#an over here i have a collection of mugs hehe

[shaylai]

Hey remember that one time Vivziepop said Alastor had a furby organ 🗣️

[rueclfer]

heyy there can i request some more touya headcannons? i really enjoy your way of picturing him because it’s just so canon and he’s kinda a lovely dick y’know. whatever comes to ur mind. thank u so much!!

weelll since you gave me so much freedom here r some touya as a housemate hcs ANNDD a moodboard bc i enjoy the visualization <3 since we talked abt this the other day too !! (i yapped so hard here sry sry this is so indulgent)

bakugou's and sero's version too hehe

housemates // touya todoroki

touya hates the idea of living with a complete stranger or one of his siblings, so what other option does he have other than forcing his best friend (crush) on a lease with him?

the newfound freedom definitely puts him on his ass for a few weeks. barely sleeps. eats like shit. trash is scattered everywhere. several unpacked boxes. it stays like this until fuyumi comes over to check our the place and gives you two a hard scolding to get your shit together.

more often than not, you'd end up waking up on the couch with your legs sprawled out across his lap and his upper half leaned over the couch arm rest in deep sleep. staying up so late was probably one of his favorite things about living together. being able to talk as loud as you wanted, watch movies late into the night, look over the city from your balcony- he found solitude in existing with you.

if he wasn't already codependent before moving in together, just know his ass will be GLUED TO YOU. you'd be doing work in your room and he'd barge in and flop down on your bed without a word. maybe he'd gotten a bit too comfortable.

if he's feeling extra annoying that day, he'd bring in his guitar and amp and keep asking you to rate his riffs until you entirely give up on work and give him some attention.

is it obvious his love language is quality time? not only that, gift giving too. he's like a fucking crow.

"look what i found. it's a rock. for you."

makes him soooo giddy to see your display of the rocks, feathers, and dried up flowers he picked up for you on his walk. sometimes you'd come home and there'd be a new addition to the ever growing collection.

ofc you'd return the energy in a different way. touya will not cook for himself. ever. he eats like shit as an internal rebellion against the healthy diet he was forced upon as a kid, but you will not allow that boy to rot himself from the inside out!! he can expect several tupperwares of portioned out meals with notes attached to the lids if you know he'd be home all day by himself.

"to t <3. if you don't eat every last bite i'll find out and it'll hurt my feelings and i might combust into flames or something idk don't risk it!"

i can also imagine him holding back tears whenever you ever come into his room to hand him a bowl of cut up fruit. the first time you do it he'd be speechless like jaw dropped taken aback. has he ever felt love like this??? i think not.

despite all of the kind gestures, he's still touya todoroki. hides your keys if you annoyed him that morning by rushing him in the bathroom and makes you a few minutes late to class/work. chronic door slammer. pisses with the door wide open. no sense of privacy and do not gaf to knock. always locking himself out -> i feel strongly about this like imagine coming home after a long day and he's sitting out in the hallway with a pouty face waiting for you hehehe.

i don't think he'd realize this crush until a few months after you've moved in together. how could he when you two practically already act and bicker like an old married couple?

yes- peanut butter belongs in the fridge. no- it doesn't. stop leaving your socks everywhere. you forget to flush again. stop slamming the doors. you ate my chips, didn't you? don't lie. did you really need to put the mugs up that high? (he does it on purpose, and tightens the lid to every jar too.)

it wasn't until one late evening when he comes home to find you frantically mixing a doughy substance in a large metal bowl. you never bake, but you have your own oven now, so why not?

"god, finally. help me, my arms hurt." you groan, shoving the bowl in his hands. "i think i fucked up."

he sees the hurricane aftermath of your kitchen- flour everywhere, egg shells left on the counter, every single jar imaginable opened and scattered around. he could be teasing you about the mess, but god you looked so beautiful with that stupid wrinkle in between your eyebrows as you read over the recipe, and the streaks of flour across your pant leg from wiping your hands, and the way you swipe away the stray pieces of hair falling in your face with the back of your hand- oh fuck.

he thinks he's falling in love with you.

he swallows it, but he starts acting kinda weird around the apartment.

like he's.... avoiding you?

living with his best friend whom he just so happens to develop a crush for, would eat him alive. he locks himself in his room and chain smoke out his window while he's stressing the fuck out. he told you he'd stop smoking, but he's sure you'd understand the need for it right now. he hopes you can't smell it.

i also think he'd be a stress cleaner lmaaoo he cannot sit still with his thoughts for too long, so the headphones are ON and blasting and he'll definitely use that as a scapegoat + the loud ass vacuum for ignoring you if you try to talk to him while he's on this cleaning frenzy.

you think he's sick LMAO imagine the pain he feels when you come knocking on his door and calling out that you're leaving a bowl of soup and cough medicine outside his door for him. he doesn't tell you that yeah he's sick but *not in that way*

lovesick. that boy is lovesick!!!!!!

how do you avoid your housemate while you figure out how to control your feelings?

he confesses via note that he leaves on the kitchen counter. really simple tbh nothing too extravagant, but he signs off by telling you that he's staying crashing at fuyumi's for a couple days.

you text him a string of obscenities to get his ass back home and he does (he's scared of you).

he CAANNOOTT talk about his feelings in an adult way. he is sitting on the complete opposite side of the couch, twiddling his thumbs, and staring down at his feet like a child while you reread his confession note out loud to him. you find his discomfort hilarious but endearing. he finds you unbearably insufferable.

jesus the amount of times in that apartment where he would storm off to his room whenever you two got in an argument or you pissed him off...old habits die hard, you guess, because this isn't the todoroki household anymore and you aren't scared to lose that deposit and kick a door down.

once you corner him and get him to open up about his feelings the air in the room suddenly shift!! the clouds are clearing and the sun is shining woooowww look at what good communication can do.

sharing an apartment with your BOYFRIEND is no different than sharing one with your best friend. i think he'd like to keep your separate bedrooms to have your own space, but you'll rarely sleep apart.

so! many! new! traditions!

helping him dye his hair on the first saturday of every month. biweekly horror movie marathons. counting the communal piggy bank ever couple months. trying new takeout spots until you find THE spot for every category- chinese, pizza, ramen, etc etc.

and finally, an everlasting mark on your first apartment together: a small carved out heart around your initials left on the inner corner of a kitchen cabinet done with his pocket knife on a random weekday evening while you two are cooking dinner together.

-

touya tag: @moonchild701 @kaldurahms-lover @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 @ggriwm

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | do you have an appointment?

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 11.2k words, pretty wife visits joel at work when he forgets his lunch, and he wants to show everyone there just how good you are to him. and when you're good, you get a reward. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, exhibition kink, oral (m + f receiving), kneeling???, dirty talk, sir kink, pet names for reader, reader is joel's little doll hehe, little bit of domestic bliss, brief mention of alcohol, extremely submissive reader a/n: idek what happened here, it's been a while since i've gotten a chapter finished and went a little crazy with the word count on this one oopsie. i was plotting and writing this chapter then read this book and was extra excited that it lined up with this chapter so well so ANYWAY ENJOY! reblogs + comments are always loved and appreciated! ♡

You love the mornings you have with Joel before he works, the ones where he takes it slow and sits down to sip coffee with you, eating the plated breakfast you set in front of him and chatting about what’s on his agenda for the day. You even love the ones where he practically flies into the kitchen, dressed and ready, and you can read the signals that there isn’t any time to spare for sweet chatter and a meal this morning.

This happens to be one of those mornings, with Joel buzzing around quickly, trying to get his things in order. He’d spent way too long making out with you like a horny teenager after already sleeping in too late for everything he had to get done at the office today, and now he was paying the price. 

“Shit, sorry, baby, gotta rush out of here,” Joel mumbles as he scoots past you, taking a hasty gulp from his mug of coffee. You’ve been standing, fingers curled around your hips, brushing the fabric of your silk robe and watching in amusement as your husband starts to fall apart in the chaos of his own doing. You can smell the freshness of his shower on him, his heavenly body wash making you take an extra breath in just to keep it with you a little longer. 

“You just worry about your shoes and bag, let me get this into a travel cup for you,” you tell him, grabbing the mug out of his hands before he can protest. 

“God, m’perfect wife, thank you,” he says quickly, pecking the side of your head as he passes by again, heading towards the coat closet near the front door. 

You hear him rustling around as you fill one of his favorite cups - a Texas Longhorns travel mug - and walk it over to the front door. 

“Dumb ass for scheduling this meeting so early,” he mumbles to himself, critiquing his lack of foresight in his own agenda. He has his shoes on and looks ready to go as he looks up at you, his irritated expression immediately changing into a soft, lopsided smile. 

His arms reach out to you and pull you in for an embrace, grabbing the mug out of your hand before leaning down to kiss you, long and deep. 

“Make it up t’ya later,” he promises with a wink before one more chaste kiss makes its way onto your lips from him. 

“You better,” you quip back, “Bye, honey.” He waves as he slips through the front door, and moments later you hear his truck start up, speeding off through the neighborhood. 

You sigh, shaking your head a little at your husband, but start to move along with your day, changing into your more worn clothes - an old t-shirt of Joel’s and some cloth shorts - to tidy the kitchen first and then get a good vacuum done all over the house. You find a few more projects - taking an inventory of toiletries for your trip to the store this week and a quick clean of the half bathroom on the main level has you feeling accomplished for the day, realizing it’s nearing the time you’re supposed to meet your friends for your weekly tennis scrimmage. 

You contemplate inside your closet for a few moments before deciding on an all white tennis outfit - a pleated skirt and workout tank top, completing it with ankle high socks and your white tennis shoes. You throw a zip up on top of everything and clasp on the sparkling tennis bracelet Joel had gotten you, claiming it had tennis in the name, so it must go with your tennis outfits, right? You’d nearly fallen out of your chair that day at the glimmering diamonds as Joel put it on your wrist for the first time, telling him that it wasn’t in fact something that actually had anything to do with you playing tennis. You decided to wear it most weeks to play tennis, anyways, just because of how sweet the gesture had been from him.

You open the fridge to grab some snacks and a protein drink to bring to the court with you, when your eye catches on Joel’s lunch, still sitting in the fridge and untouched - in his rush this morning he must have forgotten it. You frown, pulling out your phone and shooting a quick text to your friends, letting them know you won’t be able to make your usual time today and then pull up Joel’s contact to call him.

“Hey darlin’, how are you?” Joel says upon picking up, sounding slightly distracted among the sound of shuffling papers in the background.

“You forgot your lunch,” you blurt out.

“Oh, shoot, you’re right, ain’t ya. Hmm, s’okay, I’ll just grab somethin’ to go, maybe,” Joel says, sounding lost in thought over his current situation.

“Let me bring it to you. We could eat together?” you ask, biting your lip and hoping his day isn’t too busy to fit you in. 

“Don’t ya have tennis and lunch with your girls right about now?”

“Er, well, I already canceled to bring you your lunch,” you admit. You hear Joel hum quickly on the other end in contemplation.

“Alright, ya got me. Jus’ didn’t want you to go out of your way f’me,” Joel says, and you shake your head a little bit.

“Of course not, I want to eat lunch with you. Besides, I haven’t been to the office in a long time.” 

“See ya around noon, then?” Joel asks, and you agree that noon sounds perfect. 

“W-wait, doll -” Joel cuts in before you two can hang up.

“Hmm?” you murmur, clutching the phone back into your ear.

“What’re you wearin’? Your little white skirt?” he asks, and you lick your lips and break out into a smile.

“Maybe…” you tease, “I was about to change, though, if I’m not playing.”

“Don’t.” Joel says more sternly. “Don’t change.”

And as usual, you obey. 

You walk into Joel’s office building, part of a larger skyscraper downtown, and as you notice little details again you realize that you really haven’t been here in ages. It always impresses you every time you see it, though, the pristine office space and location, and it makes you smile at how successful your husband has gotten. You bet he’s as good a boss as he is a husband, you think to yourself, knowing that Joel’s business is one of the top contracting companies in Austin.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?” a younger, sandy haired woman behind a counter labeled Reception asks as you walk up. 

“Oh, I’m here to see Joel - uh, Mr. Miller? I -“ you stutter uncomfortably - you suddenly feel a bit out of your depth looking into this woman’s curious, critical eyes.

The woman looks you up and down, assessing you quickly. You find yourself wishing you could hear the thoughts going through her head as she quirks a brow at you. You try not to be self conscious, but sometimes in a situation like this, where you’re not sure exactly where you belong, you tend to get nervous. You just want to see Joel and find some solace in his arms.

“Do you have an appointment?” she interrupts you, glancing at the computer to see if there’s anything on the agenda for this time of day. 

“Gosh, no. I’m his wife. Sorry, should have said that right off the bat. He forgot his lunch this morning,” you tell her, putting on your kindest smile and holding the little cooler bag up. Her eyes widen just slightly and she stares for a moment, her quick gaze roaming your outfit and body having a different meaning now, landing with a small, furtive smile on the high pony tail that had been swinging back and forth on your head as you’d walked in. 

“Sorry, he didn’t say he was expecting you. I can show you where his office is, if you need,” she says, suddenly straightening her back and cocking her head at you.

“No worries, I’ve been here before. Uh, thanks,” you tell her, trying not to falter your smile. Something about the way she’d looked at you made you feel… off - like she was judging you for some secret that you weren’t in on. It’s obvious you’re much younger than Joel, but you’ve never been bothered by the fact and you wish other people weren’t, either. Maybe they’d expected some frumpy older lady to walk in here, or something, and instead were stuck with the conundrum that was you. 

You try to shake it off and make a beeline to Joel’s office, but you find more eyes are on you - people looking up from their desks as you pass, doing double takes, their faces completely unreadable. Your skin is crawling a little uncomfortably at the sidelong glances from so many people you don’t know. You’re starting to regret your choice of outfit, not changing before you’d left the house, but you do know Joel loves this particular tennis skirt on you, and he’d specifically asked you not to change. You try to remind yourself that the only opinion that matters in this office is his, and it settles your nerves a little bit. 

“There she is,” Joel says sweetly as you give his office door a few quick knocks and enter. He practically jumps out of his chair to meet you, swiftly going in for a kiss. He takes the lunch bag you’d packed out of your hand and plops it onto his desk. 

“Hungry now?” he asks, and you nod, smiling almost dumbly at him. You just find that he does something to you, this man, and you can only smile and nod and be this submissive little thing around him most of the time. And it’s absolutely glorious, the effect your husband has on you. It's like everything that happened, all the uncomfortable stares from the office, completely vanishes once you’re with him. 

Joel gives you one more kiss, groaning a little into it before pulling away reluctantly. He rearranges chairs so that you two can sit next to each other and eat at his desk. He starts to unpack the lunch, pulling out a small slip of paper with a knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Oh, that’s -” you start, a small blush coming over your cheeks.

“I know what it is, darlin’. You pack them every day,” Joel replies, unfolding it and reading the small note you’d packed in his lunch. You started to get into the habit so long ago that you can’t even remember how long you’d been doing it. Putting funny jokes, sexy promises, or just a quickly scrawled I love you and tossing it in with his lunch each night became just simply part of your routine at this point. 

Joel stands up and opens a drawer at his desk, pulling out a small box that he opens to place the note inside. Your mouth hangs open a little as the realization of what he’s doing hits you.

“You… keep them?” you ask timidly, and Joel’s eyes find yours, his smile growing.

“Every single one,” he states simply, and you feel your eyes grow watery before blinking it away. “Good for when I’m havin’ a rough day,” he adds, finding his way back to his seat. 

You’re practically speechless, loving that the small gesture has meant so much to Joel, has helped him on days he’s here without you and needs a pick me up. The thought alone sends your heart soaring, filled with love for your husband and you lean forward to kiss him again, savoring the feel of his lips on yours.

“That’s so sweet, baby, I love it,” you finally manage to say with a tight voice, and he pinches your cheek lovingly before settling back in his chair to eat.

“Oh, hang on, darlin’, I think there’s some sodas in the break room I could sneak us,” Joel says with an effortlessly suave wink, leaving you smiling to yourself as he slips out of his office. 

Joel hears hushed voices through the open door to the break room, and he’s about to turn in when the words they’re saying catch his ear. He knows he should just go in, silence them with his presence alone, but he can’t help himself. He immediately feels a seething boil under his skin at what he’s hearing. 

“I swear, I heard from someone who went for like, a party or something at their place, she’s totally like one of those Stepford Wives. All dolled up and in dresses and aprons all the time and shit. I don’t know, just sounds weird to me,” a female voice says, and Joel’s brow crinkles further, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“What, really?” a male voice replies, with a second female voice murmuring something similar. 

“I mean, didn’t you see her walk in today? The outfit alone. Cute, but like… feels like she’s trying a bit too hard, you know,” the first woman says, and Joel hears laughter between the other two. 

“Oh, I saw,” the second woman says with a snort. “It’s all people are talking about out there, seriously. Didn’t know the boss was such a sugar daddy.”

“I know, makes you wonder. He could have anyone, he’s handsome enough and successful, and he chooses to just be with some housewife? She’s pretty and all that, but like…. I guess to each their own,” she says, with a tone that indicates she doesn’t mean her words at all, and her judgment is still swift. 

Joel has found himself sucked into their conversation, listening from the outside with baited breath, a sinking feeling in his chest. Sure, he’s angry, absolutely livid that these three are being so hastily judgemental, but what’s hurting the most is knowing they’re talking about his wife. His sweet, loving, caring, absolutely perfect wife. Someone who always thinks of others, so giving, so wonderful. He knew if you heard their words, it would hurt you deeply, the thought that these people were talking badly about you for just living the way you want to live. 

Joel can’t take it anymore, swiftly turning the corner of the doorframe and entering the room. The three of them are mid-laughter and it tapers off as Joel heads for the fridge. 

“Afternoon,” he says casually, a knowing smirk on his face to try to hide his anger. He glances at the three of them, surely sweating bullets and all looking a bit like they were caught in the act, eyes blinking rapidly and smiles a little too forced.

They all murmur similar greetings in response, trying to act casual. Joel grabs a few sodas out of the fridge, wrapping his large hands around the cool cans and letting the change of temperature ground him a bit. 

He makes his way to the door, letting them think that he didn’t hear anything, that they got off the hook that easily. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the room, glancing over his shoulder at his three employees, looking so uncomfortable as they stand huddled together that he could laugh right in their faces.

“Y’know,” he starts, dragging it out a little with a small sigh. “I’ll bet she’d have nothin’ but nice things to say about you three,” he says simply with a quick shake of his head before turning, not even bothering to check their reactions. 

All he wants now is to head back to you, back to his wife, and give you an extra squeeze and a kiss for being so wonderful to him. You’re waiting eagerly, nervously playing with your fingernails when Joel returns, and you immediately smile widely again at the sight of him. 

“Hit the jackpot,” he says, and you grab the can from him. Joel leans down, grabbing your face with his free hand, slightly cold still from the drink and you yelp with a playful giggle. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly with a chuckle, moving his hand off of your cheek. “Just needed to kiss my girl.”

You meet his face in the middle and let him, his lips crashing into yours for a few blissful seconds before he sits down next to you and asks to hear about your morning. He keeps a firm hand on your knee any time he doesn't need to use them to eat his lunch as you two sit and catch up between bites.

“Y’swear, you made this bread?” Joel asks you, marveling at his sandwich - meat, cheese, and veggie toppings sitting between a sourdough recipe you’d been trying to perfect.

“I swear. I can’t believe you haven’t seen the levain in the house, it’s just a big gross blob in a jar,” you say, stifling a laugh.

Joel ponders his memory for a few moments before nodding. “Guess maybe I did. But m’point is - what can’t my wife do? So talented…”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the special attention and compliments he’s giving you, shaking your head modestly in reply. “N-no, it’s just bread,” you say meekly.

He squeezes your thigh, leaning his forehead against yours for a brief second as he speaks. “You’re perfect, darlin’, sorry to say it, but it’s true.”

You laugh then, deciding not to fight him on it anymore. Your face continues to warm from his compliments, your body tingling slightly as you feel a hint of desire pooling low in your body. You know that isn’t his intended result from the compliments he’s doling out on you now, but you can’t help but respond to his attention like this, feeling a deep satisfaction that you’ve pleased him in some way.

“Hey Joel, I -“ a voice interrupts, a broad, light haired man entering through the cracked door. “Oh, sorry, didn’t know - uh -“ he says upon seeing you, chair scooted close to Joel’s, his hand rubbing circles on your thigh. 

“S’alright Rick, what is it?” Joel replies, not bothering to move his hand. If anything, he instinctively tightens it, claiming you in front of a new person, letting them know who you belong to.

“Jus’ had a few questions on the Parker Street project, but it can wait.” His eyes flash back and forth between you and Joel, seemingly trying to size up the situation. Joel opens his mouth to respond to Rick, but the man smiles suddenly and speaks again before Joel can.

“Now who’s this, though? Don’t tell me you’re hiring girls to eat lunch with you now,” Rick teases, and you feel your mouth pop open and your face get hot at the insinuation. Joel’s face doesn’t crack, it hardly even moves as you glance over at him desperately, feeling a burn of embarrassment prickle at your eyes. You try to blink it away, hoping you don’t end up crying in front of this random asshole. 

Joel clears his throat a moment later, his hand tight on your thigh, sudden energy and irritation coursing through him and out into his grip. “If you need to hire your own wife to eat lunch with you, then you got bigger problems, don’t you, Rick?” he snips back, and Rick pales realizing what he thought was a light-hearted joke didn’t quite land. 

“J-just messing around, I’m sorry. She’s just - uh -“ Rick stutters, and Joel just gives a blasé raise of his eyebrows. 

“Careful what words come out of your mouth next about my wife.”

Rick seems intent on digging himself deeper into his own hole and stutters some more, trying to explain himself. “N-no, it’s just - well, you’re very beautiful,” he says, turning to you quickly. “Some people around the office, t-they said some things when you came in. Just jokes, that’s all, just you’re pretty and young, and Joel, well he’s… and… we just made funny assumptions that you couldn’t be his wife.”

Joel sighs, keeping a cool demeanor as he cocks his head in Rick’s direction “People really think my wife, my perfect little wife, is some random girl I hired, huh? After the way you all know I feel about my girl, way I go on and on about this perfect little thing right here,” Joel says, gesturing to you quickly. “Think I’d want anythin’ to do with anyone else?”

“God, no, Joel, it’s just - we didn’t know, she was… shit, so young, okay?”

Joel’s lips purse and you watch on, wide eyed and stunned silent by this conversation, not sure what you could even say right now to help. 

“Well, she is the age she is,” Joel says simply. “Let everyone know if they’ve got an issue, they can come see me.” He breathes an unamused chuckle, looking at Rick expectantly.

“You’re right, Joel. It was just s-stupid office chatter, sorry you had to get caught up in it. We know how m-much you love your wife. He’s always - always talking about you, promise,” Rick says, and your lips turn up a little at his groveling. 

“I know he does,” you finally say, keeping yourself meek but clear, turning to look at Joel and planting a kiss on his cheek. He turns his head, meeting the kiss and making sure Rick sees just how much you care for each other. 

“We’ll talk about the Parker Street stuff later, come back in… mm, an hour or so with Steve and Pat,” Joel says, glancing down at his watch. 

“Sure, of course, sounds good,” Rick says quietly, starting to back out of Joel’s office. “Again, I’m so sorry…” he trails off, and you smile blankly at him in return. 

“It’s alright, I get it. Joel does pay me in other ways to eat lunch with him,” you say, and you hear Joel nearly choke on a laugh next to you as he mutters an impressed curse under his breath. 

Rick doesn’t know what to do - smile, laugh, or let his face get a deeper shade of red at your sudden fierceness, but he settles on a strange, awkward combination of all three before leaving the door cracked shut behind him. 

“Now what was that?” Joel asks, turning towards you, shock written on his face. 

“What, I can’t give him a taste of his own medicine?” you reply, doe-eyed and smirking.

“God, no, y’can. It was perfect, so fuckin’ sexy to see you tell them what I do for ya,” Joel growls, standing up and pulling you off your chair and into his arms. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck in response to his movements, pulling yourself closer.

“Do you have to get back to work now?” you ask with a slight pout, knowing this lovely afternoon with Joel would have to come to an end eventually.

“Don’t want ya to leave,” Joel says, hand splayed across your lower back, holding you tight to his torso. “Could keep ya here w’me at work as my little pet, couldn’t I?” His eyes gather up a mischievousness as he considers his own words and what they mean he’d be getting this afternoon. 

“Have me, then,” you reply, your eyelashes fluttering as you blink up at him. Joel’s jaw sets a little tighter, a groaning noise working its way out of him as he grinds up against you a little bit. His hand gently taps under your chin, lifting it slightly and holding it there, cocking his head in amazement at you. 

“All mine, hm? My little pet to play with?” he asks, his voice going an octave lower in want. 

You dip your head in one long bow, and Joel starts forward, catching your lips with his. He devours you, forcing his tongue into your mouth quickly and you slide yours against his in equal fervor, starting to moan wantonly into his mouth. He’s already got you breathless, the way his hands move fluidly along your back, catching your ass in his palm and squeezing, the other one gripping the back of your neck, holding you in place.

Joel moves you backwards, slowly walking you until he collapses in his office chair, pulling you down with him and settling you to straddle his lap. He pulls away, thumbing your cheek and scanning your face, glowing and flush with arousal for him already. 

“Wanna teach some assholes here a lesson about disrespectin’ my wife,” he says. “Can’t have that, can I?” 

Your lips turn up in a smile and you shake your head for him, eliciting a devilish smirk from Joel. 

“Alright, why don’t ya stay next to me, darlin’, while I get some work done. See if any of ‘em got somethin’ more to say when they see how good my wife is to me.”

You blink a few times in confusion, your body torn because of the way he’d just been all over you, to not have it progress any further. You start for a chair, to pull it over next to his desk, and you hear Joel tisk as soon as you begin to turn away. His hands hold onto your back, stopping you from sliding off of his firm lap.

“Not like that doll, y’know what I want - need y’to help me relax a little,” Joel says, his eyes quickly dipping to the floor and back up, and you stiffen, immediately picking up on the change. You should have known better when he’d brought up the words little pet. You tilt your head innocently at him as he releases his hold on you, and feel your body moving before you can even process it, moving off of his lap, legs buckling and sending you to your knees. 

“Mmm,” Joel murmurs, looking down at you, settled on your knees next to his chair, “Good girl, my good little wife.”

Your insides warm at his praise, bubbling with satisfaction as you gaze up at him seated above you. You have to admit that you’re surprised Joel has gone this far in the workplace - this dynamic isn’t necessarily anything new to you, and Joel does have to be in a certain mood to get as far as wanting you kneeling next to him like this, but you’re always more than happy to oblige. You love the way it makes him look at you, so pleased and adoring as you fulfill both of your needs and desires, turning yourself off to become everything he needs, and in turn, everything you need. 

“Now, you okay if people see you like this? Y’know the last thing I want is to upset ya,” Joel says and you nod. 

