away but you didn’t care anymore. “aw, i hear how bad you want it.” he laughed. “i’m sure there’s others you could call at this time. why don’t you ring them up and let them take care of you?” your fingers danced over the waistband of your panties. rafe scoffed. “y/n, i’ve been fucking my fist to the thought of you for the last three months. there hasn’t, and never will be, anyone else.” for the first time tonight, his voice was firm. “i need you so fucking bad, y/n, i’m begging you to let me come over.” you chewed on your lip, any restraint you had left melting away.

“the key is under the mat.”

[cheesecakethots]

You’re tucked in the furthest side of the bed, facing away from the door when Shigaraki enters the room. You hear something soft drop, his coat, maybe, and then he starts approaching you.

The main benefit of him and the others joining the PLF is that he’s busier, and you have more time to be alone. Sure, there’s more security here, more people and less chance for you to run away, but you gave up on that a while ago.

The last time you’d tried escaping, he’d put a hand around your throat, and used the other to disintegrate the already torn clothing you had on your body. Then, he-

He calls your name. His voice is quiet, cautious.

You silently wish the sheets would eat you alive, and sit up, meeting his gaze. You don’t think the redness of his eyes matches the softness of the look he gives you, nor the small smile on his chapped lips.

Tomura can’t help but think you look cute, but you always look cute. His fingers twitch, and he thinks about holding you close and kissing the sleepiness from your face.

Instead he seats himself on the edge of the bed, slowly, as though approaching a startled animal. “Are you alright? How has your day been?”

You shrug, eyes drifting to stare down at your lap. He hates it when you’re like this.

“Hey, can you say something to me?”

“… Like what?” Your voice is hoarse and your throat is dry. You wish he’d leave you alone, wish he’d let you go back to sleep. Wish you wouldn’t wake up from it.

He recalls a time where you were the one who was chatty, having a nervous habit of talking about anything you could. He’s not sure if you did it to distract him or yourself. It didn’t take long for you to grow quiet.

He smiles at you, but he doesn’t look very happy. “Anything.”

You stare at him, and the smile falls a little.

“Is- Is there anything you want me to get for you? Anything on your mind? Anything you want to eat for dinner later?”

You shake your head, and he leans in a little closer to you, causing your body to shift uncomfortably.

“We can go out, if you’d like,” he suggests, tone low and almost soothing. “You used to ask about going to a dessert place, we can do that now. Or, if you want to stay in I’ll have someone bring us desserts. If not dessert, savoury food… I’ll have the chef make us your favourite- or, you your favourite. I won’t sit and eat with you if you don’t want me to. I don’t mind what, just- just tell me what you want.”

You eat less and less every day, and it scares him. You scare him. He knows it’s his own fault, though, that your silence and sadness and fear is something he himself moulded into you.

He used to find it funny when you cried, or worse, found your tears and protests would make his pants tighten around him, and his hands twitch with need. Tomura’s not sure when that stopped, but now the sight of your tears makes him feel sick, makes him wish to tear his own skin off, to claw his eyes out, to crawl into a ball and wither away.

He hopes the idea of dessert or whatever else will put some sort of spark back in your eyes, maybe it’ll make you look less lifeless and defeated.

“I’m… not hungry,” you say, slowly.

He’s getting frustrated, but not at you. Never at you, not anymore.

“We don’t have to eat. Do you want to go out? You used to ask to go out to the park, there’s a park nearby, it shouldn’t be too far of a walk.”

You don’t seem to like that suggestion, as you bury your head in your arms, bringing your knees up to your chest and shaking your head.

Tomura understands why. You used to get punished a lot for asking to go outside. The last time you had properly gone out, aside from when everyone was all on the run, had been when you’d ran away. He doesn’t want to remember what he did that day, and he’s sure you don’t either.

You had reassured him as he was dragging you back that you were going to come back, that you just wanted to go out for a bit to sit in the park. You were probably telling the truth, but it didn’t save you.

“… Cry, if you want to. You can scream at me. Hit… Hit me. It’s alright. I won’t be upset.”

You don’t want to do that. You don’t really want to do anything. You wish he’d leave you alone, though. Wish you’d keep shrinking and shrinking until he stopped noticing you at all.

He reaches a hand towards your face, and you flinch, eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“I’m not going to hurt you. It’s… It’s alright. Please don’t be afraid.”

He knows it’s stupid to say. You’re always afraid when he’s around.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Oh, Baby

Summary: When Dean is cursed on a hunt and turned into a baby, the reader has to take care of him along with Sam. Dean however, is a bit more adult than they might realize...

Pairing: Baby!Dean x reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language

“Nice job, Sam,” you said, Sam sighing in relief.

“I think she was trying to hex me before I put her down,” said Sam, shaking his head. You hummed, glancing around and pursing your lips. “Where’s Dean?”

“We split up. I thought he came back to you,” you said.

“I thought he was with you,” said Sam. You both took off in opposite directions, combing through different rooms of the house. You were in the kitchen when you heard a baby start to cry somewhere. You opened a door and saw it go down to a basement. You had your gun out, following the sound as it got louder, finding an infant shouting it’s head off in the middle of the room.

“S’okay, baby,” you said, shoving your gun away and picking him up off the cold floor. “You’re alright. The witch is gone and...”

You noticed a lump of clothes nearby, Dean’s navy jacket and his gun in the pile. You stared at the six month old in front of you, wet green eyes staring at you.

“No, baby. No, you aren’t...” you said, the baby scrunching up his face before he was crying again. “Dean?”

He stilled for a moment, recognizing his name but he started crying again and burrowed himself into your jacket collar.

“Okay. It’s okay. We’ll fix it Dean. Stop crying baby. We’ll fix it.”

“Sam,” you said, sitting in the backseat of Baby with Dean an hour later, Sam trying to install a baby seat in the back. “Sam! Hurry up!”

