#as always i am not over the fact that the angsty love interest from the horse show i watched when i was ten is kaz fucking brekker

[dasiesanddarkness]

i was rewatching free rein (for freddy carter) and i came across this

KAZ BREKKER IS THAT YOU?????

[fayes-fics]

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

[primofate]

Confessions Series - Part 1: Overheard [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

Note: Welp I had the itch to write again so here I am. Though sleep deprived because baby keeps waking up every 3 hours to feed... I wanted to do this haha. Based on @soulprompts “I love you” prompts. What other character should I do?

Warnings: haven’t written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, I’m sleep deprived, not proofread, some are just concepts of liking someone, having a crush on them, while some are full blown love confessions. SOME ARE ANGSTY, chose only the male characters I wanted to write for instead of forcing myself to do all of them.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader  

Other works in this series: (Part 2 - Description)

Scenario: Talking to a friend about how you feel about him. Unbeknownst to you, he was listening, hidden round the corner. What does he do?

Aether

“He’s sweet,” You simply answer when asked what you like about Aether. “I mean, he’s a simple guy. He’s not a mystery, it’s not hard to read him nor to get along with him. I guess that’s one of the reasons why a lot of people like him.” 

“Uhuh,” your friend drawls, their head lazily resting on their hand. “but you don’t just like Aether. You seriously LIKE him,” 

You’re rendered speechless by the statement for a second, tripping over your first words, “Well--I mean--” and as if realizing you’re making a fool of yourself by speaking in garbles, you recover. “Yeah, I guess...” You don’t know why you admit to it, but it’s not like your friend didn’t already know.

What he does:

Is tempted to immediately walk up to you and reconfirm the conversation.

Stops himself for a minute and replays the whole conversation in his head, probably once, twice and maybe a third time.

Second guesses himself, but when he finally goes through all possible options, he realizes there’s no mistaking the overheard confession.

All the while, Paimon is nagging him to go talk to you. “You didn’t hear wrong! Stop thinking too much, hurry and go!” Ends up being pushed out into the open by his flying companion.

“Erm...Ahem” he coughs into his fist. “I...didn’t mean to eavesdrop...Y/N, sorry, but... can we continue this conversation somewhere else? Somewhere...a little more private?” and the shy smile he gives you is a tell tale sign that he had most likely felt the same.

Albedo

“His schedule is always busy. He has his hands full with Klee, on top of all the work he needs to do,” was your excuse to your friend when asked why you haven’t confessed to the alchemist yet. “I don’t think Albedo has time for this type of thing, you know? He doesn’t need a distraction.”

What he does:

His logical side agrees that he doesn’t need a distraction.

But the other part of him doesn’t mind if its you.

Pauses for a moment, thinks about it for a second, before confronting you about it just minutes later.

“...Schedules can be made flexible, Y/N,” you jump at his sudden voice. “Just as distractions...can sometimes be a good thing,” Albedo stretches a hand out to you. “...Care to test how good of one you can be to me?” 

Alhaitham

“Y/N, Alhaitham is FAR from stupid. There’s no way he hasn’t figured out that you have a crush on him,”

“Shush!!” You swerve around to your friend, ducking a little, as if that would help you become invisible. “People could be listening, besides, if that’s true, then it’s even worse. It means that he knows, and probably has no interest in me, so let’s just forget about it, ok?” 

What he does:

..................................No he doesn’t know. Sure he’s smart but............he could be dense when it came to these things. That, or he just didn’t know what to do.

Does not confront you about it immediately. In fact he turns around and walks away without being spotted, opting to think about his next steps instead of just rushing into the conversation.

Lo and behold a few days later he’ll show up in front of you with his usual stoic expression.

“Y/N,” he starts, and you freeze on the spot, looking up at him, blinking. 

“Y-Yes?” You haven’t seen nor heard from him in days and as usual, you attributed it to him being busy. Little did you know that he had been mulling over how to talk to you.

“I heard your conversation with (your friend) the other day,” straightforward was his answer to everything, even in this particular situation. 

It takes you a few seconds to internalize his words. You’re not even sure which conversation he means. You talk to (your friend) a lot. Your brows start to furrow in confusion, until he clarifies. 

“...I wouldn’t say that I completely have no interest in you,” he starts, and your shoulders tense up, now realizing which conversation it was. You could feel your cheeks start to burn, all you wanted to do was run away. 

Alhaitham holds back a sigh, “...Anyway, here is no place to talk about this... I’ll meet you at Puspa Cafe tonight, if you’re free,” 

You’re FAR from stupid too, and knew exactly what he was trying to do.

Ayato

“Besides why would the Lord Commissioner even look at someone like me?” you hiss at your friend who was trying to persuade you that Ayato also had the hots for you. It just seemed a little delusional to you.

“He takes the chance to rile you up every time he sees you. He’s obviously doing it on purpose,” your friend counters. You roll your eyes up to high heaven.

“He does that to everyone...” you conclude, knowing that Ayato had the habit of--though you don’t know if intentionally--giving his servants a scare. 

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to be so jealous,” your friend quips back, you send them a quick glare before going back to doing your own work.

What he does:

Doesn’t even bat an eye. Smirks as he hears the whole story. 

Confidently reveals his presence to the two of you, chuckling.

“Jealousy doesn’t usually paint a beautiful colour,” he starts, the overly pleasant smile on his face. You straighten up immediately, eyes changing into saucers when you realize he had heard the whole thing. You open your mouth to explain, but he beats you to it.

“But I must say it looks a little different on you, Y/N, almost charming,” The side of his lip quirks up the slightest bit into a subtle grin. You bite your lip, there he is again trying to rile you up, maybe (your friend) was right. 

“...Is there anything I can do for you Lord Commissioner?” you ask, trying to stray away from the subject. He only chuckles. 

“You’ll find that there are a LOT of things you can do for me, Y/N. Start by accompanying me to tea, hm?” He wasn’t really asking, it was almost a command. 

You wished your friend snickering on the side would just shut up.

Cyno

“...He’s a little intimidating don’t you think? I don’t know why you like him so much,” your friend comments, slacking off on their pile of paperwork. You roll your eyes at them. 

“Maybe because he works hard, unlike other people,” you shake your head a little. 

“As General Mahamatra he’s supposed to work hard. Just admit that you have weird tastes.” your friend counters, still procrastinating on their share of work.

“Okay, so what if he’s a little vicious in his ways? He’s just doing his job. Now, it would help me if you started doing yours as well,” 

What he does:

Doesn’t know what to do.

Stands hidden for quite a long time. The subject has already moved on and away from him.

Torn between revealing himself now or later. 

Can’t think properly so exits from the situation and comes back later that same day, when you’re still working with your friend.

As he approaches your table, your friend notices him first. (Your friend) nudges you with their elbow, tilting their chin up to let you know that someone was approaching. 

You pick your head up, and feel yourself go rigid when you see that it’s Cyno. At first you think to yourself that he might not be here to talk to you, maybe he’s just about to walk by...but he stops in front of your table and you’re left to wordlessly look up at him.

There’s a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

“...I value the high praise that you give me,” he starts and you immediately want to duck under the table and hide.

He heard. 

“O-Oh, G-General Mahamatra, you heard that...It’s...nothing, hard work deserves to be praised...” you avert your gaze down to the papers you were working on, pretending to continue and be busy with them. 

There was an awkward pause, your eyes darting up towards him for a second, checking if he was still looking at you, before breaking away again and furiously flipping through papers.

“...Do you want to play some TCG?” 

“Huh?” You end up with an incredulous look on your face, trying to gauge if he was serious. His face is still blank, but the usual tenseness in the way he carried himself gave way for a barely seen relaxation. It was hard to spot, but it was there. 

You ended up sighing a little in what you could only describe as relief, giving him a lopsided smile. “Sure, but go easy on me, I haven’t played in a while,”

“That’s fine. Perhaps a daily practice session will do you good,”

Dainsleif

“Mysterious, aloof, disappears into thin air... A man like that? You probably should stay away, Y/N. You don’t know what he dabbles in,” (Your friend) warns, looking at you with genuine concern. 

“Perhaps he has some secrets...but I don’t think he’s a bad guy at all. I’ve spent some time conversing with Dainsleif here and there,” you continue to wipe the tables, not noticing that the man you were talking about had long entered the tavern already and was now standing behind the two of you.

“At least he’s handsome, there’s that,” (Your friend) adds. 

“Sure, but that’s not the only reason I like him,” you laugh.

What he does:

Wonders if he heard the conversation right and overanalyzes what you mean by “like” him.

Either way it stirs a strange emotion in him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Prefers to get things over with and thinks there’s no harm in confronting you immediately.

You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Thinking that it was a customer you turn around with a pleasant smile, only for it to slowly dwindle down into a shocked expression.

Dainsleif.

“Y/N,” he nods his head towards you casually. You gulp, force a smile, and nod back. “Hi, you’re early today,” just as your friend slips away from the conversation. Dainsleif doesn’t even spare them a glance.

He doesn’t have much to say about your comment of him being early. He doesn’t particularly know why he was early today either. Perhaps...fate would have him hear the conversation between you and (Your friend).

“Yes, well, it looks like there were benefits to being early today,” he meets you eye to eye, the intensity in his gaze almost makes you blush from your neck all the way up to the top of your head, but you fought the giddiness back. 

“...What can I get you?” there’s a shiver that threatens to run up your spine, wondering if your deflection was successful. Dainsleif closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them with a strange sense of courage. 

“Your company,”

Diluc

“It’s been years,” (Your friend) says, the two of you looking up at the massive oak tree of Windrise. They glance at you from the side of their eye before continuing. “Are you still in love with Diluc?”

There’s a breeze that passes, almost melancholic, and partly whispered of sorrow. “...I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving him.” You pick your hand up to rub at your arm. “Jean, Kaeya, Diluc and I...So many things have changed since we were kids...but I don’t think that spot for Diluc will ever go away,”

“Does he know, at least?” (Your friend) asks and you half scoff. 

“I’m not sure, I get the feeling he does, but doesn’t act on it. Which is why...maybe the only way to solve this emptiness is to leave Mondstadt altogether.” 

“Out of sight, out of mind huh?” (Your friend) claps your back, and turns around to start walking away with you.

What he does:

Internally a mess of emotions. Doesn’t know where to start. 

but he’s just standing there and he’s stuck watching (your friend) and you turn around to come face to face with him. 

He looks at you, a wave of memories and emotions flashing through his mind all at once, it almost overwhelms him. 

“D-Diluc,” you stutter, heart freezing in your chest. You see him take a steadying breath in, prying his gaze away from you and over to (Your friend).

“(Your friend), could you give us a minute?” he asks. (Your friend) obliges, passing you a quick glance before going ahead on their own. Another breeze runs by, ruffling his long red hair. 

“...I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” you start, and yet he doesn’t say anything, prompting you to continue talking. “...You don’t have to think about it too much, it’s just silly--”

“I wasn’t sure,” he cuts you off, eyes drawn to the ground now. “I wasn’t sure...if you really felt that way.” 

The statement somehow exasperates you. “You weren’t sure? All those times I stayed by your side when everyone else left--” then it hits you. “Or were you scared, Diluc?”

The quick grimace in his expression tells you the answer. His reply comes a few seconds later, “I was, I still am,” but he picks his head up, and finally looks you straight in the eye. “...but this time...” his fists clench on his side. “This time give me the chance to show you how much I really care about you,”

He was not going to lose you too.

Itto

“Seriously?! Itto? Arataki Itto? Are you for real?” (Your friend) announces to nearly half of the food stall, the other customers swerving around to look at the two of you. 

"Oh, say it a bit louder why don’t you?” You roll your eyes at your friend and continue eating.”

“Sorry. I just--Out of all the people you could choose, your huge crush is on that big brute??” your can tell by the look on your friend’s face that they think you have weird tastes.

What he does:

Butts in without even thinking of the conversation. Has no clue what’s going on.

“Crush?!”

You and your friend startle, swerving around to see none other than the oni with his hands on his hips. “Y/N?! You planning on crushing me?!” then he guffaws with laughter, slapping his knees in the process. “Yeah right, you’re no match for me!”

Your previously gaped open mouth slowly closes and your shoulders relax, sighing. You’re a little disappointed he doesn’t get it at all. Your friend shakes their head with a long sigh. “You stupid oaf, we don’t mean it that way...” 

Itto’s head tilts sideways, a genuinely confused look on his face. “No? Then... Watcha all talkin about?” 

You grab your friend’s arm and pull them forward the slightest bit. “It’s not important! Actually, we better get going--”

“Y/N has a CRUSH on you, idiot! Y/N LIKES you!” Your friend explodes, patience long gone. 

Itto blinks at the confession, his eyes darts towards you, “...Oh,” then there’s the slight tugging at his chest, he can’t help but beam and smile silly. “Yeah? You’re not too bad yourself Y/N! I like you too!”

You’re not sure if he really understood the confession in its entirety. 

Kaeya

“It’s all just fun and games with Kaeya. It doesn’t mean anything,” you laugh sheepishly, yet you rub the back of your neck a little.

“...Do you want it to be just fun and games?” your friend chides, and there’s a moment of silence. The two of you just sitting there already knowing the answer, it’s almost uncomfortable, until your friend sighs. 

“...Let’s change the subject,” 

What he does: 

responds immediately. Will not wait a second longer to come out of his hiding place and ask about what he just heard.

“How about let’s not?” Kaeya emerges out of nowhere, slipping into the seat next to you at the cafe. His poise is confident and instantly his head lazily places itself into the palm of his hand, gaze lingering at you. 

“Snowflake, I had no idea you felt like that,” his voice is smooth like ice and you bite your lip to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“...I didn’t say anything though?” you countered, trying to evade the conversation. Your friend watches on with interest. 

“Silence speaks volumes, Y/N,” Kaeya scoots even closer to you, your shoulders touching each other. However, he maneuvers his arm around to lay on the seat behind you. “So if you’re opposed to what I’m about to do, better speak up,”

He leans closer, inch by inch, he waits for you to say something.

You stay silent.

He grins.

Scaramouche

“Hat guy? He’s brutal. But who am I to comment on your tastes, Y/N. You’ve always been weird,” (Your friend) chides, watching as you go over the bookshelf again. 

“Stop calling him that,” You murmur under your breath, more focused on finding the right book for your research. “That’s not his only distinctive feature, you know,” you continue, still engrossed in looking for a book.

“Oh? What else are his “distinctive features”?” (Your friend) drawls, rolling their eyes. 

You hum a little, then plop on the ground cross-legged, wanting to get a better look on the last row of books of the Akademiya’s library. “...His eyes,” you simply answer. “They’re a beautiful shade of violet-blue...He’s always glaring at someone half of the time but he actually has very pretty eyes,” 

There’s silence and you finally get the peace you need to concentrate. However, that silence is broken by a voice that you know all too well.

What he does:

is amused.

thinks its cute pathetic.

will still look angry but will have a hard time actually being angry.

will be cocky.

“My eyes, huh?”

It’s hard to completely turn around in your sitting position, so you do the best you can to turn, side eye landing on Scaramouche’s form. He has his arms crossed as usual, but there’s a smug smirk on his face. “Didn’t know it was that fascinating to you, bookeater,”

It was supposed to be an insulting nickname for you, who always had your nose in a book, but you took no offense to it at all.

You didn’t know what to say, so you continued staring at him. He being the anti-social person that he was, just stared back. There was a big gap of silence before he felt that it was becoming too awkward. 

“...What’re you looking for?” he blurted out.

“...A book...”

“Are you stupid? Of course you’re looking for a book. I meant what’s the title?” There his usual sneer was back again and he unfolded his arms to look at you unimpressively. 

“...A History of Inazuma: Volume 2...” you meekly replied, slowly realizing that he actually heard you praising him.

“You’re in the wrong section,” the exasperated sigh he gives out causes you to wince, and you turn away back to the bookshelf as if to shield you from all this embarrassment. 

“If it’s about Inazuma, you should just be asking me,” you blink as your peripheral catches sight of an outstretched hand. You tilt your head to see that he’s offering his hand, but his face is blank.

“...Well? Come on. I don’t have all day,”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling, something about the way he said it sounds threatening, but also slightly playful. But that’s just the way he was. 

You accept his hand, and he pulls you up easily.

Xiao

“Oh so that’s why you’re coming over more frequently...” (Your friend) grins, and you wave your hands around to tell them to quiet down. Adepti had good hearing after all.

“Well, I’m also coming over cause Verr Goldet needs more help these days in the kitchen. You guys are getting so much customers these days that Yanxiao has a hard time by himself,”

“Uhhuuhhhhhh, sure...was it also Verr Goldet who told you to try and master the Almond Tofu recipe from Yanxiao? Cause you’re awfully hell bent on trying to learn that recipe, according to Yanxiao,” 

You fall silent, feeling heat crawling up your neck. “I--” You start, searching for an excuse, but realized there was no escaping this one. “I just want to do something nice for Xiao, that’s all,” you innocently quip. “I...I know I can’t help him much, but maybe just cooking his favourite dish will help, even a little,”

(Your friend) smiles a little, knowing that the adepti probably heard everything. “That’s nice of you, Y/N. You must care about him a lot,” 

What he does:

once upon a time he would do absolutely nothing. because getting involved with humans is something he shouldn’t do.

But now he bides his time, and observes if it’s safe to open up. 

He wouldn’t outright thank you at first, but he’ll slowly show up in front of you a little more everyday.

He’s rather awkward, so at first he only nods his head as thanks when you leave the bowl of almond tofu on the ledge.

Eventually when he realizes you’re not going to stop cooking for him he goes the extra mile to do something simple for you too.

He places a stalk of your favourite flower on the ledge, right before you come to put down his bowl of almond tofu. 

I’ve published The Ruthless Prince (Reader x Scaramouche) on paperback. Check it out here:

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[cece693]

Stupid Crush (Nico di Angelo x Son of Poseidon)

This was something that suddenly came to mind and I couldn't help myself :) Hope you enjoy it.

Summary: It wasn't just the fact that Nico had to reveal his crush on Percy in front of Cupid, but when your boyfriend, the twin brother of said boy, was also in attendance, Nico's life was destroyed.

tags: Nico confesses his crush on Percy, however he's dating you, reader is Percy's twin brother, things get angsty 😈

Nico’s heart pounded in his chest as Cupid’s mocking voice echoed around them, his magic coiling around Nico's soul like a noose. Jason stood on one side, his blue eyes wide with concern, while you—Percy’s twin brother and Nico’s boyfriend—were on the other. Cupid’s voice dripped with cruel amusement, cutting through the silence like a knife. "The truth, Nico di Angelo. Tell them who once held your heart."

Nico’s throat closed up, his worst nightmare unraveling before his eyes. This was the moment he had fought so hard to avoid—the truth he had buried deep within himself, even from you. But there was no escape now. Cupid’s magic tightened, pulling the confession from his lips like a venomous secret. "I…" Nico’s voice cracked, his fists trembling as he clenched them at his sides. "Percy Jackson."

The air in the room shifted. Your breath hitched, but Nico couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He knew what he would see—shock, hurt, betrayal, the crumbling of the trust you'd built together. The pain he’d been dreading. "What?" Your voice came out in a cold, broken whisper.

Nico swallowed hard, staring at the floor. "It was before I met you, before Percy got with Annabeth. I thought—" He stopped, the words turning to ash in his mouth.

But you could read between the lines. Now everything made sense, how Nico easily allowed you to befriend him; you weren't special, just a boy who shared the same face as someone Nico loved. Loves. "So, let me get this straight. You're only with me because my brother didn't return your feelings? Am I just your consolation prize?"

Nico’s head snapped up, panic swelling in his chest. "No! No, it’s not like that!"

Your eyes narrowed, fury replacing the initial shock. "Really?" you spat, taking a step toward him. "Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you settled for me when you couldn’t have Percy."

Nico’s voice wavered as he pleaded, desperate to make you understand. "I didn’t settle! I chose you because I love you. That crush…it was stupid. It doesn’t mean anything anymore!"

But Cupid’s laughter echoed again, cruel and jagged like shattered glass. "Ah, but old feelings never truly die, do they, son of Hades?" The god’s voice teased, his presence hanging over them like a storm. "You can hide it, bury it, but the truth always has a way of surfacing." Nico had never wanted to strike down a god as much as he did now. "Now that the truth is out," Cupid continued, his mocking tone fading as his presence disappeared, "I'll leave you to deal with the consequences."