“It’s okay,” you say with a small smile, scooting a bit closer to his chair. You worm your way closer, nuzzling his leg before resting your chin on his thigh. “Whatever you need, sir.”

“Mm, that’s it, jus’ get comfortable,” he coos down at you. Your heart is lifting, thundering happily in your chest at how natural this position feels for you. “I’ll let y’know when I need you.”

You nod dutifully into the fabric of his slacks and Joel turns his chair slightly, patting his thigh before pulling you in between his legs rather than next to him, and you rest your cheek on his inner thigh, letting your breath calm at the warmth of his skin. Your initial nerves that anyone could walk in and see you like this, see you in a position they might consider weak or strange or even gross are dissipating when you sense your husband's presence so close, the thick muscles of his thigh moving underneath your cheek.

You observe his world as he starts to get to work, clicking and typing on his computer with a few irritated sighs. You can tell just how much Rick’s comments are affecting Joel, how the tension spreads and radiates throughout his body. He tuts a few times as he scrolls his emails, your eyes flicking up to the screen but not bothering to read much, giving him his privacy. He picks up the phone and you hear bits and pieces of the conversations he’s having, just finding yourself content to let your mind wander, focusing on the sensations at hand - Joel’s warmth, the muscles on his leg shifting every so often, the sound of his breathing above you when the room gets quiet. 

His hand drifts down while he’s waiting for the other end of the line to ring on a new call, his large hand landing on the top of your head and moving down, stroking gently along the side of your head several times. The sudden attention has you glancing up at his face, and he gives you a sweet look, eyes glazed over as he watches your lips parted and eyes trusting and twinkling for him. You melt instantly, a frown coming to your face as soon as Joel breaks eye contact and blinks quickly a few times, snapping out of it.

“Oh, yeah, this is Joel Miller calling for Devin,” he says. You then decide to filter out anything unimportant again, and wait for Joel to call your attention again as he places what sounds like some order for different lumber sizes for a new build they’re working on. He doesn’t move his hand, though, brushing it along your head in slow, repeated strokes while his voice drones on. You don’t even notice the way your hands have moved of their own accord, grasping onto his calves and inching yourself even closer to where his legs meet on the chair. Your hands are crawling up his thighs, rubbing them, and your face is dangerously close to his crotch now. You can feel Joel’s eyes peering down at your slow, steady movement towards dangerous territory. 

“Mhm, you too, bye,” Joel says, before harshly setting the phone down onto the receiver on down his desk and hissing through his teeth as he snaps his head down to look at you.

“What’re you doin’,” he snips, and your movements halt, a bit of fear burning through your veins that you’ve upset or disappointed him.

“Just… wanted to touch you more,” you say quietly, putting your eyes and head down towards the floor. 

“Said I’d tell y’when I needed you, didn’t I?” he asks.

“I know… I’m sorry, Joel. You just… make me so…” you stutter, knowing he probably won’t like that you’re trying to make excuses right now, not when he’s in this dominant mode. He’s usually pretty lenient with situations like this though, when he knows you just want to be close to him and aren’t trying to be a brat on purpose.

“Hmm,” he growls a little, his lip bit in contemplation for a moment before he places a hand on the back of your head, fisting your high ponytail into his palm. “I know I do, can’t help yourself can you?”

You shake your head in quick movements. “No, I can’t… sir.”

“Make it up t’me…” Joel says, dragging his words. “Suck on my cock like a good girl while I finish this work, then I’ll give ya all the attention you need.”

Your hand brushes gently over the obvious arousal bulging out of his pants, so close to where your cheek was just resting, as you graze your fingers up to his belt in a slow, tantalizing manner, garnering a hum of satisfaction from Joel. You’re about to pull it through the first loop when there’s a knock on the door and you jump, dropping your hand back to his thigh. 

“Shit,” Joel spits under his breath in irritation. “After,” he commands a bit louder to you, and you nod, staring up at him in anxious anticipation for what to do next. Should you stand, stay right where you are, get into the seat next to Joel? Your heart starts to pick up a little as you sit up straight, ready to move if needed.

“Don’t get up for them,” he says sternly, seeming to read your mind, so you blink and try to relax back down. His hand finds its way back to the side of your head, stroking to calm you. “S’okay.”

“Yes, sir,” you say quietly as Joel summons them to come into his office.

You refuse to make eye contact with them, suddenly feeling shyness weigh on you, your shoulders curling in as you find refuge against Joel’s leg again. You hear the shuffle of shoes and bodies entering the room and try not to tense up, wanting to make a good impression for Joel. You try to be brave, looking up at Joel and then turning your head to his coworkers with a lazy smile, and they’re already staring at you with a mixture of emotions - confusion, lust, disgust, and so many things you can’t read that you find it makes you avert your gaze immediately.

“The Parker Street project, right?” Joel says, completely ignoring the rapidly changing emotions on their faces. 

“Right,” one of them that isn’t Rick says. “J-joel, um,” he says, flashing his eyes to you a few times.

“My wife, don’t worry about her. She’s visiting today. Tell them hello, darlin’,” Joel says, his hand still moving lazily along the side of your head.

“H-hello,” you manage to choke out, giving them your name and hoping your voice doesn’t waver too much.

They awkwardly greet you in return, and you try to focus, focus, focus, on Joel’s soothing hand on your hair, the well worn fabric of his pants below you that smells like him, the promise of dirty things after he has this meeting. You find it calms you, wishing you could be exactly like he wants - perfectly submissive, not scared for these other men to see you like this, and you aren’t scared, per se. Joel just doesn’t always bring this dynamic out of the home with him, and it has you feeling more timid than ever over it, even though you do like it. The chance for Joel to show you off, practically in a begging position between his legs, knowing you’re in a skimpy skirt that he loves as it flows out around your hips and onto the floor below you. The thought of these men seeing how much you belong to Joel has arousal starting to pool deep in your belly, swirling lower and lower the more you think about it. Joel’s girl. His pretty little wife. Let them see how good I am to him.

Joel’s hand doesn’t leave your head as they all speak - Rick, Steven, and Pat all doing their best to focus despite the out of the ordinary circumstances. You can’t help but wonder if Joel cares, if he thinks this will affect the way he’s treated by his employees. You start to spiral out, hoping your eyes don’t give away the sudden panic and worry that you’re somehow doing something wrong, making Joel’s life harder by being here. His hand edges down to your chin, unnoticeable to the other men, who have their eyes trained downwards on some blueprints on Joel’s desk as they chatter. He tilts your head slightly off of his thigh, having you look up at him, and he can see the nervous breath hitch in your throat. His eyes go soft and he gives your chin a few gentle strokes of his finger. 

“Good girl,” he mouths, and you melt a little, still not completely rid of the tension. “I love you,” he mouths next, and you find that was the key to the lock, the exact thing you needed from him right now. Of course Joel wouldn’t have you sitting like this if he cared at all what these men thought, if he had any doubts. One thing you knew about Joel was that he wasn’t a man with many doubts, ever. 

You squeeze his calf lovingly and relax again, not failing to notice that Joel’s pants have a prominent bulge just inches from where you’re nuzzling against him. You feel the familiar crawl of arousal in your core again, starting to throb in time with your clit, and you want nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and start riding his cock right now in front of everyone. As if he read your mind yet again, sensing the low, low pooling of heat inside of you,  Joel decides to adjourn the meeting. 

“Hope that answered most of it, but let’s talk tomorrow, hm? Gotta get this pretty girl home soon,” Joel says to them, and to your surprise, they seem much more relaxed, giving out smiles and little chuckles and talking more animatedly with Joel as they wrap their meeting up. You breathe a sigh of relief and say goodbye to them when Joel requests you to, thankful you can be alone with him again. 

As soon as the door to his office clicks shut, Joel shifts in his seat, moving your head off of his lap and replacing it with his own hands. He growls a little, the sound deep and rumbling all the way down to where you’re sitting at his feet, eager to please. His fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it with a fury that you’re not sure you’ve seen from him before, deft fingers undoing it and unzipping his fly in record time.

“Get my cock in your mouth, pretty girl,” he groans, yanking it out of his pants - the tip exposed first, achingly red and dripping with precum. Your mouth salivates, your tongue starts to poke out before you even realize, desperate to lap it onto your tongue and taste him. He fists it in his hand, slapping it against your mouth a few times, looking down at you through hooded eyes.

“No playin’ around, either, no little kitten licks and all that shit - I want this fat cock stuffing your mouth ‘till you’re choking,” he says, his voice a hot heat that licks down your skin like fire, sending a wave of arousal crashing through you. Slickness pools in your underwear, and you rub your thighs together instinctually. You nod, your mind still processing the vulgarity of what he’d said.

“Your words,” he reminds you, and you blink a few times, swallowing hard.

“Yes, o-of course, sir,” you say eagerly, eyes fixed on the bulbous head of his cock, sitting less than an inch from your hungry, salivating lips. 

“Good girl.” Joel lands another gentle stroke on your head, reaching back to grasp at the high ponytail sitting atop your crown, wrapping it around his hand in a few swift tugs. He has complete control, his hand firmly pressing your head to close the gap between your soon to be swollen lips and his cock, and you open wide for him, not wanting him to even have to ask, and he doesn’t fail to notice. 

“Eager girl, so good,” he praises, the end trailing into a groan as he slips past your lips, the immediate taste of him on your tongue more than welcome for you. You hum around his girth, the satisfaction filling your soul instantly as he presses on the back of your head, sending you further and further down his shaft. He hits the back of your throat, and he breathes hard, nearly gasping as you try to swallow him down and gag a bit, but Joel smiles crookedly, loving the sound that makes him feel so big and powerful above you.

“Yeah? Chokin’ on this big cock, are you? Bet you love it,” he purrs, his fingers tightening around your hair in his hand, scratching along your scalp. 

“Mmm,” you hum affirmatively around him. Your mouth is so full, jaw stretched and hurting already and you can scarcely breathe with the angle he’s hitting you at. You bob your head, slowly starting to move yourself faster along his cock, and Joel feels impossibly hard inside your mouth. You nearly moan at the feeling of what you alone do to him, your thighs clamping together under your skirt as you feel your warm center start to ache for him.

“Fuck, pretty thing, so good for me, aren’t you? Suckin’ on me like that at work like the little slut you are,” Joel grunts out, his breathing more erratic now. He’s losing himself completely to you, his head thrown back into the chair, panting as you keep up the quick bobbing of your head. 

You continue to take him in deep thrusts, your eyes watering, saliva pooling all around the base of him and starting to drip. Your hand pumps along what your mouth can’t take and you’re becoming a complete mess, tear stained cheeks and gagging noises that only serve to egg Joel on. 

“Fuck, perfect fuckin’ mouth, let me fuck it.” Joel tugs on your ponytail, trying to pull your head back to hear the two words he needs, the two words you’re desperate to say to him. 

You slide yourself up his shaft in a long, slow stroke before popping the head out of your mouth. You gaze up at him, your eyes completely changed and fucked out already for him, and Joel nearly comes at the sight alone. Your hair is starting to become undone in the way it only does when he fucks you, your lips puffy and overused now, and eyes glassy. It’s a sight to behold, absolutely angelic, and Joel feels only pure adoration for you and gratitude that he’s the only man who can gaze upon this exact view any time he wants. 

“Yes, sir,” you say, lapping his head and waiting for him to make the next move. He bucks his hips into your small licks before he tightens his grip on the back of your head, holding you in place as he slides himself back into your warm mouth. He sighs at the feeling and only moves slowly for a few moments to stand up from his chair before he starts to thrust his hips into your mouth with more vigor. 

It sends you reeling, the speed he’s moving in your mouth now, so unrelenting, taking everything he needs from you as you choke around him and try to swallow him down. You feel the ache between your thighs that has been growing reach an apex, your panties undoubtedly completely soaked through now, needing him to touch you, to find some relief for your neglected, throbbing clit.

“I’m gonna come down that pretty throat,” Joel says among his panting breaths, shoving himself into you with a hearty thrust.

You encourage Joel with a tight suck, trying to flick your tongue underneath his shaft as he moves your head. He groans loudly, and you know he’s close, your hands flying up to claw at his thighs and hold on as he slams himself into you. 

“Yeah little doll, gonna come in you, gonna c-“ Joel cuts himself off with a swift groan of pleasure as he bucks forward, spilling himself deep into your throat as promised, painting your throat white with his spend. He holds you in the position, keeping himself buried deep in your mouth as he comes down, breathing heavily. You feel his fingers slowly relax on your head, dropping your ponytail before he plops back into his chair. When you look up, his eyes are closed, head leaning back, and he looks completely blissed out, making you grin in satisfaction. You take care to tuck him back into his pants and he smiles down at you, peeking an eye open. 

“C’mere,” he says softly, patting his lap. You clamber up onto him, letting him press you against his chest as he wraps you in his arms, kissing the side of your cheek and neck. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, and you grab his hand in yours, bringing it to your mouth. You kiss along each of his knuckles, carefully giving each spot attention before letting his hand drop and putting both of your hands around his neck, scratching up into his hair. He hums contentedly at that, nuzzling himself into your neck.

“You liked everything I did today?” you ask tentatively, knowing what his answer will be, but you can’t help but seek his praise. After a more intense scene together like today, it feels extra good to hear. 

“Mm, I did, m’pretty doll.” He pauses thoughtfully for a moment, his fingers brushing along your back. “Y’know I wouldn’t change you, right? Change any of this? I want ya just as you are.”

“Oh.” You blink and knit your brows a little, nodding. You flick your eyes to his face, seeing that he’s already studying you. “Yeah, I do. Why’re you asking?”

“Jus’ makin’ sure. Too much damn chatter in this office today. All I care ‘bout is you knowin’ you’re my perfect girl.”

You sigh happily and plant a kiss where your head lays on him. “I’m so glad you liked it, I just wanted to do a good job for you.”

Joel makes a low, understanding sound and nods. “Y’did. Bet my baby is all worked up though, isn’t she? Needs a reward for being such a good girl today.”

You practically start to salivate at the words, good girl and reward in the same sentence always seem to lead to glorious things with Joel. You bite the inside of your lip, not sure if you should show him how suddenly eager you are, but a small shift from you in his lap tells him everything he needs to know. He chuckles, low and reverberating across his chest before he grabs your ass, moving you so that you’re straddling his thigh. One hand stays on your ass, and the other comes to cup near your lower belly, the one splayed on your behind starting to push you forward first. His hand on your belly pushes you back, encouraging you to use his thigh while he raptly watches your features screw up into pleasure.

You breathe in shakily at the miniscule amount of pressure on your clit already, immediately tightening around nothing as you start to move yourself in time with his hands as they manipulate you. You feel the build up already of a quickly approaching orgasm, your breath shallowing and erratic now as you quietly moan his name. Your eyes roll back and flutter shut as you grind harder, and just as you feel yourself cresting that sweet cliff into pure bliss, Joel holds tightly to both sides of you, stopping you. You nearly gasp, a frustrated grunt flying past your lips before you can stop it, your hips wiggling but to no avail - you can’ get enough friction now, enough pressure to send you into the pleasurable oblivion you’re craving.

“P-please,” you whine, a sob threatening to break out of your throat as your cunt weeps and aches desperately for him.

“Now…” Joel starts, his lips brushing your neck, beard and mustache tickling you and sending another wave of arousal to your core. “If you’re good jus’ a little longer, do what I say, I’ll give you your reward, mkay?” He talks smoothly and slowly, his words hitting you deep inside as you whimper, trying to grind down on him again, barely able to listen to him through the needy fog clouding your mind.

“C’mon, little doll, know y’want more than jus’ this, comin’ on my leg, don’t you?” He pulls back from your neck and puts a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyebrows raise just slightly in expectation of your answer, and you purse your lips a little but nod. 

“I need it,” you whisper quietly, your face scrunched up slightly in need as you finally still on Joel’s lap. 

“I know y’can do it, doll,” Joel assures you, his hand curling around your face and to the side of your head, smoothing your hair back. 

“Okay… w-what do I need to do for my reward?”

“You’re gonna head on home, I’ll be maybe thirty minutes, an hour behind ya while I wrap up here and sneak out early.” Joel pauses and you watch his face intently, brows twitching to hear the next part of his plan. 

“You’re gonna put on that little blue set with the flowers, you know the one right?”

You nod quickly and mutely for him, lips pressed tightly together, enraptured by his words. You feel your heart fluttering, beating faster already.

“Words, darlin’,” he presses you, and you pop your mouth open. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Lay in bed an’ wait for me jus’ wearing that. No touchin’ yourself, no coming until I get to you, you understand?” Joel thumbs where he holds your chin before squeezing it possessively. 

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl. You do all of that, and you get your reward,” Joel says, a corner of his mouth tugging upwards in satisfaction at the way you’re eating up his words, sitting with baited breath. 

You don’t even have to ask him what the reward might be, knowing Joel, knowing it will be well worth whatever short torture you’ll have to put yourself through while you wait for him. You can’t say some parts of your body seem on board, your pussy still fluttering, slick, and longing for Joel even as you try to accept that you won’t be able to do anything about it for a while yet.

“I can do it,” you tell Joel finally, trying to straighten yourself and exude confidence, rolling your shoulders back. 

“Okay, then. Home now, doll. And do as I said.” Joel gives your ass a firm spanking before releasing you from his lap, letting you slide off. The both of you, unable to help yourselves, quickly glance down to catch a glimpse of the spot on his pants where you’d just been seated, and Joel’s wry expression at the dark, slick stain from you makes you need to take a deep breath, remind yourself of your new mission.

“See you at home,” you say with a stern nod, pulling yourself together. When you leave the office, you have a renewed confidence, nothing like you felt when you’d walked in here earlier to those critical eyes following you. You feel an extra bounce in your step, passing by the secretary who has one of those particular pairs of eyes. You meet her stare as you walk up to where she’s seated, and you adjust your ponytail, knowing it’s quite obviously much more messy than when you’d arrived from Joel’s hands as he’d fucked into your face like it was his salvation.

“Have a great afternoon,” you chirp at her, a genuine smile shot her way as you pass by.

She gives you a faltering smile in return and her words trail after you as you don’t bother to stop on your way to the elevator. “You too…”

You’re patiently waiting, your whole body taut and anxious as you lay back against the pillows of the bed, sighing. You fiddle with the straps of your lingerie, glancing down to make sure everything is sitting just right on your body for Joel when you hear the front door opening in the distance. You smile to yourself devilishly, your heart thumping and skipping in your chest. You listen carefully, wanting to hear the exact moment Joel approaches you after this long, arduous wait. You’d ghosted your fingers over yourself too many times, always stopping yourself at the last minute before you took it too far, not wanting to disappoint Joel. You know that he’d know, somehow. He could tell the minute he walked in the house, you’d bet - your guilt would permeate every room in the house if you’d disobeyed what he’d asked of you.

It left you a nearly shaking mess, vibrating with excitement as you hear Joel milling around downstairs, the refrigerator opening and the familiar sound of a bottle of beer being opened. You frown slightly, wondering if he’s going to keep up your torturous wait for him until you hear him ascending the stairs. You prop one leg up and drape your hands along your thighs, spreading your baby pink manicured fingers across the skin there, cocking your head and glancing towards the door. The bed faces the door and Joel gets an eyeful of you the moment he appears in the frame, his gaze roaming hungrily over you. He leans one arm on the doorframe, beer in the other hand, observing you from afar.

“Were you good?” he asks, taking a long swig from the bottle.

You nod, whispering a yes to him.

“I know, can tell,” he says, not bothering to explain how he’d know, but you believe him.

“Wanted my reward,” you say meekly, shifting your legs restlessly on the bed.

Joel approaches the bed silently, feet moving purposefully lazily underneath him. He unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing the top of his chest, and your eyes linger there, catching his curls of hair now peeking out of the top. He takes one more swig before he sets the beer on top of your dresser. He shrugs his shirt off and climbs onto the bed, crawling towards you. His heavy, muscled form keeps you in place as he straddles you, bringing his face only inches from yours.

“You try to touch yourself?” he asks with a little more bite to his tone. His lips find the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the tip of your nose as he speaks. 

“A-almost. But I didn’t, I swear,” you say a little too quickly. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Thas’ right,” Joel breathes, inching closer to your lips with softening eyes. “My good little wife.”

He brushes his lips against yours and you shudder and moan, the anticipation that’s been building for hours now nearly at a breaking point. Your hips lift off the bed and Joel moves his hands from where they were bracketing your head to your hips, tight and commanding as he stops you from grinding into him.

He slips away from your face, moving down your body towards your aching heat, observing the lingerie you’re wearing along the way. His mouth brushes along the swell of your breasts covered in the lacy, flowery, sheer fabric. 

“This looks perfect on ya, sweetheart.” He smirks against your skin and sucks, leaving a mark on each breast before he slides his lips down your stomach, stopping before he reaches the apex of your thighs.

You whine quietly to yourself, and Joel continues to take his time, a finger sliding under the strap of your panties. His eyes drift between your legs and his eyebrows raise.

“Babydoll, you’ve been makin’ a mess again,” Joel tuts, making a greedy little sound in the back of his throat. You can feel how wet you are for him, how you had been practically non stop since you’d left his office and somehow made it home, changed into this bra and panties, and laid down in bed, all of it in a strange fog, only able to focus on getting to this point, to Joel.

You crane your head to see what he’s looking at, the dark stain on your underwear, no doubt full of your slick arousal. Your face warms at him looking at it so intently, seeing just how wretchedly desperate you are for him, that this simple promise of a reward could have made you gush and gush for him.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, tracing his finger along the wet spot, leaving you to shudder again with a hitch of your breath. “Is it all for me, hm? All of this?” Joel’s finger slips underneath the fabric, running his finger along your slit and the inside fabric of your panties, gathering up your arousal.

“Mhm, mhm,” you nod eagerly at his teasing, completely intoxicated by him now.

“Tell me,” he demands, circling your clit a few times, and you cry out.

“It’s all yours.” Your eyes squeeze shut and you buck into his light touches, feeling like your entire being is on fire from the inside out, the intensity of need for Joel becoming nearly sickening, like you’d do anything to keep his attention right now. And you know at the end of the day, you would. 

“What is? What’s all mine, little doll?” He speaks so assuredly, so languidly, like he could tease you all day like this and not be bothered. You know he would, too, if that was what would get him off that day, and you shudder to think that could be the case today.

“M-me, my pussy, it’s all yours. Only yours, sir.”

“That’s right. Good girl.” Joel sighs, moving his finger to his mouth and licking it clean in a slow, long stroke. He slowly, tantalizingly pulls your panties down your legs and you feel relief coursing through you that you’re getting that much closer to what you need from him.

Joel takes in the now bare bottom half of your body as he tosses your underwear on the floor. He moves swiftly, grabbing your sides and flipping your body so that you’re straddling his chest and he’s lying underneath you. He begins to pull you forward without a word, inching your aching heat closer to his mouth.

“Better soak my face, y’hear me?” he says before bringing you down and licking a flat, wide stripe up your slit and you cry out.

“Yes!” you call out suddenly, answering his question as you’re overtaken by the warm sensation of his mouth. He knows you so well, knows your body, what you respond to, and he dives right in, flicking his tongue perfectly over your clit a few times, drawing circles over it. You whine, your knees wobbling on either side of his head as you grip the sheets. You can tell you’re already doing exactly what Joel asked of you - there’s what feels like an impossible amount of slickness between your legs, and you can hear the lewd, pornographic sounds as he laps and sucks around your pussy. When his tongue pushes inside of you, you roll your eyes as your hips involuntarily thrust forward into it.

He pulls out for a moment, his breathing heavy against your cunt as he speaks. “What, you wanna fuck my tongue, d’ya, like a dirty little slut?” You nod, forgetting Joel can’t see it, and he tuts. “Answer me, little doll, use your words.”

“Yes, yes, please, let me fuck your face,” you practically sob, your lips going dry as you try to lick them back to life. It’s no use, your mouth drying all over again from the panting breaths Joel is bringing out of you.

“Fuck, dirty thing, such a whore for me, ain’t you?” You feel yourself fluttering around nothing, desperate for him to fill your aching, tightening little hole again.

“Yes, sir, I’m your whore. P-please…” you say, and Joel growls before his tongue pushes back into you, and he gathers your ass in his palms his fingers squeezing both globes tight enough to bruise, and he starts to lift you up and down, controlling the pace that you get to fuck his face. It’s dizzying as you feel him sliding in and out of you, your body bouncing on top of him, completely out of your control.

“F-ff-uck,” you moan, “My - my clit, Joel, I’m so close,” you cry feebly, barely able to get the words out. Joel pushes his nose inward, making sure it’s rubbing your clit each time he snaps your hips back down onto his face.

“Oh, right there, riiight there, yes!” you scream, and Joel goes harder as he senses you tensing up, your cunt pulsating and starting to quiver around his tongue. If anything, he starts to pull your hips down harder each time, and your eyes roll back as you squeeze them shut, your vision going bright white while your entire body responds to the pleasure. You feel your brain go fuzzy and your skin burning with the need for him finally releasing, his name falling from your lips over and over again. 

Joel slows the thrusts a bit at a time, letting you ride the heavenly aftershocks into his mouth until you can barely take it anymore and you find yourself squirming to throw yourself onto the bed next to him. Joel lets you go and you roll over onto your back, panting with your eyes shut.

Joel is instantly on you again, wrapping an arm around your chest and kissing the side of your face. Your body still craves more of him, so you turn to meet his lips, tasting yourself on them and feeling how wet his beard is while it rubs against your skin. It’s igniting something dirty and primal and feral inside of you to have your own arousal on your tongue as it dances into Joel’s mouth. 

His hand drifts to your breast, groping it and sliding a hand underneath your bra, running a thumb over your nipple. You whine when he tugs it harder and roll your body to lay on your side and get closer to him. Your hips start to grind on his leg, already seeking more friction from him again. 

“Need me to fuck this little pussy so bad, huh?” Joel says against your lips, the vibration of his low baritone tickling your bottom lip. 

“Mhm,” you practically whisper, a moan catching in your throat when he shoves a hand between your bodies directly to the apex of your thighs. He brushes his fingers along your overly sensitive clit and you twitch your hips into it. 

“I missed you…” you say quietly as you put your hands to his belt and start to unbuckle it. You don’t even realize how absurd the words are, how short a time you’ve been apart from Joel to be saying that, but it was true. You’d keep Joel in this bed all to yourself if you could, if he never had to leave the house for work. 

“My poor little doll, needin’ me to come fuck her senseless, waitin’ so patiently,” Joel says sympathetically while you work on freeing his cock, sending it slapping out and onto your belly as you press closer to him. He’s irritatingly calm and collected, knowing it’s driving you even madder with need and lust for him. 

He pulls your thigh up over his leg as you lay facing each other, and he presses his cock between your legs, rubbing through your oversensitive folds and enjoying how quickly he’s covered in slick arousal. Your eyes roll back and you whimper, your pussy aching and tender, but needing him inside of you all the same.