“What?” said Sam, glaring at you, Dean shouting even louder. “Dean! Stop crying!”

“Don’t shout at him, he’s a baby,” you said. “Get that damn seat together so he can get some sleep.”

“He’s shouting his head off and it’s not exactly helping,” said Sam, fiddling with a strap. You managed to get Dean in a diaper, any attempts at finding an adult stuck in that tiny body not resulting in anything beside Dean recognizing his name. “Put him in some clothes. He’s probably cold.”

“Well hand me the bag with the onesie’s in it then,” you said, Dean yelling some more. “Dean, baby. Please calm down.”

“I got it,” said Sam, clipping something in place. He took Dean from you and got an earful, Sam strapping Dean in as he kicked his legs. “Dude. Relax. Here.”

Sam leaned into the front seat and grabbed a bag, shoving a little blanket over Dean and tucking it in, Dean calming right down and conking out like a light.

“Finally,” said Sam, grabbing the bag and shoving it in the back. “Let’s get home so we can get this figured out.”

“Hi Dean,” you said softly the next morning, Dean grabbing his toes in the makeshift crib you’d made out of a laundry basket. “Good morning.”

He scrunched up his face as you caught the smell, wiping at your nose.

“Okay so you’re really like a baby,” you said, picking him up and setting him on your bed. You got a towel under him and some wipes, gagging when you plucked off the diaper. Dean wasn’t crying so far which was an improvement but he got red in the face when you tried to put a fresh one on. “Dean, you have to wear it.”

He tried to pout and you sat next to him, running a hand over his head.

“Agg!” he said, kicking his feet.

“Are you an adult in there?” you asked. Dean seemed to ignore you, staring up at the ceiling. “Or do you really think you’re a baby?”

“Neither,” said Sam, knocking on the door frame as he came in. “I figured out the spell. He’s a baby in most senses of the word. He likely only remembers us as family and that we’ll take care of him. But he’s not arguing that he doesn’t want to wear a diaper because he’s adult Dean. He just doesn’t want to wear one right now...I think.”

“How long is he going to be like this?” you said, Dean grabbing hold of your finger and sucking on it. Sam swallowed and stared at his feet. “Sam.”

“...Six months,” said Sam.

“Six fucking months!” you said, Dean dropping your hand and starting to cry. “Sam we can’t take care of a baby for six months. We’re damn hunters.”

“We’ll have to figure something out,” said Sam.

“I don’t know how to take care of him though,” you said. “I can change a diaper but I don’t know how to feed him or-”

“We’ll buy some parenting books I guess,” said Sam, staring at Dean. “I have some other news you won’t be happy about.”

“What?” you said.

“Jody called. She needs backup on a hunt,” said Sam.

“One of us has to stay here with him,” you said.

“Can you stay?” said Sam. “I ran out this morning and got more stuff for Dean but...he doesn’t cry as much around you.”

“Fine but if I call you better answer your phone. Better yet, give it to Jody, she was a mom,” you said.

“I know,” said Sam, walking inside, putting a hand on Dean’s head. “Be good for Y/N. We’ll try to figure out how to make this as painless as possible.”

By the time you got Dean in a diaper and a onesie, Sam had already headed out. You carried Dean on your hip to the kitchen, finding the jars of baby food and instant formula Sam had bought, Dean giggling as you sat him in a high chair at the counter.

“Well you sound like you’re in a better mood,” you said with a smile, picking up the different jars, finding some sweet potatoes and swirling it up before you set it in front of Dean. You turned around and grabbed a frozen breakfast sandwich from the freezer, tossing it in the microwave.

“Afba agah uf,” said Dean. You turned around, Dean staring at the jar and then you.

“I’m so sorry, you can’t feed yourself,” you said, shaking your head as your grabbed the little spoon and held it to his mouth. “Go ahead, Dean.”

Dean shook his head, pointing at the sandwich you were making.

“No, that’s adult food Dean. You can’t have that,” you said. Dean blinked at you slowly and you swore you saw an eye roll in there. “Dean...are you really a baby?”

He shook his head again, your eyes wide.

“Okay. After breakfast, I’m going to look into that spell Sam found some more. Maybe he missed something,” you said. Dean stared at you, blinking a few times.

Then he spit up all over himself.

“Did you just throw up?” you said, Dean shaking his head again. “Do you have any idea what I’m saying?”

Dean shook his head, patting his hand on his tray.

“Oh course not. Well...might as well feed you like this in case you make another mess.”

“Dude,” you said, Dean giggling on the floor of the bathroom. “You got potato in my hair. I don’t even…”

Dean laughed as he looked up at you, shirt covered in baby food.

“I’m glad you find this hilarious,” you said, peeling off your shirt. You grabbed the little tub meant for washing babies one and under and filled it with warm water. Dean wasn’t sure what to make of it when you sat him in it but he started splashing and he had a big smile on his face.

You used way too much soap, accidentally squirting an adult size amount in your hand but Dean didn’t mind that you had to dump out his soapy water for fresh. When you finished with him, you wrapped him up in a big towel, Dean leaning back in the thing and practically falling asleep on the bathroom floor. You kept an eye on him as you took a quick shower, Dean still passed out once you took care of yourself.

“I really hope this doesn’t take six months.”

Dean’s POV

Pretty much the only reason I wasn’t shouting was because it freaked Y/N out. I’d tried earlier in the day to make her understand that I was a full fledged adult trapped in an infants body and she’d almost caught on but she misunderstood. Throwing up was inevitable with how awful that baby food crap tasted and now we were back to square one.

I didn’t want to act like a baby. I didn’t feel like a baby. But stuff just happened on its own. One minute I’m sitting there, the next I’m wrapped up in a towel in the bathroom with no idea what happened in between.

Y/N was drying herself off after her shower, giving me cautious glances every few seconds while I sat there. Fuck, this was awful.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” she asked, kneeling down next to me. “Do you have to go potty? Do you want your diaper on again?”