Silence fell, but the weight of Cupid’s words lingered like a blade pressed against Nico’s throat.

"You played me." Your voice, thick with unshed tears, barely above a whisper but laced with so much pain that it felt like a physical blow. "You say you love me, but if Percy hadn't chosen Annabeth…if he had even shown the slightest interest in you, would you still have ended up with me?"

Nico froze, the question like a dagger to his chest. He wanted to deny it, to say that nothing would have changed the way he felt about you. Perhaps your friendship did arise from some misguided crush on Percy, but as time progressed, Nico fell in love with you. You. But even then it took time for him to distance who you and Percy were, sometimes it even stunned him how much you were alike, so if Percy did magically return his feelings, would Nico fall for you? His silence seemed to confirm your suspicions as your expression hardened.

"That’s what I thought."

Jason stepped forward, trying to break the tension. "Guys, come on. Maybe we should—"

"Stay out of it!" You snapped, your voice sharp enough to make him flinch. Jason took a step back, helplessly looking between you both, understanding that this was something beyond his control.

Nico reached out, desperate to grab your hand, to stop you from slipping further away, but you recoiled. "Don’t." Your voice was quiet but firm, the finality in that one word shattering the last bit of hope Nico had. "Just…don’t."

Nico could only watch as you turned away, disappearing into the shadows. Jason hesitated for a moment before following after you, leaving Nico alone in the cold, empty chamber, the weight of what he had just lost settling deep in his bones.

When the three of you returned to the Argo II, the change in atmosphere was immediate. Gone was your usual bright demeanor, replaced by hollow eyes and the kind of blank expression that spoke of barely contained pain. Nico, too, was different. His usual quiet presence had shifted into something darker—his shoulders slumped under the weight of regret, his face pale as if he were just moments away from breaking.

The others exchanged worried glances but said nothing as you silently headed toward your cabin. The slam of the door reverberated through the ship, causing everyone to flinch, even Nico, whose eyes lingered on the door as if willing it to open and for everything to go back to how it had been. But it wouldn’t.

Hazel was the first to break the silence. "What happened?" she asked, her voice soft, her gaze fixed on Nico. When he didn’t respond, avoiding her eyes, she looked to Jason, who merely shook his head, pity etched across his features. "Nico," Hazel pressed gently, her worry growing. "You can talk to us."

But Nico didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped back, letting the shadows around him rise, and within moments, he was gone—leaving the others standing in silence.

Days had passed, but to Nico, each one felt like an eternity. Every hour that dragged on without your voice, without your gaze meeting his, was a torment he hadn’t anticipated. The coldness that had settled between you was suffocating. Whenever Nico approached, even just to be in the same room, you’d find some excuse to leave. He could sense it, the way you tensed whenever he was nearby, the way you averted your gaze, as if looking at him was too painful. And that hurt more than anything—knowing he was the cause of it.

The others noticed the growing distance between you two. The worried glances exchanged over meals, the whispers behind his back. Jason and Hazel, in particular, kept trying to reach out, but Nico had shut himself off. What could he say? How could he explain the rift when the mere thought of it made his chest ache? Even Leo, who usually cracked jokes at the dinner table, had grown more subdued, as if the tension in the air had smothered his usual cheer.

Nico couldn’t bear it anymore. He had to fix this—he had to at least try. He couldn’t stand the silence, the void that had replaced the closeness they once shared. So, one night, when the Argo II drifted quietly through the sky and everyone had retreated to their cabins, Nico ventured out onto the deck. The night was cool, the stars twinkling above like distant, indifferent observers to his misery. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

You were there—alone, standing at the edge of the ship, staring out into the horizon. For a moment, Nico just watched you, his heart aching at how much he missed simply being near you. He could almost imagine everything was fine—that you were waiting for him, that you’d smile when he approached, kiss his forehead, and mention how he needed to take better care of himself.

Gathering his courage, Nico stepped forward, his footsteps soft against the deck. "Can we talk?"

You stiffened at his voice, but didn’t turn around. For a few agonizing moments, there was nothing but silence. Then, with a sigh, you spoke, your voice devoid of the warmth Nico so desperately missed. "I don’t know what there is left to say."

Nico’s heart sank, but he pressed on. "Please, just let me explain."

At that, you turned to face him, and Nico saw the exhaustion in your eyes. The sleepless nights, the weight of betrayal, all of it etched into your features. "Explain what, Nico?" Your voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a coldness that made his chest tighten. "That you were in love with my brother? That you settled for me? That I wasn't your first choice? Do you think words are going to fix this?"

"No," Nico whispered, stepping closer, his voice strained with the weight of everything he wanted to say. "No, I don’t think words can fix it. But I never meant to hurt you. I—" He paused, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words. "It was a crush. A stupid, meaningless crush. I didn’t choose you because of Percy. I chose you because of you."

Your eyes flickered with something—anger, hurt, betrayal—but you didn’t waver. "Then why didn’t you deny it when I asked you? Why didn’t you just say that nothing could have changed how you felt about me? Why did you hesitate?"

Nico opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t known what to say back then, and even now, he was at a loss. How could he explain that moment of doubt without sounding like the worst kind of person?

"You see?" You shook your head, your expression hardening. "You couldn’t. You couldn’t tell me that I wasn’t just second best. But, do you know what hurts the most? It’s not just that you had feelings for Percy. It’s that a god had to force you to tell the truth. If Cupid hadn’t intervened…how long would you have strung me along? How long would I have been in the dark while you carried this secret? Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I—" Nico started, his voice faltering. "I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. It was just a crush. Something stupid. And I thought I’d gotten over it, I swear." He took a step closer, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I grew a crush on Percy when we were younger—when I first came to camp. He was the hero. Brave, kind...everything I wasn’t. And I thought, maybe if I could be near him, maybe I’d feel like I belonged."

Nico’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he remembered those days, the confusion, the hope, and the loneliness that had followed. "But it wasn’t real. Not like what I feel for you. Percy was this…this idea in my head, someone I admired from afar. But you—" His voice broke, his eyes locking onto yours with desperation. "You were real. You saw me for who I am, all the broken parts, and still cared. What I feel for you isn’t some crush or fantasy. It’s love. I love you."

You shook your head, your face twisted with both anger and pain. "But how am I supposed to believe that, Nico? After everything? How do I know you aren’t still lying to yourself or to me? You say it’s love, but how do I trust that?"

Nico felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He couldn’t lose you—he couldn’t. "I’m not lying," he insisted. "I swear it. On the River Styx, on my mother, on Bianca—on everything I hold dear—I love you. I don’t care about Percy anymore. What I had for him was nothing compared to what I feel for you."

The solemn weight of Nico’s oath filled the air, the magic of the River Styx sealing his words, making them unbreakable. The sky seemed to darken for a moment, a rumble of thunder far in the distance, confirming the binding nature of his vow.

But you didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Your eyes, once filled with love, now only reflected the deep wounds left behind. "Maybe you believe that, Nico," you said softly, but the coldness in your voice made it clear that something between you had shifted, something that could never be undone. "But I can’t anymore. I can’t keep going, wondering if I’ll ever fully have your heart. Because that shadow—the one you said lingered over you—it’ll always be there, won’t it?"

Nico’s breath hitched, the weight of your words crushing him. He wanted to scream, to beg, to prove that you were wrong. That there was no shadow, no lingering doubt in his heart. But his silence, that hesitation back in Cupid’s lair, had already broken something vital between you. And now, no matter what he swore on, no matter how much he begged, you didn’t believe him anymore.

Tears pricked at Nico’s eyes as he realized that he was losing you, that you had already made up your mind. "Please…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please don’t go."

You looked at him for a long, painful moment, and Nico thought—hoped—that maybe there was still a chance. But then, you shook your head, and turned away, leaving him standing there, the solemn weight of his oath ringing hollow in the night air. Nico felt the cold wind biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness that had settled deep within him as he watched you walk away. Alone, once again.

[mochinomnoms]

I love your idea for Hanahaki! Like you said, it's always so tragic and dramatic and angsty (and who am I kidding, I'll keep reading it), but your take on it is so refreshing!

For the event, can I request Ruggie with 15, Trey with 1, and Jade with 18? Romantic; fluff and/or suggestive, please?

And if I completely misunderstood how to request properly, I'm terribly sorry. 😬

So excited to see more of your work!

part 2: jade leech x gn!reader ruggie bucchi (15); trey clover (1) [separate] x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, suggestive [wc} – 2,500+ each prompt 15: “Sooo, are you gonna apologize for puking dahlias all over my breakfast?” prompt 1: “Why is your trash can full of flower petals? Are you secretly a botanist, or is there something you're not telling me?” note - both ruggie and trey got real long, so i will post jade's snippet separately later! a floral inconvenience

Dahlias – In pre-Colombian Mexico and Guatemala, wild-growing dahlias and their tubers were seen as a food source. 

Ruggie has been absolutely miserable for the past week, as one would be when they have mysterious large, red flowers sprouting out from their mouth and head. It also didn’t help that all the other second-years, especially the twins, were giving him a hard time. 

“Hey, hey Jade! You know plants.” Floyd was currently picking at the flower that Ruggie just spit out, undeterred by the spit on it. 

“I bet we can figure out who Sharksucker likes if we figure out what flower he’s spittin’ out. What kind is it? 

Jade leaned down to study the intense red, ray-like petals, poking at the central disk of yellow florets in the middle. Ruggie was NOT a fan of how interested Jade was, attempting to lean out of the twins’ grasp. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure. I certainly haven’t seen it on any of my hiking expeditions or in the botanical gardens.”

Ruggie yelped as Jade plucked a flower from a particularly sensitive spot behind his right ear. 

“Ow! Watch it man!” 

Rubbing his ear, Ruggie glared at Jade, who was still looking curiously at the flower bringing his arm down for Azul who also seemed eager to identify the flower. 

“I certainly don’t recognize it either, looking up similar flora, there aren’t any that are quite the same as this one.”

Ruggie could just make out under Azul’s breath, “Imagine all the money we could make if we say we discovered a new flower!”

He scoffed at Azul, rubbing his eyes from mental exhaustion. The twins and Azul weren’t the only ones interested in his hanahaki. 

“It’s a really pretty flower, Jamil! Do you think we have any like it in the gardens back home?” Kalim eagerly asked, trying his best to lean in without disturbing Silver, who’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. 

“Hmm, no I don’t think so.” Jamil looked mildly interested, holding a hand to his chin. “The Asim gardens have a variety of exotic and rare flora, so the fact that we don’t recognize this one is certainly interesting.”

Jade chuckled, “So, it would be easy to narrow down the person of Ruggie’s affections, yes.”

“Why are you all suddenly so interested in my love life?” 

“Why, we’re being benevolent, of course!” Azul replied, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Yea Sharksucker, it must be reeeeal annoying to puke up flowers all the time. Besides—” Floyd gave a nasally laugh as Jade continued his sentence.

“—wouldn’t it be nice to have some assistance getting rid of his annoying sickness? After all, with your background, you’re not the most eligible bachelor around.”

“Okay, first of all fuck you—” Ruggie jabbed a fork in his direction. 

“Not interested, but thank you.”

“Second of all—ew no, gross—second of all, you guys aren’t exactly the most pinned for guys, even with your family money.”

Riddle let out a laugh, nodding in agreement. “Certainly, no price in the world could make up for your personalities.”

“Aww, come on Goldfishie.” Floyd pouted. “You don’ wanna go out with me? Why? I don’t meet your mama’s standard?”

“Why you—”

“Hey guys!”

A chipper voice interrupted a reddening Riddle, who looked like he was ready to launch himself over the table to strangle Floyd. Ruggie perked up to look at you and Grim perched on your shoulder, carrying a lunch tray with some coffee, a bowl of oatmeal, and a singular powdered donut. 

Adjusting the tray in your hands, you let Grim jump off onto the table as you sat. You grabbed the donut with your freed hand and reached your arm out to Ruggie.

“Hey, I got you a donut, powdered’s your favorite right?”

Oh. Oooooh powdered was indeed his favorite. So were you. By the Seven, he thinks that you’d be his favorite snack. You were so cute. Your lips looked soft, plush. He wondered if you took a bite out of the donut if the first thing he’d taste was you or the sugar. 

Opening his mouth to reply, Ruggie found himself instead choking, a tickling sensation developing in the pit of his stomach and growing up his throat to his mouth. He gagged as various shades of bright red blooms fell out of his mouth and onto the table. Specifically, onto your tray as you sat directly across from him. 

Ruggie could make out the stifling laughter of his peers . He internally groaned, looking at your tray, now covered in red flowers. Riddle tapped his shoulder, offering him a cup of warm tea. 

“Here, it should help soothe your throat.” 

Taking the cup, he started drinking what he thought was honey lemon tea, soothing his throat. 

Across the table from him, you let out a soft cough, drawing his and the other’s attention. 

“Sooo, are you gonna apologize for puking dahlias all over my breakfast?”

The tea went down the wrong pipe. Ruggie started choking, Kalim frantically reaching over to pat his back. 

“Oh? Does the Little Shrimpy know this flower?” Floyd asked, he and his brother slithering over to sit on either side of you. Their eyes met briefly, then at Ruggie, both giving him a knowing grin.

“Dahlias? Yeah! They’re my favorite!” you answered, blissfully unaware of the predicament they’d just put him in. 

Ruggie wished he could be just as carefree.  

The other five slowly turned their heads to stare at Ruggie, each looking especially gleeful and teasing. 

“You don’t say?” Jamil drawled, smirking at Ruggie, whose state of mind was rapidly deteriorating. “We’ve never heard of it.”

You looked at Jamil in surprise. “Wait really?”

“Yes, these, dahlias you called them? They’re not from Twisted Wonderland.” Riddle had a mischievous smile, tipping the end of Ruggie’s cup before he could interject, making him choke on the tea again. 

“Aw really? That kinda sucks.” you pouted, twirling one of the loose flowers in your hand. “I love them, fun fact, did you know you can eat both the flower and the tuber?”

Ruggie would never admit it out loud, but your cute, excitable grin makes him feel all warm and giddy inside. He’d even give you his grandma’s homemade donuts if he got to see more of it. 

By the Seven, he’d give you his donuts. He really had it bad.

“Really? How fascinating! Isn't it Ruggie?” Jade asked, giving a closed mouth smile. The tone of his voice made it clear though, he and the others figured out you were the root cause of his hanahaki. 

Ruggle got up abruptly, snatching the donut from your hand (why miss out on free food?) and the breakfast sandwich he’d gotten for Leona. 

“I gotta go take Leona’s breakfast to him, I’ll see you guys later—”

“Wait, Ruggie!” Kalim cries out, startling Silver awake. “But the Prefect knows the flowers—”

“WOW I GOTTA GO! BYE GUYS SEE YOU LATER!”

Ruggie rushed out of the cafeteria, red petals flying behind him as he ran. The remaining 8 at the table stared after him, you in particular looking confused. 

“Is he okay?” You asked, looking confused and disappointed. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Ah, perhaps we went a bit too far…” Jamil muttered. 

Riddle sighed as he nodded in agreement, “Yes. Don’t worry yourself about it Prefect, we were discussing something else, you didn’t say anything wrong.”

You hummed as you cleared off your tray of dahlias, taking small bites of your oatmeal. 

“Why’s he puking flowers?”

The group stayed silent, sharing knowing looks with each other. The twins and Azul in particular were smirking, while Kalim perked up. 

“Oh he has hanahaki, it’s like a love sickness.” Kalim blissfully replied, Jamil pinching his nose and sighing heavily. 

“Love…sickness?”

Riddle placed a hand on Kalim’s shoulder, giving him a stern look. “We had our fun earlier, but it’s not our business to share his medical information with anyone.”

He turned his gaze to you, making you shrink in on yourself. “It would be best to ask him yourself, Prefect.”

Floyd tsked. “Aww, that’s no fun! Don’t you wanna help Sharksucker? You do, dontcha Shrimpy?”

The twins leaned into your ears, like an angel and devil on your shoulder if the angel was just a devil with a halo and wings taped on. 

“Why, you care for Ruggie, don’t you dear Prefect?” Jade cooed, chucking at your pink cheeks. 

“Hehehe, of course they too, look at their blush!” Floyd giggled, poking at your right cheek. “Little Shrimpy isn’t a shrimp for nothin’!”

“And after all, only you can help him!” Azul came up behind you, startling you as he placed his hands on your shoulder. 

The trio chuckled, coercing you to listen to their honeyed words, feeding on your soft spot for the hyena beastman. 

Riddle shared a look with Jamil before sighing and walking off. Jamil followed suit, grabbing Kalim by the arm to drag him away before he too, inevitably, got involved in their scheme. Silver, now that he was bright and alert, similarly left, nodding at you. 

Here you were, alone amongst the “benevolent” Octavinelle trio, now regretting waking up early to get breakfast instead of just sleeping in.

Ruggie had been leaving trails of dahlias behind him all day, getting on the ghost janitors’ ire and lectured by Crewel specifically. 

“Loose flowers in a lab is the perfect example of a hazard to lab safety! Have you not gone to the nurse to get this taken care of?!”

He hadn’t had a fit since seeing you this morning, luckily. He had noticed you in the hallways in between classes though. Everytime your eyes met his own, you’d flush and rush away. 

“Ugh, one of the guys must’ve told them.” Ruggie groaned, slumped over as he walked over to the kitchens, feet aching from running around his shift at Sam’s and now Mostro Lounge. 

Azul had asked him to collect some perishable items that he’d purchased from a supplier, having it delivered to the school’s walk-in fridge until he could have someone pick it up. 

Jade and Floyd were supposed to be there, ready to help, but they were nowhere to be found. Ruggie shrugged, walking into the kitchen and heading to the fridge before he felt himself get yanked by his collar. 

“Hahahehehe! Be sure to thank us later, Sharksucker!”

“Fuhuhu~ Indeed Ruggie, I’m sure you’ll appreciate it later.”

“Oof! Hey!” Ruggie stumbled into the pantry, landing on something soft. “What the-Jade, Floyd this isn’t funny—”

“Mmph!” The floor beneath him started wiggling and groaning, startling Ruggie. His eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, his hyena genes serving him well as he yelped, looking down.

A white cloth was tied around your mouth while your hands and feet were bound by what looked like Floyd’s scarf. Ruggie’s ears and dahlias drooped down as he saw that your cheeks were covered in tear tracks. 

"Mmmphie! Mmmphie! Mmmph mmph mmph!" came out from behind the tightly-bound cloth.

“W-what? FLOYD! JADE! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU TWO?!” He could hear the twins’ laughter from outside the door. Ruggie started pounding on the door with his fist, growling before freezing, hearing your muffled crying.

The hyena scrambled to turn on the light switch before returning back to your curled up form, gingerly untying the bound on your mouth. 

“R-r-ruggie!!” You bawled out, fresh new tears spilling out of your eyes as he undid the knot on your hands, then feet. 

“Hey, hey it’s alright Prefect, Y/N? I’m here—AH!” He yelped as you launched yourself in his arms, landing on his back, red petals flying . He stiffened as you shoved your head into the nook of his neck, hiccuping as you began babbling. 

“I’m sorry Ruggie!!!” Softly glowing dahlias started popping up from between his ears and vines growing down his arms as he spat out petals. 

“What’re you talking about? This isn’t your fault—”

“But it is! Azul and them said you were sick and that it was my faaaaault!” He froze, pulling you away to look at your teary eyes and snotty face. 

Gods you looked terrible. Red-faced, puffy eyes, and pout made you look like an ugly crier, not doing you any justice. Ruggie couldn’t help the squeeze in his heart as you reached back out to clutch onto him again. You were the cutest ugly crier he’d ever seen. 

“What? What do you mean—”

“They said that my crush on you’s been making you puke the flowers!” Ruggie’s ears perked up, and despite the growing blush and the resembling dahlias, he let you continue.

“Your crush?”

“My crush!!! It’s making you sick, a-and that I needed to confess to make it go away but-but-but-” You wailed, Ruggie allowing you to shove your head into his chest. 

“I was embarrassed! Then Floyd got mad a-at me and he and Jade tied me up and threw me in here.”

Ruggie hummed in response. It made sense now why Azul specifically asked him to collect the produce from the kitchen, instead of letting him manage the floor like usual. 