He rolls you flat on your back and presses his lips to your neck, sucking gently and flicking his tongue over the little sore spots he’s making. You squirm your hips in search of him, and he grabs under your legs, pulling them up by the knees to wrap around his hips. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, feeling him teasing your entrance, the bulbous head nearly bursting into you, giving you what you want. He retreats, looking down to see you purse your lips and huff out in frustration. 

When he finally pushes his length inside of you, inch by deliciously tortuous inch until you’re full of him and he’s pressing himself against your deepest parts you moan out shakily. 

He moves slowly, dragging his cock in and out of you as you clench and unclench around him. You’re sure that the fluttering you’re doing around his length is making Joel crazy, but he’s not showing it, and you both love and hate just how easily you fall apart for him while he can remain so composed for you. 

“Yeah, that good, baby? That what you wanted? Or you need to be drunk on this cock, have me fuck your tight little hole till it’s all used up?” He pushes down on your shoulders, sinking you down into the mattress as he keeps up his frustratingly slow pace.

“Shit, Joel, use me, please,” you cry out, grasping at the sheets and arching your body into him. He moves suddenly, with a gracefulness and speed you sometimes forget that he has as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and starts to jackhammer into you. 

It’s only then that you see it on his face, the way he falls apart for you, when you freely give yourself to him, tell him to use you. He contorts his face, sweat starting to gleam on his forehead as he ruts into you over and over, sending you bouncing towards the edge of the bed with his rough movements in and out of you. 

Use me use me use me you chant under your breath like a sacred prayer to him, feeling your head starting to go off the side of the bed, hanging down while you lose yourself to Joel’s cock, eyes glazing over and vision swimming. 

“Not so fast, pretty girl,” Joel snips, a hand shooting out to grab at your throat, pressing you further against the side of the bed. You choke out a moan as he squeezes and grunts, simultaneously taking and giving to you in hard, frenzied jerks of his hips. “Can’t b-be gettin’ away from me, gotta let me use this pussy up, ‘member?”

You can’t speak, can’t reply, can barely even think in full words as you feel him fold your body in half further, pressing on the spongy part inside of you every time he pushes inside of you, his balls slapping loudly against your ass with each movement. You can only croak out moaning sobs as the pressure inside of you builds to a burning, aching release. He squeezes your throat harder and you break, crying out in your strangled, little voice as you gush, your entire body shaking uncontrollably underneath him. 

Your cunt spasms so hard around him your hips start to arch, but he urges them back down with his free hand, using it to anchor himself and fuck into you harder, chasing his own high along with yours as your walls squeeze him. You can feel so much of him, every bit of his length fucking into you as you try to milk his orgasm out of him, fluttering repeatedly. 

“T-too much, f-fuck,” you cry out in a rasp, “Joel, fuck me, I’m g-gonna -“ you’re cut off by your own desperate, screeching moan as you soak everything, cumming hard around his cock and squirting, covering Joel’s jeans, the sheets, everything. You shudder as you come down and feel Joel still jacking himself off furiously inside your tight, spent cunt, grunting and cursing. 

“So fuckin’ messy, fuckin’ filthy ain’t you, doll,” Joel mumbles as he slams into you with a few hard thrusts. He groans long and low before shoving himself as deep as he can, releasing your throat and spilling himself, claiming you as he paints your walls with his cum. 

You’re gasping for air from the intensity of everything, slick with sweat all over and your combined spends between your legs as Joel pulls out and immediately gathers you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. 

“Sweet little doll,” he mumbles, his lips ghosting across your hairline. “You’re good?”

“God, yes,” you breathe out confidently, barely able to open your eyes except to peek at Joel’s concerned eyes settling back into satisfaction as he runs his fingers down your bare arm, goosebumps cropping up at his touch. You shiver a little as your sweat starts to dry and Joel pulls you in even tighter, nuzzling your neck. 

“You were such a good girl today, y’know that?” Joel says softly as he attaches his lips to the skin underneath your jawline. 

“I was?” you ask shyly, popping your eyes open to look at him in questioning. 

“Mm, of course, thank you for helpin’ me today.” Joel moves so the two of you are propped up on the pillows, legs stretched down the bed and intertwined together. “Never would take you for granted - the lunches, the sweet girl I got, y’know all that?”

“I know, I know,” you say soothingly, cupping your hand around his cheek. “You give me everything, Joel, it’s the least I could do.”

“I'm gonna have to argue and say you do that, do everythin’,” Joel says, a half smile tugging the corner of his lips as his eyes sparkle mischievously now. You pinch his nose and squeeze it, scrunching your face at him in disapproval.

“Agree to disagree?” you say, one of your phrases for when you know that it’ll be a completely fruitless faux argument, that neither one of you will admit that the other is the more perfect spouse. You know deep down that it isn’t even close to the point anyways, that the only thing that matters is how perfect you both feel being together. Your heart warms along with your body as you feel your husband so close, exhaustion overtaking you from the roller coaster of a day you’d had with him and your eyes flutter shut again. 

“Agree to disagree, darlin’.” Joel sighs, tilting your face up to his. 

He kisses you, and the thought flashes through your mind that you’d never choose it to be any other way, any other person in the entire world to make you feel this giddy, this desired, this… like yourself. 

taglist: @aphterthoughtt @bbyanarchist @amy172 @hazzaismyreligion @ohheypedrito @msmorningstaarr @kamcrazy123 @madhere @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups

(sorry i haven't been updating as much to everyone who reads my stories, i've been going through a lot of insecurity lately and it's been hard for me to be inspired when i'm comparing myself to others or just being an insecure mess so anyway ty for bearing with me)

[coqxettee]

Coquette Spring

Romanticizing my Spring 🌸

Spring has been so peaceful so far. I spend my mornings reading, doing yoga, journaling in bed and eating a light breakfast whilst looking out my cottage window at the birds and wildlife that come into my garden ♡

Only wearing the sweetest of colors for my cotton candy aura, baby pinks and blue’s that radiate Spring time. Pink gingham, denim shorts, floral dresses, milkmaid dresses and jelly sandals with frilly socks to give into my inner child ♡

Wearing my baby pink, heart shaped sunglasses now the sun is making it’s way here ♡

Coating myself in sugary, vanilla, floral body sprays and perfumes for Spring. Marc Jacob’s Daisy & Miss Dior ♡

Watching cartoons or reading fairytales in the garden, and imagining what life would be like if I was whisked away into the fairy stories I read about ♡

Walking up to the local shop and listen to “Lana del rey” to stock up on lollipops and bubblegum, the perfect sweets for this time of year ♡

Picking out a cute outfit to go to the market. The markets are on every weekend and I love when the sun is shining and I can find a quiet spot under a tree at the market, to read or write in my diary ♡

Baking heart shaped cookies, or cakes with sugary-sweet icing for my family to enjoy, whilst listening to vintage music in the kitchen, and wearing a sweet little apron. All the pastel baking utensils too! Ahhhh! ♡

Collecting heart shaped plates, mugs and cups, pretty picture frames and vintage things to adorn my country kitchen with ♡

Hanging out my nightgowns and pretty Spring dresses in the garden to dry, makes my country cottage garden even more beautiful ♡

Eating strawberries and cream lollipops whilst flicking through my vintage magazines on my bed, and swooning over all the handsome actors in them ♡

Long Spring evening walks, then coming home in the garden and making flower crowns and daisy chains ♡

Trips to the garden centre on sunny days, wearing a cute outfit and taking my tote bag, drinking lemonade in the cute cafe and having girly, gossip chats with my mum. Looking at all the cottage core accessories in the gift shop and going to the indoor market afterwards to buy fresh fruit and Vegetables ♡

Light Spring meals of fruits and vegetables that I’ve picked out at the garden centre that day ♡

Coming home in the evening to watch “Bridgerton” and play board games with my family ♡

Eating ice lolly’s on particularly sunny days and writing in my journal at my vanity ♡

Wearing coconut body lotion and rose scented hand cream to stay the sweetest girl in town ♡

Buying fresh bunches of flowers to put in my cottage and in my bedroom, so everywhere smells sweet and delightful ♡

Splashing in puddles on really rainy days, dancing in the rain with my pink raincoat and catching raindrops on my tongue ♡

Running about the garden in my pink milkmaid dress, going to the local farm to see the alpacas and chickens ♡

Feeling like a Spring woodland fairy, trying to spot wild deer and bunny’s in my local wood ♡

Having Picnics and Tea Party’s with extra special treats. Sugary biscuits and fruity tea’s to feel like Marie Antoinette ♡

Pretty baby pink or yellow manicure. Light colored nails for this time of year ♡

Painting watercolors and doing Spring crafts as the nights draw out and the days get longer ♡

Fuzzy socks, warm cups of tea and Disney movies in the evenings. Bambi, Cinderella and Sleeping beauty ♡

Collecting Sylvanian families to put in my little doll house in my bedroom. I’m growing my collection hehe ♡

[shadowbunnydragon]

To Nick and the other ZPD officers: What happens if Officer Hopps drinks a lot of caffeine while on duty?

A gray blur zooms past the camera back and forth while the whole of the ZPD watches, bemused, minus one rabbit officer. Zooming back in, there is a paw-cuffed struggling coyote in a ski mask being dragged in, before the blue zooms back out. This happens a few more times with increasingly more and more mammals, bags of collected and preserved evidence as well as stacks of filled out paperwork piling up in the IN box on the intake desk.

Nick: "We like to take a collective break when that happens. Carrots insists she can handle her caffeine, and I think from her perspective everything is normal, well, maybe aside from everyone and everything else moving and talking like my buddy Flash." Takes a sip from a mug with the phrase One Foxy Dad printed on the side. "I will say, she can get a lot done in a short amount of time... buuuuut..."

The blur zooms back in before stopping, showing Judy snoring lightly on the floor, clutching filled out paperwork and baggies of evidence in one paw, her free paw cuffed to a terrified panda.

Nick: "She then crashes pretty hard. She'll be out for a few days." Sets the mug down before walking over and scooping up the bunny to carry princess-style, having unlocked her cuff.

"Wh-wha? How'd I get here?! I was just breaking into that shop... I-I mean, I was searching for my lost keys near there... officers? Hehe..."

Clawhauser, phone dinging: "Huh? Oh wow! Just got, like a BUNCH of videos marked Evidence in from Officer Hopps... and this one at the top..." Shows it to Bogo, who simply snorts and looks at the panda.

Bogo: "Right, let's finish the booking process. Everyone, back to work!"

[edogawa-division]

It has grown late into the night in the city of Edogawa as a certain Hacker’s birthday was slowly approaching its end, only a few more hours were left and Kaoru Shinozaki was spending the remainder of her birthday locked in her lab working on a new invention as always, while eventful and somewhat fun as the day had turned out to be, Kaoru was more than content to lock herself in her lab doing what she loved, at the moment she was currently trying to connect two wires together to power up the device on her table when the intercom in the corner of the room sounded off, surprising Kaoru and accidentally shocking herself.

“OW! MOTHERFUC—“

“Kaoru! Someone’s at the door for you!”

“Ughhhhh..” Kaoru groaned as she slammed her head on the table, rubbing her poor, burnt fingers before sitting up and leaving her now ruined invention to go check (and potentially cuss out) whoever it was that was here for her.

Upon making her way to the main level of the house, she stopped short however as she did not expect Joey Kurusu to be standing (or perhaps, fidgeting would be the right word as the detective looked like a spooked deer) at the house’s entrance, looking like a hot mess as if he had just rolled out of bed in his casual clothes and had ran all the way over here…and knowing her bespectacled friend, he probably did.

Aside from his presence, the numerous pile of gifts he had in his arms had also caught her attention as they had almost blocked the detective from her view. “Joey?” Kaoru questioned and it was a miracle that Joey didn’t drop her gifts with how high he jumped before swerving to look at her, instinctively brightening up. “Kaoru! Hey, happy birthday!” Joey had tried going in for a hug but remembered that his arms were already occupied so he just gave a smile and nod in her direction.

Kaoru couldn’t help but smile at the lovable goofball she called her friend and helped him carry the gifts over to the living room where they sat them on the table. Kaoru plopped on the couch and patted the space next to her, inviting Joey to sit as well, the blonde did so but made sure that there was a respectful distance between the two, Joey kept mentally reminding himself to be very respectful, very mindful, it wouldn’t be very demure of him to invade Kaoru’s personal space even if all he wanted was to—

“S-so! Birthday, yeah? I bet you already got a lot of gifts but I still wanted to put my two cents in, I would’ve given you these sooner but…uhhh, yeah, I guess my habit of binge watching anime for days straight finally caught up to me because when I woke up, I only had like, 30 minutes to get you a present and I may or may not have spent 10 of those 30 minutes panicking super hard haha..” Joey sheepishly laughed and scratched his head, Kaoru only smiled broadly as she cursed A.R.K. the fuck out in her head, she decided to keep the fact that she had returned both Joey and Lyall back to their homes to herself after taking photos upon photos of their cute sleeping faces for her collection.

“Uh, anyways! Go ahead and feel free to open them! I really hope you like them.” Joey placed his hands on his knees and swayed back and forth gently, anticipating Kaoru’s reaction to the gifts he picked out. Kaoru didn’t keep him waiting for long as she grabbed the first gift she had her eyes on and tore into it, revealing…

…A coffee mug decorated as a prescription pill bottle.

“Hehe, I saw this and immediately thought of you, I’m more of an energy drink kind of guy but even I understand how important coffee is to us Anti-Sleep deviants haha.”

After that, Kaoru grabbed another present, this one revealing…

…A…weird ass stuffed animal.

“Now you have your very own autism creechur to squish and cuddle as much as you please! I would have gotten you the ADHD one but unfortunately they sold out of those but hey, this little guy is just as cute!”

After that, Kaoru grabbed another present, this one revealing…

…A Cinnamoroll plush neck pillow.

“Boku Cinnamon!…God that was so cringey, I don’t know why I even did that, please erase that from your memory, anyways, I figured that this might help you with your neck problems or at the very least lessen them, I get it, dealing with a sore neck from countless hours of staring straight at a monitor fucking sucks.”

After that, Kaoru reached for the final present, this one being the smallest one of them all, revealing to be…

…A starry night charm necklace.

“Oh heyyyy, how did that get thereeeee? Um, this was kinda more of an impulse buy but it’s still a gift all the same! I thought of nothing but you when I saw it and I thought ‘hey, Kaoru would look pretty with this’ so I bought it…as a friend! Because friends buy each other bracelets, yeah! Purely platonic intentions here!” Joey grinned, proud of himself after that truly pitiful performance of trying to save face before growing bashful again. “But you are one of the closest people here to me, Kaoru, I really hope you know that.”

Happy Birthday Kaoru! 💙

Kaoru blushed a deep red at Joey’s words. Her mind was running a million miles a minute at hearing her crush say those words. She had even felt her heart skip a beat. Oh lord, did Kaoru have a bit of a meltdown when she realized she had a crush on two people. Lyall and Joey? What shojo manga did she just step into? She wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with her feelings for Lyall when feelings for Joey just crept up on her.

How could she not develop feelings for Joey? He made her laugh with his jokes. He was the person she would spend hours with binging anime, playing video games, and staying up until morning just sending messages after message to each other. Kaoru even waited for the days when she could go visit him down in Kanazawa, wanting to see Joey and his cute freckled face-

…she was down bad wasn’t she?

“Uh Kaoru?” Joey asked, waving his hand in front of the hacker's face and bringing her out of her mental spiral. “You good?”

“Oh! Bracelet, right! I love it, Joey!” Kaoru brightly smiled, trying to squash her nervousness down deep inside. When all of the sudden a voice in the back of her mind that suspiciously sounded like A.R.K kept taunting her telling her that she had “no fucking balls” and we’ll never let it be said that Kaoru made good decisions. Her entire life was proof of that. Gathering every bit of courage she had, Kaoru leaned over and placed a small kiss on Joey’s cheek, letting out a giggle when he began to sputter and turn bright red.

“Thanks Joey. Can’t imagine a world without you.”

[hearts-hunger]

home for the holidays — chapter two

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Series Summary: The Cabin Fever gang spends Christmas in Frankenmuth. ||  Companion series in the Cabin Fever universe

⮡ part one

Chapter Summary: The gang explores a very festive Frankenmuth. (Danny's POV)

Pairings: Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner, Josh Kiszka x Reader, Jake Kiszka x Reader | Genre: holiday fluff | Word Count: 3.5k | Chapter Warnings: spicy remarks, talk of sexuality, mention of the devil's lettuce

A/N: My first time writing Danny and Sam from their perspective! Also, fair warning, everything I know about Frankenmuth is from the internet, so forgive me if it's not accurate hehe. I hope you like it! ♡

Sam dropped their bags just inside his bedroom, giving a theatrical, contented sigh as he stepped in.

“Home sweet home.”

Danny chuckled as his boyfriend flopped unceremoniously on the bed, a display he’d seen many times in their youth when they came home tired from soccer games or gigs or long nights finding trouble to get into. Not that there was much trouble to be had in quiet little Frankenmuth — they’d mostly gotten their kicks from a dime bag and one of Sam’s records. This bedroom had seen countless hours of the two of them playing music, helping each other with homework, talking about everything and nothing. To Danny, the Kiszka house was a second home, and Sam’s bedroom had been the safest and most wonderful place in the world for many years.

He moved their duffle bags out of the way and perused Sam’s record collection, small as it was with most of it moved to their apartment in Nashville.

“I've been wondering where this was,” Danny said, pulling out a Cat Stevens record. He put it on the old, beat-up turntable and let Teaser and the Firecat play.

Sam rolled to his back. “We should take all those back home when we leave,” he said. “We left a lot of random stuff here.”

“That’s because you were in charge of packing up your room,” Danny reminded him. “And you're terrible at packing.”

Sam grinned as Danny sat in the edge of the bed. “Yeah, but you still love me.”

Danny gave a soft laugh. “Lucky you.”

Sam nudged his knee against Danny’s back. “Hey, you love this song.”

Danny smiled. “I know.”

“I listen to my words, but they fall far below,” Sam sang along absently. “I let my music take me where my heart wants to go.”

He sat up and stretched. “Where does your heart want to go, Dan?”

Danny moved Sam’s legs out of the way and laid back on the bed, his feet still on the floor. “Right now? My heart wants to go to sleep.” 

Their pre-dawn flight had sounded like a great idea when they’d planned it, but he was exhausted now and they hadn't even gotten started on all they planned to squeeze into one day.

Sam laughed and sat cross-legged at Danny's side. “You can’t sleep now. We just got here. We still have lots of stuff to do.”

Danny groaned and draped an arm over his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

Sam ran a hand over Danny’s chest in a soothing motion. “You’re really tired, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“You want more coffee?” He got off the bed without waiting for an answer. “I’ll go make you some.”

Danny propped himself up. “You don’t have to.”

Sam smiled. “I want to. Maybe mom has some of that fancy creamer you like.”

Sam was only gone for a minute, and Danny gratefully accepted the mug of coffee with sugar cookie creamer when he returned.

“Thank you,” he said with a contented sigh.

Sam smacked a kiss to his cheek with a goofy muah, making Danny laugh.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, Sam rifling through his things and showing Danny any interesting discoveries as Danny drank his coffee. He looked up at the posters haphazardly taped to Sam’s ceiling; they were all male rock bands and musicians, some in various states of undress like the Mick Rock photo of Queen that was almost a boudoir shoot. Danny chuckled.

“What's so funny?” Sam asked with an affectionate smile.

Danny shook his head. “I can’t believe it took you so long to figure out you were into guys.”

Sam gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, well, not all of us were born self-aware bisexuals, Daniel. Some of us had to go through gay trauma.”

Danny looked over at him. “What do you mean?” He’d known it had been a little harder for Sam to come to terms with his sexuality than it had been for Danny, but he didn’t remember anything close to trauma. 

Sam gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m kidding. There was very little trauma involved, if any. Aside from realizing I was hopelessly in love with you and not being able to tell you.”

Danny sighed. “Sweetheart, I think that was just you being dumb,” he teased. “You could have told me any of those million times we were in here goofing off and trying to act straight and I would have told you I felt the same way.”

“Not if you were making out with girls all the time,” Sam needled.

“Minor detours,” he said. He finished his coffee and set the mug on the nightstand. “I was always on the road to you, Sammy.”

“Now you sound like a Rascal Flats song.”

Danny laughed until he was out of breath, and Sam wore a lovesick smile as he watched him.

“You know I spend every waking minute trying to make you laugh?” Sam said, coming to sit beside him on the bed. “It’s my favorite sound in the whole world.”

“Aw, love. You’re secretly a romantic, aren’t you?”

“I am not,” Sam said. “Take that back.”

Danny smirked. “What are you gonna do if I don’t? Make swoony romantic love to me?”

With a quickness that made Danny blush, Sam straddled his lap and pulled his arms behind his back.

“Does this feel swoony and romantic to you?” Sam asked.

Danny smirked. “Kind of.”

Sam immediately took down the facade and released Danny’s hands to cradle his face and kiss him gently. That suited Danny better; usually he was the one giving the business to Sam, and he liked it just fine.

“I love you,” Danny said, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Sam smiled and buried his face in Danny’s neck.

“I love you too,” he said. “You know, it’s been a while since we fooled around in this bed.”

Danny snorted. “It’s barely eight in the morning, Sam.”

Sam gave him a serious look. “You know you can do the deed even when it’s not dark outside.”

Danny laughed. “You’re funny.”

Sam was pleased with the compliment and rewarded him with a kiss. Despite what he’d said, Danny felt himself warming to the idea of “fooling around,” and he broke the kiss before it got too hot and heavy.

“Hey,” Sam protested. “Be nice.”

“Don’t tempt me. You’re the one who said we have all this stuff to do.”

“Forget I said that. We can stay in bed all day.”

Sam kissed him again, and Danny had almost agreed to stay in bed when a knock sounded on the door.

“Let’s go, lovebirds,” came Jake’s voice. “It’s too early for all that.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s impeccable timing. Danny chuckled and gently eased Sam off of him.

“Come on,” he said sweetly. “Let’s go look at Christmas lights or something.”

Sam softened. “You sure you’re not too tired? You can crash for a while if you want.”

Danny shook his head. “I’m feeling better after having some coffee. In fact, I’m rarin’ to go.”

Sam grinned and took his hand as they went to meet the rest of their friends at the door.

“Are you coming with us, mom?” Sam called, pulling on his jacket.

“No, you kids go have fun. You girls take nice pictures, because I know none of these boys can.”

Sparrow and Baby laughed.

“Yes ma’am,” they chorused. 

Bundled up in scarves and hats and big jackets they hadn’t had to use since they moved, the six of them crunched through the few inches of snow that had already accumulated on the ground. Danny took the driver’s seat again, reaching his hand back to find Sam’s.

“I’m assuming you don’t want to hold my hand,” Josh teased, slapping his palm against Danny’s.

Danny took Josh’s hand and squeezed it. “Who says?”

Josh laughed and returned the affectionate squeeze before Sam batted his hand away. 

“Hey now,” Sam said. “Hands off my man.”

Danny felt Sam’s wiry hand in his own and ran his thumb over Sam’s knuckles.

“You’re gonna freeze with no gloves, Sam.”

“I do have one glove,” Sam said. “I guess you’ll just have to hold my other hand to keep me from getting frostbite.”

The drive to town was quick, but it took ages to find parking. Even with the light snowfall, people were out and about, enjoying the snow-capped and colorfully lit Little Bavaria of downtown Frankenmuth. Danny was happy to be back; he’d missed the sights and sounds of his hometown at Christmas, and he was glad they’d decided to come home for the holidays.

They all cheered when they finally found a parking space, and Baby pointed out that they were right near one of the “Stop and Snap” picture spots. 

“Get in,” she ordered with all the seriousness of a general directing her army, gesturing to a giant ornament with a wide seat in the middle. “We’re doing all fifteen stops so we can get our collector’s edition ornament at the Visitor's Center.”

They did as she asked, squishing together, sitting on each other’s laps to fit.

“Put those long arms to use for a selfie, Daniel,” Sparrow said, just as dedicated to the cause as her best friend. 

Danny smiled and did as she said, fitting everyone into the picture and taking millions so the girls could pick out the one they liked the best. As they walked around town, they stopped and took more pictures, each one more ridiculous than the last, and Danny felt the infectious joy of good company as they explored the town they knew like the back of their hand.

“We ought to stop in and say hi to Mr. Miller,” Sam said as they rounded the corner near where the record shop stood. 

“Hey, we should!” Josh agreed. He nudged his shoulder against his girlfriend’s. “And maybe Santa can get me that John Denver record I’ve been looking for. What do you think, baby?”

She gave him an innocent smile. “I don't know, honey. Have you been a good boy this year?”

He whispered something to her that made her blush. “Joshua,” she protested, but her smile gave her away.

They came into the record store and basked in the warmth for a moment before spreading out to flip through rows and rows of second-hand vinyls. All of them had spent countless hours there searching for good finds growing up, and the owner, Mr. Miller had always been a kind friend and musical mentor to them. They went to say hello to Mr. Miller, and he was delighted to have them back; he gestured to the boxes of records he hadn’t yet put out and told them have at them.

“I know you kids like to hunt for hidden treasure,” he said with a twinkling smile. “Knock yourselves out.”

They did, and they found several records they asked Mr. Miller to keep for them behind the counter until they were headed home. He did, saying he was “always happy to see young folks interested in good music.”

Danny and Sam looked together through the jazz section. The smell of old records brought back a flood of memories for Danny, and he gently tapped his boot against Sam’s.

“You know, Sam, I think I fell in love with you in this store.”

His boyfriend gave him a heart-tilting smile. “You did? You never told me.”

“I mean, I'd been in love with you forever,” Danny, a little bashful as he remembered the years of fumbling, hesitant flirtation with his best friend. “But I do remember one time when we were in here, a few weeks before we went to the cabin. You found a copy of Teaser and the Firecat — the copy we were listening to earlier, actually, because you ended up buying it — and started singing ‘Rubylove’ loud enough for the whole store to hear. But you changed ‘Ruby’ to ‘Danny’.”

Danny was surprised to see Sam blush bright red.

“Oh, god, I remember that,” Sam said with an embarrassed laugh. 

Danny himself felt a little embarrassed at the thought that Sam didn’t remember that day with as much fondness as he did.

“I thought you were flirting with me,” Danny said, hedging. “I guess I was wrong.”

Sam looked surprised. “I was!” He came close and eased Danny’s embarrassment with a lopsided smile, tucking his hand into the crook of Danny’s arm.

“I was definitely flirting with you, honey,” he said, kind and affectionate. “I mean, I sang you a love song from your favorite album of all time. I was one hundred percent wearing my heart on my sleeve and making a complete fool of myself.”

Danny softened and gave him a chaste kiss. “I don’t think you made a fool of yourself, love.”

Sam raised a brow. “No? What if I did it again right now?”