Diaper? I’d worn a diaper already? Oh hell no. I was not dealing with that for a day let alone six months.

“Okay, okay,” she said, shushing me and picking me up. I tried to squirm but she sighed and started to walk out of the bathroom and to our room. She threw her towel down on the bed and put me on top, moving around the room before she pulled out a baby shirt. It wasn’t a onesie at least but I would have preferred something with less fire trucks.

She set it it down next to me, cocking her head before she ripped off the tag and undid the bottom clasps, a sigh out of me making her smile.

“Well they didn’t have any black or flannel so we had to settle for the trucks. Unless you wanted kittens and puppies,” she said with a smile. I shook my head, Y/N, laughing. “I know, you want some clothes on. One second little dude.”

She turned around again, dropping something on the other side of the bed I couldn’t see.

Next thing I knew I was being picked up by the legs and when I sat back down, there was something soft there.

“I am not wearing one of those!” I shouted, the words translating to some sort of very loud and high pitched shriek. Y/N blinked a few times and rubbed her ears. I yelled at her again that at least I had control over that function thank God. At least I was pretty sure I did.

“Do you think this is fun for me?” she said, hands on her hips. “Please stop screaming at me. I have to do this.”

She sounded so...off. So already beaten down. I closed my eyes and relented. Maybe after a little while she’d figure out I didn’t need it and we’d figure out some kind of bathroom signal.

God this was going to suck.

Eight Hours Later

“Dean, you haven’t gone to the bathroom all day,” she said, cocking her head at me after dinner, kneeling next to the crib she was forcing me to sleep in. “Are you sick?”

I grumbled at her, trying to say I really had to take a leak and she hadn’t gotten a single message that I was this close to losing it.

“Do you have a fever?” she asked, putting her hand on my forehead. “Sam bought one of those baby thermometers I think.”

“I need to take a piss! That’s what’s wrong!” I said, glaring at her as she stood up.

“Again, screaming does not help,” she said, looking around the room. “Just...stay right there. I’m gonna go see if it was the food I gave you.”

She walked out of the room and I about lost it. I couldn’t get out of this damn thing without help and I was not going to…

“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said, glaring at my lap. “Stupid infant body and I only went because my body forced it and Y/N! Get me out of this thing!”

Y/N came rushing back in at my screams, frowning when she saw how mad I was.

“Oh, you went!” she said. “Maybe you were just shy.”

“Shy my ass!” I shouted, pointing at my lap, instead whacking myself in the leg.

“You’re a very angry baby,” she said, picking me up and moving me over to the changing table she set up. I was glad to be out of the wet one but I most certainly was not going back in one.

I kicked when she tried to move me again, hitting her in the face.

“Ow. Dean,” she said, holding her hand over her nose, pulling it away and a little trickle of blood coming out. She wiped it away with a tissue but more came out.

And for some reason I had to start sniffling. Of fucking course. Did I feel bad? Yes. But it was not a cry worthy occasion and now she was picking me up and telling me it was okay.

“Calm down. It was an accident,” she said, rubbing up and down my back. “I still love you, Dean.”

I leaned back as best I could to look at her, Y/N smiling at me.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” she said. “Just like I know you’d take care of me if I got stuck as a baby.”

“Y/N,” I groaned.

“Okay, okay. I know the diaper pisses you off. How about we make a deal? Daytime, no diaper. I’ll take you every couple of hours to the bathroom. But if we have to go out or at night, you have to wear it, just because you might have to go and I can’t get you to one in time,” she said. “First accident though and it goes on all the time. Agree?”

I nodded, that plan sounding much better.

“I wonder how much of you is an adult in there…” she said. “You can hold it I’m guessing...maybe that’s why you hated your baby food.”

I made a face, Y/N laughing at me.

“Okay. As soon as your teeth come in, you can have some fruit and other stuff,” she said.

I frowned, rubbing my hand up to my mouth, wincing when I realized she had a point.

“Don’t worry babe. Your teeth will start to come in soon I’m sure.”

“Sup Dean?” said Sam, smiling at me when he finally came home. I wanted to yell at him to go give Y/N a break but I hadn’t quite figured out how to spit out the pacifier in my mouth yet.

“Oh, let him watch his cartoons. He’s starting to teeth and that pacifier is his new best friend,” she said.

I narrowed my eyes at her, Y/N giving it right back.

“Is that a potty face?” you asked. I shook my head, Sam wearing a big smile. “Don’t get your hopes up. Being able to hold it and an affinity for pie flavored foods are the only adult things I’ve been able to concretely confirm.”

“It’s only been a week,” said Sam, sitting down next to me. I rolled my eyes, trying to shift away but he pulled me into his lap. “You hanging in there?”

“I hate this. I hate you. I hate everything,” I mumbled under the pacifier, Sam chuckling as he bounced me on his knee.

“He doesn’t like that,” said Y/N, Sam pulling me off his knee to lay back in lap instead. “So how was the hunt?”

“A pain. I’m glad to be back,” said Sam, stretching back on the floor.

“Uh, be careful with him,” said Y/N.

“I’m just taking a quick nap,” said Sam.

“She’s worried about you crushing me, doofus,” I mumbled, Sam sighing as he sat up with me. He picked me off the ground, way higher than Y/N did and I instantly clung to him. The pacifier fell out of my mouth when my jaw dropped, something I’d have to try to remember, and Y/N was instantly over.

“Give him here,” she said, Sam handing me off, Y/N bending down to grab the pacifier and give it back to me. “He got scared. New stuff you have to go slow.”

“He knows I wouldn’t hurt him,” said Sam.

“He knows but...like he goes full blown baby sometimes and you have to slow down. Most of the time he’s just grumpy and wants to watch TV,” she said. “There’s a learning curve to him.”

“Sorry,” said Sam. I sighed when Y/N handed me back but then I sort of liked it, getting to be tall again. “So...what do you do for fun, Dean?”