“They said I was ’ppose to be a present. I’m sorry Ruggie, I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of your head affectionately.  

“Nah, it’s not your fault entirely.” He tilted your chin to look up at him. “You are the reason I got the flowers, but not cause of your crush though.”

You made a questioning noise, blinking curiously at him. You looked like one of the kids back home after throwing a tantrum. 

“Shyehehehe! They didn’t say what the flowers ‘re from?” Ruggie laughed as you pouted, pinching his cheek.”

“What do you mean? Is it still my fault? And I basically just confessed! I’m crying in a closet, just confessed and you’re laughing at me!”

Ruggie’s laughter died down as he grabbed your hand, moving it to cradle his cheek instead. His ears perked up as he heard your soft gasp, his eyes meeting yours, blown wide. 

His tail wagged, despite himself. “It’s cause I like ya, Prefect. I like ya so much that it makes my stomach ache and flowers sprout from all over. I gotta hand it to ya, for a cute little herbivore, you sure got your teeth dug right into my heart.”

You scoffed, using your other arm to wipe your face clean. 

“The dahlias make sense now…did you at least try eating them?”

He let out a barking laugh, followed by your giggling. “I thought about it! I spat out enough of them that I got sick of the taste, besides…”

Ruggie could hear the rustling of his tail under his clothes as he wrapped an arm around your waist, grinning wider at the gasp that left your mouth as he yanked you onto his lap. 

He pressed you against him until your bodies were flushed against one another. Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach as he gazed up to your flustered face. Ruggie nuzzled his head into your chest, feeling your rapidly speeding heartbeat. 

“Ruggie…” You tangled your hands through his hair, making him groan as you gently pulled his head back and rubbed the backs of his ears. 

You leaned down to graze your lips over his, giving Ruggie a heady whine as he nibbled on your lower lip.

“Shyehehe~ You’re awfully clingy for a poor little hyena like me, you sure I meet your standards?”

Despite his attempt at humor, Ruggie was sure that you could hear the apprehensive tone in his voice, your eyes softening. 

Instead of pointing his insecurity out, you answered his question with a deep, open-mouth kiss. He groaned into your mouth, returning your kiss with desperation, as if you’d disappear in his grasp. 

Ruggie’s hands wandered along your sides, slipping underneath your shirt and tracing your spine, causing you to shiver in delight. You pulled away from his lips, causing him to let out a displeased growl before shifting into something closer to a purr as you left wet kisses along his neck. 

Feeling your teeth softly dig themselves into the crook of his neck and chest, Ruggie rolled his hips into yours, delighting in the moan that left you. 

Just as you started suckling, no doubt leaving a mark, his world turned upside down as he suddenly fell backwards onto the ground of the college kitchen. 

“Ow, shit!” Ruggie winced as the back of his head smacked into the hard tile flooring, you splayed over his body. 

“What is wrong with you two? When I said get them into a room together, I didn’t mean—oh my!” Azul squeaked, glasses skewed as he saw the two of you. Ruggie developing a dark red hickey and you with your shirt nearly half off. 

“Aw, see it worked out!” Floyd chirped, delighted at the turn of events. 

Jade chuckled, taking his phone out to quickly snap a photo. 

“W-what, hey! Don’t go taking pictures!” Ruggie cried out as the both of you scrambled to get up and tidy yourselves.

Jade smiled innocently. “Oh? Don’t worry, I’ll only share it with the other second years, just to win a bet.”

Ruggie narrowed his eyes at Jade. “Alright but how much did ya bet? You’re gonna split it with me right—”

The four men winced at your shrill shriek. 

“RUGGIE?! NO!” 

Zinnia – A purple zinnia flower symbolizes spiritual exaltation and honoring the divine. It also symbolizes love on a soul mate level.

Pink cosmos – In the Victorian era, cosmos flowers symbolized joy in love and in life. Dark pinks ones should be given to a romantic interest.

The latest unbirthday planning was going well. Since spring had just arrived, it was tradition for the first spring unbirthday party to have the desserts be made with the seasonal harvest. Riddle was especially happy to hear that Trey would be making strawberry and apricot tarts for this party. 

Trey was especially excited to try his hand at his mother’s sugared lavender cupcakes, a family recipe that she insisted on keeping out of his hands until he guaranteed her an in-law. 

Luckily he’d managed to convince her by telling her that the cupcakes might help him dazzle a certain someone. She was quick to mail him the original copy with the promise of a visitor during the next break. 

Now if only he could find the recipe card. 

“Hmm, I thought I brought it down from my room…hey Cater?”

“Yeah Trey?” Cater answered in a sing-song voice. 

“I can’t find my mom’s recipe card.” Trey groaned as he rubbed his face. “She’ll kill me if I lose it, can you go to my room to check if I left it on my desk?” 

Cater winked and gave him a finger gun. “Sure thing Trey! Cay-Cay in on the case! Brb!”

Trey nodded as Cater left the kitchen, now focusing on preparing the jam and frosting for the strawberry-lemon cake, which was cooling on the counter. He was so focused on making the jam and whisking the cream cheese frosting, he failed to notice a certain someone sneaking up behind him. 

“Boo!” 

Trey hummed, looking over his shoulder to look down at you with your arms out and teeth bared. “Oh, hey Y/N, you’re here early.”

“Aw booooooo! You were supposed to get scared!” You pouted at the taller man, pulling at his arm as he laughed at your little tantrum. 

“Haha, scared? Of you? Hardly.” Trey winced and held his arms up in defense, still laughing as you started to pound on his arms and back. 

“Ow, ow! Okay I concede!” He grabbed your hands, holding them over your head as he leaned down towards your face, smirking. 

Trey hovered his face over yours, enjoying your pouty blush. With a teasing lilt, he cooed, “Don’t be a brat, Y/N. Or else you won’t get a treat later~”

“Hmph, maybe I’ll just steal some later. What are you gonna do? Punish me?” You replied in an equally teasing tone, stepping on your tiptoes, making yourself just talk enough to brush your nose against his. 

“Mmm, don’t tempt me, I just might—”

“Hey Trey I found your—whoa! What did I just walk into?”

The two of you rapidly distanced yourselves from each other, Trey nearly knocking over the bowl of jam and you tripping into the table chair. 

Both of you answered Cater with a louder than needed, “Nothing!” as your faces turned the same shade as the strawberries he was baking with. 

“Riiiiight, uh, Trey I got your mom’s recipe card!” The ginger looked between you two with an absolute ecstatic grin, making eye contact with Trey and wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I can come back though, if you two need a moment—”

You interrupted, “No, it’s fine. I promised Ace and Deuce I’d help paint the roses.” 

Trey looked at you wistfully as you tidied yourself, pulling out a bouquet of dark-pink cosmos from your bag. 

“Here, you like these right? I thought you could use them to decorate the cake ‘n stuff.”

Trey smiled and accepted the bouquet of admittedly stunning cosmos, ignoring Cater’s open mouth smile and silent squealing. 

“Thanks, I’m sure they’ll go great with the cake, I’ll see you later.”

His eyes wandered up and down your body as you left the kitchen, waving your fingers as you gave a playful “Bye~”

Trey replied with his own enamored “bye” as he waved after you, a lovesick grin on his face as he watched you leave. 

Eyes still on the doorway you left through, it took a few moments and Cater waving his hand in front of his face to get his attention back. 

“Helloooo? Wonderland to Trey~” Cater sang, snapping his fingers in Trey’s face. “You’re a lil out of it, got something juicy you wanna share with me? Come on! Give Cay-Cay the deets!”

Trey rolled his eyes, swiping the recipe card from his friend’s hands. 

“There’s no ‘deets’ for Cay-Cay to know, not if he wants me to make him a spicy fruit cocktail for today.”

Cater hummed as he watched Trey resume building the strawberry-lemon cake, gesturing for him to grab stuff from the pantry. 

“Now, help me grab the lavender from the pantry, and get some more flour, I’ll need it for the cupcakes.”

“Sure! Speaking of flowers…” Cater leaned over to whisper into Trey’s ear, “why’s your trash can full of flower petals? Are you secretly a botanist, or is there something you're not telling me?”

Cater let out an uncharacteristically giddy cackle as he watched Trey drop the clean bowl he’d grabbed, whipping around to stare at him with wide eyes. 

“You saw those?” 

“Yeah, zinnias right?” Cater called out as he collected the items Trey requested. “Little Y/N’s favorite~ You want to tell me where you got so many?”

“Uh, the botanical gardens, where else?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, the gardens.” sneaking up from behind him, Cater plucked a light purple colored flower from the back of Trey’s neck, who hissed at the sudden prick. 

“Not from hanahaki popping up on your body, tooootallyyy!”

Trey groaned out loud, attempting to look behind him for any other blooms. “Damn it, I thought I got rid of them. Are there more I can’t see?” 

“Nah, you’re fine.” Cater waved him off, looking around the hard-to-reach places for his friend. “It was just the one.”

Trey sighed in relief, thanking Cater as he placed the bag of lavender petals in his hand, “Good, it was a pain to get them out of my hair, let alone my mouth. They’re really bitter you know?”

“O-M-G, Treeeeey!” Cater gasped, throwing himself against his friend. “That’s, like, a supes easy fix! Just confess, you already have the flowers to give!”

“Ha, I know, I plan to later.”

“Plus, with the way you two were allover each other earlier, there’s no way they won’t say yes—OMGWAITWHAT!”

Cater shook Trey by his shoulders, while the latter attempted to steady the bowl of dry ingredients in his hand, guarding it with a vigor akin to a knight and their liege. 

“OMGNOWAYWHENHOWAREYOUGONNADOITINFRONTOFEVERYONEAREYOUGONNADOITINPRIVATECANIRECORDCANIPOSTITTREYTREYTREYTREYTREY—”

Trey smacked his free hand on Cater’s mouth, effectively silencing him minus a few muffled sounds. He breathed out a heavy and deep sigh before slowly replying to Cater. 

“If I take my hand off your mouth, will you quiet down?”

Cater gave an enthusiastic nod, eyes twinkling. Trey could feel the grin against his hand, and reluctantly and slowly removed his hand. 

“...So when did you find out? When did you decide to confess?!” The ginger asked giddily, watching as Trey resumed his task at hand, preparing the ingredients for the lavender cupcakes. 

“A week ago, I overheard Ace and Deuce talking about the Prefect coughing up a bunch of pink cosmos, they were arguing over what tea would help with their symptoms.”

Cater made an ‘O’ shape with his mouth, pointing at the cosmos you’d given to Trey earlier, placed carefully on the counter. 

“You mean—”

“Mm-hm, those are probably their hanahaki, grew up with those in my mom’s garden, she used them as garnishes on cakes, especially wedding ones.”

Trey smiled fondly as he reached to grab one of the small flowers, rubbing the soft petals between his fingers. “A bit after that I started to find zinnias in my bed, coughing them up and everything. I think the nurse probably put two and two together after I went to see her.”

He shrugged as he grabbed his mother’s recipe card, twirling it in his fingers. 

“I figured, why wait? Mom always said that it was these cupcakes that snatched Dad up, I’ve always wanted to try my hand at them plus she wouldn’t pass down this recipe without a partner in the picture.”

“Oh, Trey!” Cater clasped his hands together as he squealed, “You want help? I get some of the froshies to finish up the tarts and cake, so you can focus on those! Like, don’t even worry about it boo!”

Cater winked gave Trey a half-arm hug. “I’ll make sure they follow instructions to a T! All I ask for in exchange is the exclusive right to snap the first pic of the brand-new school couple, capiche?”

True to his word, Cater was quick to round up a handful of freshmen who he’d found goofing off instead of painting roses. They were more than happy to take over Trey’s baking, after he gave them strict rules and a talking too on what to do, in order to not be snitched off to Riddle. 

Thankfully, the cupcakes weren’t difficult to make, what with his experience in the kitchen. He’d cut the recipe down by half so that he’d only make four, medium sized cupcakes. In fact, the most difficult part was making sure that he ground up enough lavender to turn the glaze a soft purple, which complemented the zinnias he’d placed in the small basket. Using the plush flowers as a cushion, he placed the blooms of your cosmos in between the gaps, creating a beautiful, pink and purple presentation. 

He was sure you’d love it, carefully hiding the wicker basket, covered by a white tablecloth, underneath the table. 

Later, Trey smiled as he looked around at the dorm members enjoying the party. His cake was a big hit, and Riddle in particular was enjoying the flower themed desserts, specially the daisy-shaped fruit tarts. 

“You’ve outdone yourself this time Trey!” Riddle praised him, “It seems that everyone has particularly enjoyed the sweets this time around. Well done, I’d expect nothing less!

Trey chuckled bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks Riddle, be sure to praise the freshmen too, that group over there helped out a lot as well.”

Riddle nodded, his mood in high-spirits as he walked over to the group Trey gestured to. Trey raised his head to look over the crowd of red, white, and black for Cater, who was currently adjusting his slice of cake for the perfect angle. 

Grim was also with him, hungrily waiting for Cater to give him the okay to make the sacrifice of scarfing down the sweet dessert. Perfect.

Trey briskly walked over to him, basket in hand, leaning down to whisper in his ear. Cater perked up and nodded before calling out. 

“Hey Acey, Deucey! Com ‘ere real quick, Cay-Cay needs ya for a super-duper important task!”

The pair perked up mid-conversation with you, nodding at you and rushing over to Cater per his request. Trey walked over to you, though he could make out Cater asking the duo for assistance with a Magicam post. 

“Hey, Y/N.” You smiled up at him as he approached, wiping the tart crumbs from the corner of your mouth. Trey had the impulsive to lean down and lick the mess off of you himself, though he shook it away. 

“Hey, what’s up Trey!” You clasped your hands behind you, rocking back and forth on your heels, unaware of the petals. “You did great with the desserts, I noticed you didn’t use the flowers I gave you on the cake though…are they not edible?”

“About that…I actually wanted to show you something else I did with the flowers,” Trey held his hand out to you soft smile growing bigger as you laced your fingers through his. 

Trey led you to an isolated corner of the rose maze, stiffening slightly as you wrapped your arm around his, relaxing as you leaned in. The small basket was being carefully guarded against his right side, being carefully cradled like a precious stone in a gold necklace. 

The two of you remained in a comfortable silence, basking in each other’s presence like an old, aging married couple on a stroll. The image made him smile. 

I wasn’t but a few minutes later that you’d arrived at a secluded white gazebo, roses and vines crawling up the sides. It was just far enough away that the sound of laughter and chatter from the party was but a faint white noise, giving Trey the perfect ambiance needed for his plan. 

“Take a seat right there, I got something for you.” Trey gestured to the stone bench, a fitting heart-shaped backrest further setting the mood. 

“Oh? Alright.” You took a seat, still looking up at him with a curious expression. “Is it something in the basket?”

He let out a soft chuckle, “Why don’t you close your eyes and let me surprise you?” 

You squint your eyes in suspicion, scoffing as you obey.

“Fine, if I get another spoonful of vanilla extract though—”

Trey barked out a laugh. “I told you it was bitter! Now keep those eyes closed.”

“It smells sweet! It’s made of vanilla!” You huffed, flinching and then relaxing as you felt him place the basket on your lap. “That’s not the worst thing even, I’m still angry about the oyster sauce donuts!”

“Okay that one was your own fault, you saw me do the same thing with Ace and the chestnut tarts, remember? When we first met?”

You smiled fondly, as did Trey though you couldn’t see it. What Trey could see though were the cosmos blooming along your exposed nape. He let out a soft cough, spitting out a lilac zinnia. 

“Hmm, yeah, I do.” He wiped his hands clean, gingerly placing the zinnia on the bench next to you, uncovering the basket and grabbing one of the still pristine cupcakes. 

“Okay, here—” Trey took the sugared lavender stem and held it up to you mouth. “—open up and say ‘aah’~”

“Pfft—okay, aaaah~” Grinning, Trey placed the stem on your tongue and watched as you slowly chewed. 

“Well? How’s that taste?”

You hummed. “It’s sweet, flowery…it tastes like the evening tea Riddle has before bed…soooo lavender?”

Trey hummed in affirmation. “That’s right, now take a bite of this.” He unfolded the wrapper off of the cupcake, holding it up as you took a small bite. 

“Mmmh! Trey!” Your moan of delight caused a pleasurable shiver down his spine, less than pure thoughts filling his head. “It’s so good, it’s lavender too? Is it a cookie…no wait, a cupcake!”

“Heh, good guess, I have one last thing for you to taste, ‘kay?”

He watched as you eagerly nodded, mouth open for the next treat. Trey leaned down, hovering his lips over you own, noticing the light purple glaze still on your bottom lip.

Feeling his breath over your own, you stuttered out, “T-trey? What are you—mmph!”

Trey gently, but firmly pressed his lips to yours, licking the glaze and swiping his tongue along your lip as you opened up to let him in. Your hands reached to tug him by the lapel, returning his kiss with eagerness and tugging him closer and closer, gasps leaving both of your lips. 

Still hands were now wandering, gliding up your thighs and along the curve of your back, deciding to settle on the backrest. Trey found himself leaning down to match your height, knee settled in between your thighs. 

A beguiling groan rang from between your mouths, from who you didn’t know, then another as Trey’s tongue met your own. Then a gasp as you felt his hand hook underneath you as he lifted you to curl against his body, left hand still cradling and rubbing soothing circles at the small of your back. 

Your back was so far arched, chest meeting chest, that you moved your hands from their steel grip on his lapels to instead wrap around his shoulder and neck as he dipped you further to feel your body press into his. 

Trey licked your lower lip again, positive he could still taste the sweet lavender on your lip, causing you to whine as he instead took your lower lip between his teeth and tug. Breaking the kiss to observe your red face, gasping breaths, and half lidded eyes. 

He has to say, of all the cakes, cookies, and pastries he’s made and tried over the years, you were by far the sweetest, and most divine treat he’s tasted. Trey decided that he needed another taste to confirm as he lips met yours for another passionate kiss.

[graciegoeskrazy]

if i believe u

matty healy + daughter!r (ft. gabbriette, charli, and george!)

warnings: angsty asf but what did u except, matty says he regresas being a dad, step moms(???), queen gabbriette, shitty matty, lying, yelling, a curse word or two, just general family angst, longest one if written in awhile, george n charli

a/n: first matty daughter r in awhile but 5 SEPERATE PEOPLE ASKED FOR THIS so i had to do it obvi. btw im not hating on gab she’s actually the hero of this story i will not tolerate gabbriette slander only matty slander eheheh. ty to my lovely anons who requested it makes me happy🤭

r is about 13 ish

Your dad said him and Gabby were going out to dinner while you were at your end of the year dance. It was an event for middle schoolers, nothing crazy, but they figured they’d take advantage of a couple hours to themselves by having a romantic dinner out. He said they’d be home well before you ended your night, and to just text when you got home.

“I’m home!”

You were met with no answer. You didn’t think much about it and went to your room, starting to take off your jewelry from the night.

“Hey, dancing queen.” He said, appearing in the doorway.

You smiled at his comment, looking back at him. “How was dinner?” You asked.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Good…really really good.”

You thought his response was interesting, but didn’t look to much into it, just taking off your heels from the evening.

“Where’s Gabby?” You asked.

“Bedroom. Thought i’d talk to you in private for a second.”

You turned back suddenly. “About what?” He chuckled when your face turned to worry so quickly.

“Nothing bad. Don’t worry. No one is dead.”

You smiled back, crossing your arms. “Then what is it?”

He looked down at his hands, specifically one finger.

He rarely wore new rings, always sticking to the same ones. You quickly noticed he was grazing over a new one.

One that laid on a certain finger.

You already knew your answer, but you asked anyway, “What’s that?”

He showed a coy smile, while examining the ring on his own finger. “An engagement ring.” He said, smiling.

A part of himself couldn’t believe it. You definitely couldn’t believe it either.

“You’re engaged?” You asked, voice quiet.

“Yeah,” He said, with a faded breath. “Yeah honey, I am.”

Your voice became quiet. “To Gabby?”

“Yeah.” His smile wouldn’t go away. He hasn't smiled like that in so long. A part of you wanted to take a picture of it. Another part of you wanted to wipe it off his face.

“Wow.” was all you could say at the moment.

You spoke after a second of silence. “Are you sure about this dad?”

“About what? Marrying the love of my life?”