Without waiting for Danny’s answer, he pressed his clasped hands to his chest in a dramatic gesture.

“Danny my love, you’ll be my love. You’ll be my sky above, Danny my love.”

Danny laughed and shushed him with a hand to his mouth as they gained troubled glances from other customers and a wolf whistle from one of Sam’s brothers.

Mr. Miller called to them from behind the counter. “Haven’t you boys quit flirting and actually gotten together yet?”

All of them laughed, and Jake wryly assured the older man that the two singing idiots had indeed gotten together.

Mr. Miller shook his head. “About time.”

Sam looked up at Danny with a beaming grin. “I was flirting with you this time, too, just so you know.”

Danny chuckled and gave him a quick kiss. “I figured.”

After a while, Danny found Baby flipping through the John Denver section with a look of concentration.

“Don’t you have most of these?” he asked. She and Josh had adopted John Denver as “their” artist, and from what he could remember of their collection at home, they had almost all of his albums.

“Yeah,” she said, a little distracted. “But we don’t have Rocky Mountain Christmas yet, and I wanted to get it for Josh this year.”

He helped her look, and after a few moments, he pulled out a blue and white album with painted mountains on the cover. “This one?”

She gave him a sweet, joyful smile he couldn't help but return.

“Yes!” she said happily, taking it when he offered it to her. “Thank you, Danny. That's exactly what I was looking for.”

She looked up at him. “Did you find anything for Sam?”

He shrugged. “I can’t think of a record he wants that he doesn't already have,” he said. “He’s hard to buy for, you know that.”

“Tell me about it,” she agreed as they walked to the counter together. “Josh and I got him a Polaroid, so I hope he’ll like it.”

“He’ll love it,” Danny assured her. “That’s a great gift for him. Did you have it shipped here?” Since they’d decided on the trip, they’d been sending their packages to the Kiszkas' for Kelly to hide, and they had a lot of wrapping to do that night to get everything ready.

She nodded. “Kelly said it got there yesterday, so it was just in the nick of time.”

She handed the record to Mr. Miller and asked him to keep it with the rest of their picks, and Danny blocked Josh’s way when he tried to come close.

“What are you, her bodyguard?” Josh laughed.

Danny shook a stern finger at him. “Christmas is no time for snooping, Mr. Kiszka.”

Josh grinned. “Fine. We’re ready to go when you guys are.”

They rejoined the group when they’d said their goodbyes to Mr. Miller, a little relieved to find it had stopped snowing while they were shopping. Sam took Danny’s hand as they walked, and Danny laughed when he found that Sam actually did only have one singular glove.

“Here,” he said, making to take off his own and give them to him.

“Aw, Dan, you don't have to give me your gloves,” Sam said, surprised but touched that he would offer. “Just hold my hand and I’ll be fine.”

Danny gladly did as he said. The feel of Sam’s hand in his still sent a thrill through him like the first time he’d felt it, and he knew he’d never tire of the little ways Sam came up with to be close to him. 

“Alright, boys, strap in,” Sparrow said, rubbing her mittened hands together in gleeful anticipation as they came up to Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland. The gigantic building was festooned top to bottom in garlands and lights, and even from the outside it lived up to its billing as the world's largest Christmas store. Danny smiled as he watched Jake join in his girlfriend’s excitement and saw Josh snap a picture of the sign with the disposable camera Baby had brought.

“You ready?” Danny asked, looking to his boyfriend with a grin.

Sam shrugged. “Oh, sure.”

Danny chuckled. “You promise you won’t hate it?” he teased. Though Sam would never admit it, fearing to tarnish his rockstar reputation, he loved going to Bronner’s and looked forward to it every year.

Sam gave him a grudging smile. “I think I’ll survive.”

They wove through life-size nativity scenes and towering nutcrackers until they came to the door, entering into a sprawling display of festivity. The girls gave delighted giggles and dragged their boyfriends off to look at the huge Christmas village exhibits and hundreds upon hundreds of ornaments that sparkled and shone from every corner. Sam and Danny took a moment to take it all in, looking over the waterfalls of twinkling lights, giant baubles suspended from the ceiling, and many-tiered displays of Santas, presents, and brightly-lit trees.

Danny snuck a glance at his boyfriend and softened at the look of boyish wonder and excitement of Sam’s face. Spurred by affectionate impulse, he kissed Sam’s cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, love.”

Sam pinked and gave him a bashful grin.

“Merry Christmas, Dan.”

They whiled away the morning at Bronner’s, spending a long time in leisurely enjoyment of the sights and sounds of Christmas. When they’d seen all there was to see and successfully dissuaded the girls from buying the entire store, they had lunch at the Christmas Town Pub at the farmer’s market and talked over mugs of mulled wine.

“You’re not doing this whole vegan thing with Sammy, right?” Josh asked, snagging one of the fries that had come with Danny’s bratwurst. Baby batted his hand away and pushed her fries towards him.

“I don’t mind sharing,” Danny said, giving her a smile. “And to answer your question, Josh, I think I’d qualify myself as a selective vegan.”

Sparrow laughed. “So not really a vegan.”

“Well, we’ve been doing it at home,” Sam said. “Danny’s been a real champ so far.”

“I’m not going vegan for you, Sparrow,” Jake said. “I mean, I love you, but I really, really like meat.”

“Yes, honey, I know. You and your steaks.”

Jake put a hand to his chest. “You don't like my steaks?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “Of course I like them, Jakey. I like anything you cook. You know what else I like?”

He smirked. “My world-famous kisses?”

She laughed. “Those too. I was going to say mulled wine, but if you would be so kind as to get me some more, I’ll let you give me one of those world-famous kisses.”

Josh and Baby asked for more too, and Sam offered to help Jake carry them.

“You want another one?” he asked Danny.

Danny finished his drink and raised his mug. “Sure, why not.”

They lingered for a while over their drinks, and Danny started to feel the pull of exhaustion again as the wine and warm food worked their magic. Sam’s hand running up and down his back, though a welcome touch, wasn’t helping him in his losing battle. Sparrow and Josh, too, were looking ready for a nap, and their partners were happy to have them rest their heads on their shoulders. 

“We’re losing them, Jake,” Sam said with a laugh. He looked over at Danny. “My big guy's about ready to crash, huh?”

Danny gave him a drowsy smile. “I like it when you call me that.”

Sam chuckled. “I'm glad. You are my big guy.” He brushed Danny's hair over his shoulder. “You ready to head home?”

Danny stifled a yawn behind his hand. “Probably. If everybody else is.”

“I think we should call it before Sparrow falls asleep at the table,” Jake said, kissing her cheek. “We can take a power nap and come back for ice skating later.”

Jake offered to drive home, and Danny leaned against Sam as they rode. With a bit of persuasion, Sam got him out of the car and into bed.

“Just one more minute, sweetheart,” Sam said, kneeling down to take off Danny’s boots for him. Danny felt his heart squeeze at the selfless gesture and rested his head against Sam’s for a moment.

Sam breathed a laugh. “You alright?”

Danny hummed in agreement. “I love you a lot, Sam.”

Sam set Danny's boots to the side and tipped his face up for a kiss, which Danny gladly gave.

“I love you a lot too, big guy.”

Danny snuggled close to Sam when they were both under the covers, and Sam brushed Danny's hair back from his face.

“I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with you now, Sam.”

Sam's laugh was soft. “We’ve always spent Christmas together, love,” he said. “Even when we were kids.”

Danny cuddled closer. “You know what I mean. I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with you like this.”

Sam relaxed with a contented sigh and gave Danny a gentle kiss.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and Danny could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re right. This kind of Christmas is way better.”

if you’d like to be tagged in this fic, please send me an ask! ♡

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[neewtmas]

I definitely should be going to sleep, so now is the perfect time to read a 10k words (!!!!!) fic hehe

So why was she having to babysit three other agents who really should have been old enough to look after themselves?

that's just Holly's job description in a nutshell

she'd nicknamed him Beanpole

a little mean, but also accurate

“Oh, we're not in trouble,” he grinned, and although she rolled her eyes she couldn't deny the way her heart skipped a beat at his smile

very normal reaction to having lockwood speak to you

Plus, we're insured.” “No you're not,” Barnes interrupted, joining the conversation and holding a manilla folder.

this is just pretty much every case of Lockwood & Co in a nutshell

“What the actual fuck…” she whispered, then shook her head and closed the door behind her, choosing to ignore the mess inside. 

anyone who ever comes into contact with them bc they are unhinged

He still looked effortlessly gorgeous though, and Y/n found herself wondering if he was single

just another very normal reaction to seeing Lockwood

They shook hands awkwardly in the limited space they had in the back of the taxi. 

i love that picture😭

Ten minutes later she had a mug of tea brewing on her desk while she furiously tapped at the keyboard for any information on Lockwood and Co, and was pleasantly surprised by what she found.

equivalent to instantly searching up the cute guys insta after you find out his name💀

She knew that they were all at home, because she could hear them arguing about who was going to answer the door, but nobody had done it yet.

that is so typical omg

His smile was infectious, and she still had a grin on her face at the thought of him when she went to bed that night.

“Only when I know that you're going to be here,” Y/n responded, and delighted in the faint pink tinge that came onto his cheeks. 

what a cutiepie🤭

Their flirting had never gone as far as properly inviting the other back to their place (although there had always been the comments of 'why don't we finish this somewhere else?' or 'wanna come home with me and prove it?'), and it took Y/n a moment to realise that he was being serious. 

oh my god

I think there's half a bottle of wine that needs finishing off if you wanted to share? No pressure though.”

oh oh oh what is happening??

“Darling, I'm scandalised that you would ask me that question. You know that size doesn't mat-”

She ignored the weird look that the driver cast them in his rear view mirror and focused on Lockwood's answer instead.

i don't even wanna know what kind of weird ass conversations you get to witness as a taxi driver

They were dangerously close to kissing, their lips only a couple of centimetres away from each other while their noses brushed with every jolt in the road, and then the taxi was slowing and pulling up to the curb outside 35 Portland Row. 

oh my that escalated quickly

I am! In fact, have I shown you my hat collection?

is that a reference to @maraschinomerry ??

She was regretting not drinking the water before sleeping, and when she flopped back onto the bed and under the covers she realised that there was someone else in the bed with her. 

oh my GOD what happened

especially since she was in her underwear and, as far as she could tell, Lockwood wasn't wearing any clothes. 

ALASFHF

Finding all of her things was difficult, since they'd been flung all around the room in what she hoped was drunkenness and not desperation,

i'm gonna SCREAM; WHAT HAPPENED??????

Are you naked?” she blurted out, immediately covering her face with her hands to block out Lockwood's shocked reaction. His laughter didn't help, only serving to make her feel more embarrassed than she already was, and she stayed safely behind her hands while she waited for it all to be over. 

OH MY GOD

For the most part she obeyed, but she would be lying if she said that she didn't peek through her fingers briefly while he was getting dressed.

only an absolutely insane person wouldn't👀

Y/n realised with a start that the flash had been Lockwood and his stupid grin, dressed in his stupid long coat that was stupidly attractive on him, waving his rapier around in stupidly perfect motions. 

oh he's gonna be insufferable

His free hand had come up to steady her by the arm, and now he was gently stroking up and down. She wondered if he knew he was doing it. 

everything is happening all at once HELP

“I'm glad I was there too,” Lockwood said, stepping forward. He made to move his hand, as though he might reach out and touch hers, but then his fist was clenching at his side again, fingers flexing every few seconds

i'm gonna pass out

HANDS

It was almost too much, his gaze, since it was heavy with so much emotion that they hadn't even properly addressed between them, and that was probably why he kissed her. 

i have PASSED OUT

The third kiss was the longest yet, and it took them a long time to move from the front hall to his bedroom.

i have passed out A SECOND TIME

They hadn't spoken after the night they spent together two weeks ago, and now he had an unreadable expression on his face while he looked at her.

oh god oh god oh god

“You know I told you you could call me Anthony.” He had, not long after he'd taken her to his bed. 

why don't you just kill me already

Would you go on a date with me? Please circle one answer

*SCREAM*

She wasn't sure she was breathing. “Are you proposing?”

“What? No, if I was proposing you'd know about it, darling. I just… I don’t know.” He looked nervous, and although he hadn’t let go of her hand, she could see that he was fidgeting. 

I have no words anymore

“Absolutely.” He was still holding her hand when he kissed her gently, like he thought she might leave at any moment, and when he pulled back after a couple of seconds she dragged him right back to her lips, shifting somehow even closer to him on the seat. The gift he had made that now sat on her finger felt as heavy as a gold one, filled with the promise of what could be and happy endings, and she found herself thinking that if the two of them did ever marry, she would be happy to do so with a paper ring. 

i'm just gonna do a comment where I copy and paste the entire fic in it

“I’m glad,” Anthony said suddenly, breaking the silence. “That we… you know.” “Nearly died and then slept together?” “That’s one way of putting it. I just - I’m glad.”

“Is that us?” she had asked, grabbing the frame with both hands.�� “Oh… yes. Sorry, it was just a really nice photo and we don’t get to see each other that much, and-”

HELP

they quickly realised that their new hire would be sharing a bed with their boss

only possible with Lockwood & Co omg

The Source had apparently been one of the tiles on the ledge, where the Barbecue Man had tripped after falling face first into the coals and cracked his skull open on the edge of the pool

I really love your mind, Belle

“Not hotter than me though, right?”

never

She had flashbacks to the last time her hands had been near his mouth in a far less family-friendly setting, and tried to stop her knees from giving out. 

too late, mine have given out already

His hand trailed over her bare side and his eyes were looking at everything but her face, proving that he really wasn’t in the right mental place for a conversation like this, but she tried again anyway. 

She ran her fingertips over his arms, marvelling at the hidden muscles she felt. She didn’t think she would ever get over how much she loved his arms, or his hands, or how they looked when he rolled his dress shirt sleeves up and folded his arms against his chest, and from the look he was giving her right now he apparently knew that she felt that way. 

She definitely shouldn’t have this much of an obsession with his arms, but the moment his arms tightened around her torso and her thigh, bringing her on top of him fully while he sat up with her in his lap and kissed her deeply, she couldn’t find it in her to care. 

i can't speak anymore, sorry

He’d made her new ones at random points throughout their time together, but the original one that he’d folded from that piece of paper in the Fittes public library had remained in pride of place in her jewellery dish in their now shared bedroom at 35 Portland Row.

YOU ARE A MASTER OF WORDS BELLE AND QUEEN OF BEING SUGGESTIVE AS HELL AND NEVER FOLLOWING THROUGH AHHHHHH

paper rings

Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

Word count: 10.2k words

Warnings: mild spoilers for the later books (this is set after TEG and they're all 18+), a LOT of mildly explicit innuendoes and sexual references, swearing

this is my Valentine's Day surprise that I've been talking about, so happy Valentine's Day to you all! <3

based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name

Anthony Lockwood masterlist

It was nearly 2 in the morning, and Y/n L/n was exhausted. 

She had been on a case for the last seven hours and everything hurt and ached - including places in her body she didn't even know she had - and she just wanted her bed and an incredibly large cup of tea. 

So why was she having to babysit three other agents who really should have been old enough to look after themselves?

Two of them seemed to be high on flare fumes, giggling about absolutely nothing and making weird sounds every few seconds. The third was smiling fondly at his friends and coworkers, but wasn't doing anything to stop them from getting closer and closer to the edge of their sanity. 

Y/n sighed for the millionth time in the last ten minutes, and the third agent (the one who wasn't as insane as the other two - she'd nicknamed him Beanpole) looked over from where he was leaning back against the DEPRAC van with his arms crossed. Somehow he looked effortlessly cool and relaxed, despite the plasma stains and dirt covering his entire body. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I'm fine, just want to go home and stop looking after three other agents.” 

“Ah, that’s fair. Wait, 'looking after’?”

“Yeah, Barnes told me to keep an eye on you three 'cause you were in trouble or something.” 

“Oh, we're not in trouble,” he grinned, and although she rolled her eyes she couldn't deny the way her heart skipped a beat at his smile. “Barnes just likes being dramatic. We didn't do anything.” Somehow she didn't believe him, but the sheer amount of charm that was pouring out of him was making her disregard any concerns she had about how truthful he was being. 

“So what is it that you aren't in trouble for then?” His grin only grew wider, and Y/n found herself smiling back. 

“Minor property damage. But in our defence our client didn't warn us about the malignant smoke that she'd seen creeping out of the basement or even the intense waves of nausea she felt when walking past her under stairs cupboard. So we really can't take any of the blame for completely decimating her bannisters and front hall. Plus, we're insured.”

“No you're not,” Barnes interrupted, joining the conversation and holding a manilla folder. “You didn't have your DEPRAC standardised iron chains, Lockwood. Not according to this report.” That made Beanpole (Lockwood? Although that didn't sound much like a name) stand up, uncrossing his arms as a frown decorated his pretty face. 

“What? But we did, I made sure after Mrs Hope's house.” Y/n didn't know what had happened at Mrs Hope's house, but from the way Barnes was frowning even more than usual and somehow looking even more unimpressed with Beanpole she figured she didn't want to know. “You can go in and check if you like, they're still in the hall.”

“Fine. L/n, you go in and check.” 

“What?” 

“Just check the chains are there, then come back. They managed to at least get rid of the ghosts.”

“Alright,” she grumbled, hoisting her belt up a little and trudging off in the direction of the building Barnes had pointed her to. She shouldn't even be here, since she was meant to have been at home around half an hour ago, but now she was making her way into some random woman's house to carry out a job that any random DEPRAC officer could have done (if what Barnes had said about the other agents removing the Visitors was true). She pushed open the door, glad for her gloves at the chill in the air, and scoffed when she immediately laid eyes on the thick iron chains that had been kicked to the side in the fight. Y/n picked them up, huffing under the added weight, and was about to turn and leave when her eyes caught on the state of the front hall. “What the actual fuck…” she whispered, then shook her head and closed the door behind her, choosing to ignore the mess inside. 

“Well?” Barnes demanded when she'd made her way back. She dropped the chains at his feet. 

“Yep. I don't know why I had to do that though, anyone could have looked.” She was being irritable, she knew, but she thought she was perfectly justified in feeling that way.

“Alright.” Barnes looked unhappy about the whole situation too, but that wasn't Y/n's fault. “Then just sign these papers and you three can go.” Beanpole was smiling smugly, and he nodded and took the papers that Barnes handed him. 

“Thank you, Inspector. Luce, George, here.” They were both still laughing at something only they knew about, clutching their sides as they took the sheets of paper that Beanpole handed them. 

“Can I go home too?” Y/n asked Barnes while the others signed the forms. 

“Yeah. Maybe catch a ride with these three, they're your way.”

“Fine.”

A few minutes later the four of them were piled into a taxi and heading off down the road in the direction of Marylebone. 

“So,” Beanpole started. The moon was shining bright on his face through the taxi window, making him look like a Visitor himself when combined with his already pale skin and the dark shadows under his eyes. He still looked effortlessly gorgeous though, and Y/n found herself wondering if he was single. “You're an agent then. Solo?”

“Oh, yeah. Never liked working for the big companies. They never really cared about the people, you know? Shit,” her eyes widened as she realised what she'd said. “Are you a company?”

“Yes, but don't worry. We have a grand total of four people at our agency. Sometimes five or six if we get extra help from others.”

“That's... very small. Is the fourth your supervisor?”

“No, our secretary actually. Holly doesn't much like being in the field anymore though, but that works out alright for us. She still gets paid a good amount.”

“So if you don't have a supervisor…”

“I'm the agency head,” he smiled, but now instead of appearing chipper and light, he looked tired and weighed down by the responsibility of running a company and looking after his coworkers. “Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood and Co.” 

“Y/n L/n, formerly of Fittes.” They shook hands awkwardly in the limited space they had in the back of the taxi. 

“And you left because they don't care about the people?”

“That's right. I always wanted to connect more, but I guess that's because of my Touch. Fittes were much more businesslike about it all, just going in and getting the job done and not caring about anything other than having another successful case under their belt. It just didn't sit right with me.”

“Well if you ever feel like working for a company again, you could always come and work with us,” Anthony Lockwood said. “I'm sure we could do with someone like you helping us out. Besides, we do care about the people; it's pretty much the only thing going for us other than our skill in the field.”

“First stop?” the driver called out, slowing the vehicle. 

“Oh, that's me,” Y/n stated, grabbing the door handle and getting out. “Thanks for letting me ride with you.” She moved to the boot of the taxi to take her kit bag and rapier, and was surprised when Anthony Lockwood followed her, helping her to balance all the bags inside and making sure that nothing fell out. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. And I mean it, if you ever feel like joining us on a case then just come and find us.”

“That's... that's actually nice of you, thank you.” He nodded with a smile, then clambered back into the taxi (which looked difficult with how long and thin his limbs were). She stood on the pavement for a few moments, waiting for the taxi to start moving again and waving at the three agents left in the cab as they drove off down the road. 

As soon as she was inside her shared house, door firmly shut and locked and kettle boiling on the stove, she pulled up the chair at her desk and switched on her computer, typing in her password and logging in. Ten minutes later she had a mug of tea brewing on her desk while she furiously tapped at the keyboard for any information on Lockwood and Co, and was pleasantly surprised by what she found. There wasn't much, since she couldn't access a lot of the full reports of cases, but there was a decent number of newspaper articles that had been uploaded for her to read. One detailed the £60,000 fine that the company had been given for setting fire to a certain Mrs Hope's home a few years prior, and from the blurry black and white photo the blaze looked like it hadn't left much behind. 

Further research provided an address for their agency at 35 Portland Row, not far away from where she currently lived. One or two articles were about the parade incident from the Black Winter and Lockwood and Co's success in protecting the people present, but other than that there wasn't much more. 

She sat back in her chair, sipping the last of her tea. Bedtime for now, but when she finally woke up she'd head to the nearest corner store and pick up some food. The fridge had been nearly empty when she'd looked earlier, and she knew that Portland Row was on the way back. 

She wanted to say thank you again (and totally not spy on their house), and everybody loved a doughnut.

~~~

Y/n had knocked on the door roughly two minutes ago, and nobody had answered. 

She knew that they were all at home, because she could hear them arguing about who was going to answer the door, but nobody had done it yet. 

Knocking once more while balancing the box of doughnuts in her other hand she sighed, waited another thirty seconds, and just as she turned to leave she heard the locks click behind her. The door swung open to reveal Anthony Lockwood, once more dressed in a suit (a lot cleaner than the one he'd been wearing in the early hours of that morning), and a wide smile on his face. 

“It's you! Miss L/n, was it?”

“Uh, yeah. Just Y/n is fine though. Um, I just wanted to say thanks again for the lift last night, and for being nice and shit when you didn't have to be, and I bought some doughnuts if you guys wanted them.” She tried to surreptitiously peer around him to take a look at his front hall, but the interior was quite dark and cluttered and it was difficult to pretend to not be inspecting somebody's home when they were stood in front of you. 

“Oh, you really didn't have to, Y/n.” He took the box out of her hands anyway. “Did you want to come in?”

“No, thank you. I should get back. I've got a lot of paperwork to get through and I think one of my housemates is cleaning today and wanted everyone's help, so…” she trailed off, rocking slightly on her heels while Anthony Lockwood watched her. 

“Right, well, thanks for stopping by! And for the doughnuts, that was very generous of you.”

She shrugged. “I've had taxi rides with people I was actually working with and they were complete arseholes to me, so I really appreciated you not being like that when you didn't even know me.”

“Anytime.” He paused for a moment, then frowned at her. “How did you find us? I know I said that you could always drop by but I don't remember actually telling you where we live. There's not a problem with it, by the way, just curious.”

“Oh, I looked it up. Figured you meant to tell me and never got round to it. Besides, I needed to go shopping anyway and I live nearby, so it wasn't too difficult for me.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Well it was lovely seeing you again, Y/n. I look forward to our next meeting.” His smile was infectious, and she still had a grin on her face at the thought of him when she went to bed that night.

~~~

For the next few months, both Y/n and Lockwood and Co were busy with their own cases, but regularly passed each other in the street. Anthony Lockwood had taken to sending her a wink or flirty quite early on, and because Y/n believed it impossible that someone like him was single and therefore able to chase after someone like her, she ignored him. Every now and then she would indulge him, of course, flirting back to see how he would react (he was always pleasantly surprised and kept their little game going for as long as he could before he was needed), but for the most part she would walk right past him. 

It wasn't entirely her fault, since many of the times they bumped into each other she was on a time schedule, and didn't have the extra minute or so to flirt with the pretty boy. 

The last time had been different, though.

~~~

“Hello again, darling,” a voice said from her left, and Y/n smiled when she recognised it right away as Lockwood's. They knew each other better now, from the few times that they had been able to talk for longer and ask how the other was doing, and when he had found out that she was calling him Anthony Lockwood in her head he gave her a look of barely contained amusement and told her she could pick one. 

Anthony had felt too personal, since everyone else that spoke to him seemed to call him Lockwood, and she didn't think they knew each other that well for her to use his first name. 

“Come here often?” he asked, appearing in her field of view and leaning on the table she was sat at in the small night café. 

“Only when I know that you're going to be here,” Y/n responded, and delighted in the faint pink tinge that came onto his cheeks. 

“May I?” He gestured to the chair opposite her, and she nodded. 

“Not with your friends tonight?”

“No, they're probably at home already, lucky bastards. My case ran on a bit longer than I expected, and I couldn't wait for a cup of tea. Plus, when I saw you in here I couldn't not come and see you.”

They sat there for a while, making their way through two cups of tea each before deciding to leave, and Lockwood offered to take the taxi home with her.

When they were nearly back to Y/n's house, he spoke up. 

“I'll pay, if you like. I'll be paying for this stretch of the journey anyway so it doesn't make much of a difference to me.”

“Oh, Lockwood, I can pay you for my part at least, it's not a big deal to me.”

“Nonsense.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, just as they drove around the corner onto her street. “Or… you could come back to Portland Row with me?” Their flirting had never gone as far as properly inviting the other back to their place (although there had always been the comments of 'why don't we finish this somewhere else?' or 'wanna come home with me and prove it?'), and it took Y/n a moment to realise that he was being serious. 

“I mean... if you're sure? I don't want to impose or anything.”

“No, you won't be imposing, darling. George and Lucy will be asleep, I'm sure. I think there's half a bottle of wine that needs finishing off if you wanted to share? No pressure though.”

“That sounds great, actually.”

“So are you two both going to Portland Row then?” the driver called, and Lockwood nodded. 

“Yes please.” He turned back to Y/n, worry starting to creep into his expression. “You did agree, right?”

“Yes, Lockwood, I did. I think I need something that's not tea to be honest.”

“You can stay the night, too. If you need to. I'll sleep on the sofa and you can have my bed.”

“I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, Lockwood. How big is it?”

“Darling, I'm scandalised that you would ask me that question. You know that size doesn't mat-” He was cut off by Y/n smacking him in the chest, and he chuckled when she glared at him. 

“The bed, Lockwood, how big is the bed? If I wanted to know the size of your dick I'd ask you to strip.” She ignored the weird look that the driver cast them in his rear view mirror and focused on Lockwood's answer instead. 

“Steady, darling. We're not back yet.” He yelped when she whacked him again, and caught her wrists and held them so that she couldn't attack him anymore. “It's a double.”

“Well then we can both fit, can't we?”

“Asking me to strip, getting me into bed with you? If I didn't know any better, darling, I'd say that you were trying to seduce me,” he smirked, leaning in close. 

“Oh, Lockwood. I think we both know I did that a long time ago, don't we.” They were dangerously close to kissing, their lips only a couple of centimetres away from each other while their noses brushed with every jolt in the road, and then the taxi was slowing and pulling up to the curb outside 35 Portland Row. 

“Alright you two, out. And use protection please, you're too young to be havin' kids.” Y/n flushed and opened the door, moving around to the boot to take out her kit bag and rapier, and when Lockwood followed a moment later after paying the driver his face was red too.