“Seriously? Jackass,” I mumbled, Sam tickling my stomach.

“That’s a cute little sound,” said Sam, cocking his head. “You smell funny.”

“He needs a bath,” you said, sitting on the couch. “Would you mind giving him one?”

“No!” I shouted, shaking my head, spitting out the pacifier again.

“Uh, does he not like baths?” asked Sam.

“No, it’s one of the few things he likes actually,” you said. “Do you want me to show Sam first?”

I sighed but nodded. Y/N needed the break and it wasn’t like I hadn’t done all this crap for Sam when he was little.

Ten minutes later I was in the tub, surprised at how gentle Sam was.

“Does he sleep through the night?” asked Sam, wiping a cloth down over my hair.

“He does. I don’t,” you said.

Oh boy. This again.

“Trying to research still?” asked Sam.

“Yeah. I’m paranoid something’s going to happen to him all the time and it’s my fault he’s stuck like this. I shouldn’t have let him go off by himself,” you said.

“Stop being stupid. I’m a grown man, or at least was. We did that hunt exactly how we were supposed to. By the way, I’m fine. I’ve started to figure out his crawling thing so don’t worry about me,” I said.

“What the blabbering little guy just said,” said Sam.

“You understood me?” I said, Sam seeming to ignore the comment. “Oh. You said blabbering. Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit here and make squeaking noises for your entertainment.”

“Someone is talkative today,” said Y/N, a relieved little smile on her face. “I’m happy Sam’s home too. But we should get you out before you get too pruny. Sam, you can learn the joy of getting him into his pajamas.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.”

The Next Day

“What happened?” said Y/N. Good. She was home and she could yell at Sam properly.

“He had an accident and then he started yelling and he got even louder when I put him in a diaper. He hasn’t been quiet since,” said Sam.

“Dean, I know we had a deal but you had an accident. I think you’re too little to-“

“It was his fault,” I yelled, pointing at Sam. “He forgot to...I will destroy you both if you-“

“When’s the last time you took him to the bathroom?” she asked Sam.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Has he gone since I took him at breakfast?” she asked. Sam looked away and thankfully Y/N was getting with the program. “You have to take him Sam. Of course he had an accident. His bladder isn’t as big as yours.”

“I don’t get why he just doesn’t wear the diapers,” said Sam.

“I will kick your ass when I’m big again Sam,” I growled, Y/N settling me on her hip.

“He doesn’t like them and you upset him. This is a baby but it’s Dean too. If there’s a shred of adult in there, we’re going to try to make him feel like himself,” she said.

“Best fucking girlfriend ever. I so owe you,” I said, leaning down to give her a hug.

“Well...don’t piss on me again,” grumbled Sam.

“Maybe now you learned your lesson.”

Three Months Later

“Hi Dean,” said Y/N when I crawled over. “What’s up?”

“Guess what I figured out how to do,” I said, grabbing her leg and standing up, able to take a few shaky steps on my own before falling on my butt. “I’m mobile.”

“Well look at you! You’re growing up all over again,” she said, scooping me up to sit in her lap. “We made it halfway there. Just another few months and you’ll be big again.”

“Trust me, I’m counting the days. Figuratively I mean since telling time is a bit hard right now but you know what I mean,” I said, Y/N humming. “Uh oh. That’s the bad hum.”

“Don’t worry, Dean,” she said. “Sammy’s just checking on a last ditch effort. I’m not getting my hopes up is all. Besides, you and I are going to have my favorite thing right now.”

“It’s nap time,” I said, grunting when I started to get carried. “At least this part isn’t too bad.”

Something was off when I woke up twenty minutes later. Y/N had her head in her hands and was crying on the bed.

“Sam,” she said into her phone. “You said six months.”

“Rowena is going to work on a counterspell to get it to reverse back,” he said.

“But she only has three months left or else he’s gonna he a baby permanently. I don’t want to raise my boyfriend. I’m barely keeping it together,” she said.

“Rowena is the best witch there is. She’ll figure out what the other witch did,” said Sam. “Just try not to let Dean see you upset or he’ll think something’s wrong.”

“Too late for that,” she said, moving her hands away, looking over at me with a sigh. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“So I’m fucked,” I said, trying to cross my legs in the crib but making no progress. “Fuck.”

“Dean,” she said. She picked me up and gave me a hug, wiping her face off when she pulled back. “Don’t worry. I will always take care of you. Big or small.”

“I really hope Rowena can figure this out.”

Three Months Later (Almost)

“Big day today Dean,” said Y/N, rubbing her hand over my head.

“Yeah. In about an hour I’m a baby for good and I’m sort of thinking that means I’m going full baby mode and I’m gonna forget everything and everyone and how to even talk…” I said, Y/N shushing me.

“Don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry,” she said. “And if things go south today...don’t be scared because we got you.”

“How’s he holding up?” asked Sam, Y/N giving him a sad smile. “He has to understand if he’s so upset.”

“I know. I know part of him is an adult in there,” said Y/N. “Rowena’s in the library sweetie and she’s going to keep working as long as we got left.”

“I think I’ve got it,” said Rowena, rushing into the kitchen. “I need materials though.”

Sam took off with her, both of them taking far too long in my opinion. Y/N eventually plopped me down in the high chair in the library, Rowena shoving a mixture in a bowl at Y/N.

“He has to drink it,” she said.

“Dean, don’t throw this up,” said Y/N, tilting the bowl, some of it dribbling down my face. “Get a damn bottle. Now!”

“Come on. At least a sippy cup, not the stupid bottles again,” I grumbled, Y/N taking one from Sam, pouring the slop inside and twisting the cap on.

“For once, do not fuss with this thing,” she said, putting the bottle to my lips. I wanted to scoff at her but she squeezed it and liquid flooded my mouth. It tasted awful and she just kept squeezing more in, forcing me to swallow. I drank most of the bottle down as a timer went off, all three of them jumping about a foot back.