He started to get defensive right away. “I mean, Dad, I don’t know her.” You let out a short laugh and smile, as if that should’ve been obvious. “Yeah, she’s been nothing but nice but, you haven't been dating for even a year? And now what? She’s gonna move in with us?”

You saw his face turn. “No, we’re moving in with her.” He said quickly.

You couldn’t believe it. And the fact that he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world made it harder. “Wh-what about London?”

He started to look anywhere but at you. “We’re gonna move to the states, baby.”

He can’t be serious.

You blinked at him, unsure if this was a dream. “So…I get zero say in this?”

He scoffed. “God forbid I try and give you some stability in life- a family.”

Your blood started to boil. “She’s not even old enough to be my mother.”

“Y/n Healy!”

“And what stability? My life has been a faltering mess since you’ve opened your mouth!” Your voice was now at ten, his not far behind.

“Do not talk to me like that young lady.” He stood straighter, in full authoritative dad mode.

“Don’t talk like what? Don’t tell the truth?” His eyebrow quirked. “You know full well the reason people dropped me, or the reason I had to switch friend groups is because of the stupid shit you’ve said.” He sighed, he knew you were right about that one. “Dad, it’s not that you’re getting married, it’s the fact that you didn’t even think to tell me!”

“I thought you would be happy! This is good news!”

“What about this conversation we’re having screams ‘happiness’?” You said while gesturing between the two of you.

“Oh, so you hate Gabby?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t hate Gabby- I never said I did!”

“Oh so, you just don’t want me to marry her. You don’t want me to be happy.” He started to get protective, voice full of venom.

“I never said that ethier!” You were growing tired.

“Then what is it?”

You felt that it was painfully obvious, but clearly not. “Dad, my whole life is here. My school, my only friends, my home, and you’re just gonna take that away from me in an instant? Without any warning?” He started getting angry. You kept going.

“You didn’t even think about asking me!”

“I wouldn’t have to think about asking if you weren’t here!”

And there it was. The truth. The thought you’ve been dreading to hear since the moment you found out your existence wasn’t exactly planned. The straw that broke the camels back. The words you knew were always true, but never thought you’d actually hear him say.

Your world went blurry after that. Gabbriette stormed in, yelling “Matty!”, and shielding you from your father and any other personal or verbal attacks he might make, but the truth was that he recognized his mistake right after he said it.

He promised himself, right after you were born, he would never make you feel like a mistake. A burden. He wouldn’t be one of those dads. But here he was, frozen. Standing in front of his fiancé while she hold his baby girl, sobbing, because of his words. Because he made her feel that way.

You cried into her. She held you close. Your father slowly became aware of his mistakes and what he had done. Gabbriette looked at him, still holding on tight to you. “Get out.”

He swallowed. “I didn’t mean-“

“Get out Matthew.” She said sharply.

He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

It felt like the weight of the world came crashing down on your shoulders. The truth, finally free, so heavy that you couldn’t keep up anymore, you came falling down with it.

Gabby knew he didn’t entirely mean it. But, her focus was on the task at hand. And that was getting you back to feeling safe. You sobbed and sobbed into her, the cries getting more violent over time. “It’s alright, i’ve got you.” She brought you to the bed, soothing you and kissing your head gently. “I’m right here.”

—————

Matty woke up the next morning with a raging headache. He turned to find his fiancé’s side of the bed empty and cold. He sighed.

The knocks wouldn’t stop. He begrudgingly leapt out of bed and to the front door. When he opened the door he was met with Charli and George, standing side by side. Both still in lounge clothes but Charli wide awake, compared to George who looked half asleep.

“What did you do to your daughter now?” She asked, crossing her hands over her chest, voice full of power.

Matty tried rubbing his eyes awake, but it was no use. “What?” he asked, voice full of sleep.

Charli ignored him and flew past him through the house. “You think my kid was really capable of keeping her mouth shut? Baby?! Auntie Charli is here!!!”

George, still in his sleepy state, met his friend, closing the door behind him. “What did you do man?”

Matty sighed, putting his hands over his eyes to block out the peaks of sun coming in as he made his way to the living room. “I messed up.”

George rolled his eyes, “Well clearly because Charli wouldn’t wake me at 7am if it wasn’t important.”

Matty groaned and leaned back. “How did she even know?”

George shrugged, “Your girl must’ve texted ours.” Matty hummed. “She swore to y/n she wouldn’t tell us, but she was worried about what you said to her. Came crying to us this morning.”

George patted him on the shoulder and started to leave the room. “I’m making coffee. Go put pants on and then tell me what happened.”

—————

earlier that morningr - 4am

You only left your bed once after the fight and it was only to change out of your dress from the dance and into pjs Gabbriette gathered for you after much convincing that you’d be more comfortable.

She brushed your hair back and into a ponytail. When she tried to leave after you finally settled, you begged her in your sleepy state to stay.

So she did.

Come 4 am, you were wide awake. Unable to get your fathers words out of your mind. “Are you awake?” You said.

“Yeah.” She said.

It took you a second but she spoke. “I’m sorry, Gabby.”

She opens her eyes and turned to face you, grabbing your face softly with one hand in the process. “You have nothing to apologize for, y/n-”

You started crying at the gesture. “I don’t hate you! I swear I don’t! He’s lying-“

She shushed you. “I know you don’t, sweet girl. He’s just trying to get in your head after everything.”

You slowly nodded and she sighed. “You need to know that you did nothing wrong. Ever.”

Your cries turned to sniffles. “Yes I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I existed?”

She knew this is how you really felt, and it hurt her so much to realize that the person who was supposed to be the love of her life did this to his own daughter. He made you feel this way. Nothing or no one else. “Honey, that’s not true.”

“Yes it is. He said it!”

“Well what he said was wrong.” She said frim, yet caring. “No doubt about it.”

The sniffles slowly softened even more over time. After a minute or two in comfortable silence, you spoke. “I hope you still love him though.”

She laughed, not expecting your honest remark. “Unfortunately, I still do. With all my heart.” She didn’t miss the smile that danced on your lips. “Go back to sleep. I don’t need him clouding your thoughts when you’re trying to get your beauty rest.”

You closed your eyes, snuggling closer to her, hand quickly grazing over hers in the process. “Damn girl, that’s a big fucking rock.” You said.

She laughed and smiled.

—————

She explained everything to Chali when she woke them up the next morning. You hid in the bed, crying. You had thought so but she did confirm that she was eavesdropping the entire time. You didn’t mind though. She had your back and that was all that matters.

—————

Matty sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the framed picture he held in his hands. Your bright, innocent smile seemed to mock him, reminding him of the days when you would run into his arms after school, eager to share every detail of your day, no matter how mundane it was.

He thought about how you stood by him, through it all. It didn’t matter if it was family issues, band drama, or even his drug addiction. He loved the fact he didn’t have to pretend to be someone for you, not a rockstar, a perfect son or friend, just Dad, your Dad. And for a very very very long time, that was all you needed.

The house felt colder, quieter. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, and stood up.

It was time. Gabbriette had left for some errands earlier that morning, making a point to look your father dead in the eyes and telling him to ‘man up and do it.’ Truthfully, he couldn’t let another day pass without trying to bridge the gap between the two of you. With determined steps, he walked down the hallway to your room. He knocked gently on the door, the sound echoing louder than he anticipated in the silent house. “Baby? Can we talk?” he called, his voice wavering slightly. No response. He knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Baby girl, please. I just want to talk.”

Still nothing. He sighed, leaning his forehead against the door. “I’m coming in,” he said softly, turning the knob and pushing the door open.

You were sitting at your desk, your back to him, headphones on, absorbed in a sketchpad. Your long curly hair, nearly identical to the ones Matty used to embrace, cascaded down your back, slightly hiding your face from him. He took a step inside, the creak of the floorboard announcing his presence.

“Y/n?” he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t turn around. He could see your shoulders tense, though, and he knew you heard him. Guilt twisted in his stomach, but he pressed on.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. For everything.”

There was a flicker of movement; you paused your drawing but didn’t remove your headphones. Matty felt a pang of desperation.

“I know I’ve made mistakes. Big ones. And I know I’ve hurt you,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I was so caught up in my own problems that I didn’t see how it was affecting you. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”

He watched as your hand gripped the pencil tighter. It was a small reaction, but it was something. He took another step closer, now standing just a few feet behind you.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I miss our talks, our laughs. I miss my daughter.”

Slowly, you reached up and removed your headphones, placing them carefully on the desk. You didn’t turn to face him, but your silence spoke volumes. Matty took it as an invitation to continue.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. Or even talk to me. I just… I just needed you to know how sorry I am.”

There was a long pause. Matty felt the weight of the silence pressing down on him, each second stretching into an eternity. He opened his mouth to say something else but then closed it, unsure of what more he could add.

Finally, you spoke, voice barely a whisper. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay.”

Your words, though quiet, felt like a punch to his gut. He nodded, though you couldn’t see him. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I know.”

“It’s not that simple, Dad,” Your voice broke slightly. “You hurt me. A lot.”

He felt tears welling up in his eyes. “I know I did. And I hate myself for it. But I love you, darling. More than anything in the world. You know that.”

You finally turned around, eyes red and filled with tears. You looked at him for a long moment, searching his face for something—truth, perhaps, or sincerity. Your dad held his breath, afraid to move, afraid to break whatever fragile connection you had in that moment.

“You said you regret having me,” you said, voice trembling. “That you wished I wasn’t here- How do you expect me to forgive that?”

His heart shattered at your words. He knelt down beside your chair, looking up at you. “Darling, I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was overwhelmed and stressed, and I lashed out in the worst possible way. I didn’t mean it. Not for a second.”

You looked up, blinking away the tears streaming down your face. “But you said it. You can’t just take it back.”

“I know,” he said, voice breaking. “I know I can’t. But please believe me when I say I didn’t mean it. I love you more than anything in this world. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Matty felt desperation clawing at him. “I’ve been a terrible father, y/n. I let my own problems cloud my judgment. But I want to change. I need to change. For you. For us. That’s why maybe this whole engagement thing isn’t a bad idea?”

You sniffled again, giving a serious look, “I don’t hate Gabby.”

He sighed, “I know you don’t-“

“You really hurt me, Dad.” Your eyes were filled with pain and tears.

He nodded, tears streaming down his face. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m so, so sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. Just… please give me a chance.”

You looked down at your work, fingers tracing the lines you’d drawn. Matty watched you, his heart aching for a sign of hope.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you said softly. “Not yet.”

Matty nodded, his heart heavy. “I understand,” he said gently. “I’m not asking you to. I just want you to know that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You looked at him, eyes searching his face. “Do you really mean it?” you asked, voice small. “That you’re sorry?”

Matty met your gaze, his eyes filled with tears, and smiled. “With all my heart,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry, my love.”

You held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded, a single tear sliding down your cheek. “Okay,” you whispered. “We’ll see.”

Matty smiled through his tears, a small, hopeful smile. It was a start, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. And for now, that was enough.

[teabeexo]

Hi hi hi, I've seen you around the our life tag and I am absolutely in love with your art style, it is so lovely and it got me curious on your OCs.

So do you have any general information about your other MCs for our life? I've seen that you have a Derek and Baxter MC (very interested in your Baxter MC, they always fascinate me (ironically Baxter isn't even my favorite I just love when people have messy relationships haha)) and also a Qiu MC but do you also happen to have a Cove and Tamarack MCs? Any other side characters for your version of the game? I'd ask more in depth questions but by the look of it you seem to give your MCs a lot of thought so I will ask more in depth questions for each character in the future if you'd like <3 have a lovely day !!

AHHH, hello! Thank you so much for asking!! Knowing that people are interested in my characters makes me SO thrilled! I am more than happy to yap about them <33

To answer your question, yes, I do have Cove and Tamarack MCs! They'll be below!

My Cove MC is named Winona! Lore-wise, she follows the plot of the game, with most of the nuance lying within inward turmoil rather than outward problems.

Here's the basics (with some fun facts)!

Winona was adopted by Noelani and Pamela when she was less than a year old.

She's Korean-American by birth.

Her full name is Winona Mahina Cameron.

She begins to learn the bass as a teenager, but can fully play by the time she's an adult.

Winona's birthday is August 2, which makes her a Leo.

She sings 1st soprano and has the highest range of any of my characters.

She redyes her bangs nearly every month, often to fit with an occasion or emotion she is experiencing.

Winona has diagnosed ADHD.

Her favorite animal is a firefly!

Winona's arc mainly centers around learning to focus on oneself rather than emotionally investing completely in others. Out of all the characters, Winona has a pretty easy go of it, haha. The others have a bit more angst in comparison.

Also, here is one of the only good digital pieces of Winona that I have!

Next is my Derek MC, Luella! Again, her story is more internal, but does have some outward elements too.

Here's some basic (and fun) facts!

Luella is Italian and German.

Her full name is Luella Bo Faraway.

Luella's favorite possession is a string bracelet that Derek wove for her while he was at a sport's summer camp one year.

She has diagnosed anxiety, as well as dyslexia.

She is extremely flexible and did gymnastics for her entire childhood/adolescence.

Luella sings alto.

Out of all my MCs, Luella is the best at drawing and has a creative eye.

Her birthday is March 18, making her a Pisces.

Luella gets all her facial piercings done over the course of time between Step 3 and 4, except for her nose ring, which she already has in Step 3.

Luella's legal guardian and parental figure is her elder sister, who was 20 years old whenever she was 13. Luella's story heavily revolves around survivor's guilt and self-worth.

Obligatory Luella art, haha

Wooo, next one is the one and only Baxter MC, Vérène! She is by far one of the most angsty of the MCs. Baxter is in part responsible for that, but there is also some family stuff involved.

Vérène is from Nice, France and moved to Sunset Bird when she was 11 (which means she was not present for Step 1).

She is fluent in both French and English and will use either depending on appropriateness and setting.

Vérène's full name is Vérène Dominique Alcott.

This isn't necessarily a character thing, but Vérène was the absolute hardest MC for me to decide a final design for.

Vérène bakes as a hobby, and likes to chat with Xavier about it.

She was born on February 10th, making her an Aquarius.

Vérène grows up with an old cat, then as adult rescues kittens when he passes away.

Her favorite flower is a sunflower.

She is a mezzo-soprano.

She lives with only her mother for a majority of her life following a gnarly divorce. Vérène's story has mostly themes of overcoming old emotions, as well as abandonment issues. Forgiveness (or lack thereof) is also very prevalent in her lore.

One of my favorite sketches of her!!

So! That's it for my OL:BA MCs. Let's move onto the two OL:NF MCs!

Let's start with Mina! As I've mentioned in other posts, Mina is Vérène's cousin. My other OL:NF MC, Maël, is her twin brother. Her love interest is Qiu. Like their cousin, Mina and Maël moved from Nice, France when they were 10.

Mina is French on her mom's side, but Swedish on the side of her donor's.

Mina is not fluent in English during Step 1, but that didn't impede her at all -- she learns a majority of her English from other kids (and one of them even teaches her some Japanese).

She learns the piano and plays it in her free time.

One of Mina's number-one passions is ice skating, and she often uses it as escapism.

Her birthday is June 23, making her a Cancer.

She has always loved mysterious and detective shows.

Her full name is Mina Octavia Linwood.

Mina is hyperopic, meaning she struggles to see things that are close to her eyes (hence her glasses).

Mina loves antique/old things and collects trinkets of that nature.

Most of her story is about self-confidence and self-denial, as well as discovering oneself. Qiu may have something to do with that, hehe.

Mina profile practice <33

Last but certainly not least of the MCs, we have Maël! I'll spare you most of his background context because he comes from the same place as Mina, haha. His love interest is Tamarack!

Similar to his sister, he's also not fluent in English during Step 1 -- but he's much shier about it. Mina basically becomes his shield.

He knows French and English, but also ASL.

He was born on June 23, making him a cancer (hmmm, sounds familiar LOL).

Maël plays baseball during Step 2, and during that time he builds up a lot of his confidence and social status.

Similar to Qiu, Maël is lactose intolerant!

Maël grows up to be a teacher due to Mrs. Murray's influence.

He has ADHD that goes undiagnosed until Step 3.

Maël babysits for his neighbors during Step 2 (he is known to be very good with kids).

He could be very good in school if he applied himself more, but he doesn't like school environment and how homework functions, so his grades suffer.

Maël's story deals with things like comparison to others and healing harmful complexes.

This is like... the only art of Maël that I have... featuring Tammy!

Phew! Okay. Finally, I'll quickly go over side characters that exist at the time of posting this.

I would like to stress that just because they're referred to as 'side characters', that doesn't mean I like them less than any other characters. A lot of them still have intricate lore and lives and I love them dearly -- they're just referred to like that because, through the lens of the game, that's what they are.

The entire Linwood family is technically side characters. Sonia, Jude, Beau, Raoul, and Quincy are all cousins to Mina, Maël, and Vérène. Sonia and Jude have already been written in (especially in Mina's story, and the other three probably will too, once I'm done designing them). Sonia's boyfriend Dante might also get a cameo here and there.

Otherwise, you have my OCs that are friends with the MCs.

All of my OL:BA MCs (Winona, Vérène, and Luella) are all within the same group, which consists of them and the canon characters. They don't really have any important friends beyond the ones provided in OLBA (and eachother).

BUT Mina and Maël are different. Mina's close friend group consists of Tamarack, my characters Rex, Diana, Sonia, Maxine, and my friend's OC Yuki.

Maël's close friend group is Qiu, Renee, and my characters Florian, Phoenix, and Róisín.

These characters will likely get posts of their own, and it's possible that more side characters will be developed as time goes on. Okay... I think that's all, LOL.

Thank you for asking! As always, if you have specific and in-depth questions to ask about certain OCs/MCs, their relationships with the love interests, or with each other, please feel free to ask!

Again, it's so thrilling to know that people are interested! I tried to keep this brief while also informative, but I don't know how effective that was because I tend to ramble haha!

Take care!

[babiebom]

Hiiii. I hope ur ok with my just constantly being like *ahem* spencer reid 👉🏻👈🏻🥹🥹. I loved how you wrote him in the last request! I feel like a lot of the time, people write him very ooc - just bc he can be hard to get written the right way, but like that's my boy, look at him spitting random facts for HOURS 🥰🥰?? Like yes, pls info dump on me while I stare at u lovingly, Spence 💞.

I recently came to terms with being ftm, but it's almost impossible to find any male! reader x Spencer Reid content. Which can be very dysphoric 😵‍💫. Which sucks! Bc holy hell, there are some fuckinnn amazing writers out there writing fanfics.

So now, I have come to you, an amazing writer out here writing fanfics, to beg ask if ud be down to write any kind of oneshot with Spencer Reid dating a male reader! It honestly doesn't have to be anything specific - romantic, angsty, enemies to lovers, slow burn, whatever peaks ur interest atm!

I would just love, love to have that content with Spence & a male reader if you're down for the task! Thank you so so muchh 💓. Hope ur having a wonderful morning / afternoon / evening !

A/N:im sorry this took so long!! I’ve been busy working (blegh) and I wanted to write something sweet for you!! I’m happy you’ve come to terms with being ftm!! As a cis identifying person myself I can’t say that I know how it feels, but I am VERY happy that you’re more comfortable with your identity!! Also never worry about being too “crazy” over Spencer I’ve been obsessed with him since I was about 5 or 6 (yes it’s been a long time)!! I’ll try more to write in a more gender neutral way when writing anything reader insert related that way you can enjoy my writing without feeling left out or anything!! Always let me know if there are things I can do better <3

Tw: maybe some cursing but overall should be wholesome

Wc: 0.54k

Criminal Minds Masterlist

Spencer Reid often came home dejected after a case gone wrong, it was often that he came home tired but happy after a successful case. It wasn’t often, however, that he came home excited for a break; but then again he hadn’t had a boyfriend to come home to on previous breaks. Now, as you watch him walk through the front door of your shared apartment, you can’t help but grin at the absolutely goofy look on his face.

“Emily gave us all 4 weeks off to rest after our latest case, so that means I get four WHOLE weeks of you to myself! Isn’t that great?” He lets out a giggle after he finishes speaking, putting his bag down on the kitchen counter. You didn’t even have to ask him why he was so giddy, he answered unprompted.