~~~

“Here,” Lockwood said, handing over a tea mug filled with wine. 

“Thanks. You're sure the others won't mind us drinking this?”

“They've had plenty of time to drink it, and I own the house and therefore the kitchen and the contents of the fridge are mine too, so I say it's fair game.” His smile was slightly blinding, but Y/n had learned to see past the glare and look at his eyes instead, finding the pure joy behind the façade he put up for the world to see. 

They didn't know each other that well, when everything was considered, but Y/n did call him her friend when describing their relationship, and she did feel that if asked, Lockwood would say the same. 

Around thirty minutes later Y/n was nearly doubled over with laughter at some stupid thing that Lockwood had said (the wine had gone straight to her head and she had no recollection of what exactly he had said), clutching her sides as they sat in the cluttered library with the bottle of wine between them. 

“You, Anthony Lockwood, are ridiculous!”

“I am! In fact, have I shown you my hat collection?”

“Is that some sort of weird euphemism? Or are you genuinely more deranged than I thought you were?”

“Not a euphemism, love,” he grinned, and Y/n in her wine-addled state thought about how he was starting to look like the deranged young man she'd just accused him of being. 

“So... you actually have a hat collection? Why?” Lockwood shrugged. 

“It's good for disguises when I need to do a little bit of extra research for a case. I can do accents too!”

“No offence, Lockwood, but I've heard some of your accents, and I'm very surprised that you haven't been hunted down and killed yet.”

“Believe me, people have tried!” Somehow he didn't look concerned about that, still smiling just as widely as before, and Y/n thought he looked rather nice like that.

~~~

When she woke up in the morning, Y/n realised she had never taken the painkillers Lockwood had left on the bedside table for her to use. 

“Shit,” she whispered, grabbing the packet and the glass of water and swallowing the pills the best she could in an attempt to stave off the headache that had formed. After finishing off the wine, Lockwood had managed to find some more alcohol hidden away in a cupboard in the library ("It's my personal stash, so don't worry about feeling guilty about drinking this") and they had stayed up until it was nearly sunrise talking about everything and nothing. She was regretting not drinking the water before sleeping, and when she flopped back onto the bed and under the covers she realised that there was someone else in the bed with her. 

Lockwood looked peaceful asleep.

While she didn't mind waking up next to him in the morning (the view was actually rather nice), not being able to remember what had happened the night before was a little disturbing, especially since she was in her underwear and, as far as she could tell, Lockwood wasn't wearing any clothes. 

The bedsheets had been partially kicked off in the night, most likely because the heating was apparently on full from the very warm temperature of the room, and the duvet had bunched up around Lockwood's waist. She didn't want to wake him by trying to find out if anything had happened last night, since he probably never slept with the sheer size of the shadows under his eyes, so instead she carefully got out of bed and picked up her clothes.

Finding all of her things was difficult, since they'd been flung all around the room in what she hoped was drunkenness and not desperation, but after nearly ten minutes she was dressed and reaching for the door handle. She didn't make it that far though, because before she could leave the sounds of somebody waking up started coming from the bed, and Lockwood was asking her where she was going. 

“Oh, I just... I just figured you wouldn't want me to stick around-”

“Why would you think that?” He was rubbing his eyes and sitting up, and she had to force her gaze away from where the sheets were dangerously close to revealing whether or not they had slept together. 

“I don't know.” There was silence for a minute or so while Lockwood tried to wake up enough to work out what was going on, and Y/n stood by the door feeling very awkward. “Did we... did anything happen? Last night?”

“Don't think so. I feel like I would remember that, darling,” he winked, and she felt her face heat up. 

“Oh, right. Yeah.”

“You don't seem convinced.”

“No, I am,” she said, very unconvincingly. There was another silence while she hesitated. “Are you naked?” she blurted out, immediately covering her face with her hands to block out Lockwood's shocked reaction. His laughter didn't help, only serving to make her feel more embarrassed than she already was, and she stayed safely behind her hands while she waited for it all to be over. 

“No, darling, I'm not naked. But if you wanted me to be then I'm sure we could figure something out.” She could hear the amusement in his voice and groaned in frustration, knowing that he wouldn't ever let her live this moment down. 

“I'm good, thanks.” She didn't really mean it, but it was nice to have a friend like Lockwood, and she figured that having sex with him probably wouldn't help to keep that friendship at all. 

“Alright. Well if you don't want to see me in my pants then keep your hands there, I'm getting out of bed.” For the most part she obeyed, but she would be lying if she said that she didn't peek through her fingers briefly while he was getting dressed.

~~~

Luckily the other members of Lockwood and Co were not at home when Y/n left that morning, having said no to Lockwood's offer of breakfast (she would pick up something from Arif's, even if it was out of her way a little), and within half an hour she was back in her own house with a very large cup of tea and a plate of food in her favourite armchair in the living room. 

When one of her housemates asked her where she had been all night, a suggestive tone to her question, Y/n simply shrugged, and replied “What's it to you?”

~~~

One week later she was running for her life. 

It wasn't that this sort of thing didn't happen often, since her job required a lot of running a lot of the time, but normally she wasn't this exhausted from it. She wasn't even working on a case, either. Y/n had just been walking home from her actual case for that night when she'd accidentally taken a wrong turn in her fatigued state and had come face to face with a bunch of Type Twos. 

At least she had her rapier and a few flares and salt bombs left, and her boots were solid enough that despite how much running she had already done that night, she couldn't feel the ground beneath her feet when normally her soles would be protesting in pain. 

“Fuck's sake,” she grumbled, heading for the nearest iron fence she could find. Unfortunately she still had to cross a road that was surprisingly busy at this time of night (or morning? she wasn't sure where the line between the two was drawn) and then vault over the fence into the park, which was probably also infested with Visitors. Going against every action movie she had ever seen she looked back (which was precisely what she shouted at the characters for), then immediately stumbled since she couldn't see where she was going. Her brief pause in her flight allowed the Visitors to catch up a little, and within a few seconds she was seeing her life flash before her eyes and throwing up her rapier in a last ditch attempt to not die. 

Then something else was flashing before her eyes, and the ghosts were being driven off. 

Y/n realised with a start that the flash had been Lockwood and his stupid grin, dressed in his stupid long coat that was stupidly attractive on him, waving his rapier around in stupidly perfect motions. 

“Did you miss me, darling?” She didn't even have time to respond, already ducking to not be hit by the bicycle a Poltergeist had sent flying their way, and Lockwood pushed her to the ground to dodge the railing that followed. They landed with a thump, and Y/n winced when her back hit the concrete of the pavement and then again a very brief moment later when Lockwood landed on her. 

“I did, Lockwood. I really did miss you.” She hoped that he could see how sincere she was, and he looked as though he was about to say something. Unfortunately he was cut off when a badly-aimed salt bomb exploded right above their heads, and a small “Sorry!” was called out from somewhere nearby. 

“Not to worry, George!” Lockwood yelled back as he got off the floor. He offered out a hand and Y/n let him pull her up, holding her breath when he pulled with more force than was needed and she fell into his chest. “Woah,” he said, voice quiet. “You alright?” His free hand had come up to steady her by the arm, and now he was gently stroking up and down. She wondered if he knew he was doing it. 

“Yeah. Can we maybe run away from the death bikes?”

“I think that would be a good idea. You going home?” Y/n shook her head. 

“One of my housemates has their partner over, and I'd really rather not be there. I was gonna put up with it but if you're offering your bed again I won't say no,” she teased. Lockwood's face went pink, but not from the cold or the running. 

“I'm always offering my bed, darling, you should know that by now.” His smile was as blinding as the flash he had appeared in, and then he was tugging her hand and leading her away from the ghosts (which wouldn't be able to follow after a while, since she'd already run quite far from their Sources), and instead heading for 35 Portland Row. 

When they made it inside (Lucy was already in bed, but Lockwood and George had been coming back from a case like Y/n), George bade the two of them goodnight, then tiredly climbed the stairs, leaving Lockwood and Y/n in the front hall. It was dimly lit, only the lamp on the hall cupboard providing any reprise from the darkness, and the yellow glow of it made Lockwood look ethereal. 

He had dust and dirt all over him, staining his usually perfect white shirt and tie, and his hair was a mess from the slight wind outside, but he still wore his confidence and his charm like a second skin, and he had never looked more like Anthony Lockwood in all the time Y/n had known him. 

“What were you even doing out there?” he asked. 

“I was coming back from a job, took a wrong turn somewhere, and came face to face with those fuckers. I'm just really glad that you were there in time because I probably would've ended up in hospital otherwise. Or a furnace.”

“I'm glad I was there too,” Lockwood said, stepping forward. He made to move his hand, as though he might reach out and touch hers, but then his fist was clenching at his side again, fingers flexing every few seconds. “I thought you would be alright, really. Then I saw you trip - why the hell did you look back? You always get annoyed when they do that in movies. I was scared, Y/n, that you might not get back up again.” She could tell that he meant it too, from the way he was looking at her. It was almost too much, his gaze, since it was heavy with so much emotion that they hadn't even properly addressed between them, and that was probably why he kissed her. 

She both had and hadn't been expecting it. 

It made sense when she thought about it, because beneath all the teasing and flirting there was attraction and a real desire, and she had always figured that being with someone was easier if you knew and trusted them. But she had never thought that either of them would act on it, since both of them seemed happy to let the friendship cover up the truth because at least that meant they weren't without the other. Bringing the truth to light could ruin that, and then they might not see each other at all. 

Now, though, she wondered why they hadn't kissed before. 

It had been brief, a few seconds at most, but it was enough to make her realise that they had been incredibly stupid in not doing it earlier. She had had such a long night - they both had - and when he pressed his lips to hers for the second time she knew that despite the fatigue and near death experiences involving bicycles, they would be alright. Her hands had moved without her fully knowing, and when they pulled away after the second kiss she realised that they were in his hair and clutching his coat that he hadn't taken off yet. His were nestled around her waist, holding her close to him while he searched her eyes for any sign to stop. 

The third kiss was the longest yet, and it took them a long time to move from the front hall to his bedroom.

~~~

Y/n had always been a fan of anything that shone, and had been called a magpie by nearly everyone that knew her. 

It didn't matter if it was expensive or not, if it was shiny, then she would have it. Growing up she hadn't been used to expense, and finding trinkets on the street was her speciality, but every now and then someone would buy her something a little less on the cheap side, and she would be overjoyed. 

Then of course there were the things she bought herself. 

The Fittes Ball that she was on her way to had invited agents of all kinds (a rarity for solo agents who usually went forgotten), and her outfit was one of the most expensive things that she had bought yet (other than her shared house). It was worth it, though, for the look on Lockwood's face when he first saw her. 

“You look incredible, Y/n/n!” Lucy gushed, immediately wrapping her new friend in a hug. George and Holly agreed, and while their fussing was nice it was Lockwood's opinion she really wanted. They hadn't spoken after the night they spent together two weeks ago, and now he had an unreadable expression on his face while he looked at her. It was ridiculous, really, how nervous she was to know what he was thinking, since she had never usually cared about what any man thought of her. 

“Thank you, I love your dress, Luce! And George, are you actually in a suit? No, no, no, you look very nice! Holly, you look incredible as always,” she said, returning the compliments her friends had given her. Her gaze kept darting back to Lockwood though, and after the others had moved away to talk to someone else, he cleared his throat. 

“Y/n.”

“Lockwood.” He took a step towards her. 

“You know I told you you could call me Anthony.” He had, not long after he'd taken her to his bed. 

“Oh, right. I didn't know if that was just... for then.” She was struggling to look at him now, so she missed the way his expression softened. 

“It's for whenever, darling.”

“Okay,” she said, and the small smile he gave her made her heart beat a little faster in her chest. 

“You look stunning, darling. Truly.”

“So do you, Anthony,” she replied, and this time she took a step forward to close the distance. A frown came onto her face, and when he asked her why she paused for a moment before answering. “What are we? Because we haven't spoken since... since that night, and now we're acting like we did before and I'm just quite confused.”

Instead of responding with words, he dug into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a folded paper, handing it to her a second later. She tried not to focus too much on his hands (the memories of two weeks ago were coming back to the front of her mind now) and took it with confusion, starting to unfold it. 

“Oh, I'll be back in a minute, George is calling me over.” He flashed her one of his winning smiles and was off, moving in what she assumed was the direction of George. She finally unfolded the paper and was surprised to see that it was mostly blank, just one question and two little points below it. A pen had been folded into it, and she bit back a smile when she'd read the words. 

Would you go on a date with me? Please circle one answer

yes

no

He was ridiculous, she had decided, but then again she couldn't deny how ridiculously cute it was that he'd written out this mini questionnaire and put it in his pocket, despite not knowing whether she would actually be here or not to take it from him. Why he'd left immediately she didn't know, but maybe he was just too nervous to find out her reaction right away. She clicked the pen and circled 'yes' the best she could with no hard surface to lean on, and winced when the paper punctured. He knew where to find her, but she wrote her address anyway and the house phone number, and refolded the paper. Looking around she couldn't immediately see him, but then she caught a flash of a smile that could only have belonged to one Mr Anthony Lockwood, and she made for where he stood. He blushed slightly when he caught sight of her, then his cheeks burned brighter when she tucked the piece of paper and the pen in the pocket just inside his jacket (standing much closer to him than she needed to), and walked away without a word.

~~~

Two hours later they had snuck into the Fittes building's public library, giggling about something stupid one of the stuck-up snobs who was far too old to still be alive had said while they sipped the fancy champagne that was being served. 

“Do you think they get many kids in here? Like, actual kids who would need entertaining?” she asked, making Anthony look round from where he'd been perusing the shelves. 

“I doubt it. Why?”

“They've got origami. Look,” she pointed, putting her champagne flute down on a sideboard and picking up a sheet. “I used to be able to make loads of things, but I reckon if I tried making a rabbit or something now it'd look like someone folded a bit of paper a bunch of times and then sat on it.”

“I used to make those snowflakes where you fold it into quarters and cut bits out. Got quite good in the end; I could make chains of them eventually.”

“Of course you're good at making paper snowflakes,” she muttered, no hint of malice behind it. “You're good at everything, I swear.”

“Oh, that's not true.”

“Really? Name one thing that you can't do.” He paused, and she could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “See? You can't do it!”

“Well, I don't think that was very fair, actually, because you didn't give me long enough to actually think about it!” She moved to sit down, picking out various colours of paper squares before settling on one she liked. Anthony sat down next to her, his thigh close enough to hers that she could feel his body heat through his suit. He chose his own square of paper, immediately starting to fold it in different ways. 

“What are you gonna make?” she asked him, not looking up from where she was attempting to make an origami butterfly. 

“That's a secret.”

“Alright then,” she snorted, “be mysterious. Is that because you're bad at origami and you're trying to hide it by making me guess?”

“Sure, that's what's happening.”

They sat in comfortable silence while they worked, and when Y/n crossed her legs she made contact with Anthony's knee and drew in a breath. She refocused and looked at the paper in her hands, frowning when she realised that she had no idea how to make a butterfly out of it anymore, and sat back with a huff. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just bored, I suppose. What are you making?” He had folded his piece of paper into a thin strip, and now he was pulling the ends together, somehow making them link. 

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to her right hand. She didn't answer for a moment, too busy watching the way his fingers moved. “Y/n?”

“Oh, right.” She let him take her left hand in his, holding her breath for the millionth time around him both at the tenderness of it all and at the way his hands were so cold compared to her warm ones. He lifted the origami up and slid it onto her fourth finger, tightening it by pushing the ends together further. 

“You can take it off, if you want.”

She wasn't sure she was breathing. “Are you proposing?”

“What? No, if I was proposing you'd know about it, darling. I just… I don’t know.” He looked nervous, and although he hadn’t let go of her hand, she could see that he was fidgeting. 

“I love it, Anthony. Thank you.” He smiled then, small and as under as the way he was holding her hand, and she couldn’t help but ask what she’d been wondering for the last two hours. 

“Did you read my response?” Somehow he softened even more, and his grip tightened ever so slightly before he nodded. 

“Yes, I did.” Had he moved closer? She thought the distance between them was no longer as frustratingly large as it had been, but he was still too far away. 

“Well?”

“Are you free on Saturday? There’s a great place for lunch I’ve been dying to show you for a while now.” He was definitely closer, and she could make out the small scar on his lip in perfect detail. 

“Midday work for you?”

“Absolutely.” He was still holding her hand when he kissed her gently, like he thought she might leave at any moment, and when he pulled back after a couple of seconds she dragged him right back to her lips, shifting somehow even closer to him on the seat. The gift he had made that now sat on her finger felt as heavy as a gold one, filled with the promise of what could be and happy endings, and she found herself thinking that if the two of them did ever marry, she would be happy to do so with a paper ring. 

They were sat there kissing for a while, not stopping until someone shouted outside the door in drunken laughter, making Anthony and Y/n jump back in surprise. Then they were laughing too, like they were teenagers sneaking off (which, she supposed, they almost were, if you ignored the fact they were legally adults now), and he pressed one last quick kiss to her mouth before he stood up. “We should head out. I’m sure the others will be wondering where we are.” Y/n stood up too, still holding his hand, and moved to straighten his tie. She had pulled on it when they were kissing, and now it was all crooked around his neck. 

“I think they probably know that we’re together, though. I doubt that they’re too worried about us.” She finished fiddling with his tie and draped her arms around his neck, and flushed when he wrapped his own arms around her waist and pulled her tight against his body. They stayed that way for a while, just trading small kisses and swaying gently back and forth. 

“I’m glad,” Anthony said suddenly, breaking the silence. “That we… you know.”

“Nearly died and then slept together?”

“That’s one way of putting it. I just - I’m glad.”

“I’m glad too, Anthony.” Normally accidents like having sex with her friends was something she hated, but given it was Anthony Lockwood that it had happened with, she was happy to make an exception. 

~~~

That night, while Anthony finally managed to sleep next to her, Y/n stayed awake. The glow of the ghost lamp outside had woken her a few minutes ago while she had been surfacing, and now she couldn’t get back to sleep. Her dress hung on the back of his desk chair, and various parts of his suit were slung around the room in piles from where they had thrown them earlier in their haste to be as close as possible to each other. 

The ring now sat on Anthony’s bedside table, and although it wasn’t light enough in the room for her to make out its shape, she still knew exactly where it was. Before the two of them got too caught up in each other she had slipped it off, saying that she didn’t want it damaged (as it likely would have been), and when she placed it to the side her eyes had caught on the photo in the frame. 

“Is that us?” she had asked, grabbing the frame with both hands. 

“Oh… yes. Sorry, it was just a really nice photo and we don’t get to see each other that much, and-”

“Anthony,” she interrupted, warmth flooding her face at her next words. “I’ve got cut-outs from papers that wrote about you framed, so this is perfectly okay.”

She flushed again just thinking about it, and how softly he had smiled at her, and then how softly he had kissed her afterwards. She had been dreaming about him, about both of them, and what would have happened if they had stayed in the library at Fittes for a little longer (a lot of hushed moans and whispered words, and his hair completely dishevelled). 

He was the one that she wanted, she was sure of it. There had been others, but none of them had featured in her thoughts about the future like Anthony Lockwood did. 

~~~

Months later, when the seasons had gone from wonderfully warm and sunny (or as sunny as England could get) to cold and biting air, Anthony and Y/n were on a case together. 

She had officially become a member of the agency not too long after they started dating, and while Lucy and George had originally been worried about the logistics of living space, they quickly realised that their new hire would be sharing a bed with their boss. Y/n had settled in quickly, getting used to how her friends lived within a few weeks, and the company had settled into a nice rhythm. 

“A hotel? That’s a pretty big location, shouldn’t we have Lucy and George with us?” she asked as the taxi pulled up to their destination. 

“It seems to be contained to one area, from reports, and since they had a couple of actual children give statements I’m going to trust them. Just the outdoor space around the back, apparently someone - a worker, it says here - died while manning a barbecue near the large pool.”

“How do you die manning a barbecue?”

“He fell face-first into the coals, this says,” Anthony replied, waving the paper report around. They clambered out the taxi, thanking and paying the driver, and once the kit had been collected out the boot and the driver was heading back down the road, they were alone. 

“Well that’s an awful way to go. Type One? Or manifesting as something stronger?”

“Everything points to Type Two, but that’s nothing we can’t handle.”

~~~

He was right, as he so often was, but unfortunately the way in which they handled the Type Two ghost of the Barbecue Man meant they ended up jumping in a pool. 

The Source had apparently been one of the tiles on the ledge, where the Barbecue Man had tripped after falling face first into the coals and cracked his skull open on the edge of the pool. A delightful scene, Y/n was sure, but they hadn’t figured out what the Source was until much later. While she had been scouring the barbecue for any sign of a trigger for the Visitor, Anthony had been drawing it closer to the pool. He seemed to be having a wonderful time taunting the poor dead man, and she couldn’t help but curse him out a little under her breath. “There’s nothing here!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Anthony, I’m pretty sure!” She was just about to tell him off for questioning her when he stepped back on his right foot and made the Visitor shriek an ungodly noise. “Wait! Draw it away from where you currently are!” She wasn’t sure if he’d actually been paying attention to her words since he didn’t give any indication that he had heard her, but a moment later he started moving away, the ghost following him, and she was able to dive for the tile. The second her hands came into contact with it she felt the pain and torment that Barbecue Man had been in in the brief minutes before his death, and at the same time that she managed to dislodge the tile (it had been knocked lose, most likely from his head after he hit it) and wrap it in a silver net, Anthony jumped in the pool. When he surfaced, hair plastered to his forehead and coat and suit completely soaked, he shouted at her to jump in too, leaving the Source on dry land. She just stared at him, but then a rush of cold air hit her and she didn’t think twice. Anthony was waving his arms around, making the water move about enough to fend off the second ghost that had appeared. 

Unfortunately that meant that when Y/n attempted to come up for air, she got a face-full of water. 

“Anthony!”

“Whoops. Sorry, darling. Here,” he said, offering out his hand. She took it gladly, still spluttering slightly, and they hauled themselves to the opposite side of the swimming pool. The water was freezing, but it was better than being ghost-touched, and besides, Anthony hadn’t let go of her hand yet. 

~~~

Her hands were turning a little blue from the temperature of the pool. 

It reminded her of when they had been redecorating one of the rooms in Portland Row about two months ago. George had complained that the room was lacking something, and all inhabitants (and Kipps, although Anthony didn’t pay him much attention) agreed that they needed to update it. They had painted it blue, not too dissimilar to the colour of Y/n’s fingers in the present day, and while it had been a wonderful day it had also been the day of her and Anthony’s first fight. 

She couldn’t even remember what it had been about now, something stupid and fuelled by external factors such as job stress and fatigue, but Y/n had slept in Lucy’s bed that night. 

It had been a while before either girl went to sleep, instead spending the hours attempting to stop Y/n’s crying and watching the old tapes of movies and television shows from before the Problem that Lucy had stashed away on her bookcase. When the morning had come, Lucy had offered to go downstairs and sort out breakfast for them both, so that Y/n wouldn’t have to run into Lockwood, but Y/n had shaken her head, saying that the two of them needed to figure something out. 

The moment she had set foot in the kitchen, seeing the back of Anthony’s white dress shirt while he stood at the counter making teas (he had made one for her too, in her favourite mug), she had started tearing up again. He’d heard her sniffling and whipped his head around to see her hovering just inside the doorway, and immediately he had crumbled and rushed over to her, wrapping her in his arms and mumbling “I’m sorry” into her hair. 

Now, back from their case with Barbecue Man, they were sat in the library, Anthony pushing a cup of freshly made tea into her hands in an attempt to get them back to their normal colour. “Feeling any better?” he asked, sitting down in the chair next to hers and picking up his magazine. 

“Yeah, a bit. I can actually feel things again now, so that’s good.”

“Good. Well, I’ll keep you under surveillance for a while, just until I know you’re better.” She snorted, lifting the mug to her mouth. 

“Thanks, Doc. Much appreciated.” His responding smile was enough to warm her up entirely. 

~~~

A few hours later she woke up feeling disorientated, most likely because she never remembered falling asleep in the first place. Anthony was still in his chair on her left, but he had fallen asleep too, magazine splayed across his chest. Y/n stretched, yawned, and checked her watch, then started at the time. It was nearly half six in the morning, and they had come back from their case at around midnight. She wasn’t sure how long Anthony had stayed awake watching over her, but she knew that the moment he did finally regain consciousness she would be sending him straight up to bed for another few hours of sleep. 

She heard somebody moving around in the kitchen and went to investigate, finding George in an oversized t-shirt and no trousers putting the kettle on to boil. “Morning,” she said, shuffling further into the room and stuffing some bread into the toaster. 

“Ah, morning. Lockwood still asleep?”

“Yep. He’s in the library. Did you need him for something?”

“Oh, not really. I woke up at about four and was shockingly hungry, and when I came down he was sat reading his magazine. I was just wondering how long it would be before he was up again.” It made sense for her boyfriend to have stayed awake until he literally passed out from exhaustion, given how little Anthony normally slept anyway, and she frowned when she heard the stairs creak. A few moments later Anthony Lockwood himself appeared in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and smiling like there wasn’t a thing wrong with him only getting about two and a half hours of sleep. “I need the toilet,” George suddenly said. “If you could move out the doorway, Lockwood, that would be great. Thanks. The kettle should be boiled soon, if you two wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all, George,” Anthony replied, already taking mugs out of the cupboard. “Who’s toast is this? I think it’s burning.”

“Oh, shit, that’s mine! Fuck that’s hot!”

“Not hotter than me though, right?”

“Shut up, Anthony. My fingers are burning.” He reached over and took her hand in his, not caring for the piece of blackened toast that sat on her plate on the counter, and pressed a gentle kiss to each fingertip. She had flashbacks to the last time her hands had been near his mouth in a far less family-friendly setting, and tried to stop her knees from giving out. 

“Better?”