I peeled open an eye, bottle hanging from my mouth and ass currently sat on the floor and pieces of broken high chair.

“Dean?” asked Sam. I spit the bottle out and stood up, blinking down at myself.

“Excuse me but I’ve had to piss the last two hours,” I said, moving past them all for the bathroom, ripping the obnoxious baby outfit off and sitting down. “Oh, I never thought I’d be so happy to be using the bathroom again.”

Reader POV

“Hey, Dean?” you said, walking into the bathroom, Dean currently walking around the space in a pair of boxers, happy as could be. “You doing okay? All adult in there again?”

“Yes. Thankfully,” said Dean. “I’m just enjoying things like brushing my own teeth and shaving and oh yeah, I can actually talk again.”

“So how much-”

“I understood everything. I acted a lot like a baby whether I wanted to or not but I understood it all,” said Dean. “Thank you so fucking much for not making me use the damn diapers.”

“Well...I figured there was some of you in there,” you said. “Sorry about the bottles. And baby food. And pacifier. And the onesies.”

“Eh, they grow on you,” he said with a shrug. “I wasn’t a very well behaved baby.”

“You kept out of trouble for the most part,” you said, wrapping your arms around him, so glad to have him back to his normal size.

“I want a burger and steak and sweet potato fries,” said Dean.

“Okay. You can have all that,” you said with a laugh. “You can even drive to the store if you want.”

“Oh, I am looking forward to it.”

[livinginshambles]

I want to be loved first | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Summary: Established relationship and angst: James still loves Lily, it's clear to you. You try to ignore the way your heart aches when you always seem to be second on his mind, knowing you will never compare to her and unsure how much more you can take.

Notes: Its happy ending again, sorry guys. I'd say no beta, we die like fred, but that feels too soon so anyway, spelling and grammar mistakes probably.

Masterlist

____________________________

People have often told you that you need to toughen up and grow a spine. That your lack of backbone had everyone trample on you like you were a crosswalk, and you could definitely say that they were right.

Perhaps that's why you were crying in the middle of the night because of James Potter. He was laying behind you, pressed against your back with an arm draped over you. His face was hidden in the back of your neck, breathing steadily against it as he slept peacefully, unaware of the heartache he was causing you when he whispered Lily's name. Again.

When he'd done it the first time, your blood had run cold, goosebumps showing up and littering your bare arms. Tears had prickled in your eyes at his barely audible, mumbled confession. "Love you so much Lily."

You had turned around to face him and your rustling had woken him up. Eyes still closed, he'd groggily shifted and pulled you against his chest. “Everything alright, love?”

“Yeah, just a nightmare,” you had responded in a small voice. Your answer had him finally open his eyes, somewhat concerned. He had lifted his arm to yawn against it and then settled it back on top of you in such a way that his hand had easy access to your nape, drawing circles in an attempt to calm you.

“I've got you, love. Nothing can hurt you, as long as I'm here,” he had assured you.

Ironic.

So now here you were lying down, your tears were freely rolling down your face and you were glad that the curtains of the bed were closed, leaving you in a private space, despite sleeping in the boy’s dormitory. It would be another sleepless night for you, it seemed.

When James stretched his arms to reach for you about four hours later, he frowned and sat up, confused at the lack of your presence. He pushed the red drapes aside and peeked into the room. Sirius was still asleep, face down. Peter was most likely curled up inside the pile of blankets on his bed and Remus was sitting up in bed, a book in his lap.

Even though it was the weekend, and you were anything but an early bird, you slipped out of bed in the early morning. You were sure that your eyes were red and puffy and didn’t want James to mention it.

He looked up when he heard James and raised his eyebrows in question when he noticed no one else behind him. “Have you seen Y/N?” James asked, sleep still heavily laced in his voice. Remus shook his head in thought. “No,” he whispered quietly, an eye on Sirius beside him. “I’ve been up since four in the morning though.”

James’ frown deepened. That meant that you had snuck out before that. But why? He got dressed impressively fast and descended the stairs to the common room. You were sitting at the tip of your chair, deeply engrossed into your transfiguration assignment, several books piled, some laying open, scattered across the small table.

You felt two arms securely wrap around you, almost melting in their designated position. “Morning,” James kissed your cheek.

You bit your lip, took a breath, and cast your hurt feelings aside. You turned your head and flashed him a smile. “Good morning, Jamie.” James took the opportunity of your head, tilted upwards at him, and dipped down to press his lips softly against yours, pecking you once, twice. “You’re up early,” he commented and nudged you. He slipped behind you, body fully relaxing into your back now.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied honestly and you leaned back into him. You laughed softly when you noticed his eyes drooping. “You’re tired, Jamie. Go back to sleep.” James made a sound but didn’t move, instead slouching even more against you.

“Hm, no, I missed you this morning. I’ll stay here,” he decided and drifted off to sleep. You didn’t doubt that he loved you.

“Go on a date with me next Friday,” James asked you while he was escorting you to your herbology class. You looked up at him surprised. “A date?” you dumbly repeated, trying not to be too excited about the prospect of a date. James usually ended up having things to do that he really couldn't get out of, so you would always end up canceling your dates.

James laughed and slung his arm around your shoulders. “Exactly. You and me alone. I was thinking of a picnic by the lake, no one else around, and maybe we could snog, but I’m also down to cuddle.” Your eyes crinkled up amusedly. “Don’t you have Quidditch, Jamie,” you raised your eyebrows. “You always have Quidditch practice after class,” you pointed out.

“Not next Friday. I already checked to make sure I didn't double book anything, and I warned Pads that I'm not taking on any new pranks until next week to avoid detention.” he grinned. “Friday will be one of those rare days when I have time to have my girl all to myself the entire afternoon.” His face then turned apologetic. “I know I don’t have much time to take you out, so Friday'll be perfect and I’ll make it up to you.” You threw your arms around his neck and hummed appreciatively in it. “I’d love that.”

James wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a kiss. “Prongs!” Sirius shouted from a distance. “Everyone is already waiting for you for Quidditch practice, how far are you going to escort her? I mean the greenhouse is on the other side of Hogwarts, mate,” Sirius complained but he blew you a dramatic kiss that James waved away with a sour look.

“Go on,” you laughed and untangled yourself from his arms. He quickly pressed a kiss to your lips and sprinted off towards the Quidditch field.

James dropped into the seat next to you. “Long time no see, love,” he said. You snorted. “James, I saw you two hours ago.” James shrugged, and flirtily smiled. “I said what I said.”

Professor McGonagall entered the classroom and class started. You were jotting down everything she said in a neat handwriting, knowing that James would end up asking to lend your notes, of course by offering kisses in return.

You glanced beside you and were surprised to find him hunched over his notebook, scribbling away. Impressed at the thought that he was actually paying attention, you couldn’t help but peer down at his notes and saw that he was sketching a girl.

Though he wasn’t the greatest artist, you could clearly see that the girl on the paper looked nothing like you, and instead had features that were strikingly similar to Lily. When James looked up from his drawing and glanced to his right where she was sitting, her eyes focused on Professor McGonagall, you felt your heart constrict again, but still decided not to comment on it. He was free to draw whoever he felt like drawing, you reminded yourself.

Jealousy is ugly.

You were sitting in the library, helping a third year with Defense against the dark arts theory, when James barged in, earning several disturbed looks and a threatening glare from the librarian.

“James?” you called to him quietly and motioned for him. James’ eyes spotted you and he slid over to you, wringing his hands together, biting his lips and his eyes darting around.

“You’re nervous,” You remarked while you eyed him up and down. “Or you feel bad. What is it?”

James let out a deep sigh at your bluntness, though he supposed it would be better to get straight to the point. “We can’t go on a date next week, I’ve got prefect stuff, gotta patrol.” You stared at him, your disappointment was visible on your face and James looked at the ground.

“But you already had patrol this week? Isn’t it every other week?” You asked, a bummed out look on your face.

“Well, actually, Lily asked me if I could do rounds with her next week,” he admitted. “Her usual assigned partner was injured during Quidditch practice apparently.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. You were pretty sure she could ask anyone else for next week or just do the rounds herself as you’ve seen James do it alone for two weeks too when his assigned partner had gone home for a family emergency.

“Is it really vital that you have to go?” You couldn’t help but ask.

"I already said yes." James offered an apologetic smile. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We can go on a date the week after.” There was a pause and then, “Actually that’ll probably have to wait for the week after that.”

'Imagine having to schedule a simple date, three to four weeks in advance and even then not being guaranteed that nothing would come in between,' you sighed.

You shrugged, a sudden wave of defeat and exhaustion crashing over you. Why did you have to compete for your boyfriend in the first place? 'How tiring', you realized.

You waved him away. “It can’t be helped, I guess,” you somewhat coldly told him, and turned back to the student next to you who was awkwardly looking away. James stood next to you in silence for a moment, still looking at you. You looked up at the lack of the sound of receding footsteps and looked at him questioningly, waving your hand in a ‘what is it?’ manner.

“I can tell her no,” James said, something that looked like a pout on his face. He hated making you feel bad, despite constantly but unconsciously doing it.

“You don’t want to tell her no,” you retorted.

"I would for you.”

“Well, considering that you haven’t told her no by now and are instead here telling me that we have to rearrange our plans, I think you should just go help Lily with rounds.”

James was taken aback by your bitter tone, eyes immediately wide, alarmed that you were really affected by his decision. “Love, I-“

You waved your hand again. “No, I’m sorry,” you apologized before he could. You rubbed your eyes in an exhausted manner. Jealousy was not a good look, you reminded yourself again. “Just really looked forward to that picnic with just you and me.”

“We’ll still have that picnic another time though,” James tried to assure you, but you were no longer looking at him. He realized that the conversation was over and that you wanted to be left alone right now.

“I love you,” James tried one last time and you sighed. " I love you more.” Your words resonated even after James left, knowing that they might be more true than you wanted to admit. You cleared your throat and when you faced the girl next to you, she shot you a sympathetic look.

The last drop was during Potions class. Potions was something you were good at. Maybe not better than Severus Snape, but you did excel in it.

So, if there was one class in which you expected James to want to be your partner, it was Potions class. Perhaps it was arrogant of you to assume such a thing, because when Professor Slughorn had announced that everyone would be paired up, and asked James who he wanted to partner up with, you hadn't expected him to glance at Lily first, which resulted in Professor Slughorn pairing the two together before James could say your name, which in his defense, was what he was planning on saying.

Without sparing you a glace, he left your table to take the seat next to Lily's. Sure, it was mostly a miscommunication issue on Slughorn's part, but did James have to skip over so happily?

“Love you so much, Lily.”

The words repeated in your head when you saw him look at her so fondly and before you could stop yourself, you scribbled a message on a piece of paper, in which you asked him to meet you in the tower, before sending it his way.

You had clung onto James because you were absolutely in love with him and refused to lose him. But it really was a futile battle, you would never compare to her. His first crush, first love, first kiss if you count that one time during ‘spin the bottle’ and his first heartbreak. You’ll always be second, even if he genuinely loves you.

James snapped his head up at you from his attempted conversation with Lily when he got your note, suddenly remembering you, but you were laughing, engrossed in a conversation with a flustered Peter who had almost set the two of you on fire by adding the wrong ingredient. When you left class, you saw James and Lily still talking while calmly packing up.

James entered the tower, holding the note that you had passed him during class. He was smiling cheekily and quickly skipped over, arms ready to wrap around your waist as he leaned in for a kiss, no doubt thinking you asked him to sneak away for a snog.