“It is great!” You try to match his energy, only seeing him this excited for the first time since you’ve met. He brings you into his embrace, hugging you so tightly that you think you might die if he squeezed you any tighter. “So what are your plans now that you’re a free man for four whole weeks?”

“Well we could go to the park and play chess, or stay here and play chess but I think the sunlight would be good for both of us. Or we could go to the movies, or take a class together, or…”

“Your plans are to just have dates with me every single day?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow.

He nods as if the answer is the most obvious, concrete fact in the universe. He looks at you, not as if you’re dumb, but as if to say ‘duh what else would I be planning to do?’.

The two of you move to sit on the couch, enveloped in each other as he talks about the many, many dates you’re going to go on now that he’s free from his time constricting job. “What if I don’t wanna do those things?” You ask playfully. He shrugs.

“It doesn’t matter what we do, as long as I get to do it with you”.

“Oh?” You look at him as if he said something scandalous, “I didn’t know you had that big of a crush on me.”

He shoves you gently, rolling his eyes at your attempt to joke off his sweet words.

“You’re joking but studies have found that couples who have regular date nights more often result in higher relationship satisfaction, better communication, and a stronger emotional connection. Us going on dates during these four weeks will be better for us in the long run.”

You don’t reply, or interrupt. It’s always amusing to listen to him ramble on and on about facts that he finds interesting or applicable to the conversation. And all it does is make you fall more in love with him, seeing how serious he is about your relationship working out in the future. He says that he loves you often, but it’s things like this; seeing and listening to how much he genuinely cares about your relationship.

Being the boyfriend of a pretty boy genius has its perks, and how much he cares about you compared to others is definitely one of them.

[persephone11110]

rain is a good thing

Jake‘Hangman’Seresin x Reader

Chapter 2: I Can’t Breathe

warnings: exes share the same bed, mentions of scars, past mentions of abusive relationship- reader ex byf, taking care of one another, mentioning of injury—reader cut her hand in chpt1, mentions of past choking, implied child abuse protective jake seresin, reader and jake are angsty assholes towards eachother, the chapter is in 2022

Chapter Summary: Your still trying to wrap your head around the fact that your ex boyfriend was sleeping next to you- that he remember your fear and much less your address.

author note: this took forever to write and but with that heres chapter 2, I wanted to thank everyone who continues to like everything!!, the actual chapters are present day which is set 22’ both chpt 1&2 Jake already been called back. also the reader and Jake started dating in 2015ish and broke up in 2019, I didn’t wanted the chapter to end on a happy note, can we tell I love Etta James first lyric is from A Sunday Kind Of Love

WC: 1.2K

Previous | Next

Series Masterlist

—

Last night had be a fever dream, your head pressed into Jakes chest, how he ran his fingers all throughout your hair. When he rattle through your dressers trying to find you both new clothes he noticed his orange sweatshirt, “I’ve been looking for that all this time and she had it this entire time”. Shaking his head he pulled the sweatshirt over your head, knowing how much his cologne calmed you.

You and Dr. Michaels next session is going to much longer than usual.

Of all the things you expect to see after last night — this wasn’t one of them. Your ex boyfriend standing at your stove flipping pancakes wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist, lip syncing to Etta James.

I want a sunday kind of love.

Your leaning aganist the couch wearing a small smirk, he hasn’t changed a bit just the muscles Jake had from two years ago have gotten bigger. He flips another pancake“Sweetheart staring at my v-neck is going to slow me down”.

Jake turns the stove down- walking towards you with a big grin on his face, “Hungry Y/n?”.

“I am very hungry”. you gently shove past Jake scooping a pancake out of the pan onto your plate.“Aren’t you going to eat too Jake?”, you ask him holding a plate out, Jake scratches the back of his neck, his face reddened—dirty bastard. You decided to act oblivious to Jakes sexual innuendo more interested in the food infront of your face. “You know wherever everything is Jake”.

You stood at the counter scarfing down food versus Jake sitting at the island with a fork in his hand. “Y/n your gonna choke if you keep eating like that”. Jake raised his eyebrows at how animalistic you ate your food,“ Remember the last time I had to the heimlich on our third date because you were swallowing the steak without chewing it first”.

You glared at Jake rolling your eyes at his mother-hen antics to calm his nerves you pull a chair up to the island. Sitting in front of him, he hands you a fork. “Y/n I promise all the food I made and what you put on your plate is all yours”. Jake gives you a reassuring smile before stabbing at his strawberries with his fork.

He remembered, to bad Travis never did he always reminded you to eat as little as possible whether it was breakfast, lunch or dinner. He hated how much you ate on a daily basis, leaving notes on the fridge, on your nightstand in your car— saying eat less.

You couldn’t blame him, you did eat like a pig especially if it was food that your taste buds enjoyed to no end. “Y/n I can’t fucking form a sentence when you all your doing is your rattling fingers in a damn chip bag, he snatched the chip bag from you tossing it across the bedroom.“Next time be fucking considerate”.

“Thanks for last night,and for breakfast …” you fumble to find more words to say but Jake holds his hand up cutting you before you could struggle even longer for the right words.

“Y/n we might be exes but you needed help, its not like you wouldn’t do it for me either, as I remember someone saying something long the lines of I’d run every red light If I had to if meant getting to you”.

You blush at how Jake uses your sentiment words aganist you. You couldn’t help but think to your past relationship why couldn’t Jake do this when you two were together. What changed Jake?, did he find a girl that he changed for, was she worth his time?

You must’ve spent sometime in your head with your spiraling thoughts because Jake says your name with concern attached to it. “Y/n something bothering you?”.

“When did you realize you didn’t love me anymore?”

Thinking back to two years ago when you declared to Jake that you couldn’t take being on the bottom of his priority list. You never asked when and why he lost his love for you, what made him stop caring about your feelings.

Jake swears he heard you wrong,“Darlin theres no reason to end the peace we have going on right now”. He attempts to sway your thinking, turning the conversation onto something else,“Why don’t I make something else to go on your plate?”.

“I mean it Jake was something I did?,— did I gain to much weight, did I have to much emotional baggage for you to handle?”. You get up from the table, walking to the couch.

“Darlin n-no It wasn’t you I—”. Jake gets up to walking towards you, “I couldn’t balance my work life and love life at once alright Y/n it was never you”. Jake eyebrows furrow when he realizes your injured hand. He wants to reach and grab your hand and it inspect it more, but Jake knows how much you hate being touch during a moment like this.

You almost want to let the scoff sitting on your tongue escape. He’s acting like you don’t work hours as a trauma nurse, as if you didn’t see people die almost everyday of your life. As if you didn’t play god with their lives.

“Bullshit”. your voice in more harsher tone than before,“You decided that you didn’t love me anymore because you didn’t feel the urge anymore”. You backed away from him,“Do you know how many nights I spent in our relationship even after we broke up trying to piece together why I was so worthless of your basic love and affection or your fucking attention”. A watery chuckle escapes your mouth betraying the pure anger and confidence in your voice.

“As if you can fucking talk darlin your hours as a nurse aren’t so different from the hours I worked”. Jake standing over you now, his jaw vibrating with anger.“How dare you Y/n”.

“Yeah I worked but I made sure I set aside time for you—for us”. your lips pressed together in frustration, why can’t he just stand there and listen.

Jake crosses his arm with a angered expression and you swear you saw Travis’s face.“Are you listening to me?”. Your walking towards your apartment door—ready to run away from Travis knowing what about happen. “I tried Y/n you just make me hit you”.

“Y/n can you just stand still please I actually want to talk this out”. His accent thick with irritation,Jake grabbed you by the wrist a little to tight.

“Just lay there Y/n”you can hear Travis’s vicious voice in the back of your head. At first you feel paralyzed with paronia unable to movie afraid for your life.

You snatched your wrist from Jakes hand,“Get the fuck out” you angrily point to the door.

He scoffs,“I can’t believe I thought you matured enough to have a conversation without your feelings getting hurt, I should’ve stayed home when I heard your desperate voicemail cry for help Y/n”. He snatched his wallet and keys from the table.

“To answer your fucking question I realized the morning you left me with a little goodbye note”. Jake slams the door behind him leaving you standing with a heavy feeling in your gut.

Tears shook through your body.

I hate you, I love you.

Taglist: @chocolatefartstrawberry,@buckysteveloki-me, @dontletthemtakeyoualive, @kellyls04, @els-marvelvsp, @classyunknownlover, @i-am-mrsreckless,

[pimosworld]

The sun and the moon

🌙Pairing-Moon boys x f!reader x Khonshu x Hathor

🌒Chapter Summary- You and the boys celebrate your new job. Marc’s past trauma threatens to derail what the other so desperately want with you. Khonshu makes his presence known in only ways he knows how.

🌔CW-18+,MDNI,NDFW, friends to lovers, Angst,Fluff,Insecurities,flashback sequence, POV switch, inaccurate depiction of DID,kissing,lots of flirting.

🌑WK-4.2k

A/N-I hope you like our first installment. I don’t know why I love writing Marc so angsty but I promise he will come around. Steven takes the lead in this because I’m a sucker for him and Jake is his ever charming self.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Chapter 1

  ”I am the one who guides the great ones who are lost and exhausted on the roads of the reborn…

Who guides those who are lost in the underworld,

I am Hathor, Queen of the northern sky,

Who watches over the reborn,

I am a haven of tranquility for the just,

A ferry for the chosen.”

You never imagined you’d find yourself running through the halls of the British museum. You couldn’t contain your excitement of finally being told you got the job. You knew Steven would be leading a tour but he insisted you find him when you got the results. Good or bad. 

  The curator that was retiring was highly impressed with your knowledge. You thought the job offer would be to assist. You were ecstatic when she told you she wanted you to take over the catalogue of all the new exhibits in the museum. 

  It always came natural to you, the research and the fascination of every ancient civilization. Egypt in particular held your interest. There was a connection you couldn’t describe when you thought about it. Having met Steven and bonding over your shared obsession made you feel a little less awkward. 

  You always felt a little more like yourself around them. 

  Steven could invariably sense it before he even laid his eyes on you. It always started the same - a subtle yet undeniable sensation. A cascade of warmth starting from the top of his head emanating through his body. It was indescribable the reaction you elicited from each one of them, all varying in forms. 

  He’s meandering through the new Hatshepsut exhibit on a break in between tours when you find him. All bright and blazing smiles, hardly able to contain your excitement. He already knows what you’re going to tell him. You didn’t need his help but Jake would’ve called him all sorts of Spanish curses if he had turned down your request to help prepare for the interview at the museum all those weeks ago. 

  Some might call his love for ancient Egypt neurose but that’s what led you to him. It’s very likely you would be another stranger to him if his obsession hadn’t caused him to start his incessant babbling that fateful day in the coffee shop. 

  A beautiful creature like you, arguably the most beautiful he’s ever seen. Sitting in the shop he regularly frequented, seated in the corner to catch the only ray of light. Illuminating in your hands a special edition novel on some obscure topic. You quietly giggling to yourself as you read. 

  Jake stayed uncharacteristically quiet while Steven rambled to you about all the secret facts that were never printed. This was his forte and who was Jake to overtake this conversation that you seemed to enjoy. You took to him like you were long lost friends. 

  You took to all of them (well most of them) with such great ease…but one thing at a time. Let’s start with Steven. 

  Your sweet Steven, his posture slightly slouched. Hair a little disheveled and clothes not very firm fitting. But right now he’s standing tall, deft hands in his pockets and his hair with a bit of product. He always took care of his appearance as a tour guide. He stood a little straighter, spoke a little firmer…more assured. 

  He’s looking at you like that now as you approach him. A slight smirk on his face because he knows but he wouldn’t dare ruin your moment. 

  It’s hard to describe the feelings you have when you’re around them. It’s much easier to express how you feel when you’re not with them. Incomplete, fragmented,dimmed. 

  It’s like the opposite of a heartbreak when you see him. 

  “I have some great news.” You’re bouncing on your feet as you half whisper, trying not to draw attention from the other people in the exhibit. 

  She’s adorable 

  Jake is ever present when you are around and Marc as well but he mostly stays silent. 

  “I got the job.” You clap your hands over your mouth to suppress the squeal that you want to let out. 

  It feels wrong not to hug you at this moment. He’s not sure how you’d feel about it now that you’re coworkers but the way you step closer, he can’t resist as he pulls you into his arms. 

  You melt as he mumbles praises into your hair. He’s overwhelmed by the smell of citrus and vanilla as he realizes this is the closest your bodies have ever been. A different kind of warmth spreads over him now as he breaks away from you before ruining this moment with an awkward explanation about the male anatomy.

  “I’m so proud of you.” He says while he still holds your hands in his, a safe distance from you now. 

  “I couldn’t have done it without you Steven.” 

  He nervously adjusts the collar of his shirt as the redness creeps up his neck at the compliment. 

  “Nonsense love, you’re a natural.” 

  It was a regular term of endearment from him but it always made you all giddy inside. You never read too much into each of their special names for you. The countless times Jake called you hermosa or when Marc let the occasional sweetheart slip from his lips. 

  You nervously fidget with the hem of your blouse as the conversation lulls for a moment. “Well I should let you get back to work.” You reach up and give him a kiss on his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it as you hear a sharp intake of breath. 

  He watches you briefly as you walk away, he’s stuck in a trance trying to process what just happened. 

  “We should celebrate!” He didn’t really mean to shout it at you. The way all eyes turn to him including you has him wanting to crawl into the nearest sarcophagus. 

  You smile at him as you exit the exhibit and the light in the room dims a little as he patiently waits for the responses from his head mates about how bonkers he is. 

  His phone buzzes lightly in his pocket and his heart skips a beat when he sees your name appear on the screen. 

  You:My place or yours 

  Mine-S

  Steven can feel Jake and Marc at the forefront,along with a mixture of emotions.

  Worried,jealous,excited,anxious. They may be unique in their own way, but they share a brain and a body. Steven wasn’t usually the vanguard in these situations but something about you makes him feel confident. A way he’s never felt before, and he’s never been more sure than he’s been about you. 

  ****

  No one drinks your tea hermano.

  Steven huffs as he opens the door to the small coffee shop on the corner. “Whatever you say mate. I know I didn’t drink the last of it.” He doesn’t normally get this miffed but he’s been a lot more stressed at work lately with all the new responsibilities. 

  You wanted those responsibilities.

  Buzz off Jake.

  A poor old woman turns to him wide eyed. Steven quietly apologizes to her as he tucks his cold hands in his jumper. He just wanted to get some hot tea and be on about his day. Unsure of what he would even do…most likely research for the tours. It sure beats being yelled at by Donna who thinks she’s still Stevens boss. 

  The barista offers him a polite smile as he steps up to the counter. “I’d like the rooibos chai tea please.” He slides her some bills before she can tell him the total and quickly steps aside. 

  It’s warm and his hands are clammy. He rolls up the sleeves of his jumper as he idles by the window, somehow in everyone’s way and not in the way at all. He doesn’t remember it being a particularly sunny day when he left the flat but it seems the shop is ten shades brighter. 

  He glances around nervously as he hears some soft laughter just to his left. A book. A girl. In the corner. 

  Talking to strangers about Egypt at work was one thing. For starters he got paid to do it and he truly loved it. It’s an entirely different thing to do in public, some might say peculiar to strike up a conversation unprovoked. It’s no matter anyway as his feet carry him to your warm nook in the shop. 

  “That copy must have cost you a small fortune.” He says as he slides into the seat next to you. 

  You laugh as you dip your head. “Would you believe me if I told you I found it at a thrift store.” You turn it over in your hand as you brush your fingers down the spine. “Obviously I had to snatch it up before they realized what they had.” 

  He knows he’s the one who approached you but now he can’t actually believe you’re talking to him. Without even missing a beat. You haven’t returned your attention back to the book as you stare at him like you're studying his movements. Your eyes sparkle as you lift your coffee to your lips and blow before taking a sip. 

  “So what chapter had you particularly giggly over here.” He teases as you hold the book against your chest. 

  You lean in and he forces himself not to look at your slightly open blouse.“I’m afraid the god of Min is not one to be discussed out loud.” Your breath ghosts over him as you whisper in his ear. He can feel the heat flush over his body from your close proximity. 

  You slide the book towards him and tap your finger on the page. He tries to focus on reading it but he notices you haven’t pulled away. 

  Min was often depicted as a mummiform human man with an ithyphallic (uncovered erect) penis. Wearing a crown adorned with two feathers. In his left hand he holds his penis ( although this is usually only apparent in statues because of the perspective applied to two dimensional images in Egyptian art) in his right hand he holds a flail up above his shoulder representing power and fertility. 

  You lightly tap him on his shoulder and he looks up to see you gesturing to the young barista excitedly waving him over. She’s a bit squirrelly when he approaches to retrieve his coffee and he thinks perhaps she’s consuming too much of the shop's supply. 

  What are you doing hermano?

  I haven’t the slightest idea mate.

  Well keep it up, it seems to be working.

  He doesn’t want to intrude but he sees you smiling brightly at him as he returns to the table. You’re still on the same page not having resumed your reading. 

  Steven sits and sips his tea, he hums in approval and he’s grateful it sat briefly because at the moment he’s plenty warm. 

  “Is that the chai?” You ask inquisitively as you flip back a few pages with a puzzled look on your face. 

  “Yes, it’s one of my favorites. In fact I don’t make it at home. It’s just—.”

  “It never tastes the same.”  You steal the words right from his mouth as he glances down to your coffee in question. “Sometimes I enjoy the occasional cup of coffee. It reminds me of home” You say with a sheepish expression. 

  “Where’s home?” He clears his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” 

  “I don’t mind at all. Washington.” His eyes go wide and you smirk into your coffee. “I know I’m a long way from home.” You say it with a far away look in your eyes and he silently curses himself for being too forward. 

  You flip frantically back and forth through the pages as you scrunch your nose in frustration. 

  She’s cute 

  Ya he’s aware and he’s thoroughly wrecked at any future attempts to match this turn of events for a day off from the museum. 

  “Looking for anything in particular?” He leans in a little closer as he scrubs his sweaty palms on his pants. 

  “Yes…it’s just.” You cease your movements and lean back against the soft cushion. “I know these books leave out so much information. They claim to be special editions but I know there’s more to it than this.” You point at the page like it’s personally offended you. 

  “Perhaps I could be of some assistance?” You raise your eyebrow at him and it’s quiet for a moment. 

  “Aren’t you going to ask?” 

  “Ask what love?” It slips out but you don’t falter or grimace at his words. 

  “Ask me why I’m so far from home.” You look at each other then, it’s just a millisecond of a flash in your eyes. The iris is bright yellow and then gone. His heart quivers a bit and he thinks he may be having a mild heart attack. 

  Calmáte

  He takes a shuddering breath and shucks off his coat. “S’ not really my business I guess.” 

  You’re so focused on him. Like you’re learning every tick and line etched into his features. The way you stare at him like he’s a statue to be studied. It’s maddening and a little unnerving but he doesn’t want you to look away. 

  “Can you tell me why all of the statues of Min are depicted vastly different from all these photographs?” You slide the book toward him but he closes it as a smug smile adorns his face.

  “Well the European scholars of the Victorian age were a bit more…conservative.” He adjusted his pants unconsciously before continuing. “They had most of the phallic members on the statues removed when they were discovered. It nearly wiped out all known history of Min…but you can’t erase the mind.” You chuckle as he taps his finger against his temple playfully. 

  You sigh sympathetically and a comfortable silence falls over the both of you. “Poor Min.” 

  Steven lets out a raucous laughter and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The old woman from before seated at a table nearby shushes you both and Stevens face turns deep red. 

  You duck your head close to his. “It’s not like we’re in a library.” 

  Ya he’s a goner 

  “Another fun fact, that’s likely not in your book.” He drops his voice a little to not disturb anyone else. His excitement is threatening to boil over at your willingness to listen. “It’s rumored that Min was in charge of overseeing the women while the king and his men were at war. When the men returned from battle all of the women were pregnant.” You cover your mouth in shock. “It gets worse.” 

  Your leg brushes his as you adjust to face him better and he nearly chokes at the brief contact. “The king had his arm and leg chopped off in retaliation.” 

  “Why not his.” You gesture downward but his eyes stay fixed to your face. 

  “Well…funny you ask. The king told the men to remove his er…you know. The men thought it was too magnificent so they made him a god. That’s the rumor at least.” 