“Um… I guess. Yeah.” If anything she was worse, since now her whole body was on fire at how sweet that one gesture was. He hadn’t even thought about it, since there was less than a second between her saying her hand hurt and him kissing the first fingertip, and that had her knees weakening all over again. She took a step towards him, threading her burning fingers with his and placing the other one on his chest to grab at his collar and pull him in for a kiss. He’d had a long night, she was sure of it, and the more-prominent-than-usual bags under his eyes were giving her a solid argument. The kiss was short and sweet, and when she pulled back he followed her for a moment before realising that it was over. He pouted, his eyes practically begging for her to kiss him again, and she let out a small laugh before obliging. That kiss was sweet too, but lasted a little longer, and the third one would have gone on for longer still had George not come back from the toilet and pretended to gag. 

~~~

“Anthony?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about just… leaving for a bit? Not completely, I don’t think I could stay away from London forever, but just running off on holiday for a while. Getting a break from the ghost hunting and constant threat of death.”

“That’s… really? You want to ask that now? Darling, my mind is not in the right place for an actual conversation right now.” His hand trailed over her bare side and his eyes were looking at everything but her face, proving that he really wasn’t in the right mental place for a conversation like this, but she tried again anyway. 

“Okay, but do you?” He sighed, reluctantly dragging his gaze up to meet hers. 

“I suppose I’ve never really thought about it before.” He paused, shifting his weight to get comfortable. His legs knocked against hers and his hand hadn’t stopped tracing the skin of her body, and he had never taken off the ring he always wore. It had been a pleasant chill against her earlier when she thought she was going to combust from his touch. “I think because of the company I wouldn’t take a break. And I’d have a lot of guilt about leaving when there are people who might be in danger and I could have helped them.”

“But if you could drive away, would you? None of the guilt, or people getting hurt. Just… going off on your own for a bit.”

“I don’t know about alone. I think I would want you with me, darling.” He punctuated his statement by lowering his voice and pulling her closer by her hips, flush against his body, and although she was tired she couldn’t help but feel warm again. 

“I’d be happy to drive away with you, Ant. Anywhere you go, I’m going too.”

“You mean it?” he breathed, eyes looking almost golden in the glow of his bedside lamp. He looked desperate for her answer, like he needed to know that she would truly always be with him because he couldn’t stand being left alone again. 

“Of course I mean it, Ant. I want it all with you; everything. The complications and fights and of course all the good things too. The horrible Mondays where we get clients who don’t realise that what we do is a full-time job and we don’t really get weekends, the times we do get days off, and we can just be… together.” She ran her fingertips over his arms, marvelling at the hidden muscles she felt. Given how skinny and beanpole-like he appeared, the first time she had realised how toned he was she had been pleasantly surprised. It made sense, she supposed, since he was incredibly proficient with a rapier and had been from a young age, and being that good meant he had to at least be somewhat physically fit and capable (he was very physically capable in other ways, too, something else she had learned early on). She didn’t think she would ever get over how much she loved his arms, or his hands, or how they looked when he rolled his dress shirt sleeves up and folded his arms against his chest, and from the look he was giving her right now he apparently knew that she felt that way. 

“You alright, darling?” Good lord, had his voice gone even lower? His eyes had gone from being a honey-golden to a dark syrupy brown, and if what she could feel against her lower half was any indication she could tell that his mind was back to being somewhere other than their conversation. She sounded out of breath when she spoke. 

“I’m alright. Do me a favour?”

“Anything.”

“Wrap me in your arms?”

“Absolutely.”

She definitely shouldn’t have this much of an obsession with his arms, but the moment his arms tightened around her torso and her thigh, bringing her on top of him fully while he sat up with her in his lap and kissed her deeply, she couldn’t find it in her to care. 

~~~

On their one-year anniversary, Y/n woke up early. 

She didn’t want to, but the moon was shining brightly through the bedroom window, and there was a gap in the curtains that let the light through. It was landing on the books that had been stacked up on the bedside table, titles just about visible and all of them ones that she had read before. The moonlight was also resting on Anthony’s face while he slept, and he looked like he had in the taxi on that night when they had first met, ethereal and effortlessly gorgeous (but not quite so tired and weighed down by responsibility), and she found herself falling in love with him all over again. 

It was probably all forms of creepy to just lie and watch him breathe while she tried to go back to sleep, but there was something oddly soothing about it: the rise and fall of his chest and the peaceful expression on his face. It was rare she got to see him so relaxed, the only other times were when he had a day off and was sat in the library with a cup of tea, Y/n sat nearby, or when they had spent time exploring each others’ bodies, hands roaming over skin and through hair while they made love. 

The paper ring that he had made her just over a year ago, not long before they started officially dating, was sat on the bedside table next to the stack of books. He’d made her new ones at random points throughout their time together, but the original one that he’d folded from that piece of paper in the Fittes public library had remained in pride of place in her jewellery dish in their now shared bedroom at 35 Portland Row. 

Looking at it now she was absolutely certain that he was the one that she wanted, taking him in marriage with a paper ring, putting their pictures in frames to decorate their home, and he was the one she wanted in all of her daydreams. 

Anthony Lockwood was her future, and her future was looking wonderfully bright. 

lockwood tag list: @anathemaloren, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss (hopefully you get this notification, ik it's been weird recently), @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @informedimagining (hopefully this works for you too my lovely), @karensirkobabes, @locknco, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @no-morning-glories, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @zoom1374, @light-23, @ahead-fullofdreams

and then I'm tagging @neewtmas, @oblivious-idiot, @bobbys-not-that-small, @maraschinomerry, @uku-lelevillain, and @lewkwoodnco because I've been promising you this for a while and you just didn't know it :D

if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here! I am aware that it has been a while, but from now on I will be checking this post every time I write a new fic to see who is there, so head on over to give a comment or a like and I'll pop you on for next time! <3

[honestlywtfisgoingon]

When You Weren’t Looking — pt. 2/?

PROFESSOR!OBI-WAN KENOBI x READER

PART 1

an au where you and you literature professor realize you both have things to learn about love, and yourselves, outside of class. (as we all know, this can only be done through a big scoop of angst and a smutty cherry on top)

summary: you and obi-wan have begun to enjoy simply spending time together in his office

warnings: language maybe, tb to filler sentences i actually used in my essay rough drafts

a/n: not my fav but it’s little bit of a set-up for the next chapter which is when things get real interesting hehe. also i didn’t edit a lot sry :/ but if the spacing is weird it’s bc of tumblr not me lol

words: 1,342 once again a lil short

It had been a couple of weeks since you’d begun to show up to Professor Kenobi’s office after every one of your classes with him. Your initial purpose for being there was just to file papers and organize things in his surprising very messy office. You had pegged your professor as someone who preferred for things to remain immaculate at all times, his beard always trimmed so neatly and his shirts always pressed to perfection. The more you thought about it though, the more it made sense.

It was a known fact, mainly due to his impromptu rants during class, that he loved what he taught. He breathed in knowledge and books, a true intellectual, and the articles scattered on every surface of his office were probably objects of comfort. The books, mugs drained of tea(many of which had horrendous puns), and various trinkets and collectibles such as labeled kyber crystals, all reflected his interests. He was familiar with his passions and it made his office safe and pleasant for him to be in.

While you still spent some of your time cleaning, most of your two hours with the professor ended up allowing you to rewrite your essay and finish assignments for other classes. He even let you grade some small homework assignments for him.

Anakin you’re out of a job

Professor Kenobi also felt that it was important to make sure you knew he was always there if you needed help. There was a sincerity to his offer that you appreciated. On occasion, he would even ask you for your opinion on something he had just read. The idea that he valued your opinions which could be considered amateur, flattered you immensely. These little here and their actions always spawned an engaging conversation—before he made you get back to work of course.

“fair enough,” you shrugged in response one time after he told you to start “dusting or…something” again. He let out a small breath of a laugh that made you feel warm.

Part of you felt like he always stopped the conversation when you had both begun to be truly invested in what the other was saying. That point usually came with neither of you finding the desire to break eye contact anymore. Sometimes you thought of his gaze for hours after you saw him, the gaze that you had committed to memory by now.

Your preferred spot in the office was a seat adjacent to his, a large oak desk in between you two. There was something about the way he leaned over that large oak desk though. He sat in a wooden swivel chair that presumably came with the table, to which he added a small back pillow. His glasses had slipped slightly down his nose, tie discarded in favor of unbuttoning the top of his collar. He looked exactly like the idea of a classic professor. You found something appealing about it. it didn’t project overt masculinity, and yet somehow it made him seem strong and whole, like he was made of the same polished oak. You couldn’t deny that noticing the maturity he wore was attractive.

Not to be a traitor to your generation, but the men your age weren’t men to you, not in a classic sense anyway. They were closer to your idea of boys, lacking the confidence and the thoughtfulness that showed in everything that your professor did.

You weren’t afraid to admit that it was a little bit hypocritical of you, seeing as how you weren’t exactly the most studious individual either. You didn’t think it was cocky to consider yourself smart, as did many of your teachers, but you were also pretty easily distracted and had to take a break from staring at your screen once you had begun to get too fidgety. Today you were pacing slowly around the room, the tips of your fingers reached out to glide along a surface or a book.

As long as I get my work done, which I always do

“I think you’ve done a few miles by now,” Professor Kenobi said. You could see the small upward tilt of his lips.

“I can't walk in here?” you asked playfully.

“Please, by all means, do what you like, but I can't help but ask, well, aren’t you tired of it by now?” He had turned to face you by now.

“busy thinking I guess,” your mind was in fact reeling at the moment.

“about?” he inquired.

“wouldn’t you like to know.” a teasing smirk on your face. You had grown bolder with each conversation you had with him. He had become more relaxed, easier to joke with. He had a dry and sarcastic humor. another thing you didn’t expect but found that it fit him.

“I would actually. I can never tell what you’re thinking, darling, but I’ve found it’s always something compelling,” That was a recent development. He had taken to calling you darling casually. You assumed it was just…British. They called each other “love” all the time in movies. He could call any woman darling, it was just an endearing term. Still, it made you feel special like you weren’t just another student, and you couldn’t deny that it always caused you to look at the floor in case the heat you felt was in fact a blush. But, that train of thought, of any…attraction, was a dead end you wanted to avoid, and yet you always failed to do so.

“Was that a compliment from the Professor Kenobi?” you pressed your hand to your chest in an exaggeratingly flattered expression.

“If you’d like it to be,” there was a tiny glint in his eye that you would’ve missed if you weren’t already studying how blue they were.

“Well then thank you, Professor,” you added a subtle tilt in your voice when you addressed him. you would never intentionally flirt with him, but it slipped out in such a way.

His cheeks had a fresh tinge of pink and he shifted slightly in his chair before clearing his throat.

“I do have another compliment for you though,”

“Oh I like this,” you laughed lightly.

“I’m already regretting this,” he jokingly rolled his eyes.

“Aww,” you responded in false disappointment.

“But y/n, in all earnest, you’ve made immense progress, and I’m very proud,” he smiled at you with such softness.

You smiled, filled with pride by the praise that had come from someone who you admired. That smile quickly dropped when you realized, how could he have read your essay? You had shown him some of it but that was at the very beginning when you had barely changed much.

“How could you know?”

“You do know I have access to your document since you already submitted it before don’t you?” Your eyes widened in horror as you thought about the very thing he started to mention.

“I do enjoy the filler sentences though,” he looked down at his laptop, presumably at your essay. He cleared his throat. “blah blah insert bullshit or quote later—“

“Oh my maker! That’s a total invasion of privacy!” You ran around to his side of the desk to look at what part of your essay he was on. You only realized few moments later that he had turned his head towards you as you leaned over his shoulder. His face was so close to yours, and his lashes so long that you swore they could brush up against your skin if you leaned in a bit further. Neither of you moved for a moment until… whatever that interaction was… was cut short by a buzz coming from his phone. He hesitated to turn away from you for a second before picking up his phone. saying hi to whoever was on the other end.

You noticed the clock behind him signaled that it was time for you to go. You gathered your things quietly and whispered a quick goodbye, to which he shot you a smile and a light wave. You returned the smile, and it stayed on your face as you walked out the door and all the way down the hall.

PART 3

[ptergwen]

make a wish

w/c: 4.6k

warnings: swearing, tom being a lil drama queen, and harrison is a div

summary: you always go all out for tom’s birthday, but you’ve forgotten it this year… or have you?

a/n: oh my god i can’t believe tom is 25 today like a whole 25 years of him on this planet !!!!! wow? i wrote this as kinda my gift but it’s really for y’all so i hope you enjoy hehe <3 happy international tom day :D

-

a grin sets on tom’s face before he even opens his eyes. he’s waited an entire year for this day to come, and here it finally is.

there are a couple of reasons why his birthday has always been a favorite. the biggest is that everyone nearest and dearest to his heart gathers to celebrate it — family, friends, and his wonderful girlfriend. tom loves nothing more than to be surrounded by his people, laughing until he can hardly breathe. he truly looks forward to those special moments.

less sentimentally, tom is also very fond of a good cake. sam usually bakes one for him. it’s convenient his little brother is good in the kitchen because it saves him from going gift shopping. tom can’t wait to see what’s on the menu this time.

he’s eager to get today started, and he has his best girl to do so with. you make all the festivities miles more fun, which tom didn’t know was possible until you lit up his life. you’re probably more excited than him for his twenty fifth year around the sun.

tom is beaming as he rolls over to pull you in closer. birthday cuddles will be his first present, he decides. much to tom’s dismay, you’re not actually there. your side of the bed is empty. that’s… odd.

it’s still fairly early, so he’s not sure where you could’ve gone. tom assumes you just had to use the bathroom. you two did drink your weight in wine last night, pregaming for today.

that, or you’re whipping up some breakfast in bed. you’d done it for him last year. the meal was such a hit that you might have ended up trying it again. tom isn’t opposed to either, as long as you’re back in his arms soon.

like you can read tom’s mind, which you probably can, you appear in your shared bedroom. he’d expected you to arrive donning fuzzy pajamas with mugs of coffee. instead, you’re wearing a pantsuit and have your laptop in hand.

that wouldn’t be tom’s outfit of choice. he’s the last person to judge on style, though.

“good, you’re up,” you chirp to tom, your heels quickly clanking across the floor. you seem to be in a rush. “i’m about to go, but i wanted to say good morning first.”

go where?

“love, what’re you on about?” tom sits up with both eyebrows furrowed. “come back to bed. i’ve kept it nice and warm for you.” he’s smirking now, you skipping around the room to collect your things.

“can’t, tommy. i’ve got work. not all of us make a living on the big screen,” you chastise him in a playful tone.

ok, tom is really confused. you’d told him you planned on taking the day off so you could spend it together.

unless you forgot, that is.

but, you would never. would you?

“no, i- i know,” tom exhales, rubbing the last bit of sleep from his eyes. “i just thought you were calling in sick today, hm?” he’s looking up at you hopefully, to which you scoff at.

you walk over to him and ruffle his disheveled curls. “do i look sick to you? i don’t feel it.” tom leaves your rhetorical question unanswered.

there’s no way you aren’t messing with him. it would make sense, considering all his pranking you’ve had to endure. one too many shaving cream facials could really scorn someone.

there’s also the possibility that you’re still a bit tipsy. just hours ago, you were in his lap and sipping from the bottle.

tom will believe anything before he believes you forgot his birthday.

“darling, do you know what today is?” tom asks expectantly, reaching for your hand. chuckling, you tangle your fingers with his. “tuesday? i’ll pick up tacos on my way home.”

your usual taco tuesday dinner is not what he’s referring to.

“yeah, but no. what’s the date?” he prompts you to fill in the blank. you gasp as a realization hits. “the first!” leaning over, you peck tom’s cheek and grab your laptop bag.

he knew you’d remember. you’ve always woken him up with birthday wishes.

tom cracks a tiny smile, squeezing your hand intertwined in his. “happy…” you pause for a second. “happy june. new month, fresh start. almost summer, too.” his smile dwindles at your words. he’d thought a birthday would follow after happy.

the unimaginable has happened. today’s real significance completely slipped your mind.

should tom tell you? it wouldn’t be the same going about the day without his love. it is embarrassing you need the reminder, however.

then again, this isn’t a regular occurrence. you’ve been preoccupied with your job lately, so you’re slightly detached from the rest of reality. your boss assigned you to some secret project that you haven’t shared the details of. you must be heading off to finish it.

trust him, tom understands the toll hard work can take better than most. he’ll let this go. it’s only fair for him to be patient and supportive, seeing as you are with him.

“right. um, it’s actually… it’s my birth-“ you cut tom off with a kiss before he can correct you.

your lips don’t stay on his for long, but it’s enough time to notice the lack of alcohol on your breath. that means you aren’t hungover or joking around. you simply don’t care about his birthday.

“sorry, i don’t wanna be late. i’ll call you, okay?” you kiss his cheek once more and pat his other. “alright. drive safe,” tom mumbles, lower lip caught between his teeth. he watches you pack up your purse, then make your way out.

“get some rest, tommy! love you!” you sing to him while dashing out of your room. “i’ll try! love you, too,” tom unenthusiastically replies.

when he hears the front door click shut, he tosses the covers aside and stomps to the kitchen to fix his own breakfast.

this birthday might not be so happy after all.

-

“what’s the status?” you check with harrison, who reads from the itinerary in his hands. “looks like we’re about finished! all that’s left is for harry to test the speakers.” his face holds a proud smile, you nudging his arm appreciatively. “perfect, thank you so much! you guys did such a good job,” you compliment and gaze around at the transformed venue.

the room is buzzing with balloons and streamers, illuminated by colorful disco lights. there’s a mini hole-in-one golf game as well as twister for people to play. sodas, chips, classic party foods are lined up on a long table covered by spider-man tablecloth.

you all came together to throw tom the birthday bash of his dreams. it’s simple, yet an expression of the love everyone in his life has for him. twenty five is a pretty big milestone. your baby is halfway to thirty, and not so small anymore. you knew you had to do something grander than previous years.

tom’s family and closest friends helped you organize his day, and you can’t wait to see his jaw drop when he arrives.

to keep tonight a surprise, you’ve casted yourself in the role of the clueless girlfriend. you go all out for tom’s birthday each year, so he didn’t anticipate your forgetting. you felt absolutely awful to upset him so much this morning. the poor boy was a blushing and squirming mess.

his heartbreak is only temporary, at least.

everything will be worth it later on.

“please, we couldn’t have done it without your… very detailed instructions,” harrison insists, waving around his list for emphasis. you’ve taken your responsibilities here seriously.

“i am the head of this committee. expect nothing less!” you defend. snickering, he folds the paper back up. “fair enough. sam should be over with his cake soon, by the way.” you give a stern look. “chocolate mousse, i presume?”

tom mentioned offhandedly a couple weeks ago how much he enjoys it. you’d been specific about having it at the party, or else. the boys know better than to cross you.

“with chocolate flowers on top. i tried a sample, and it was quite yummy.” harrison licks his fingers for emphasis. laughing at his antics, you pull your phone from your pocket.

“you div. well, i should probably call the birthday boy. i said i would earlier.” you’re grinning as you press on tom’s contact. “brilliant,” harrison agrees, you putting the call on speaker so he can listen.

tom answers after a couple more rings than he normally does. “hello?” he speaks into the phone. “hey, baby. what are you up to?” you wonder, although you know his exact schedule for the day.

you’d arranged to have everyone entertain him until the party. right now, he should be with nikki.

“mum’s taken me on a shopping spree, then we’re doing lunch.” tom purses his lips, debating whether or not he should tell you what the occasion is. his birthday.

“what about you, darling? how’s your project?” he inquires instead. harrison stifles a giggle, you elbowing his side. “oh, it’s… it’s good. just taking longer than i expected. listen, tom…”

tom can picture your frown over the phone, letting out a sigh of his own.

“i might not make it home in time for taco night. maybe nikki will be around for dinner, too?” you suggest, regretfully.

you’ve already bailed on tom’s birthday, and now you’re ditching your date? he’s completely crushed at this point. he has no chance of turning his shitty day around anymore, no matter who he spends it with. he only wants you.

“i’ll ask her. don’t worry about it, y/n/n.” the disappointment is clear in his voice. “good luck with everything. text me on your way home.”

he’s not very convincing. isn’t supposed to be the real actor of you two?

“alright. thank you, baby. i love you.” you put a hand over your chest, exchanging a pitying look with harrison. “i love you more. bye-bye,” tom murmurs before hanging up.

he has no idea your ‘project’ has been a surprise party this whole time.

-

“i can’t believe it, mum. she’s forgotten all about my birthday,” tom whines to nikki while they browse through marc jacobs. her mission is to find him something to wear for later. “i’ve dropped so many hints, and she hasn’t gotten a single one.”

he glances at the purple and red striped sweater nikki holds up. “ooh, that’s nice.”

lucky for everyone, he’s easily distracted.

nikki smiles keenly, tucking it under her arm. “you said y/n’s been given a work assignment, yes?” she questions. she’s well aware it’s a cover for tom’s party.

“mhm, and i understand how stressful that can be.” tom sorts through more clothes, angrily pushing apart the racks. “but, i don’t think that’s a good enough excuse. i’d never forget her birthday, right?”

“cheer up, sweetheart. i’m sure she’ll come around,” nikki comforts him with a hand on his back. “even if she doesn’t, it wouldn’t be on purpose. y/n cares about you so much. mistakes happen.” she removes the sweater from its hanger. “why don’t you try this on, and i’ll keep looking?”

tom prays the phrase mother knows best holds true in this situation. he nods and takes the sweater.

“thanks, mum. i hope you’re right about that.”

-

after nikki finishes hauling tom around the shops and for a bite to eat, she drives him back home. he’s currently splayed across the couch with tessa. she’s perched on his stomach, face nuzzled into his chest while he scrolls through his phone. it’s nice that one of his girls is here to celebrate.

you’ve gone off the grid, save for some bland texts that tom merely responds to with heart emojis. he doesn’t have the energy for anything more. he’s still in shock that you haven’t uttered a word about his birthday. this isn’t like you, not in the slightest.

tom perks up when he logs into instagram, liking all the birthday posts from his friends and fans. he watches some edits that must have taken ages to create, commenting thank you’s, making people’s days. someone deserves to enjoy theirs.

when he comes across zendaya’s birthday post, tom is finally pulled out of his mopey mood.

it’s a photo she took of him during the filming of no way home. tom had snuck off set in his newest spidey suit to get starbucks because he was in dire need of his iced mocha. his mask is off, a finger to his lips and shushing the camera, coffee clutched in his free hand. zendaya swore she wouldn’t tattle on him, but here they are.

“what do you say, tess? should we give Z a ring?” tom asks his pooch, flooded with nostalgia and craving more company. not that tessa isn’t. some human contact would be refreshing, however.

“i’ll take your silence as a yes,” tom concludes. he strokes tessa’s back and dials zendaya’s number. she picks up suspiciously fast, his eyes widening.

“birthday boy, hey! i was just gonna call you,” zendaya muses, grinning to herself. she’s under your orders to do so. “great minds think alike, don’t they? how are you holding up?” tom smiles upon hearing his friend’s voice.

“you first,” she challenges. “it’s all about you today… and every other, but still.” her teasing earns tom’s first genuine laugh in too long.

“oh? doesn’t feel that way,” tom says under his breath, hugging tessa closer. she whimpers, to which he kisses the top of her head in response. “what do you mean?” zendaya asks sympathetically.

“y/n, um…” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “god, this is humiliating. she forgot my birthday.”

his confession doesn’t shake her because you told her about your scheme. she does have to pretend to be shaken.

“for real?” zendaya gawks, fueling tom’s sadness further. “shit, man. that’s so fucked up… i’m sorry.” she’s suppressing a smile. tom continues to scratch tessa’s back to calm himself.

“i’m not sure what’s happened. she always makes a huge deal of it,” he elaborates, shaking his head. “i don’t know, maybe i’m being dramatic. she’s been busy. i just feel a bit… lonely.”

this charade of yours is seriously getting to tom. you’ve got major damage control to do.

“you might feel lonely, but you’re not alone. you have me,” zendaya offers her take. tom tuts, shifting on his cushion. “very wise of you. thanks, Z.” she snorts at him. “i’d say we should hang, if you weren’t on the other side of the world,” he lightheartedly complains.

unbeknownst to tom, zendaya happens to be in london for the week. she’s shooting a commercial for her latest ambassadorship. she’ll be at his party later on, and she’s meeting up with you now. he’ll figure that out soon enough.

zendaya clicks her tongue. “sucks, huh? this is one of those times i wish i could teleport.” tom is about to respond, then he hears a voice in the background. “daya!” you squeal, running up to her with open arms. that sounds an awful lot like…

“y/n?” tom almost gasps, jumping off the couch. tessa growls at his abruptness. “am i completely off my rocker, or is she… is that her?”

panicking, zendaya signals for you to be quiet. “uh, i- i…” she slaps her hand over her forehead. “i gotta go! happy birthday, holland!” before tom can interrogate, she’s already ended the call.

his clinginess to you probably freaked her out. it would be ridiculous to think you two are together when zendaya lives in california and you’re here in england. tom’s mind is playing tricks on him, making him hear what he wants to. he misses you an insane amount.

back to wallowing he goes.

-

it’s nearly two hours past the time you get off, and you still aren’t home. tom is fed up with the entire day.

he went for drinks with tuwaine and on a walk with paddy, so those were highlights. he’d have liked to do some rounds of golf with his dad, too. he said he couldn’t because he was stowed away to write his next book. that was a lie, but tom was unsuspecting.

even the good parts of his birthday weren’t that great.

tom’s faith is reignited when a facetime call from you shows up on his screen. he immediately swipes to answer, not caring how desperate he seems. he is desperate. he’d settle for seeing you at all and under any circumstances.

“tom!” you smile into the camera. you’re outside, the sun beginning to set behind you. “haven’t heard from you in hours, y/n/n. where are you?” tom props his phone up in front of him. “um, work,” you hastily retort. “if you’re up to it, i could really use a favor…”

you’re a madwoman, he swears it. you’ve gone bonkers.

but, what else has he got to lose?

“yeah,” tom grumbles out, avoiding eye contact in the call. “what is it?” you’re oblivious to his inner conflict. “my uber cancelled on me, and it’s getting pretty late. i was wondering if you could come get me instead?” you bat your lashes, trying to grab his attention. “i’d rather be with you, anyway.”

unlike you at the moment, tom is a considerate partner who would do whatever necessary to accommodate you. he can’t say no.

“sure, darling. i’m on my way.” tom stands to search for his keys. “wait!” you stop him. he’s not in the mood to, but he indulges. “hm?” “that sweater… it’s cute on you,” you compliment, grinning innocently at your somber boyfriend.

“thanks. mum picked it out for me,” tom rasps. he paired it with black skinny jeans and some old boots.

“what are you so dressed up for, anyway?” you drawl, knowing damn well his answer. my birthday. my fucking birthday, is what tom wants to say. “myself, i guess,” he shortly replies instead. you’re impressed he didn’t break yet.