“We need to talk,” you stopped him, and his grin fell from his face, a serious expression now adorning it. “Everything alright love?” he asked, an odd feeling growing inside of him at your tone. He was suddenly rather unsure if he really wanted to.

'Nothing better than to rip the band aid off', you thought.

“I want to break up.”

There was a long moment of silence while James was registering your words, repeating them in his head over and over again to see if there was any chance that he could have interpreted that incorrectly.

“What?” He eventually said out loud in disbelief. Though he wanted to step forward, reach for you and hold you tightly as if to show that he wouldn’t let you go, his body was inwilling to move.

“Why are y-, I thought we were good?” The crack in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your heart ached for him, but you were determined to stay strong and say your piece for once. To voice your thoughts and go through with tough decisions that you knew would be for the better.

“We’re not, James,” you sighed. “I know that you know that.”

James shook his head in denial. “No, I don’t know that,” he insisted. His brain was racking through all the instances where he did something wrong and - with the exception of next Friday's date - came up blank.

“But you love me,” he stated, mostly to himself, but it came out more of a question. “Of course,” you confirmed without hesitation.

James’ body finally unfroze, and he surged forward, his hands fumbled to hold your hands. “And I love you,” he stressed, panic starting to rise up. “I love you so much, I’ll take a Veritaserum potion if you want. I just, why would you-, I don’t understand the problem-,”

“I know you love me, James. The problem is that I love you so much more,” you calmly interrupted him. James’ eyes scanned your face to look for answers because none of it maded sense to him.

“I want someone who loves me as much as I love him. Someone who gives me all his love, not just a part that he managed to set apart for me too. And I want to be loved first. Not second. I don't want to be a consolation prize because your first option didn't work out.”

James’ eyes flickered in realization, but his head was still shaking in denial. “I am that someone,” he urged, trying to convince you. He shot you a pleading look. “I love you first, I swear.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and you pulled it away from his grasp.

“Not first,” you shook your head sadly. “Not when you call for Lily in your sleep, and whisper that you love her.” You watch as James’ frown deepened, mixed expressions crossing his face in surprise, confusion and even bewilderment.

Would he not even admit it?

“Not when you have us rearrange our plans for her, when you draw portraits of her during class, or when you practically jump to be her potions partner. I'm not stupid, James. I see the way you look at her.” You continued to list off the things that happened just this past week, not even bothering to mention all the things that bothered you the past months. Your eyes looked sad and tired, and you took another deep breath. “So, I want to break up.”

James felt like crying, his mind thinking back to everything you said, and knowing that you were right. “I’m sorry,” he tried. “I’m an absolute twat, I know that. I promise you I don’t love Lily, she’s just still very important to me.” You offered him a sympathetic smile.

“I know she’s important to you, I just think that maybe you don’t know what or who you want. And I won’t share my boyfriend anymore, I’m selfish like that,” You joked halfheartedly. James didn’t react, save for wrapping his arms around you. You allowed James to embrace you and he buried his head in your hair, his eyes closed as if he wanted to go to sleep and forget this was happening.

“Okay,” James whispered. What else was he supposed to say?

You closed yours as well. James would get over you in no time, you were certain. You two hadn’t been dating for that long, and perhaps James could find a happy ending in Lily after all.

James had sort of avoided you after that. You thought he was doing it because he was angry, but in reality, he was just scared that he would burst into tears the moment he saw you, and he refused to watch you laugh happily, swatting your friend while he wanted nothing more than to hold your hand again.

His mind had completely become occupied by you and he stayed in bed over the weekend, mostly wallowing in self-pity and misery.

When Monday started, he had skipped all classes and only dragged himself out of bed for Quidditch practice and patrol with Lily. Walking next to her in silence, occasionally glancing at her, he felt his stomach sink again. How ironic that when he looked at Lily, all he could think about was you.

James walked through the corridor on Friday, on his way to the courtyard to meet up with Lily again to do rounds with her. He hadn’t been able to sleep peacefully without you. At first, he had been thinking about every instance where he prioritized Lily over you, and it had him curse himself out in his pillow. He missed you. It was so ridiculous, but he missed you to the point that he would curl up in bed with a stomach ache.

He had finally drifted off when at some point in the middle of the night, he had been shaken awake by Sirius.

“What?” James had asked, his throat dry and raspy. He’d looked around, disoriented.

“Thought you were having a nightmare Prongs. You kept mumbling her name. How much you loved her,” Sirius had handed James a glass of water.

James became wide awake and sat up straight in panic. “Lily?” He had asked Sirius, his stomach turning with nausea. He still couldn’t believe that he really talked about Lily in his sleep when you were lying next to him.

“What? No, Y/N’s name of course.” Sirius had corrected him. 'Of course,' James shook his head at Sirius’ words. “Figured you were reliving your breakup,” Sirius had explained.

James was looking through the passing windows of the castle where he could see the lake in the far distance. Suddenly something in his brain clicked. What in Godrick's name was he doing, avoiding you? Why was he giving up on you without a fight? You both loved each other; he was just the idiot who couldn’t sort himself out. But it didn’t take him longer than a terrible week to open his eyes.

James’ pace increased and he ran through the corridor. “No running in the corridors young man,” a portrait commented, but he paid it no mind.

Lily was already waiting for him and raised her eyebrows at his disheveled state and the basket that he was carrying. “I can’t do rounds with you today,” he puffed out. “I told Y/N that I would take her out for a picnic and then you asked me if I could help, and I agreed, but it’s so stupid because I should be-, I am choosing her,” James ranted. “I’m not letting you come first, or even second.”

Lily wasn’t really sure what James was rambling on about but gave him a kind smile, nonetheless. “Well, what are you waiting for,” she encouraged him. “Sounds to me like you shouldn’t be here, but somewhere else.”

“Yeah, I definitely should.”

You sat by the lake, skipping stones from a sitting position, not that you were having any luck. You hadn't seen James in a while because he avoided you, and you felt sadness wash over you. You were sure that he would get over you quick enough, but you wondered how long would it take for you to get over him?