  MIN WAS A FOOL

  Steven stiffens at the bird's sudden presence as he’s perched in the corner. Unsure as to why he’s here. Marc made it clear to leave Steven alone when it comes to moon knight duties 

  You’re staring at him with a mesmerized look in your eyes. “How do you know so much?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ve always had a knack for researching and always found Egyptian mythology fascinating. I used to run the gift shop at the British Museum, but now I’m a tour guide.” 

  You shriek in surprise and the old woman abruptly stands with her newspaper, muttering under her breath as she exits the coffee shop. “I’m interviewing for a job there next month. How serendipitous.” You say the last part half whispered. 

  “Wow, that is quite the coincidence. What’s the job? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

  “The curator position has an opening. It’s always been my dream to work there.” Steven glances up nervously at Khonshu who still hasn’t left. 

  DON'T MESS THIS UP WORM

  “I could ugh…help you prepare. If you’d like? I’m sure you know your stuff but if I—.” 

  “I would love that so much. Thank you.” You say enthusiastically as you clap your hands together. 

  You reach into your purse to pull out your phone. “I’m here most mornings around this time.” You hand it to him sounding a little apprehensive. “But I should have your number just in case.” 

  “Of course love.” He punches in the digits trying to calm his shaking hands. He hands it back to you as you look it over. 

  “Nice to meet you Steven.” You slide it back into your purse along with your book. “I should be going.” You wave at him as you slide out and head towards the door with one last glance over your shoulder at him. 

  He exhales as he drops his head back, the cafes a little colder and his heart rate slows to a normal pattern. 

  ****

  Steven frantically stacks his books against the wall after he’s checked on the vegan pot pie in the oven. He’d managed with Marc’s help to attempt a new recipe without burning down the flat. 

  She’s been here before Steven just relax 

  “I just want it to look nice. She’s not just coming over to study.” Despite Marc’s insistence he calms down, he can sense his nervousness. 

  Jake feels it too. 

  You’ve been over countless times, laid out on the floor amongst the books that adorned their home. You and Steven rambling for hours about the ancient texts or the hidden tombs. Swapping ridiculous facts that the other hadn’t heard. Jake often had to remind you both to eat or drink something. 

  Marc would front occasionally…mostly to remind Steven that the body had other duties to attend to. There was always an awkward avoidance on the days after you’d see Marc. 

  But tonight feels different. You were coming over to spend time with them, not just pick Stevens brain for loads of useful knowledge. The way you touched him today and the look in your eyes told an entirely different story than your budding friendship. He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself before you arrive so he tries to keep his hands busy. 

  Jake has to give it to him, the flat has never been this clean in its entirety. He notices some newer candles have been lit but decides to keep it to himself. 

  Just remember she likes us and take deep breaths

  “Thanks mate, I sure hope I know what I’m doing.” 

  ****

  “Steven, you've outdone yourself.” You slide the empty plate forward and take a sip of your wine. 

  It never gets old, hearing your praises. You were always so grateful and appreciative of anything they would do for you. 

  “Marc helped as well.” His eyes meet Marc’s in the reflection of the mirror. 

  You brush your hand over his tracing the veins along his arm. “Well tell him I said thank you.”

  Marc wasn’t avoiding you per say. He just thought it was important for Steven and Jake to experience what he once had. Something he wanted so desperately but was too afraid to mess it up again. 

  The conversation moves comfortably to the couch, where your feet are curled up beneath you as you animatedly tell Steven about the wonderful interview. Some old sci fi movie on in the background that he can’t bother to pay attention to when he could simply watch you. 

  You finally take a breath and realize how close you are. Knees touching as you adjust against the worn leather. He looks at you as if he wants you to continue. You thought he’d be sick of talking about this stuff by now but he looks as though he’d let you go on for hours. You can’t ignore the feeling from earlier and you hope deep down that what you’re about to do doesn’t ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had. 

  If it does, you suppose it’ll make your work relationship less complicated. You aren’t even sure what the policy is on dating. You’re definitely getting ahead of yourself. 

  “Love is everything alright?” He asks as he places his warm hand gently on your thigh. 

  “Sorry, I was lost in thought.” You chuckle softly as you look at the fish tank. Gus swimming in the front staring at you. 

  “Did you want to tell me what’s on your mind?” His hand traces soothing circles on your thigh and he feels you shudder. He moves to withdraw but you grab his hand,lacing your fingers with his. 

  He slowly raises your arm, kissing the back of your hand as his lips linger there for a moment. ‘Go on’

  “I just…wanted to thank you properly. But we were in the museum.” Your voice is suddenly so timid. 

  “We’re not in the museum now.” His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths as he waits. 

  It feels like all eyes are on you, and not just Stevens. He’s waiting for you to cross that bridge, giving you the opportunity to say that this can stay exactly what it is and he would be content. 

  You inch closer to him as you rise up on your knees, the couch creaks as you face him, placing your free hand on his shoulder. He closes his eyes as you roam over his chest, mapping it with your fingers. His dark lashes flutter against his cheeks as you lean in and press your lips to his. 

  Warmth blooms across his chest at the first feel of your touch. It’s so gentle and experimental as you both share breaths. He releases your hand to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to his chest. 

  “You’re welcome.” He murmurs against your lips as you chuckle in between opened mouth kisses. 

  You can still taste the wine on his tongue as he methodically takes the lead. Much more assured of himself than you’ve ever seen. 

  You yelp in surprise as he swings your leg over his so you’re straddling his lap. You lean back with your hands braced on his chest as it rises and falls beneath you. His hands flex at his side as his eyes roll. 

  “Mírate, eres tan hermosa.” His pupils are black as he bites his bottom lip. 

  “Hi.” You say breathlessly as his hands find their way to your hips. He pulls you in as your noses touch, waiting for permission as you nod. 

  He’s consuming and precise in his movements. His lips crash into yours as you instinctively grind your hips down. He groans into your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck. It’s so different from Steven and yet so exhilarating knowing it’s the same body. 

  I wasn’t quite finished yet

  Jake chuckles as he trails kisses along your jaw. “I wasn’t sure if he was going to share.”  He tilts your head to the side as he bites and nips at your chin. “To be continued.” 

  His hands flex again and he relaxes beneath you. A blush creeps up Stevens neck at the position you’re in. You adjust yourself and brush against his hardened bulge in his pants. A soft whimper leaves his mouth as you experimentally roll your hips again. He’s slack jawed as he watches you with hooded eyes. You’re beautiful just like this. 

  Your nerves start to get the better of you and he notices your trembling. He gently unwraps your arms from his neck as he places a kiss on each palm. 

  “We don’t have to go any further love.” He breathes in the scent of your perfume, heavy on your wrist. “I like this. What we’re doing now.” 

  You place your hand on his rapidly beating heart, quite the juxtaposition to his outwardly calm demeanor. You’re so content to stay like this…so you do until your eyes fall heavy. Lips chapped from kissing as the candles go out on their own. Curled up under the broadness of their body as they wrap you up into them. You push the thoughts away before sleep claims you of not having seen Marc, you want to thank him…in time. 

  ****

  The golden sun bathes you in a warm embrace as you rustle amongst the robust reeds. Your fingers trace along the silky fabric of your dress as the breeze brings scents of jasmine to awaken you softly. 

  The crunching of grass with each deliberate step, a gentle symphony beneath the weight of someone weaving through the emerald blades. As they move it casts a shadow along your tranquil resting spot. 

  You hear a faint laugh as you open your eyes. A tall majestic man stands before you, adorned in blue and gold. His dark locks sit beneath a nemes crown. He crouches down beside you as he lays his crescent staff amongst the grass and pulls you close. He rests his head atop yours as he hums quietly to himself.

  “I knew I’d find you here.” 

  ****

  You stretch your sore limbs, having fallen asleep in such an awkward position. Fragments of a dream linger in your mind briefly. Your eyes adjust to the light in the flat and you’re acutely aware of the lack of warmth against your back. 

  There’s a soft quilt draped over your form and you pull it close as you sit up on the brown leather couch. It’s silent in the flat, the only sound over the quiet hum of Gus’s tank is the sound of your beating heart as you brush the tears away with the blanket you’re holding tightly to your chest. 

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[momhwa-agenda]

come back to me

PAIRING: Boyfriend!Sangyeon/Female Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, comfort, make-up sex (MINORS DNI)

SUMMARY: Two weeks have passed and you still haven't spoken to Sangyeon since that fight. Since you told him you wanted to take a break. Deep down you wanted to talk things over, finally set things straight. You loved him you always have, and so did he. Now it was just a matter of swallowing your pride and making things right with him.

A/N: This felt like a real breakup tbh. I had a concept in mind and I was really in the feels for this...I always am. It's Lee Sangyeon, since when was I normal about him? Then one day I got caught in the rain, on my way home after doing some errands, and I got the ideas on what to write for this piece. Special shout out to @kitschun who talked me through the angsty delusions. Reminding me that opposites attract.

TAGLIST: @daisyvisions @snowflakewhispers @midnightfantasiez

You glance at the clock and sigh. It's been two weeks since you and Sangyeon decided to take a break from your relationship. The emotional distance had grown too vast even before you decided to take time off each other, and the gnawing suspicion that he might be cheating on you only worsened things. You stare at your phone, the urge to call him battling with your pride. But before you can decide, a text notification pops up. It's Sangyeon.

"Can we meet? We need to talk."

You hesitate, your heart racing. Finally, you type back, "Okay. Where?"

"Usual spot. 15 minutes?"

"Fine."

You grab your coat and head out, the ominous clouds overhead matching your mood. When you arrive at the café, he's already there, looking as tense as you feel. You sit down across from him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hi," he says softly.

"Hi," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I've missed you," he starts, his eyes searching yours.

A moment of silence fills you and Sangyeon’s booth in the café until you let out a scoff. “Interesting choice of location considering our current state. Through our time together, you never once struck me as someone who needed an audience when discussing personal matters,” you remark.

“Would you have agreed to go to my apartment then?” Sangyeon counters, his voice still gentle but with an edge of frustration. “I know you’re angry at me, Y/N. I’ve known in the years we’ve been dating, and I knew inviting you to talk things out at my place would have made you feel trapped and forced.”

"Then why the text?" you snap back, the frustration bubbling up. "You can't just expect things to go back to normal after everything."

"Because it’s killing me, Y/N," he says, his voice low. "After that fight we had and you told me you needed space, what was I supposed to think? That it was the end? That we couldn’t talk things over?"

A lump starts to form in your throat. Your anger hasn’t subsided, but you feel it in your heart—you want to fix things. The fact that Sangyeon is here, pleading once more to mend the relationship, both uplifts and tears at you. You clear your throat, attempting to control the tears that threaten to pour out.

"Sangyeon…I needed to know if you were seeing someone else," you manage. “I’ve been feeling so inadequate around you…you’re just so perfect, kind, and loving…yet it sometimes feels like the whole universe doesn’t consider us a good fit. In the process, I started to think that you would cheat on me.”

Sangyeon purses his eyebrows together, shutting his eyes. Even he was starting to fight his own tears. "Y/N, I swear I would never cheat on you. How could you think that?"

"How could I not?" you counter, your voice rising. "We’ve both been so busy with work and life, I didn’t know how to tell you about this. You treat me like I’m your world, but I can’t help but think I’m so selfish for inconveniencing you with my insecurities! And don’t even get me started on that old classmate of yours at the reunion who seemed to be your picture-perfect idea of a girlfriend. What else was I supposed to think?"

"It's not what you think," he says, running a hand through his hair. He reaches for your hand, but you move away from him, the action making Sangyeon’s blood run cold.

“Y/N, she’s just a classmate. You’re perfect the way you are.”

Your anger simmers, but doubt begins to creep in. "You could have told me."

"I know," he admits. "I should have. But I didn't want to worry you, since you also had a lot on your plate."

“Well, you could have. You could have reassured me that we were still going strong, that you still loved me.”

“Yeah, and I’m not a mind-reader all the time! Sometimes I can’t figure you out unless you talk to me,” he fires back, his anger finally rising to the surface. Neither of you pay attention to the thunder rumbling outside, which somehow matches the tension between you two.

“Then tell me! Tell me to my face right now I’m a burden to you!”

Sangyeon shakes his head "Why did I even bother…this was a mistake," he mutters, but you manage to hear what he says.

You feel as if a rug was pulled from under your feet, your body starts running cold. You sniff, surrendering to the tears that begin to pour down your cheeks.

“Glad you finally told me what you want,” you say, getting up from your seat and leaving the café.

He follows you outside, and that's when you realize just how hard the rain is pouring. The streets are close to flooding, the water rising ominously at the edges of the sidewalks.

"Y/N, you can't go home by yourself in this weather," he insists, grabbing your arm. "It's too dangerous!"

"I'll be fine!" you snap, pulling away. You open your umbrella, but the wind is so strong it nearly blows it out of your hand.

"Please," he says, his voice softer now. "Let me walk you home. I don't want you to get hurt."

You hesitate, the anger still simmering but less intense now. Reluctantly, you nod. "Fine. But don't think this changes anything."

He takes the umbrella from you, holding it above both of your heads as you start the walk back to your apartment. The rain is relentless, the wind whipping around you, making it difficult to see where you're going.

"Be careful," Sangyeon warns as you navigate the slick streets. "Watch your step."

"Yes, I know, Sangyeon!" you snap, but there's no real venom in your voice. It's hard to stay angry when you're both struggling against the elements.

A particularly strong gust of wind nearly tears the umbrella from his grip, and you both wind up laughing as you fight to keep it steady. It's ridiculous, really, trying to stay dry in this downpour.

"This is hopeless!" you say, shaking your head. "We're going to get soaked no matter what."

He chuckles. "Might as well embrace it, right?"

You glance at him, surprised by his change in attitude. Despite everything, you can't help but smile. Maybe it's the absurdity of the situation, or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, but for a moment, it feels like it used to. Before the arguments, before the doubts.

The rain intensifies, and soon you're both drenched, your clothes sticking to your skin. The umbrella is practically useless now, but you cling to it anyway, more out of stubbornness than anything else.

As you near your apartment, the wind picks up even more, and you struggle to keep hold of the umbrella. Sangyeon steps closer, taking it from you completely.

"Let me," he says, his voice gentle. "You're going to hurt yourself."

You let him, the small gesture chipping away at the last of your resistance. By the time you reach your building, you're both laughing, breathless from the effort of fighting the storm.

"That's not how I pictured our moment in the rain to pan out," Sangyeon says with a wry smile.

You roll your eyes. "What do you mean? When I told you about that fantasy of dancing and then kissing in the rain, you scolded me and said I would get sick."

"Yeah, I did," he admits, a small smile playing on his lips. "But it’s something I remembered."

His words catch you off guard, a flutter stirring in your stomach. You hadn't expected him to remember that conversation, let alone mention it now.

"Come on," you say, feeling a sudden warmth despite the cold. "You can wash up and stay here until the rain dies down."

He nods, and you both head upstairs to your apartment. Once inside, you peel off your soaked jacket and shoes, shivering from the chill. Sangyeon stands awkwardly in the hallway, dripping water on the floor.

"You can use the bathroom first," you say, pointing him in the right direction. "The towels are in the cabinet."

"T-thanks," he says, his voice soft. Yet, Sangyeon doesn’t move an inch and instead looks at you as if he’s been holding something back.

You hesitate for a moment, then turn around and say, “Okay wait. It’s too soon but…look, you’re drenched and I don’t want you getting sick, so what if…”

“No, Y/N, you can go first, it's okay,” he assures you, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes.

“I meant…we could clean each other up,” you suggest, the invitation catching you both by surprise.

He looks at you, eyes wide, then nods slowly. “If you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’ll save us time, and…it’s not like we’re complete strangers.”

You step into the bathroom and he follows right behind you, the tension from the argument still lingering but softened by this unexpected intimacy. As you undress, you catch glimpses of each other, the familiarity of the routine blending with the novelty of the moment.

“Oof! Oh no,” you grunt, struggling to remove your jeans, which have become heavy and drenched from the rain. Sangyeon notices your struggle. He hesitates, unsure whether to offer help or let you manage on your own. Although you were the one who suggested showering together — something he had been thinking about before you mentioned it — he didn't want to be too forward until you signaled that you were ready, hoping for a sign that conveyed not just “I need your help” but also “I don’t want to be mad at you anymore, I forgive you.”

“Ugh, Sangyeon, please, my pants are being a bitch. Can you help?”

Sangyeon exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Kneeling down, he grips the waistband and begins to pull your jeans down. Though you could have managed this on your own, Sangyeon is now at your feet, helping you out of the wet fabric. Once the jeans are down to your ankles, he steadies you as you lift your feet out of the garment. The lingering looks you share all the while remind you why this was a risky decision.

“Thanks…I can take off everything else from here,” you say. Sangyeon stands up, clears his throat, and turns away to give you privacy as you remove your undergarments.

The shower is warm, and you both stand under the stream, letting the water wash away the cold and the remnants of your fight. Sangyeon reaches for the soap, lathering it between his hands before gently rubbing it across your back. You close your eyes, the simple touch bringing a flood of memories and emotions.

You take the soap from him, your hands trembling slightly as you start to lather his chest. You’d forgotten how big and solid his body was, the feel of his muscles under your fingers. The silence between you is thick, charged with unspoken words and lingering feelings.

In the middle of lathering soap on his body, Sangyeon reaches out to tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I really missed you,” he says, his voice soft and earnest.

You look up at him, meeting his gaze. “I missed you too,” you respond, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leans in, his forehead resting against yours. "I don't want to fight anymore."

"Me neither," you say, your heart aching with the truth of it.

The space between you disappears when leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The warmth of his mouth against yours, the sensation of his wet skin against your own, brings a rush of emotions. You deepen the kiss, your hands roaming over his body, reacquainting yourself with every line and curve.

As the kiss grows more passionate, you feel a familiar heat building between you. Sangyeon's hands slide down your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. His touch is gentle yet insistent, a reminder of how much he’s missed you.

You pull away from the kiss, tightening your grip on his arms. Leaning your forehead against his chest, your hands move to his back, pressing your fingers into his skin, fearing that he’d be stripped away from you. “Please…come back to me,” you begin to sob.

Sangyeon brings his hand to cup your cheek. You look up at him and find that he is crying too. You don’t see him cry often, which makes you cry even more. “I never left. And I never will, Y/N, you hear me?”

You nod. “Yes, loud and clear.” Your lips are reunited once more, the kiss filled with desperation and longing. Eventually your kisses venture down further, with whispers of praise in each touch.

He then hoists you up, presses you against the wall, and without wasting time, he inches his throbbing cock to your pussy lips, glistening with need. When you feel him inching slowly inside you, his deep thrusts overcome you with passion. You haven’t even come yet, but having Sangyeon fill you up completely sends you to the heavens. Hearing your moans and feeling your warm cunt hug him so well is a song Sangyeon has missed. The patter of water from the shower head hitting your skin mixes with the rhythm of your bodies moving together, creating a symphony of intimacy.

Through labored breaths, Sangyeon declares his love for you as he thrusts into your cunt. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.”

You cling to him, bucking up your hips to meet his thrusts, as your own whispered confessions blends with his. “I love you too, Sangyeon. I never stopped.”

Your shared moans fill the shower as the past weeks of pain and misunderstandings are washed away. Neither of you could help yourselves. Those two weeks apart tortured you both deeply, that both your movements and touches were so desperate…rough…as if this was the first and the last time you would feel each other like this.

When you tangle your fingers in his hair, Sangyeon looks at you with hooded eyes filled with lust and yearning.

“Y/N…I..”

“Inside please I want all of you, Sangie!” you plead.

As you both reach the peak of your passion together, Sangyeon feels so drunk on the euphoria, that he continues to thrust faster, letting you both linger in the state of bliss, until he eventually slows down, cradling you in his arms. The world outside ceases to exist, leaving only the two of you in this moment of rekindled love.

[givemea-dam-break]

okay so, consider this: jealous George

hasn't been done much, and jealousy is one of my favourite tropes. I'm thinking friends to lovers (obv) and you're free to make it as angsty as possible, as long as we get a happy ending :))) and you know what would probably hurt him most? When he's jealous of Lockwood bc he gets along so well with reader, maybe they just have a borderline-flirty dynamic (all platonic ofc) and George just has to watch and know he's never gonna be able to be like this (angst angst angst)

AND to make it MORE angsty maybe reader is really reserved around george but only bc she is so nervous (he doesn't know that ofc!!)