“you deserve it. i’ll text you the address?”

“yup. be there soon, bye.”

-

tom barely has it held together as he drives to your office. he’s either on the verge of tears or a full blown tantrum, or maybe both.

the ride there isn’t too long, which he’s grateful for. he needs this day to be over with. he’ll get you, have a nice dinner, and salvage his birthday however possible. hey, there’s always next year.

upon his arrival, tom begins to wonder if you gave him the wrong address by accident. it’s some place called swingers. he can vaguely recall hearing of it, but it’s indoor mini golf. you surely don’t work at a mini golf course. he would’ve visited a lot sooner. unless, this is another secret you’ve kept.

there’s only one way to find out.

you’re not outside when he gets out of the car. he figures you must have went back inside to wait. with his sweater sleeves scrunched in his hands, tom enters the building.

it’s quiet, besides the radio playing lowly in the lobby. he approaches a woman at the front desk to ask where you might be.

“hello, is y/n y/l/n in? i’m meant to meet her here,” tom politely explains, mustering up a smile. the lady beams at him and gets up from her chair. “i’ll take you to her. right this way.”

she leads him through the place, tom following along curiously. he looks around while he walks and admires the paraphernalia littering the walls. they end up in a dark room that appears to be empty. although he hasn’t a clue what’s going on anymore, that can’t be right.

“are you sure this is where she-“ tom turns to the front desk woman, but she’s gone. weird. he’s starting to get a bit spooked.

tom’s instincts tell him to bolt, then all the lights suddenly flick on. he realizes he’s in a bar. music blasts from speakers, decorations hang from the ceiling, and people blow party horns in unison. not just any people, his people.

“surprise!” everybody shouts, tom clasping both hands over his mouth. he’s most definitely surprised.

the room bursts into laughter at his reaction, waving around their noisemakers and going up to greet him. this is just what you’d hoped for. your disappearing act paid off, even though it was excruciating for all who were involved.

you run right up to tom, his family circling around the two of you. his abundance of friends settle at the bar or by the snack table. tom removes his hands from his face to reveal the widest smile you’ve ever seen.

“oh my god, y/n/n! you… did you do all of this?” he chuckles in disbelief. you eagerly nod and cup his cheeks. “of course! you didn’t think i’d forget about international tom day, did you?” tom is so moved that he doesn’t say anything, only stares into your eyes. “best day of the year,” you declare with a toothy grin.

lifting you up by your waist, tom collides his lips with yours, not allowing another second to be wasted. you giggle as you kiss back, letting your legs hook around his middle. everyone in the room hollers at the two of you.

tom is still smiling against your lips. he rests his forehead on yours when he pulls back, just to come in and steal more kisses. you move a hand down to his broad shoulder to steady yourself while his lips attack yours, softly but so passionately.

“happy birthday, baby!” you manage to get out between tom’s never ending pecks. a breathy laugh leaves him, kissing both your cheeks. “thank you so much, angel. so, so much,” tom hums, your nose scrunching up. he kisses that, too. “i’m so fucking in love with you. you have no idea.” his eyes are glossy as you meet them.

“mm, i know. i love you the most, tom.” your lips brush his again gently, tom sniffling and holding you tight. you pout at him and dab at a stray tear with your thumb. “aw, no. don’t cry,” you coo, all the guests cheering you two on. “look at me… what’s the matter?”

you’re stroking across his jawline, tom putting you down. his arms stay around your waist.

“i just… you got me really good. thought you actually forgot about my birthday,” tom admits, leaning into your touch. “i was so fucking sad all day, but this makes up for everything.”

you draw him into a hug, his body flush against yours and face hidden in your neck. “no, never. you mean the whole world to me, tom. i’ve been planning your twenty fifth for months!” you’re flashing him a cheeky smile.

“so, your secret project?” tom cocks his head to the side, you jabbing at his chest. “you’re looking at it.” “my love,” he groans, throwing his head back. “how on earth did you do all of this?” gesturing behind you, you take a step back. “i didn’t work alone.”

harrison and zendaya waltz over together, tom losing his shit for the nth time today.

“you’re joking!” he practically tackles zendaya in a hug, who makes crazy eyes at you over tom’s shoulder. “careful with the hair! valentino needs me in the morning,” she laughs out and squeezes him back. tom eases up the tiniest bit.

“you’ve been here the whole time, then?” he lets her go so she can breathe, grinning so much his cheeks hurt.

“for a shoot, yeah. thought i’d check this place out while i’m here. i’m a real golf fanatic,” zendaya sarcastically replies and claps tom on the back. tom reaches over and links his pinky with yours, tugging you back to him. “i knew that was you on the phone! you two were in on this together.”

you curtesy, harrison clearing his throat from next to you.

“ahem! what about me, dickhead?” he puts his hands on his hips. “what about you?” tom repeats to get a rise out of him. it succeeds, harrison punching his arm just hard enough to sting. he does it with a chuckle, though.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding. thanks, bruv.” tom rolls his eyes. the two of them hug it out, you and zendaya watching on.

he slings his arm around harrison’s shoulder. “damn, you lot had me fooled. how’d you pull it off?” you wink at zendaya, looping your own arms around tom’s waist. “we learned from the master himself.” “and, me,” she teases. “oh, get in here. all of you,” tom insists, the four of you now in a bone-crushing group hug.

it’s cut short by his parents and a bunch of others wanting to give their best to the birthday boy.

nikki marches up to tom with smudged mascara because yours and toms reunion made her emotional. dom pokes fun of at his wife, tom consoling her while getting another good laugh in. it must be a holland thing.

tom makes his rounds after that with you by his side, your arm in his as he thanks everyone for coming. you’ve spent enough time apart for one day, or forever. he catches up with his spider-man stunt team, then does a shot with harry and checks out sam’s cake.

you have to physically restrain him from devouring it on the spot, much to sam’s amusement.

at last, everybody heads off to the mini golf courses throughout the building. tom understands why his dad didn’t go for a game earlier. this might not be the real thing, but it’s admittedly more entertaining. plus, he has a better chance of beating the others out.

you, tom, zendaya, and harrison play your game together. nikki, dom, sam, and paddy are right behind you. harry and tuwaine split into other groups, the venue filled only with everyone tom loves. he’s so blown away you did this for him.

“foul! that’s a foul!” harrison calls to you while you retrieve your golf ball from the water. “what is?” you yell back. tom and zendaya stand back and observe.

“you can’t move the ball! you have to hit it where it lands!” harrison sticks his golf club in the fake grass, smirking in satisfaction. huffing, you place the ball back at its starting point on the course. “dude, that’s impossible. i’m just gonna go from here.”

he narrows his eyes at you. “you did that on purpose.” tom swats at his friend’s shoulder, you biting back a grin. “are you accusing my girl of cheating?” “a man in women’s business,” zendaya remarks and earns giggling from you. harrison mocks her words, ultimately conceding.

“fine. if y/n’s going to play dirty, so will i.”

the rest of your game goes smoothly until your mini golf skills are once again questioned, this time by tom. he informs you that you’ve been holding the club all wrong. you haven’t really. he just wants an excuse to touch you, which you’re not opposed to.

tom’s hands are over yours, his chin on your shoulder as he teaches you how to swing. he’ll throw out little comments like atta girl and there you go, sweetheart from time to time. zendaya finds this hilarious, so she snaps a video and posts it to her story. you’ll all no doubt be trending soon.

the party eventually moves back into the bar, where sam has his chocolate mousse cake ready to be eaten. two big candles that say twenty five in numbers are now stuck in and flaming. tom stands before his beloved cake, you hugging him from behind while everyone serenades him with happy birthday.

you all applaud him at the end, tom licking his lips and rubbing his hands together. “are you one?” harry starts chanting. the others follow in song, gearing up to twenty five. tom will blow out his candles when they get there.

pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, you whisper in his ear. “make a wish, tommy.” he looks at you over his shoulder, threading his fingers through yours.

“it’s already come true.”

[palbabor-writes]

Lá Bealtaine

Pairing: Choso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, cunnilingus, SMUT, NSFW/18+only, loss of virginity - if you squint, using sex to mask feelings & trauma, mild JJK manga spoilers; but if you’ve seen the anime you’re pretty caught up on this stuff

Word Count: 4732

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

You lift your head, blinking at his obsidian surveyance. “What am I supposed to do? Say no? Not like I put an advertisement on the door: seeking dangerous men and nefarious spirits, inquire within. I’m not wanting to die, you know? Besides, it’s not all bad.”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped.

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Notes: hehe, when i said i had Choso brain rot i was not joking. this dude has been on my mind for weeks, ya’ll. WEEKS. special thanks to @libiraki​ & @kugutsuu​ for beta editing! if you haven’t checked out their works please stop what you are doing & scuttle yourself over there bc you are missing out.

Lá Bealtaine [l̪ˠaː ˈbʲal̪ˠt̪ˠənʲə] 'the bright or yellow day of Beltane' - a time of fire and fertility.

It started with a touch. A simple interaction; but it sticks to the back of his mind and the heat of your hand lingers, a remembrance that he can’t shake.

He’d returned to the dingy bowels of the hideout, boots echoing over the well-worn floor as he made his way to his customary seat; unaware of the blood that oozed from the strip above his nose. Legs and arms are heavy as he slots himself into the chair, his eyes drooping closed as he leans his dark head against the cushions. 

Two weeks.

Choso’s younger brothers were killed two weeks ago. Leaving him alone; adrift in his loss, his failure as an elder brother. The remembrance of them stung in the morning and was an ache by afternoon, but in the night’s darkness it burned.

He will have his chance, he reminds himself, furrowing his brow; seeking the faint traces of the other six who need him to press on, and the hollow twinge of the two who need vengeance. The 31st is only fourteen days away; he can wait. He can–

The pressure of the sudden touch makes him jerk; coal-dark eyes snapping open, searching for the source. You’re standing above him, hand outstretched, the pad of your thumb delicately catching the long forgotten drip of blood against his cheek. 

“You shouldn’t touch that,” he says, voice gruff in the vacant emptiness of the space; but he doesn’t shift, meeting your frank gaze unblinkingly. 

“Oh?” you question, swiping the sullied digit across your pants, tacking the deep crimson into the material of your jeans.

“It’s poison,” Choso clarifies. The spot you’d stroked your thumb down is tingling. Exhaustion, he muses, itching his nails into the thick fabric of his loose pants. He’s imagining it; there’s no other explanation.

“You’re not going with the others?”

What? How can he? They’re dead. Ah, no. He’s not thinking clearly. You don’t mean his brothers; you mean Getō.

“No,” he quips, lifting the back of his hand to his cheek, wanting to quell that spreading warmth that you’ve left him with. 

“Then you don’t need this, right?” You gesture to the mess of game pieces and the forgotten board that is scattered across the low table in front of him. He shakes his head and you begin the steady process of tidying up, collecting the mismatched jumble into your arms, folding the rest into the tattered box before you step away. 

Choso closes his eyes again, steadying his breaths, finding the pulse of the blood that thrums within him. Nothing is out of place. So why does his cheek feel like it’s on fire? There’s no reason for it. Is he this starved for a connection that he’s latching onto the first interaction he receives? 

His onyx eyes follow you as you walk across the matted flooring. You own this space; have struck some kind of deal with Getō and the others, permitting them to come and go, quietly cleaning up their messes, and ducking out of sight when they gather within the confines of the darkness; talking through the plans, the ins and outs of the sealing and the massacre that they hope to spread throughout the underground station of the pre-ordained prefecture. 

In the grand scheme of things you’re nothing. Why waste energy focusing on you? It won’t matter in fourteen days.

The clink of the cup on the table rattles him out of his thoughts and Choso peers into the depths of your clear gaze once more. “What is it?” he queries, running a broad hand down his face, hoping the pull will make him forget the persistent warmth that’s radiating from the spot you’d touched. 

“You look tired. Drink that and get some rest.”

“Giving orders now?”

“Sure,” you grin, cocking your head at Choso’s curled lips and wrinkled nose. “That’s a good one. Like any of you would ever listen to me.”

What’s this called? Self deprecating humor? Well, whatever it is, Choso doesn’t enjoy the brittle tone your voice has drifted into. It doesn’t suit you and that low annoyance that’s been brewing under his skin is coming closer and closer to the surface. His fingers are on the cup before he can properly sort through his mismatched emotions, but he doesn’t miss the lift of your lips when he gulps the scalding tea down his throat. 

Why does he care? You don’t matter. You’re no one to him.

“Easy,” you tut, shaking your head at his sharp gaze. “You’ll burn yourself.”

So? He’d rather feel something burn than linger into the uneasy pull of an ache. 

Choso looks for you when he enters, shifting past the others. You’re tucked toward the back, brows creased and head down. It’s a smart move, but the frightened hunch you’ve adopted bothers him more than it used to.

“We have a few minutes,” Getō announces to the gathering, dark eyes bright as they fall on his impassive face. “And Mahito is always late.”

There’s an implication behind it, but Choso opts to ignore that uneasy instinct, already turning. He’s just going to ask you for tea; that’s all. When you spy him, you smile and that spot on his cheek flares, remembering the sweep of your thumb.

“Lucky you caught me,” you tell him, hands busy with the rattling cups. “I was about to go.”

He narrows his eyes, watching the curve of your neck, the stretch of your fingers, and the uneasy twitch of your shoulders. This sort of existence doesn’t suit you. You’re the antithesis of this; normal, kind, unabashedly human. So why do you… 

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

You lift your head, blinking at his obsidian surveyance. “What am I supposed to do? Say no? Not like I put an advertisement on the door: seeking dangerous men and nefarious spirits, inquire within. I’m not wanting to die, you know? Besides, it’s not all bad.”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped. 

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Choso shakes his head, openly scowling at your answer. “Me?” he sputters, sucking his teeth and pressing his clenched fists into the long table that you stand behind. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, pouring the steaming water over the leaves, wafting the fragrant essence of the tea between his clenched jaw and your ducked head. 

“I don’t… that is...I...” Choso begins, but fumbles into silence when he catches sight of your eyes, half hidden behind the sweep of your lashes. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. “You’re strange,” he finishes, huffing a belabored sigh between his pursed lips, but when you laugh he can’t help a faint smile. 

It will feel disloyal later, that burst of momentary happiness, but right now he doesn’t mind the distraction; cupping the yunomi between his palms, catching your fingers before they can pull away, enjoying the warmth you transude into his chilled hands. 

Nothing holds. Choso knows this better than most. All things, given time, change. It is an inevitability. Something he’s known intrinsically, and clung to, all those years; when the only constant was the beating of his brother’s hearts beside him. But change rarely announces itself, content in its own emergence; the omnipotence of its bite.

Something has shifted. 

“You didn’t go again?” You ask one night, sitting beside him, a cooling mug between your fingertips. 

“Didn’t see the need,” he tells you, an outstretched legs brushing against yours. 

“You’re different… you know that?” A smile hidden within your words. 

“So are you.” He likes that, he thinks. He likes it more than he should.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

You bite your lip and he watches the press of your teeth, hoping you’ll split the skin. 

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.” You bargain, coyly shaking your head.

“I’m close enough and I don’t like games,” he grumbles, hoping you won’t leave it at that, because while it’s true that he doesn’t like games, he’s enjoying this give and take. 

“Please?”

There’s something intoxicating about that gentle sound and he turns, wordlessly following your crooked finger. He towers over your seated form, but you don’t let that imbalance hang, hands tugging against the white of his shirt, urging him to kneel between your spread legs. When he settles, you curl your fingers against his jaw, smoothing that blistering heat over his icy skin until he’s pressing forward, resting his heavy forehead against yours. 

You’re so warm, he inwardly gasps, his breaths coming in pants. So warm he fears he might grow addicted to this heady intimacy. “What do you want?” Choso asks, the deep timbre of his voice quaking. 

“You.” It’s such a simple answer; how like you.

“I am here,” he replies, half drunk on the feel of your skin.

“Yes, but what if I told you I want more?”

That question casts him into the darkness. He’s unused to this; doesn’t know what to do, what to say; he’s been sealed for so long, too long, and he feels wobbly, lightheaded, but he tries to reach, his fingers grasping at the base of your neck, pulling you toward... toward…

The clatter of the front door startles you both, and he’s on his feet, eyes wild as they look down on your parted lips, and the furrowed confusion of your brow. Your hands are still upturned, waiting for his.

The others step into the space and when he blinks again you’re already gone; your chair vacant, the warmth you’d shared evaporating into the unfeeling cruelty of the chilled air. Shit, Choso curses, grinding his teeth.  

Something has shifted; it will be impossible to tear himself away from you now.

It’s only been a day, but he can’t stop staring at you. He doesn’t hide his blatant gaze, obsidian eyes tracking each step, hungrily snapping to yours each time you come near. You do nothing to lessen this itching want that’s raging within him, leaning close, pressing your hand against his shoulder as you gather the discarded cups that are scattered between them, asking him if there’s anything else he needs, your breath hot against his ear. 

He’s unsure if he likes this. 

But each time you shift away he wants to drag you back. 

When they leave, used to his excuses, and his protestations that as long as the mission doesn’t involve Itadori Yuji or Kugisaki Nobara he’s uninterested, he stands; head turning, searching for you. 

Ah. There you are. 

He’s against you in an instant, stiff hands cupping you, greedy to touch, to hold. You squirm, a laugh bubbling from your lips, swatting his wide palms from the tempting swell of your hips. “What’s gotten into you?” As if you don’t know.

“Tch,” he scolds, “you’ve been toying with me all evening. You said you wanted more yesterday, so show me.”

You breathe out a chuckle, bemused by his enthusiasm and take his hand in yours, leading him down a hallway. He’s never been back here, but he follows, trying to steady the thudding of his heart. Controlling his life’s blood is second nature to him, so why does this feel like it’s a losing battle? 

The room you open is dark, but he can make out the shape of a futon, stark against the mats, and his eyelids flutter, too overwhelmed by the realness of this befuddling situation to look. To distract himself, he pulls you against the slope of his chest, splaying his fingers against the sweep of your collarbone. You twist in his loose hold, folding your arms around his powerful neck.

“Do you still want this?”

Choso unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, gulping down a wavering breath. “I already told you,” he begins, his voice gravel, “show me more. Show me what else you want to do with me.”

“Can I kiss you?” you inquire, dipping your head enticingly, catching his wandering attention, urging him nearer. He doesn’t answer, electing to tap his lips against yours, clumsily pressing until the tip of his nose digs into your cheek. It’s easy to feel your heartbeat like this, and he wraps his arms around your lower back, eliminating the meager distance that was trapped between your heaving chests. 

You let him steady himself, careful to keep your movements slow, but the squish of his face and the jerk of his hands tugs a bated humph of discomfort from you and he breaks away, elegant brows crumpled as he searches for the source of your discontent. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you amend, smiling at his obvious pout. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Choso questions, stroking a palm up your spine, a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth when you draw in a gasp. 

You cup your hands beside his ears, fingers sinking into the dark tangles of his hair as you lure him back to your parted lips. “Open your mouth.”

He does as he’s told and you mold him against you, lapping your tongue over his, earning a shuddering moan and a sharp caress as he coils his hand around your throat. It’s easier this way and Choso steadily follows your lead, mimicking your sucks and teasing bites. Teeth clash when he reaches for more but he eases the sting with a flick of his tongue, and you nibble his lower lip in retaliation, pleased he’s so malleable. 

Your fingers fall to the sash that rests above his stomach and he grunts when you pull at it, easing it away with a stable unwinding. His breaths are heavy against your kiss shined lips, but he keeps perfecting his new found techniques, sweeping chapped skin until it’s worn smooth by the wetness of your tongue. His own hands are preoccupied with your neck and the gentle underside of your jaw, fingertips pressing until you can sense the pound of your heart within his grasp. 

“What are you trying to do?” you ask between his frantic presses. “It’s like you wanna match my pulse, or something.” 

“Worry about yourself,” he grouses, ill-pleased with your answering laugh. “It’s going to take forever if you go that slow.”

You shove your palms against his chest and he stumbles backwards, his booted feet loud against the heavy mats, dark eyes flashing up at yours as his face falls into a deep-seated glower. “What?! What was... why did you…”

His angry retorts melt into nothingness when you fling your shirt over your head, sending the thin fabric fluttering to the ground. The sudden exposure leaves him gaping, unsure of himself once more, but you ease the shock, grasping his limp hand in yours, guiding it over the dip of your stomach, and up the flow of your side. 

“Let’s play fair, huh?” you tease, tapping a kiss to his cheek, careful to land it in the same spot your thumb had touched weeks ago. Choso nods, obsidian eyes wide as his fingers trace over your goose-prickled skin. “Alright, well, it’s your turn.” 

His gaze snaps back to yours, whisking over your face; as if he’s searching for some kind of answer in the lift of your nose, or the plushness of your lips. Whatever it is, he seems to have found it because he ducks his head to yours, resting his brow against the crown of your temple, hands lifting to his own clothing, making quick work of the intricate knots and folds of the fabric.

The gleam of his skin in the moonlight takes your breath away, and you reach for him as he eases the black off of the white, sliding your warmth over the coldness of his bared pectorals. He’s smooth; skin as soft as freshly cleaved talc, or a scattering of downy feathers, and you keep stroking until he’s shaking under your touch, his exhales unsteady against your face. 

“I think I have more blemishes on my fingers and arms than you do on your entire body. You’re so soft,” you tell him, tracing an outspread hand against his muscled abdomen. 

“I’m... this is a new manifestation,” he answers, hoping the strangeness of him, of his half human, half cursed being, won’t drive you away. 

“Hmm,” you nod, pulling him down for another kiss. “It feels nice.”

He’s slow to undress. Not because he doesn’t want to see more of you, he’s simply distracted, too focused on touching what bits of you are revealed; the arc of your hips, the tipped buds of your breasts, and the line of your legs. But you’re like water; slipping through the gaps of his fingers, leaving him wanting, unsatisfied with his fragile hold.

When the last scrap of clothing is off, he waits, his cheeks flushed and mouth dry. “Now what?”

“Do you want me to touch you first?” you ask, that tantalizing smile lifting your lips. 

“No,” he asserts, shaking his dark head. “I want to learn you before that...so show me.”

“You’re very unusual.” Tilting your head as you take his hand, leading him to your futon. “You know that?” you continue, tumbling him over you as you splay across the crisp sheets. 

“Says the woman who is letting me between her legs,” Choso smarts, finding your lips in the gathering darkness. “Stop stalling; show me.”

With a pleased sigh, you reach for his hand again, looping your fingers around his as you guide him to the juncture of your thighs. You work one away from the others, gliding it along the ridges of your folds, showing him how you like to be touched. After his initial gawping and mystified rumblings of, ‘so wet,’ and half croaked, ‘fucks,’ he shifts closer, easing onto his haunches as he curiously follows your lessons.

“There,” he hisses, onyx gaze catching your twitching stomach and jerking hips. “Teach me how to do that.”

You work him to that apex, using your other hand to lift the slippery hood of your clit, showing him how to press and tap against the spongy nub. He’s a quick learner, his eyes falling from yours to watch the flutter and quaver of your cunt. 

“Move your hand,” he tells you, resting his lips against the hollow of your neck, his tongue lapping over your pulse. When you untwine your fingers from his he waits, lips too busy sucking a bruise into your skin; reaching for that unsteady thump of your heart. 

Bump-bump-ba-bump.

Yes. This will do. He’s caught the rhythm; can almost sense the flow of your blood, and see the surge of your clit under his touch.   

The next frig of his digit has you gasping out his name, legs unfurling, knees shaking beside his ribs, your head flopping back onto the futon with a dull thump as you arch into his hold. Choso reapplies the pressure, adding the pad of his thumb, leaving it opposite his seeking forefinger, squeezing until you’re clawing your blunt nails down the sheets. 

“You look good like this,” he smirks, looming over your heaving figure, licking his wet tongue along the valley of your breasts. “What else can you show me?”

Your fingers’ grip into his hair and you yank him from you, one brow delicately arched as you take in his irascible scowl. “You could put your mouth to better use…”

There’s no need to elaborate, and he’s wedged between your thighs before you can fully blink, ravenous lips slurping kisses and bites into the tender skin; he’s asking another question, but you can’t hear when he’s touching you like that, his fingers doggedly pressing at your clit, jerking more moans from your throat. 

“Wh-what?” you ask, breath stolen before it’s past your quivering mouth.

“I said,” Choso pants, lifting his inky head and fixing you with a dazed stare. “I can feel your heartbeat.” 

“Does that matter?” you laugh, popping onto your elbows to regard him inquisitively. 

“It helps,” he answers cryptically and you jab your toes against his arm.

“Helps with what?”

“You’ll see. Do you care if I experiment?” He lifts his fingers from you, sucking the dripping pads into his mouth as he waits for your answer.

“Knock yourself out,” you gape, biting your lip between your teeth.

His dark eyes glaze before he averts them, an appreciative smile gentling his sharp features. “Good,” he replies, easing one bent leg over his broad shoulder, sparing you a last glance before sealing his lips to your throbbing folds.

It starts slowly; a deep shudder that seems to radiate from your core before pooling against your extremities, making your fingers twitch and your muscles spasm incrementally. But Choso is mindful of the power that he’s found, and he eases you onto his tongue, helping you to relax with steady sucks, avoiding that all important button that is distending above his nose. He can almost hear the rush of your blood, can sense where to press with each swell of your slick folds, and he follows unquestionably; pleased he can lose himself in this, in you.

He taps his thumb against your entrance, eyes opening, searching over the curve of your breasts to see you, to watch what kind of expression you’ll make when he finally breaches this boundary. The sheer heat of you takes him aback, and he groans, his low voice vibrating over your twitching cunt, and you reward his elation with another moan, his name falling from your lips. 

What is this? 

He’s drowning and all he’s done is taste you. Will he die if this goes further? Or will it burn? Lapping away the remnants of his regret until there’s nothing left of him but splintered bone. 

“Choso,” you breathe, fingers latching into his wayward hair. “More, please… it’s not enough.”

He rotates his thumb before easing it out, making room for the wide push of his index finger, tongue lifting to swirl around the pulsing nub of your clit, and teeth grazing until you’re squirming.

“There!” you cry out, bucking into his open mouth. “Oh, god… I... I can’t––”

Something inside you shudders. He can feel it in the comforting thump of your heart and it makes him clutch you to him, his own hips rutting against the edge of the futon as he finds himself awash in the sheer intoxication of you. 

Fuck. Is it supposed to feel like this? Like he’s half himself and half you? Or is he simply drunk on the rush of your blood?

Your cunt sucks his finger deeper, gummy walls pulsing in time with your heart as he gulps down your essence, tongue greedily catching it before it has time to drip onto his upturned wrist. It’s good. It tastes so fucking good. 