You heard rustling behind you but kept facing forward. It was only when a delicious smell reached you, that you turned around, slightly annoyed that someone would really choose this spot to have an afternoon meal at when they could’ve sat literally anywhere else near the lake, as well as choose this moment when you wanted to act like a depressed main protagonist gazing in the distance.

You were, however, not prepared to see James stand behind you, out of breath and making his way over to you, a blanket and food spread out behind him. He didn’t really need to say anything. You understood from the way he showed up here, a hopeful expression on his face.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you got up, dusting yourself off.

"Hi," James breathed. An unsure smile formed on his face when you waved back. "I uh, I brought food." He awkwardly motioned to the picnic behind him and you couldn't help but smile at his adorableness.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else,” you couldn’t help but lightheartedly remark. James let out an airy chuckle, immediately relaxing at your open demeanor.

“100% sure I’m where I should be,” he affirmed. He considered his words and corrected himself. "Where I want to be."

His words had you take off in a sprint towards him and James opened his arms to catch you when you jumped, locking your legs around him. Ironically enough, it felt as if a weight had fallen off of James. His head fell against your shoulder and he shakily laughed while your blouse stained with tears of relief.

"I'm really sorry," he looked up at you, still holding you steadily. You leaned down to press your forehead against his, and your hands came up to his cheeks. "You made up your mind," you said, but it came out like a question, and James nodded hastily.

"And you'll make it up to me."

"Of course," he earnestly replied. "I want us. I'll fight for us." You closed the gap between the two of you.

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly against your lips.

Not first or second, not more, most or less. He just loves you.

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[moonstruckme]

hey lovely girl!!! i am formally requesting a james x depressed reader with lots of comfort if you’d like to write it!!! maybe reader is just like super overwhelmed by how sad and teary she feels and maybe a bit worried that james won’t get it but he’s so understanding and patient and kind and lots of comfort ensue, i feel like he’d be soo tender and gentle and when she’s crying just give the best hugs which i know we’ve discussed at length privately but it needs to be shared with the world

lots and lots of smooches,

rosa xxxx

Hi Rosa my love!! Thanks sm for your request, there's a bit of reader feeling guilty which I know we hadn't discussed but I hope doesn't hamper the experience for you

cw: talk of depression, self-loathing

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 780 words

You don’t know precisely how long ago you told James you were going to get ready for bed, but eventually he comes looking for you. He finds you drooped over the bathroom sink, a slow dribble of tears dripping from your nose. 

His arms are warm and solid as they come around your middle, squeezing just enough to let you know he’s there as he turns his head to kiss your face. 

“It’s okay,” James shushes you gently, warm nose to your warmer cheek. “You’re okay, sweetheart.” 

He doesn’t sound surprised to have found you like this. He knows you’ve been hurting lately, though sometimes you hate that he does. You’re steeped in gloom, sad and guilty and at times scared that it’s never going away. Sometimes it all converges on you, like now, becomes something that feels too dense to carry. James wasn’t made to deal with your melancholy. His caring makes you feel worse. 

You punish yourself in small ways. Not allowing yourself chapstick even when your lips crack and bleed. Staying away from any foods you really want. Forcing yourself to sit in feelings of guilt and worthlessness long past when they become unbearable. You’re not sure to what extent James is aware of it, but he makes up for it as best he can. He’s doing it now, soft kisses mushed into your jaw, climbing up to your hairline. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. 

An especially gentle press of his lips to your temple. “Don’t say that.” 

“I’m okay.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not right now,” he says. “I didn’t mean…I just want you to know that you’ll be okay, you know? It’s going to be. Let’s go to bed, yeah?” 

You think he means to sleep, but when you get on the bed James works his arms around you, drawing you in close, holding you tight. You worry sometimes that he thinks you’re crazy or overreacting, but it’s hard to hold onto that belief when he touches you like this, like he knows all the contours of your soul even when it aches. He fits himself to them perfectly.

You press your face to his shoulder to feel the warmth of his skin on your cheek. Tears slip past your lashes, and James encourages you with soft sounds and kisses to the side of your neck and murmurs of I’ve got you. 

He’s receptive to your needs. When your crying wanes, he stops squeezing you quite so fiercely and starts sweeping his hand over your back in broad strokes. The press of his palm has a tranquilizing effect, and you melt against his front, exhausted. 

You don’t know what to say. Thank you feels too small, and sorry isn’t allowed, but James doesn’t seem to have any expectations from you. He keeps rubbing your back until you bring your hands to his shoulders, ready to sit up, and then he brushes the tears from your face with his thumbs.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tells you. James has a sincere face. He means everything he says, and it’s easy to believe him when he looks at you like this, brimming with earnest conviction. 

You know he doesn’t mean it as a platitude, or that he’s going to somehow muscle his way through your feelings until you’re alright again, only as a simple reminder: You’ve done this before, and it’s hard, and it’s awful, but you’ve always come out of it. It’s never been forever. 

“Yeah,” you say. Your agreement sounds emptier than his promise did, but you know that when it comes to certainty James is more than willing to pick up your slack. “Sorry, I’m just tired.” 

James lets out an exasperated puff of air, though his kiss to your nose lets you know he’s not truly upset with you. “What did we say about sorry?” 

“It just slipped out.” 

He hums happily at the edge of humor in your dry tone. Encourages you back into his arms and lays down so you’re on top of his chest. “I’m tired, too. Do you think if we both think really hard about the same stuff, we’ll show up in each other’s dreams?” 

You ponder this, the ache in your chest ebbed for the moment. “Depends on what you believe about dreams.” 

“I think it’s worth a try.” 

James talks you all the way to sleep, his hand moving over the curve of your spine until you’re heavy atop him, deep breaths whistling in and out of you. In the morning, he’ll put your chapstick on for you in the bathroom and flirt with you until you tell him what you really want for breakfast.