AND how about George confides in Lucy at some point that he thinks lockwood and reader might be into each other and she's like "uh yeah no, lockwood and I are dating"

Just throw in whatever cliché trope you can think of in there, i love them all

a/n: I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OMFG YES THANK YOU!!!!!! jealousy is also one of my favourite tropes it’s great but i haven't actually written it all that much so i hope you enjoy! this isn't very angsty because i actually struggled with the plot for this, but hopefully you still like it lol

warnings: mild language words: 3.9K female reader taglist: @flashbackwhenyoumetme @irisesforyoureyes @aayeroace @waitingforthesunrise @ettadear @mirrorballdickinson @ella23116 (let me know if you want added to my taglist!)

Touch - George Karim

George had a habit of staying up late on nights where it was unnecessary.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t sleep, but rather the fact that he didn’t want to until he was sure that everything was all right. When the agents of Lockwood and Co. returned to 35 Portland Row, safe and – mostly – unharmed, he could relax.

Well, he frankly could care less what ego-fulfilling stories Lockwood had to tell upon his returns or the colourful and new swear words Lucy had learned from Skull. It was (name) he waited up for.

Out of the three of his friends, (name) was the one who understood him most. She never pushed for him to speak when he didn’t feel comfortable. She always listened to him ramble on, whether it be for a case or purely out of interest in something, with her full attention, letting him speak for as long as he wanted, smiling and nodding as he did so. He felt most like himself with her around.

So, there he sat in the living room, glancing between the book in his lap and the front door, waiting for the familiar rattle of the doorhandle. It was cast in shadow, with only a thin streak of light cutting across it from the flickering crystal skull lamp in the hallway. Lockwood really needed to swap out the bulb.

When the tell-tale jingle of keys and the quiet clatter of the handle sounded, he sat up slightly and watched as she crept in as silently as she could. That was another thing George liked and appreciated about (name) – the fact that she was considerate for the other people in the house late at night. After a case, Lockwood would come in noisily, shutting the door behind him a little too loudly, and Lucy would be stomping around on too-creaky floorboards in her clunky boots. But (name) was always quiet.

It felt like George’s heart skipped a beat when she flashed him one of her enchanting smiles, paired with a little wave. Although the smiles were always reserved, edging on shy and nothing more than a curve of the lips and a sparkle in her eyes, it made his insides feel all warm and fluttery. The sensation had been new to him in the beginning, those first few times she’d smiled at him after she had been hired, but now it was something he yearned for. His days didn’t feel complete without it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but footsteps shook the stairs and, all of a sudden, Lockwood was there, arm draped over (name)’s shoulders.

“How was the case?” he asked, grinning.

(name) leaned against him as she tugged off her ectoplasm-spotted boots. “Couldn’t even call it that. Mrs Tilden, as sweet as she is, forgets that she can’t actually hear ghosts, and that the neighbour’s cat yowls whenever it gets too cold. I would’ve been back sooner, but all the night cabs were taken, and I didn’t feel like riding back with Kipps and his lot.”

“Well, you’re here now. Fancy some tea? Boiled the kettle not long ago.”

“That’d be great,” she said. When her eyes, sparkling in the dim light, turned on George, he found himself stuck to the spot. “Do you want some, George? I got some of that tea you really like this morning.”

And, as much as George wanted to agree, he couldn’t help but look at Lockwood and the way he so easily stood with her, holding her close and grinning. It should be George there. It should be him she leaned on after a case, him that made her tea and asked her how it went.

No, no. His feelings didn’t entitle him to her or her time. Besides, she and Lockwood had been friends since childhood, separated for a few years for educational reasons, so it was a given that they’d be close. He just wished it didn’t make his throat ache every time he saw them like they were now, standing close and laughing. Something he so longed to do, but didn’t know if he could.

So, he simply said, “No, thanks, I’m about to head up to bed.”

She smiled at him once more, the shadow of a grin hiding in the corners, and nodded before following Lockwood down to the kitchen, joking about the infamous Cat of Mead Place. Her voice seemed to reverberate through the walls and into George’s very being as he stared down at the book in his lap, the page long since lost in his distraction.

Heaving a sigh, he gently closed it and set it upon the coffee table, then trudged up the stairs to his room.

--

“So, you think that our ghost is the killer? That’s interesting. From the description, I would’ve figured it’d be the victim. Makes sense, though.”

George nodded, trying not to focus on the soft scent of lavender and something flowery as (name) leaned closer to him, studying his notes and findings. He really hoped she couldn’t hear the furious pounding of his heart.

“Well, it was the murderer’s house,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose a little. “It’s very likely that, even if it’s the old remains of the victim, it’s the killer’s source. Remember that bit in Hackney? Old teeth in a jar, but it was the source for that murderer.”

(name) shivered. “Don’t remind me. Still have nightmares about that guy.” She shuffled her chair slightly closer, casting George a short glance, before pulling one of the newspaper copies over. “Natalie Greymouth tried and imprisoned for the murder of her six children, later to – Wait, six children? So, in between all these other murders she committed, she was also popping out babies and killing them?”

Huffing a laugh, George said, “Suppose the kids distracted people from the fact that she was a cold-blooded killer.”

At that, (name) snickered, and a spark travelled down George’s spine as he watched her. The way she grinned as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, how her cheeks flushed for only a moment. It wasn’t until she turned her head to look at him, much closer than she had been before, that George felt stuck for breath.

Her smile slowly softened into something shyer, more private, as she became aware of the small space between them, but as quick as thought she turned away again, focusing back on the documents in front of them.

Hope had begun to form in that short moment, and it had tasted sweet, but it became bitter as Lockwood and Lucy burst through the kitchen door with bags of goods from Satchell’s. Lucy slid behind George’s seat, dumping an additional shopping bag filled with food on the kitchen counter.

“Hard at work I see,” Lockwood said with a grin. He leaned down over (name)’s shoulder, scanning the notes sprawled everywhere. “Makes no sense to me. I trust you guys have a lead on what we’re walking into later?”

George could feel his throat burn at the sight of them, but he swallowed the feeling down and looked away. “Yeah. We’ll give you the run down on the way.”

He tried his best not to look when Lockwood squeezed (name)’s arm. He tried even harder to ignore the grin she sent his way, so unlike anything she’d ever shown George, but it was impossible. It felt like trying to pretend that Skull wasn’t on the countertop making the most horrid faces ever. The action only ever drew his eye.

Her smile lit up any room she was in, and he hated that it wasn’t directed at him but instead Lockwood. Lockwood, who everyone attached themselves to – (name), Lucy, Flo Bones, the public. Everyone. Well, except for Quill Kipps and his Fittes lot, but George didn’t want them. He only wanted her.

--

“We’re splitting up.”

“Worst idea ever. I don’t like the look of this place.”

Lockwood snorted. “You never like the look of any of the places we’re hired out to.”

“Lie,” (name) said. She looked up at the towering house before them. “There was that one bit in Camden, remember? With the really nice, frosted glass windows in the door.”

“Before Lucy crashed into it and smashed the glass.”

Lucy went bright pink. “I don’t think that’s our focus for today.”

George watched as Lockwood nudged (name) with his elbow, eliciting a laugh from her, and tightly said, “Lucy’s right. We need to get this case over with. And pairs sound good – too much room to cover as one group. (name), I’ll go with you.”

For a moment, the rush of blood in his ears was all he could hear. What if she said no; that she wanted to pair up with Lockwood instead? George didn’t have anything against Lucy, but it got  unnerving hearing her one-sided conversations with Skull. He was never sure if she was insulting him or the glowing ghost in the jar. And they’d probably end up bickering as they often did which wouldn’t help this case run smoothly at all.

But (name) nodded and offered him that delicate smile. “Sounds good. Think I’ve got some ideas of where we might find our source.”

“Care to share?” Lockwood asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“No.”

“I’m your boss. You’ve got to tell me.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Yes, you –“

“Let’s go,” George interrupted. His fingers were beginning to twitch. “Before it gets dark.”

And so, they did. While Lucy and Lockwood trudged inside and up the looming staircase in the centre of the house, George and (name) crept through the ground floor, taking temperatures and using their Talents. He did try, really he did, to not linger on thoughts of her and Lockwood, of their lingering laughs and smiles, but it became increasingly harder the quieter they stayed.

“So, what are your ideas for finding the source?” he asked, trying to break the silence that had grown between them.

Usually, George would’ve preferred the quiet, but this was choking. Every moment his mind strayed from the task at hand, it drifted over to the horrible ache in his chest and the twitching of his fingers caused by what could only be described as jealousy. Jealousy! God, even thinking it made him mad.

Why was he jealous? Because someone he had never explicitly admitted to liking was showing an interest in someone else? Because someone else would squeeze her arm or nudge her, when even tapping her shoulder to get her attention felt like it would make George implode?

(name)’s fingers brushed over an old vase, and she lifted it up, turning it in her hands. “Going to use my Touch on very specific things. This lady died, what, five years ago? And her nephew took this house, so he likely would’ve thrown out most, if not all, of the things belonging to her. So, we need to find the obscure things.”

“Like that restaurant with the porcelain egg cup as a source?”

“Exactly like that. The stuff no one would expect a ghost to connect to.” Her grin then was unlike the ones she shared with Lockwood, and though it was rather self-approving, George found himself drawn to it. It was something he experienced that Lockwood might not have. “Georgie, you’re going to find the strangest things in this room, and I’ll have a feel. This was one of our theories for the primary haunting, right?”

The words clogged in his throat. Georgie. It repeated over and over and over in his head as he swallowed the feelings that were building up. “Yeah.”

He glanced around the office they had ended up in and took the temperature, finding it as the lowest on the ground floor. It was a moderately sized room with a massive desk cutting through the centre with chairs either side. The desk itself was neatly organised with folders and pens all gathered in holders. An expensive-looking computer had gathered dust since the owner’s rushed departure a few days ago. Rather unassuming, on the whole, but that was exactly what she wanted.

“We’ve got an hour until sundown,” he said, peeking out of the large window. “I’ll watch your back.”

Together, they picked out a selection of seemingly strange things from around the office. An envelope rack; a rather rusty metal pen; a little glass horse ornament plucked from a display case, among many other things. But (name)’s hands lingered over a photo frame. It was a simple thing made from light-coloured wood, and the picture inside showed the owner of the house and his partner, so it was the last thing George would’ve suspected. This was what she was for, though, he remembered. Her gut instinct was much better than the rest of Lockwood and Co.’s.

“Be careful,” George murmured. “We don’t want another repeat of Lucy and Annabelle Ward.”

There was that delicate smile again, and his heart skipped a beat.

With a firm grip, (name) took the frame in her hands and shut her eyes. George could only watch in silence as she used her Talent, unused to having nothing to do in the meantime, and found himself staring. She was wearing the jumper Lockwood had gotten her for her birthday a few months ago, which had George chewing the inside of his cheek, but it was hardly his main focus. Not when the sunlight peeking through the curtains was highlighting her skin just so, emphasising little details he had only ever seen when they would research together, and he’d get distracted and stare. The implication of another smile in the corners of her lips, the curl of her lashes against slightly rosy cheeks.

After a few moments of frowning in such a way that left George with a smile tugging on his lips, her eyes fluttered open, and a proud grin split her mouth. George’s knees felt a little weak.

“Bingo. This used to have a photo of our ghost Natalie with her six kids before she killed them inside. Who’d have thought?”

It took George a minute to reply. His brain felt muddled, what with the brightness of her smile and the feeling in his chest. “I’ll go get the silver net. Our bags are still in the hall.”

“Lockwood will be well chuffed we found the source so quick.”

A moment of hesitation. One George hoped she hadn’t caught, but as he stepped towards the door, (name)’s smile melted into something more concerned.

“Are you all right?”

“Hmm? I’m fine.”

“George, what’s wrong? You were fine literally ten seconds ago and now you, well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

George shook his head. “(name), honestly, I’m fine.”

“Did I say something? God, what have I said in the last, what, two minutes? Um…”

She muttered under her breath as she tried to think, and George really did try to push the burning feeling in his throat down. The embarrassment that, even though it was the two of them working down there on the case, she immediately thought of Lockwood. What more did he expect? He was nothing more than the second choice to most people – no, third. Fourth even. Hell, he was the last choice, and he should’ve realised that (name) would see him that way, too.

“It’s you and Lockwood,” he blurted.

And he regretted it immediately.

(name) looked over at him then, eyes slightly widened, and mouth parted. “What?”

He could only shrug as he looked away from her. “I just – I don’t know. Lockwood is the one everyone finds the most interesting, and I’d hoped that for once that someone might choose me.”

“You thought I would…”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence for him to know what she meant. George didn’t know how to explain the feeling that encompassed his very soul at that moment. It felt like drowning, in a way. Like these feelings he’d fought so hard to keep at bay were filling his lungs rapidly and stopping him from breathing. His head was submerged, and he couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t do anything but feel these horrible emotions so acutely that it was painful.

“I’m sorry. I get that you and Lockwood are close. Well, you’re probably together and I’ve just never realised!”

He didn’t realise how much saying the words out loud could hurt. But he was right, wasn’t he? With all of their shared smiles and jokes and how they always stood close, there was no way they weren’t… a thing. George had just been too blind to see it.

“George.”

“Don’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“George! Shut. Up,” she hissed.

Words caught in his throat, shocked by the harsh tone and the expression on her face. Brows furrowed; eyes narrowed – she was angry at him!

“Look, I am sorry, but I don’t get why you’re mad at –“

She stormed over and slapped her hand over his mouth. The touch made him jump, and the close proximity of their faces had his treacherous heart pounding in his chest. Why? Why did it have to do that?

“Listen,” she whispered, and she gestured to the side with her head.

George slowly turned his gaze to the large table where he could now hear a faint click, click, click. When he looked, his heart lurched for a moment, and he saw one of the pens in the holder move slightly. The button at the end, the one that would bring the nib out, clicked open, then shut, then open. A few papers in one of the many folders fluttered despite the absence of a draft.

“Poltergeist,” he uttered beneath her hand. He tried not to focus on how soft it was, or how the soap she’d used smelled very different from the one Lockwood had bought for him.

She nodded soundlessly, and her hand lingered for a moment before moving back to her side. “Move quietly to the door.”

It was a good plan. If they moved silently and slowly, they’d be able to make it out to their kitbags and secure the source seeing as poltergeists were essentially blind. But George could feel its invisible presence hovering over them like a horribly cold and scratchy blanket, and the house was an old one. As soon as he took a step back, a floorboard creaked.

He and (name) froze and, for a minute nothing happened. Then the clicking stopped and the pen rattled in the holder. The temperature of the room felt like it had dropped five degrees within a mere second and, although George’s Listening was nowhere near the standard of Lucy’s, he swore he could hear a faint voice calling out some names.

Another step back, and the mistake was made. The door to the office slammed shut, rattling the bones of the house. Lockwood’s voice echoed from somewhere above, calling their names.

Shit.

He should’ve paid attention to the room growing colder or the sun setting outside instead of watching (name) when she’d used her Talent. Maybe then they wouldn’t be stuck in this position, facing off with a ghost that they couldn’t see nor could they harm without securing the source. And, well, they had no way of doing that now with their bags stashed outside.

(name) was the first to move. Light-footed on the floorboards, she tugged on the door handle, but it didn’t budge. George could feel her panic as strongly as he felt his own, and he realised with dread that they were only feeding into the ghost.

The clicking resumed, and (name) shuffled over to George again, hand on her rapier. It would prove useless in this situation.

“For your information,” she whispered. “Me and Lockwood aren’t a thing. He and Lucy are.”

George’s gaze snapped over to her, and she offered a soft albeit nervous smile. “I don’t think now is the time for that conversation.”

“Oh, come on, admit you’re relieved. Also, you didn’t happen to stash a silver net in your pocket did you?”

Yes, he was relieved. He didn’t think he’d ever been more relieved in his life than he was in that moment, knowing that she wasn’t with Lockwood. He was confused for a moment, wondering how he hadn’t ever seen the connection between Lockwood and Lucy, but it was overtaken by the sheer happiness that (name) wasn’t in a relationship with their best friend. And, no, he hadn’t thought to stuff a net in his pocket.

The jealousy that had reared its ugly head in his chest dissipated entirely when her hand slipped into his, warm in the horrid freezing temperature in the office.

“How are we getting out of here?”

George wasn’t sure. He wasn’t Lockwood. He didn’t come up with reckless plans that saved their lives while inadvertently endangering them at the same time. He didn’t destroy houses in the process.

Well…

“You any good at throwing chairs?”

--

Hours later, George was still shaking glass out of his hair over the kitchen bin at 35 Portland Row.

Lockwood was standing over the kettle as water boiled, waiting to make cups of tea for everyone as Lucy slapped a plaster on a cut on his forehead. Apparently, after hearing the office door slam, the two of them had rushed down the stairs, only for the carpet the ran down the centre of them – for whatever posh, middle-class Londoner reason – slipped out of place, presumably because of the Poltergeist, sending Lockwood toppling. He whacked his head off the corner of the wall, earning a pretty nasty cut and a possible concussion. Lucy had come off scott-free, but Skull’s silverglass jar had a dent in the top.

(name) and George on the other hand were covered in little shards of glass that nicked them every now and then after sending a chair through the office window and leaping out into the flower bushes right outside. Thank god they’d been on the first floor.

Ever since that moment in the office, that one where (name) had told him about Lockwood and Lucy, the one where she held his hand, it had become blatantly obvious how wrong George had been about everything. Even now, he could tell that the energy that she and Lockwood shared was nothing like the one Lockwood had with Lucy. How hadn’t he noticed sooner?

Frankly, he didn’t really care about that now. He was too caught up on the phantom touch of her hand in his and the smiles she kept sending his way.

She’d held his hand in the taxi on the way home, claiming it was just because the poltergeist had freaked her out, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the entire truth. (name) was one of the bravest people he had ever met, so a poltergeist wasn’t going to be the thing to shake her out of the norm. But George didn’t mind.

He hadn’t ever been big on being touched, disliking the way it made his skin feel, but he found himself staying close to her, aching to hold her hand again. And, judging from the twitch of her fingers, the way they inched closer to his when he sat next to her, he figured she felt much the same.

And, with a smile, he wrapped his hand around hers, enjoying the feeling of her skin against his.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

I guess I wouldn´t believe you (modern!Best friend!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader)

synopsis: When you moved in with your best friend since childhood for college, you never would have thought the outcome of it.

warnings: kind of angsty, best friends to lovers, kissing, afab reader

word count: 2k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall, @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

For as long as you could think, Jace had been your bestest of friends. You stuck together through every little (and not so little) problem life threw at the two of you. Every fight between him and his uncles, every fight between their families, your parents’ divorce and in the end his family moving away from King´s landing. The two of you never lost contact. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder after all. Though when the two of you finally see each other in person again, after years of strictly conversing over the phone, you get floored by how much fonder your heart could grow. That first hug in such a long time makes your heart swell and your whole body tingle with what you think at first is platonic happiness to see and be close to him again. You should soon be taught better.

It´s the first week of College and, even with only having moved in a week ago, the two of you were already as inseparable as you were in childhood. At first you had thought sharing a cute, little apartment seemed like a good idea. Well, if you knew how much you wanted to bite yourself in the ass at the mere sight of other girls hanging around for “study sessions” throughout the year, you would have moved into the dorms.

As the dumbass that you are when it comes to your own feelings, the realization that it was jealousy and your feelings for your best friend have been more than just platonic, hits you over the head when it is almost too late. Literally, in the form of your friend Baela.

The two of you sit in the campus café on lunch break, talking over coffee as you always do. When she breaks out "So when will you stop being a little bitch and ask my brother out?"

She had always been one to tell hard truths in a rather harsh tone, but that's why you loved her so much.

"Baela!" You whisper at her loudly. Looking at the tables around you to see if any of them have heard you with a scandalized expression.

"What? Just the facts... You've been whining my ear off about Jace fucking around for the past year now, too blind to see that you're so deep in love with him it's grossing everyone out." She sticks out her tongue at you.

"Okay, so maybe I am in love with him... That still doesn't change the fact that he is my best friend. And more importantly he's not interested in me. OUCH!!" One of your hands shoots up to soothe over the spot of your head that just had made painful contact with Baela's hand. “What was that for?”