He’s so winded by the sensations that he barely notices you pulling from him, his dark head lolling over the crinkled sheets, an inaudible moan slipping between his clenched teeth. Choso doesn’t resist when you ease him upward, warm fingers tracing up his heaving body as you press him onto his back. Only when you press a kiss to his fevered temple does he find himself, eyes bleary in the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, straddling his hips, your hand reaching for his straining cock, palming some of the leaking pre-cum over your fingers as you stroke him. “I can’t wait… I want you… can I? Choso?” 

This part will burn, he thinks, helping you to hold yourself steady, eyes slipping closed when he feels the slick heat of you gliding teasingly over his tip. When you sink down, his back arches, and he hopes that the whispering shadows, the lingering remnants of his guilt, will be tossed onto this fire you’re stoking. Your hips still when they reach his base, legs twitching around him, your nails catching against his smooth skin, working nicks into the clean slate. 

You’re clutching onto him like he’s the only thing tethering you down, and he opens his shuttered eyes to watch, hoping he can glimpse you past the smoldering of his want. You’re beautiful, he thinks, hand lifting from your hips to fiddle with the necklace that sits around your neck, admiring the glint of metal in the gloom. 

He wishes he could see more, that he could wait a little longer, but he wants to put an end to this ache; he wants to burn.

The lift of your knees leaves both of you gasping, and Choso stifles a moan, legs tensing restlessly under the steady push and pull you’re establishing over him. It’s so warm inside you, and he can feel the thrum of your blood again, so he tries to match his to yours, controlling his pulse, right down to the multiplicity of his cells, eager to feel that potent tug of release once more. 

“Does it feel good?” you ask, leaning back so he can admire his engorged cock as it plunges in and out of your sodden pussy. 

“Do you have to ask?” he grunts, lifting a hand to your breast, tweaking the tender bud of your peaked nipple between the knuckles of his fingers. 

When you call out his name again, he snatches you to him, dragging you to his parted lips as he digs his heels into the futon, rutting into you until you’re squelching lewdly around his pistoning cock. The world feels like it’s narrowing; the shadows lessening as he engulfs himself in you, his teeth working bruises into your neck, your shoulder, the tops of your breasts, anywhere he can reach; but it’s not enough. 

With a huffed groan he’s gathering you into his arms, robust thighs helping him to flip you onto your back, hands splitting your legs as he drives himself back into your welcoming heat. It’s deeper in this position. He can feel more of your twitches and pulsations as he steadies his arms beside your ears, bracing himself over your prostrate form. 

“You want me to touch you again, don’t you?” he asks, voice broken. “Do you want me to touch your clit? Will that make you cum for me? Will it?”

“I-I can do it,” you gasp, easing your fingers between your grinding bodies, knees spreading so he can watch. “Tell me when,” you murmur, head dropping as you arch, slipping him further.

“Now,” he moans, grabbing your jaw, forcing your lips to his as he slams his cock into you, setting himself alight; easing the incessant tug of his guilt until it’s a blunted thrum resting close to his heart. 

When you shatter around him, he follows, wholly caught in the ebb and flow of his release; lost in the depths of this unsteady solution.

He stays with you through the night, eyes following the line of your body as you sleep. His hands are cold, he thinks, easing them beside you, but not for much longer. 

The 31st is only four days away.

“Did he question you? Ask you for anything?” Getō’s words are lanced with care, his voice honey sweet as he steeples his fingers, peering at you with an avariciousness that makes you shake.

“He didn’t. I doubt it will happen again. I didn’t...I don’t want to...to… hurt––”

“What? Hurt him? He’s a half-breed monster. His feelings don’t come into this. Nor should yours; you have a family to think of, a mother who’s an invalid, a younger brother who can’t be depended upon, a father who’s a drunkard; too far gone to notice, or care, his eldest is missing; hasn’t attended her college classes in weeks... and your sister. Well, she’s still a child... much too young to suffer from your mistakes, don’t you think?”

“You’re the monster,” you grit, hands folded into your lap, nails pressing until blood wells under your fingertips. 

“Perhaps,” he smiles. “We’ll be out of your way soon enough. Let me know if you show any signs of impregnation, would you? Any spawn you whelp will be useful; very useful indeed.”

notes: i was gonna name this something else, and i know the dates i am describing don’t match with the sabbat, but Beltane felt like a smoother fit. 

[elysianslove]

hi💗 i saw that you opened up your requests to jujutsu kaisen and i was wondering if i could request something,,reader is dating our favorite bandaged shaman sensei and they are both teachers at the school. and a little scenario when they invite the 3 first years over to their house for Christmas or winter holidays,,since they all have complicated family situations and the reader notices this and tells satoru they should do something,,so a cute little mom and dad moment 🥺 thank you

hi anon!!! this request was so, so cute i hope i did it justice hehe, and i hope you enjoy <3

━━ satoru gojō feels like home. in every sense of the word, he feels like home. he smells like it too, but that’s possibly because you’ve lived with him for much too long, and been with him for even longer. he’s your safe haven, your safety net, a constant, grounding presence in your life. you think that, maybe, you’ve always loved him, before the confessions, before the friendship, in another lifetime even. if you’re willing to believe in curses, you can believe in blessings too, right?

that said, anywhere with him is home too. you could be stranded in the middle of nowhere and still sleep just as well as you would’ve in your own bed, so long as his arms are around you. the too busy streets of tokyo somehow lessen in their overwhelmingness once his hand fits against yours, once his thumb is lightly brushing against the back of your hand. the quiet, eerie atmosphere of a random motel the two of you had no choice but to stay suddenly feels lavish and luxurious as soon as his lips find yours, and immediately the dim, sombre light of the room only illuminates him more.

it had never mattered what your life had been before meeting him, before loving him. all the pain and hardship and suffering was completely erased from memory, as if the first glance from him was an offer of a blank slate, a new beginning. of course, every relationship has it’s unstable moments, and with laughter come tears, with excitement comes dullness, quiet, and with sunny days come cloudy, rainy ones. it’s inevitable, but you two are strong pillars of it. the pain and suffering comes crawling back to you, but you brush it off, reminding yourself that this is your home now. he is your home now.

and every moment with him matters. especially holidays.

although neither of you properly celebrate christmas, the festive atmosphere still exists within the four walls you two share. small marshmallows sway in an ocean of hot chocolate in a mug, flames dancing proudly in a fireplace before you, a knitted blanket offering you both warmth and comfort, snow piling on your windowsill. the winter holidays are mostly spent like this with gojō. there’s just something about the cold that drives the both of you to utter laziness, and it’s not unlike you to easily welcome any source of physical affection from your lover.

it’s the night before the last teaching day, before you’re sending off your students to their homes for the holiday. the room is dark, save for the light from a lamp to gojō’s right, and the light that comes from the tv playing in front of you. it’s some movie that you’re not entirely focused on as your cheek rests against his chest, his arm slung around you. despite the fact that you’re as tired as ever, your mind is alive with endless thoughts, and gojō seems to notice when he lifts a hand up to poke at your temple.

“what’s going on up there?” he asks, shifting slightly to sit you up straighter. he disregards the phone in his hand, placing it next to lamp, before turning to face you properly.

“gojō,” you start, your voice smaller than usual. this doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he nods encouragingly. “where’s itadori going for the holidays?”

it’s quiet for a moment, and you watch his expressions carefully. he looks thoughtful, slightly bothered. “i—“ he begins, his voice wavering slightly as he admits, “i didn’t consider that at all.”

you hum sadly. “he has no family, right?”

gojō shakes his head in response, adding, “none.” the silence stretches out between the two of you, the background noise of the tv a filler, not disrupting, but balancing. “all three of the first years have familial issues, now that i — now that i think about it.”

“do you think they can stay here?” you suggest, without a second of doubt. you don’t entirely regret it, but you wince slightly at the look of his face. you’re ready to drop the subject if the matter is too uncomfortable for him, but you know your lover too well, well enough to know he’ll agree to it just as eagerly as you’d suggested it.

“that’s a great idea,” he confirms for you, and the careful expression you had morphs into glee. you beam up at him, before leaping into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you embrace him tightly. one arm weaves around your waist, with the other travels up, leaving his hand cupping the back of your head as he holds you to him. “you’re too good for this world, my love,” he tells you, whispering his confession in your ear. you only push back with a smile, and plant a heavy kiss to his lips.

you announce the decision to the first years right after the teaching day ends, while alongside gojō. he’s standing comfortably, hands pressed into his pockets, an easy smile on his face as he surveys both you and the students before you. they’re standing with careful, solemn looks on their faces, as if they’re about to be sent off on a serious, life endangering mission.

“what is this about?” nobara wonders, her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.

you only smile widely back at her, before softly saying, “gojō and i are inviting the three of you to stay at our home. for the holidays.”

nobara’s eyes soften slightly at the words, while megumi’s face remains impassive. yuuji, however, has his eyes wide and jaw slack, clearly the only one capable of speaking because he yells out a rather aggressively shocked, “what!”

“is this —“ megumi starts, breaking off and interrupting himself to swallow thickly. “are you being serious?”

you nod eagerly. “i want you three to feel safe and to enjoy the holidays too! only if you’re comfortable with that, of course, but our home is your home,” you address them.

gojō hums playfully from next to you, adding, “every night is hot chocolate night.”

yuuji and nobara are automatically sold, to the exaggerated point of throwing their arms around you, collectively suffocating you in their embrace. megumi still looks wary of the idea, and you notice this easily. offering him a soft smile, you reinstate softly, “i just want you to feel safe.”

he smiles.

“you have a really nice home, sensei,” megumi comments as he surveys the living room. you’re not sure which of you he’s addressing, or if he’s addressing the both of you, but either way your heart softens at the awe in his eyes. you’re curled up next to gojō comfortably, the three first years surrounding the two of you, and there’s an array of food options before you.

for the first day, you’d eaten dinner out in a restaurant, but it’s way past nighttime now, the stars visibly shimmering in the sky, the moon lost within a blanket of them and the clouds. the snow falling isn’t heavy enough to have your world disappear in white, not yet at least, but it’s slowly and surely piling up.

“hot, hot, hot—“ yuuji whines, sticking his tongue out and fanning it as he places his mug down. you huff out a laugh at him, watching as nobara pinches at his arm and scolds him for ‘being stupid.’

you lean more comfortably into gojō, admiring the scenery before you. he shifts, leaning his lips nearer to your ear as he whispers, “i’m glad we did this for them.”

you nod in agreement. “me too,” you say.

“you know what it makes me realize?” gojō starts. you hum, urging him to continue. “how good of a person you are, how lucky i am —“ your smile widens at his words, cheeks aching as they start to flush. “— how good of a parent you’ll be one day.”

you freeze. “parent?”

gojō only smiles when you move back to observe his face. although his smile is teasing, his eyes are serious. he’s serious. “one day?”

you try to imagine it. your own family, with him, raising your children with him, sharing hot chocolate with them, watching as they bicker with each other. spending eternity with him. the image and fantasy comes so easy to you, it’s dizzying. gently, you fall back into his arms, curling up against him as you whisper, “one day.”

[markosmate]

running down

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; Strong language, filler chapter no boys here

au:// Second part, I write these notes before I write the chapter so I’m kinda scared to see where this story’s gonna go but I’m also really excited for y’all to read it hehe :))

Part 1   -   Part 3

The next morning I slept in well past the time I usually did. It was only 11, but that was still a well comparison to the time I’d usually wake up. Sun was peaking around the corners of the curtains and I groaned as I sat up on the mattress. I could hear talking from the kitchen downstairs, so I threw my legs over the side of the bed and padded across the hardwood floor. I jogged down the stairs, hand gripped tightly onto the side railing, and strained my ears to try and hear what was going on in the other room. It sounded like Sam and Michael talking, and once I knew that it wasn’t an important conversation going on I made my way into the room as well.

They didn’t falter when I walked in, instead just each sent me a small welcoming smile and continued on with whatever they were talking about. I pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and made my way onto the back porch where I knew Grandpa would be sitting and reading the TV Guide, just like he’d told us about. 

I pulled the door open, and realized I was right, he was there. “Good morning, Grandpa.” I greeted with a smile.

He glanced up at the sound of my voice and sent me a small smile. “Morning, Ivory. Nice morning, ain’t it?”

I laughed gently. “Very nice. I’m loving it here so far.”

“That’s good,” He nodded in appreciation. “Sam and I are gonna take the old girl out for a trip to town. Wanna join?”

I laughed a bit and shook my head. “Sounds fun, but I’ll have to pass. I wanna talk to Mom for a bit about her job search last night.”

He nodded before standing and dusting off his pants. “Well, have fun then.” He turned and made his way into the kitchen, most likely collecting Sam and then heading off to the back garage where his unused car was waiting for them. I stood from my spot on one of the porch chairs and made my way back inside. I was planning on making my way to the living room, where I knew Mom was bound to be sitting and working on one of her new blankets, when my attention was called by Michael.

He was leaning against the counter, wrapped in his red robe, and drinking what might have been either coffee or an energy shake out of a thick mug. He looked to be deep in thought about something, and for a second I thought he was calling my attention for something really serious. That is, until he actually spoke to me what was on his mind.

“You know that girl from last night?” I internally groaned at this, but tried to look serious on the outside, not wanting to make him more upset than he already was.

“What about her?” I questioned, putting the unopened water bottle I had grabbed back in the fridge.

He took a few large gulps of his drink before sliding it back onto the counter next to the sink. “Do you think she’s actually with any of those dudes?”

I stopped to think for a moment. She looked reluctant to leave with them, and hadn’t been the happiest accepting help from the platinum blond who’s bike she’d mounted. But, she did leave with them. I hoped she wasn’t with any of them, especially not the curly-haired one, Marko. That sure would be one brick in the chest, to find out I was doing all this worrying and thinking about him only to find out he was with the same girl Michael had been pining after. But no, that didn’t make any sense, if she was with Marko than she would’ve gotten on the back of Marko’s bike, not the mullet man’s. 

“Listen, Mike, she did leave with them. So I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but if she’s showing that she’s not interested - it’s probably just best for you to move on from that.” I tried to be as honest as possible, I really didn’t want to crush his hopes but at the same time I didn’t want him to chase something that possibly wouldn’t ever end up going anywhere.

He nodded, a solemn look taking over his face as he tightened the belt tie on his robe. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I’m gonna go shower, you coming to the boardwalk with? Sammy’s going with Mom earlier in the night.”

I nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, I’ll come along. I’ve been craving those carnival pretzels ever since I saw the stand last night.”

“Cool, we’ll leave at like 8, yeah?” I nodded along to what he said and turned on my heel to finally make my way to talk to Mom. When I walked through the doorway she was sitting on the couch with her yarn and needles in her lap, working on the thick comforter she had been crocheting since the beginning of January. She looked up when I sat down on the couch parallel to her and sent me a soft smile.

“Hey, babe. Whatcha up to?” She questioned softly, continuing to crochet while simultaneously looking up at me for a few split seconds every so often.

“Nothing, just figured I’d check in and see how the job search went last night?” I pried a little, smiling hopefully as a beautiful smile lit up her face and she dropped the half-done blanket to her lap.

“Oh, wonderful, sweetheart! Did you see Max’s Video Shop last night while you were looking around? I went in there last night and he offered me a job there, he even asked me on a date for tomorrow night after my first shift! Isn’t that amazing?”

“Ah!” I gushed with her, extremely excited to see her so happy over going on a date for the first time in a long while. “Mom that’s amazing! You found a job and a man!” She laughed at my words, throwing her head back the tiniest bit.

“Well, we’ll see how it goes. Did you make any friends last night?” I thought about my answer before it came out of my mouth. Did I tell her about the boy? About the girl Michael had been after or about the friends of them both? I shouldn’t, I needed to pretend like those boys didn’t exist. I could find friends here, just not those ones. So, I lied.

I shook my head but kept the smile pulling at my lips. “Not last night, I was too busy checking everything out to actually stop and talk to any new people. But Mike and I are going again tonight, maybe I’ll make some friends then.”

She nodded in approval before picking up her work and continuing on the comforter. “Good, I’m glad you’re enjoying it here so far.”

“I am.” I confirmed, but I couldn’t shake the anxiety from my stomach.

[the-himawari-otome]

[Piofiore: Episodio 1926] Invito alla festa di Natale - Orlok

<Original post here>

･ﾟ･:,｡★ translation under the cut ★,｡･:･ﾟ

[1927/12/7 PM 3:00]

The winter rays of the sun are gentle.

The light filtering through the clouds illuminates the room with a soft glow.

(...It's warm.)

I'm hugging my warm partner who I love from behind while peering into her hands as she reads a book.

A complete collection of Shakespeare's works—we bought it at the bookstore we went to last week.

“Fufu...”

She suddenly giggles a little.

"What is it?"

"Your hair is touching my neck. It tickles."

"! But..."

I feel kind of embarrassed, so my excuse comes out as a whisper.

"...I want to stay close to you."

I squeeze her tight, not wanting to let go.

She's still giggling. ...Cute.

Both of us have a day off today.

Apart from the fact I'm an informant, she works at a pub. And it's rare for her to have a full day off work.

One of our family members—Notte, the black cat, was playing with me until a moment ago. They got tired of playing though, so they’re sleeping soundly in their bed now.

"...Am I in your way when I do this?"

"Nope. But aren't you bored, Orlok?"

"! No. Not at all."

To think we can cuddle so closely together without doing anything in particular.

(...It's such a special thing.)

We spend our time in our "home", undisturbed by anyone else.

It's not because I'm anxious or because I'm cold. I want to be touching her simply because I love her.

(Ah...)

When it suddenly hits me and I glance at the clock in the room, I see it's just turned 3 o'clock.

"...Do you want tea? I'll make it!"

"Are you sure? Thank you, Orlok."

"Great...!"

She entrusted it to me. I stand up, feeling proud of myself.

"Stay here and take it easy."

The room isn't that large. But in just the few steps I take away from her—

I already miss the warmth that’s faded from my arms.

(...I'll prepare it quickly and hurry back.)

I boil up some hot water in our cozy kitchen. I take a teaspoon of tea leaves for each of us, and one more for the pot.

The madam at the pub told me that's the trick to making great tasting black tea.

"...It's done."

I add milk to the toasty mugs, slowly pour in the tea, and it's set.

I place the left-over shortbread she had baked onto a small plate and carry everything over together.

"Here you go."

"Thank you!"

She closes her book with a bookmark and picks up a mug.

I sit next to her and follow her by cupping my mug in both hands too.

"...It's delicious!"

"Hehe... I'm glad."

Even I find myself grinning. I might've gotten better at brewing tea than when I first started.

I'm glad she complimented me and my chest feels warm and fuzzy.

"Speaking of the madam at the pub. She said she'll make pudding for us for Natale."

"Oh, really? ...I can't wait."

This is the first Natale we're spending in England—it'll be Christmas in just a few more days.

I hope I can spend it peacefully with her just like today.

"Um..."

"?"

"After we finish our tea, and after I'm done washing the dishes, err..."

Saying this feels embarrassing since it'll seem like I’m full of ulterior motives.

...But I’d like to do it no matter what. I can feel my cheeks growing hotter as I ask.

"Can I sit behind you again...?"

"Yes, of course."

I sigh in relief when she answers with a grin on her face. With a shy smile, she continues on.

"I'm happy... I can stay close to you too, Orlok. It makes me feel warm and blessed."

"!!"

I'll wash the mugs as soon as we finish drinking. I want to hurry back and hug her.

(Being careful not to crush her, tightly, and with care...!)

I'm really happy with our teatime together and both the tea and snacks are delicious.

But—

I can't wait to hold her in my arms. That's all I could think about.

---

[DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY WORK W/O PERMISSION, THANK YOU]

[dourpeep]

Got a neat idea while making tea this morning and deciding what cup to use! I have a small collection of mugs going on hahaha. But this also serves as a bit of practice for very short characterizations of other characters!

A Cup-le of Memories

Summary: The cups you have and the many fond memories that come with them.

Contains: Kazuha x Xiao x Reader, various other characters, fluff, modern au, memories

The three of you, in your little (Kazuha argues that it's "cozy") shared apartment's kitchen, have quite the collection of cookware. But your favorite has the be the assortment of mismatched mugs tucked away in the cabinet to the right of the sink.

A collective effort made by you, Kazuha, and Xiao whenever you go out, really. Always finding ones that are best fitting, pretty, or...questionable. But even so, each holds a dear place in your heart with the memories they hold and the ones you're sure they'll bring. You reach for a cup, thinking of your two loves and your group of very dear friends.

Who should you pick today?

Everyone—everyone who visits is assigned a cup.

The first you hover over is a rounded pale peach mug shaped like a cat-blob. Venti found it hilarious, after the initial look of shock and offense.

"My first time visiting your apartment and this is how you thank me?? Some friends you are-"

As soon as Kazuha offered to switch it out, the cup was swiftly pressed against his chest, protective. "No, no it's mine now."

It’s hard to not see the knowing smile that spreads over his features every time he visits for a drink.

Hm…maybe not.

Venti was going to visit later anyway to get some input from Kazuha about lyrics and return Xiao's guitar.

It'd be best to keep it up here and ready to be used for when he arrives.

Your hand pulls back, only for a novelty-shape to catch your eyes. You hold back a snort.

Oh, definitely one of the cups fitting under "questionable" and undoubtedly the only one that wasn't chose by the three of you.

"Hello again!"

The chipper voice of a certain ginger-haired man echoes down the hall, hair tousled and decorated with a pair of sunglasses. Still in beachwear, Childe (a long-time nickname according to him) strolls down the hallway accompanied by two of his work-but-not-work friends. They stay behind waiting for him to finish up.

"I just had something I wanted to drop off, Xiangsheng always mentions your mugs so I figured this would be perfect!"

In his hand, a mug in the shape of a lady's torso wearing a polka-dot bikini.

The cup ended up becoming Childe's on the rare times that he visits.

But speaking of Xiangsheng-

His is pretty fitting.

Xiao reaches into the cupboard, taking a short time to pick out the one the three of you found just earlier that week. It's simple, elegant--a brown ceramic mug with a clean glaze to provide a shiny finish.

"Thank you, truly."

The man holds the cup now filled with a fragrant tea, hot and steaming.

True to the tradition, Zhongli refuses to use any but the cup designated as 'his'. Remembering this makes you feel a little guilty for thinking of using it…after all, Zhongli visits often as well so it’s weird to use the cup right?

Onto the next cup, then!

Ah, the Hard Rock cup. Really, it originally was from the Hard Rock Cafe…but the “cafe” part has since been rubbed off very diligently. The apartment smelled like acetone for days.

No one really used the mug so it tended to sit and gather dust sadly in the back of the cabinet. Nothing really wrong with it, it just ended up not fitting anyone so far. Though you’d try to use it now and then in the mornings, you did favor some of the other cups…

“Hey, lemme see that one there.”

You look at Xinyan, brow knitted in confusion. “But you have a cup?”

“This’n is mine now! I have an idea-“

You laugh, remembering the way that she sat, cross legged on the kitchen floor and vigorously rubbing at the cup until her own nail polish was rubbed off from the chemical and a sizeable pile of sad, mushed cotton balls lay before her.

Not to mention her victorious cry of 'It's done!'

Putting the cup back, you sigh. Maybe not that one either, then. Standing on the tips of your toes, you stare at one of the two that are in the front of the others. Oh! You remember this—a handmade yunomi. Definitely a little lopsided and maybe not-so-safe to use considering that it wasn’t glazed properly, but…

Kazuha’s in a rush today, it seems, muttering something about an extracurricular he took and that one of his projects was coming out of the kiln today. Excited, he slipped his shoes on and was out the door with a very quick kiss.

It’s not until lunch that he returns, beaming proudly. Setting a plainly colored cup on the counter, he awaits your judgement. The cup itself is cute, with a careful imprint of a maple leaf on the side that’s colored in with a rusty red color.

“I made myself a cup. The professor allowed the class to have a free project for the final, so I thought it’d be something that I can use often.”

He still does use it every day.

The other, placed carefully beside it always draws a chuckle from you and your partners.

Oh. This was the cup- the perfect cup for your somewhat stoic, somewhat grumpy, but very soft partner.

Giddy, you swipe it off the shelf and hurry to the checkout.

He’s less than enthused, which is hilarious when you’re beaming so brightly and Kazuha is so so very close to loosing it. You nudge the cup closer to where your other boyfriend is sitting down at the table.

“Number one…” Xiao’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “Grandpa.”

Hehe. Never gets old.

Even with his initial response, Xiao took the cup in stride and takes every opportunity to use it. Tea, coffee, cereal, soup—the possibilities are endless with a mug. You wonder if it’s because you’re the one who picked it.

It’s been a while since you’ve decided to have a drink. At this point, you could just close the cabinet and go without, but you can’t lose your dedication now.

So, you push aside a few of the mugs in search of a specific one—just the one you’ve been looking for, now that you realize it.

Brushing over Venti’s cat cup, Childe’s bikini cup, Zhongli’s deep brown mug, Xinyan’s “hard rock” cup, Kazuha’s diy, and Xiao’s (frankly fantastic) grandpa mug, you smile and relish every moment these hold.

But ultimately, your hand closes around a simple, white mug.

Cheap, yes, and a little plain...but nothing beats the pixelated picture of you, Kazuha, and Xiao wrapped in each other's arms, the mug still just as pristine as when you got it despite so many washes.

[matrose]

2, 18 & 23 for the ask thing❣️

mariaaa thank you so much 💘🌿💚🍃

2. What are your three most valued posessions?

this is such a funny question. sadly i dont have any selfmade gemstones that the devil wants to steal from me so ill go with more mundane objects :) for the sake of variety ill exclude books and common-use items... on of my favorite things is probably the gimli mug my mom got me for my birthday hehe its been my sole drinking vessel since 🫂 another favorite is the glassjar filled with nice letters and little trinkets from my old job ❤️ last one is the stuffed giraffe that ive somehow had since i was a baby - its not even for cuddling or anything but its always stood on my closet or shelf or anywhere, barely keeping its balance (it falls over a lot) and watching me with a mildly terrifying expression. i guess i would be mad if some sort of demon stole her from me!

18. Favorite crack pairing/concept/headcanon

oh im terrible at this but let me try umm. wow this singular question alone is responsible for this asking taking so long! im just gonna put a silly headcanon here; finrod enjoys collecting skulls, not at all in an edgy way, but sometimes he hunts animals and sometimes he wants to preserve their skulls because he thinks theyre very interesting and so he has this cool collection of skulls born out of biological fascination. i dont think he would collect the skulls of sentient beings though (atleast not without permission he got before (natural) death)! :)

24. Angbang, Russingon, or Silvergifting?

honestly... none of them really interest me. im neutral on russingon, theyre as much related as galadriel and celeborn, elves are just like that, and fingon saving maedhros was a very sweet and dramatic scene but its not my thing. angbang is just always very silly in my head for some reason and i cant take it seriously at all (sorry... i think its the name 😭) and im just not invested in it... silvergifting IS interesting in the way where its incredibly dramatic and horrible and makes celebrimbors life worse by like ten times if it were to happen but its also not my thing. boring answer, i know 😞