“That´s because you keep being a little bitch about your feelings.” She just says matter of factly.

“Fuck, Bae. That really hurt.” You whine at her.

“Good. It was supposed to.” Baela claps her hands and then stands up. “I have to run, but I swear I will do it again if you whine about anything regarding Jace again that isn´t him telling you he doesn´t reciprocate your feelings. Which, fyi I can promise you, won´t happen.”

With that little piece of wisdom your friend grabs her bag and the coffee cup and leaves you to ponder her words. And you come to the conclusion that, as much, as you hate it, she is once again right. You had cried to her about her brother for the past year. Drunk, sober, high, with actual tears or like right now. Now you just felt sorry for her. If you were her, you wouldn´t want to hear that much about your siblings being crushed on. Opening the door to your shared apartment with a huff you hear laughter from Jace´s bedroom. Throwing your keys into the bowl near the door you piss off to your room. Thank the seven for noise cancelling headphones, you think and put on some music as loud as you can. Anything to not have to hear what is going on in the room across the hall. Laying down on the bed, you don´t even notice when you fall asleep. Neither do you know how long you have been gone, but it is dark outside when a gentle hand shakes your shoulder.

“Hey.” Jace´s quiet voice rings through to your half asleep mind. “I made dinner, if you want some.”

“Yeah, yeah. I´ll be out in a sec.” You wave your hand in the air and unsuccessfully fight of a big yawn.

“Alright.” Jace goes back to the kitchen to wait for you. “So, how was your day?”

“Good, I guess. Not as good as yours though, I´d bet.” The comment comes of more cutting than you had wanted it too, but luckily your best friend is also a part time golden retriever and so he pushes your tone off to your brain still not having caught up with waking up fully yet.

“Did you do anything fun today?” He asks taking a full spoon of food into his mouth.

“Not really. I met up with Baela at the café earlier. Talked for a while, nothing interesting though. Sorry for not saying hi earlier. I didn´t want to interrupt your… visitor.”

“You wouldn´t have needed to. Sarah is just a good friend.” He looks at you with such a warm, unsuspecting gaze that you feel really bad for how mad you get with jealousy.

“A friend, sure.” You shake your head with a bitter chuckle. Trying to shake Baela´s words and the swirling feelings out of it. To no avail. Pocking the food on your plate some more, the fork in your hand soon meets the plate with a loud clink.

“What do you mean with that?” Jace´s now puzzled brown eyes search for an answer in your ones, but you don´t give him a chance. Turning to leave for your room, before things turned truly ugly or you could admit to something you weren´t ready to admit to.

“Hey, wait! What did you mean just now?” You can hear Jace raise his arms in confusion, but ignore his plea for an answer once more.

Regarding him only with a clipped "Nothing, forget about it."

Slamming the door to your room it gets opened again only moments later. Gods, why couldn't he leave this alone.

"Why are you so angry all of a sudden? Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?" He asks stepping close to you, but still keeps a safe distance as he sees your disgruntled face.

"Can't you just forget it?" You ask exasperatedly.

"No. We used to talk about everything. What happened to that? We barely even talk anymore even though we literally live in the same place." The brunet was getting worked up too now. Slightly raising his voice.

It wasn't something you had never heard before. Naturally in all the years of your friendship you had fights before. They just never felt so stupid and avoidable.

"Of course you would say that... How could we have talked, when the second the school year started, you busied yourself with Cregan Stark and literally seemingly every girl on this campus?” Your tone is sharp and accusing. Your breath fastens in your chest the more you raise your voice. Your heartbeat speeding up at an equal pace.

“Are you jealous of Cregan? You know you will always be my best friend, right? No one could ever replace you. Not even Cregan Stark.” His amused chuckle makes you think you really are going insane.

“How can someone be so smart and so stupid at the same time? I´m not fucking jealous of Cregan!” A hand rubs over your face, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Then what is it?” He questions and the words spill out of you before you can think about them.

“I´m jealous of the girls you are with.” You clasp a hand over your mouth as to not reveal more but the damage is done. Instantly a heavy silence lays itself over you.

"Why would you be jealous of them?" Jace finds his voice again first. Its uncertainty still cuts through the quiet like a knife.

"Because I don't want to be just your best friend anymore. I have for a while, but you were too busy with those girls to notice that the guy I´ve been having a crush on for the past year.” Your voice turns desperate. There had been so many better ways to reveal this, but of course it had to come out in an argument. You are pretty sure you have just the worst possible outcome to this situation possible.

You raise your hands in defeat. "You know what? Forget it. Let's just forget I said anything. It's been a long day and I don't want to argue about this.”

“No. I´m not gonna forget about this. You are my best friend, why didn´t you tell me about your feelings earlier?” Jace takes another step closer to you now. Almost close enough to touch if you were to stretch out your arm a little. But you don´t. If anything you keep as far away as possible from him. Your face burns and your breathing goes into overdrive from everything you are feeling right now.

“Because I know you don´t feel the same and I didn´t want to make it a whole thing like it has become now, that eventually ruins our friendship.” Gods, why couldn´t you just stop talking? Why couldn´t he just stop talking?

“How do you know that?” Another step towards you and Jace´s voice becomes quieter again. Having an almost intimate ring to it now.

“How do I know that? Come on Jacey… I´ve known you forever. I know what it looks like when you have feelings for someone.” You try not to make it sound too obvious, but you can´t help it. It just is.

“Oh yeah? And what does it look like when I have feelings for someone?” His question distracting you from the way he moves ever closer.

“It definitely doesn´t look like you are a second version to your uncle Aegon. That´s for sure…” You murmur lowly.

“And what if I told you that Sarah is actually just a friend and all the other girls were just a distraction because I thought the girl I really liked wasn´t into me?”

“I guess I wouldn´t believe you.”

What happens next is truly incomprehensible to you. Jace leans in to close the gap between your faces. The touch of his lips is feather light as they tenderly brush over yours. They are unexpectedly soft and have your stomach turning as butterflies take flight in your stomach. You had dreamt this moment a hundred times maybe more, but you never could have imagined how good it would truly feel to have Jace´s rough palms wander over your bare arms, up the back of your neck to keep you as close to him as possible. Eager to keep this moment going for as long as he can. After a solid minute or two you lay one of your hands to his chest. Feeling the soft fabric of his shirt as you gently push him away.

“Do you believe me now?” He asks. Equally as breathless as you are.

“I… I don´t- I don´t understand…” Your eyes search the warm, brown pools of his for an answer but you are still too perplexed to find any.

“It´s you. I have feelings for you too. I just never thought you would return them, so I- well, you know.” Jace sheepishly rubs his neck at the admission that leaves his lips. A gesture that you always have thought made him look incredibly cute.

“You do?” You whisper. Feeling stupid that you can´t say something more.

“I do.” Jace responds. He is still so close you can feel his hot breath fan over your face. A sensation that makes a shiver run up your spine.

This time it is you that moves in for a kiss. Grabbing his shirt tightly in your hands as you lock your lips in a frantic manner. When you feel his tongue press against your lower lip, silently asking for entrance, you gladly grant it. Pulling him to your bed with you as your lips enter in a slow and intimate dance.

“I love you so much.” You whisper into the kiss.

“I love you more. Gods, I waited so long for this.”

[speremint]

Good Omens S2 Thoughts

OBVIOUSLY spoilers for GO S2 below, so if you've not seen, and don't wanna be spoiled, don't read!

The tl;dr of this long post is that I loved S2, it was a lot of fun, and I love that it focused more on Az and Crowley, but I also think it was a little out of pocket and a little messy in writing.

Anyway I fuckin.. am still processing all of what I watched, and am currently rewatching with a friend, too, but here's my jumbled thoughts on S2 and especially the final episode because I'm having many emotions and I need to get my thoughts out somewhere.

Listen. I would like to clarify that I loved S2 and I loved S1, and I think S2 was VERY smart to parse down on supporting characters and keep it stuck to Crowley and Aziraphale for the most part.

I'm assuming that S2 was made with S3 in mind though, esp after this post from Neil Gaiman, bc lord I will cry if there's no S3.

The focus on the story of Job I am being super optimistic in hoping that maybe it's Gaiman punching us in the throat with S2 before offering us a nicer S3... regardless though, I loved the season despite my minor criticisms.

I... do not have anything against Beelzebub/Gabriel, but holy shit was that out of left field for the ending... I just feel that, despite Gabriel having memory loss (it doesn't seem to be COMPLETE since it was kinda touch and go during scenes), they should've sprinkled in some sort of foreshadowing the his relationship or fondness of Beelzebub.

Have him at least not try to decimate that fuckin fly with books, or take an interest in books on forbidden romance, or rebellion against authority, or maybe just flat out have him be interested in Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, or Nina and Maggie's. Just SOMETHING to set it up a little bit...

EDIT:: while rewatching, I suppose they hinged most of their foreshadowing in Beelzebub's passiveness and interest in Gabriel, but it's a little hard to have a comparison given how little they were in S1

It was only after I skimmed the GO tag that I saw people were pissed about Aziraphale's choice in E6 and I'm kinda just like ??? It's not OOC though... He's always been loyal to Heaven, and the times when he's been questioning, the biggest issue, is that Crowley was an enabler. He kept Aziraphale from REALLY facing the consequences of these decisions because he's acted as a safety net in some of the situations they're put in.

I love the added scenes of the past with Crowley and Aziraphale, they're fuckin great and I like that it continues to expand upon their relationship and "temptations", but I do think it was kinda reiterating stuff we knew from S1... even if it was good fan service, for lack of a better word. I just kinda wish they had sprinkled in more reinforcements of Aziraphale's fealty to heaven. Or, perhaps during the scene when Azira is worried he's going to become a demon, he could take that time to ask Crowley on his feelings on being a demon, and perhaps if he regrets it, just to also set up for the finale desire of Aziraphale in turning Crowley back into an angel.

Regardless though, S3, assuming there is one, will be a big wake up call to Aziraphale when he's left on his own and also under a tighter leash by heaven, especially since Crowley is gone. Also, expanding on Crowley being a high rank when he was an angel made my fuckin night, I still stick to the headcanon that he was the Archangel Raphael, don't @ me

I do think that... some of the stuff that happened in S3 did feel a little like a response to fans as well, since I know Gaiman is on tumblr and Ik the fandom has been really vitriolic over the fact that Az and Crowley didn't kiss or anything in S1... tbh I didn't think it was that big of a deal cause love is shown in many different ways, and I admit I do like that they kissed in S2, but it did also feel uhhh kinda spontaneous.

Not a bad thing, just wasn't expecting it. I did replay the scene bc I'm an angsty bitch. But yeah, I'm like ehhh.

Also Nina and Maggie randomly coming at the end to like.. sit Crowley down and be like "erm youre stupid and in love" felt very weird in a way I can't quite describe, but also felt kinda undeserved. Esp cause Crowley was like "eh I guess". I think the more subtle off handed chat he had with Nina about Aziraphale being his partner was a more elegant way of setting that up, and having him reflect on that instead would've been better. But also tbf he and Azira were being bitches and indeed messing with Maggie and Nina.

I don't like the term of describing content as "fanfic"y because a lot of fanfiction is super well written, but I think S2 was very... fan service-y... rather.

Which tbh I don't mind that much, esp given Gaiman really didn't want an S2 to respect Pratchett's passing as his cowriter. So... meh. I did genuinely dislike the ball scene at the end though. Just... it was really weird, and I'm not sure what they were trying to say with it, other than Aziraphale is fucking demented... and tbh he should've known better since the fucker's been on earth for ages, idk. After talkin with a friend, it just was a really weird scene, and if anything was OOC for him, I think it was that bc his removal of free will, speech, and even actions, was fucking insane.

Also I don't think John Hamm is attractive, so I tbh was just confused for a lot of his scenes that had interactions or alluded to him...

I liked S2, I really did. It was campy, it was a lil sloppy, but it was fun, and it gave a lot more Crowley and Aziraphale being a bitchy little married couple before their fuckin messy ass divorce at the end.

ANYWAY... I really can't wait to see what happens, and I am PRAYING that there'll be an S3. Until then, I will happily sit in my puddle of tears

[gingerlegacy07]

Thank you @morelikeravenbore for the tag! I love answering these kind of questions and I loved reading through your answers!

I know I'm hardly known here on Tumblr, but that's fine. For those of my followers who are interested and because I find it fun to do, here are my answers to the following questions!

How many works do you have on AO3? I have 21 works. Most of them are oneshots or oneshot collections, but I also have a trilogy and a currently ongoing chaptered story.

What's your total AO3 word count? Uhh.. *checks* 429.608. Most of them are from the trilogy.

What fandoms do you write for? On AO3 I only write for the Hogwarts Legacy fandom. A long time ago I wrote for the f(x)/EXO/SHINee fandom on Asianfanfics, but I have deleted that account.

Top five fics by kudos? Oh, I'll have to look that up.. hm, alright:

1. In the Shadow of Sixth year (97)

2. In the Shadow of Seventh year (68)

3. A Naughty Collection - Hogwarts Legacy (48)

4. Sense of Touch (44)

5. In the Shadow of Summer (43)

Do you respond to comments? Yes! I try to respond to every comment, but I must admit sometimes I'm not able to respond right away and I might forget to, but I think I have responded to nearly every comment on AO3. I live for comments and am always happy when someone took their time to write one.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't like angsty endings, but "Happier" does have an angsty/unhappy ending. Together with "You look Happier". Both are oneshots I wrote to the song "Happier" by Olivia Rodrigo and "Happier" by Ed Sheeran respectively.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Hm.. considering all that happens in my trilogy, I'd say "In the Shadow of Seventh year", which is the final part, ends the happiest.

Do you get hate on fics? Not really. Only on one, but I still think that must've been a troll. They hated Poppy, yet commented on a oneshot that was Poppy centric (literally her and Ominis were the only characters in it). Other than that, no. Not that I am aware of at least.

Do you write smut? Yes. Though I don't write it in my chaptered stories. At most I'll have it heavily implied or some non-explicit foreplay. For my trilogy I made two seperate oneshots to write the smut. That way I leave the choice to the reader if they want to read that or not. It's not needed for the plot anyway.

Craziest crossover? None.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know. It's despicable some people actually do that.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Not for this fandom, but back in the day on Asianfanfics a couple of my oneshots were translated in Vietnamese and Tagalog.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but if someone would want to, I'd be open for it.

All time favorite ship? Ominis x Poppy or Poppinis. When I first heard Poppy tell us about her family my immediate thought was like: I wonder what Ominis would think of that? And somehow that got me into shipping them and now I'm obsessed in love with them as a couple. And fun fact: it was my shipping them that got me into writing again after not having done so in over 8 years.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have a lot of ideas, but only few of those I have started on. I tend to delete WIP's that I don't want to finish and the ones I do want to finish, I'll make sure to finish lol.

What are your writing strengths? Good question! But I think I'm good with writing certain emotions/feelings to the point the reader gains empathy for the character... other than that I really don't know. I try to be consistent with updates, do my research (to an extent) and try not to make any continuation errors.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I am totally fine with that (though I probably will never write it myself), as long as the correct phrasing is used and that the reader understands (or at least gets an idea) of what is being said.

But I do think it reads easier when the writer uses Italics to underline when a character speaks another language.

First fandom you wrote in? F(x) (Kpop group) back in 2012.

Favorite fic you've written? Definitely my trilogy "Shadows of Love" that consists of Part 1 "In the Shadows of Sixth year", Part 2 "In the Shadows of Summer" and Part 3 "In the Shadows of Seventh year".

The first part was my very first chaptered fic and the fact that I didn't only finish it, but wrote two more parts (25 chapters for the 1st part, 7 chapters for the 2nd and 45 chapters for the 3rd) and two smut oneshots accompanying it has been a major achievement for me and it really is my baby.

Special shoutout for my friends on Discord who supported and inspired me to continue! As well as all the readers (silent or not) who made me want to keep powering through! I love all of you!

Thank you for whoever it was that made up these questions! I had a great time thinking about them and answering! As well as look through the stats of my works haha.

Np tags for @writingannyred @mspegasus17 @sallowslove and @zetadraconis11

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Hello my dear ❣️. Still love your writing and I’ve been missing it dearly the last months (that’s totally on me, not on you 😘). Can I make a request for Bish with prompt 3. “I’ll wait out here all night. I ain’t leaving until you listen to what I gotta say.” And could you make it dark? 👀

Love you ma’am! ❤️

Hello my sweetheart! Anything for you, so here we go, some dark n' angsty with Bish for you. Love you, too!

The house feels empty without him and his possessions, every last trace of him packed into boxes and left on the drive, waiting for him to collect. You would have tossed it all out there with as little feeling as he showed towards your marriage vows, had you not been so insufferably neat.

Looking around, the spaces where his things once occupied feel vast, the way his interests mingled with yours always seeming so perfect, from the artwork by Mexican painters he was always so proud to display, to the music collection that once took up a now baren shelving unit, the separation of possessions is what hammers home the separation of you and him.

It still makes you feel sick to ponder, the reason why your six year marriage came to such a screeching, abrupt halt. How could he? How could he do that to you?

This Obispo, the one whose infidelity finally surfaced just five days ago, is not the same man you married. Well, you tell yourself that. The evidence suggests otherwise. When headlights beam in through your living room window, that sickness you feel rises like a tide, your estranged husband arriving in a van to collect everything out there waiting for him.

Your heart lurches when you see him step out, the part of you that still loves and misses him despite who he truly is beneath it all longing for his arms, the place you always felt so warm and safe.

Never, ever again. Not after this.

You watch him load the boxes into the van, making short work of the task, hoping that he makes an equally speedy retreat. No such luck. Your jaw sets and your heart somersaults with sadness when you watch him approach the front door, knocking upon the glass panel.

"Fuck off, Obispo," you call, knowing your voice will carry through the open living room window.

"Sweetheart, come on. We gotta talk."

You scoff, unable to prevent anger and indignance from propelling your feet across the floor, flinging the front door open, your face tightly pinched with incredulity. "We don't have to talk at all, and I am not you're damned sweetheart. Not any longer, you sack of shit."

He sighs, scratching his stubbly face. He finally shaved the beard off, of which you never thought suited him, much preferring the thick mustache and heavy stubble he now sports once again. “I’ll wait out here all night. I ain’t leaving until you listen to what I gotta say.”

"Listen to what you've got to say?" Your statement is delivered through gritted teeth, taken aback and awash with rage that this man truly thinks anything he has to say will improve upon the mess between you both. "There is nothing you have to say that I could possibly want to hear. Nothing can make what you did better!"

"Baby, please, let me explain. I..."

"Stop it!" you scream, your fists balling. "There's nothing to explain! You can't explain away the fact that you've spent the entirety of our marriage fucking other women behind my back! You can't explain away the fact you had, what was it, seven side chicks over the course of six years, and Christ knows how many other bike bunnies you poked your dick in, too!

"Let's not forget the fact you got one of them pregnant, of course, her and her big ole' baby bump showing up here to tell me all about it! How is Maria, by the way? Still out of her damned mind to be shacking up with you? In fact, don't even answer that. I don't want to hear it. Never wanted kids with me, but when some little nineteen-year-old tramp comes along, oh yeah, that's good enough for you, isn't it?"

Slamming the door, you leave him there on the porch, tearing through the house as the bile rises in your throat, throwing the bathroom door open to expel the contents of your stomach into the toilet. That's what makes you the most nauseous, the fact his side piece had the gall to turn up at your home and gloat to you, show off the full swell of her pregnant belly, something you've wanted with him for the entirety of your marriage, something he always said 'maybe one day' over whenever you brought it up.

He's off playing happy fucking families with her, and where are you? Crying on the floor of your bathroom, the taste of vomit like poison upon your tongue, all alone. No husband, no baby, no nothing.

Maybe the fact you never had children together is a good thing, though, so they didn't have to grow up with a man like that for a father. You pity his unborn offspring, with those two as parents, a man who can't keep it in his pants, and a woman so adept in moral turpitude that she'd weaponise her pregnancy purely to hurt a woman she doesn't even know.

Despite his statement that he wouldn't leave until you'd heard what he had to say, you find him gone by the time you arrive back in the living room, sitting down with your head in your hands, tears falling over the wedding band and engagement ring you're still not strong enough to slide from your finger.

Diamonds might be forever, but the man who gave them to you certainly isn't.